Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ The Kids Aren't Alright ( Chapter 36 )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Kids Aren't Alright

 

Chances thrown; Nothing's free; Longing for; Used to be; Still it's hard; Hard to see; Fragile lives; Shattered dreams -The Offspring (Americana)

 

Maes Hughes didn't really feel sociable at the time and was quietly grateful that Roy had found something else to do for awhile. He'd wandered into Ten Forward; not really certain why, except that staying in their quarters alone was out of the question. It would be too quiet in there, and that quiet would leave him with his thoughts.

 

He didn't stay long. The normally subdued atmosphere of the lounge became lively when the shift changed. What made it worse was that most of the people trailing in were couples. Seeing people sitting close together and talking quietly, holding hands, smiling; occasional nuzzling or other forms of affection. It only slammed home the reminder that he was isolated from his wife and daughter.

 

So he took a walk. He told himself that he hadn't really explored the ship yet, and now was as good a time as any… and it only made things worse.

 

Until now he'd kept to certain decks, not wandering far from the paths he'd become familiar with. The guest quarters, the bridge and the briefing room, Ten Forward, the transporter room. Those areas and the paths he took to get to them were predominantly populated by officers. He'd seen an occasional civilian and a couple of children in and around Sickbay, but it never actually sunk in that they had families on board.

 

That was, until he found himself on the family decks.

 

When he stepped off the turbo lift, he was brought up short when several children ran past carrying data pads. Out of curiosity, he followed them, and found himself staring through a window into a classroom. Most of the children were probably around six, or so. At least that was what he figured about the human children. The other races, he wasn't about to estimate.

 

He could hear the teacher giving the lesson, and was boggled at the subject matter. He heard words like stellar cartography, quantum mechanics, and various other words that went well beyond his ability to grasp.

 

He suddenly felt even lonelier than he had before. Lost. Isolated.

 

He felt a calm presence come up next to him, and looked down to see Deanna there. “How will we ever manage to survive if Q doesn't send us back?” he asked her in a voice that he was afraid was about to crack.

 

She took a deep breath, her normal warm smile noticeably absent. “You will… endure.”

 

She took him gently by the wrist, and invited him to walk with her. He accepted the invitation, and they wandered the ship in a comfortable silence. It was like she was letting him decide whether to talk, or not. He wasn't feeling very sociable, but he felt like he could talk to her.

 

The talk was light. Small talk, really. Hughes wasn't ready to tell her what was really on his mind. He had a feeling he didn't need to, though. He realized with a start and an ache that Deanna reminded him of Gracia with her warmth and acceptance. He fell in love with Gracia because she was so easy to be with. It just felt right. The fact that he could feel the same easiness with Deanna only made his separation from his wife hurt worse.

 

Eventually, she led him to a door. He blinked when it opened and revealed her private quarters. He didn't protest when she invited him in. There was something warm and welcoming about the subdued lighting and the muted colors she chose.

 

In silence, he took a seat on the couch, and stared down at the deck while she ordered some tea. He accepted the cup without a word, and for a long time, he just studied the play of light on the amber liquid.

 

He felt choked. He wanted to talk… needed to. But he was afraid that if he did, he would break the dam of emotion that he'd been fighting to keep up ever since he found himself on the Enterprise.

 

For a long moment, he fought for control; looked for the least painful words. When he thought he could speak, he didn't look up. “Deanna,” he said softly, “Please tell me Q is going to get tired of this, and send us home.”

 

“You don't want to hear platitudes, Maes,” she said gently.

 

He looked up, and saw her standing nearby. Her dark eyes were warm with compassion and understanding; and it hurt. So. Goddamn. Much.

 

“I won't lie to you,” she said. “I don't know.”

 

He slowly closed his eyes, and felt a tear escape.

 

0o0o0

 

Mustang twisted and dodged the short sword aiming right at his chest. In a deadly ballet, he followed through with the turn and came around. With a two-handed grip on the betleH, he sliced one end of the curved blade across the abdomen of his attacker. His attacker fell and disappeared in a shower of sparkles.

 

“Not too shabby, Colonel,” Edward said. “Except you left yourself wide open for his other hand.”

 

Mustang smirked. “Nonsense.”

 

Edward glanced over at Riker. The Commander grinned, and said, “Computer, freeze replay.” There was an answering chirp, and the players in the clearing froze in mid-movement. “Reverse to point oh-five, then freeze.” The holographic players squeaked and chattered, and reversed themselves to the point requested, then froze again.

 

The holographic Mustang was static in mid-spin, his back still to his attacker. His face and clothes were splattered with mud, but it didn't hide the wide eyes and ferocious grin. Like a photographic study in motion, his hair and clothes were caught in the wake of the air from the movement of his body; frozen. Even the mud flung off him when he twisted hung in mid-air; defying gravity.

 

The betleH, held in a two-handed grip near one end, was slicing up and just beginning to turn to land the deadly blow. It was an impressive image of a warrior at the brink of victory.

 

The live Mustang studied the image for a long moment, then shook his head. “I don't see it, Edward.”

 

Edward snorted, and slogged through the mud to point out what he thought was obvious. From his position, he had to weave around his own holo-image hanging in mid-air, left foot extended to land a deadly blow to the head of his own attacker. He cast a nervous, side-ways glance at it as he slipped past, like he half-expected it to topple over on top of him. He shook his head, and muttered, “Weird.”

 

When he reached the static Mustang, he reached up and lightly tapped right at the leading side of his throat. There was a metallic sound that came from the tap, and not entirely because it was Ed's automail hand.

 

The Colonel came closer and moved to a different vantage point. The change in perspective caused his breath to hitch. He could now see the dagger in his attacker's hand right at his throat.

 

“If it weren't for the safety protocols,” Edward said, “You'd be dead right now.”

 

Mustang knew Edward was right. From the direction he was spinning and where the blade was currently located, if it had been real life he would have been instrumental in his own death because he would have turned right into the point of the blade.

 

“I wouldn't say I was wide open,” Mustang said, attempting to cover the chill he felt with his own brand of bravado.

 

Edward gave him a serious look. “You forgot about his other hand, Colonel. That left you wide open.”

 

The two of them remained silent, staring at each other. Mustang knew he'd left himself open for the standard ridicule but none was forthcoming. Edward wasn't rising to the opportunity this time. For some reason, that shook him worse than seeing his own impending demise displayed in front of him.

 

Mustang looked at the dagger at his throat, then back at Edward. There was an awkward tension between the two of them at that moment and he just couldn't let it go on any longer. “You surprise me, Fullmetal,” he said.

 

Confusion flit across the boy's face. “Huh?”

 

“You had the perfect opportunity, and you didn't take it.”

 

Edward's expression changed to deviousness. “Now we're even,” he said as he headed back the way he came.

 

This time, it was Mustang's turn to be confused. He followed the boy and said, “Would you care to explain? Or would you prefer to leave me in the dark?”

 

Edward shot a wicked grin over his shoulder and said, “Keeping you in the dark would be my first choice, Colonel Useless.” He stopped and waited for Mustang to catch up, then said, “But I'm feeling generous today. Remember the transporter?”

 

Mustang suddenly understood. He'd deliberately avoided digging at Edward right after their first encounter with the transporter until the boy commented on it. He chuckled low and nodded. “Very well then Fullmetal. We're even.”

 

His words fell on deaf ears. Edward was staring up at his own holo-image, and scowling. Mustang followed the boy's gaze, trying to see what had his attention. They were standing near the back of Edward's attacker, and could see the boy's face over the attacker's head as he was flying up to land the final blow. The most interesting thing about the image in Mustang's opinion, was the way the lighting seemed to have created a halo around the boy. He looked up, but all he could see was heavily overcast sky. Looking around at the rest of the images standing frozen around him offered no clues, either. None of them had the same effect. “What is that?” he asked.

 

Edward turned, and said, “Commander Riker, is there something wrong with the replay?”

 

Riker joined them, and looked at the halo. “Odd,” he said. “Computer—“

 

“Party requesting entrance,” the computer interrupted.

 

Riker clamped his mouth shut, and looked over at Ed and Mustang. Both of them shrugged.

 

Worf came up to the three of them, followed closely by Alphonse. “We have overstayed our allotted time, Commander,” the Klingon said.

 

Riker nodded. “Computer, save sequence. Open the door.”

 

Off to the side, a pair of doors appeared in the thick jungle growth, and slid open. Spike, Jet and Faye started in, then froze in unison.

 

It was then Riker realized just what the five of them must look like. They'd been so engrossed with the replay that they'd forgotten they were covered in muck and slime.

 

Spike smirked, and trudged right in. “Looks like you've been having fun here.”

 

Jet was rather more careful about where he stepped, but cast impressed looks about him between watching where he put his feet. “Data said that the holodeck was pretty realistic. I didn't expect it to be quite this real, though.”

 

“Pretty realistic?” Riker asked.

 

Jet smirked and said, “Okay, he gave me a buncha technobabble that translated out as `pretty realistic'.”

 

Faye just stood at the doorway, and looked disgusted at the environment.

 

Jet glanced back at her and said, “Come on Faye, it's not going to hurt you.”

 

“No way,” she said.

 

Spike knelt down and dug a hand into the soupy muck. “This is pretty impressive,” he said. He glanced up at Riker. Something flashed in the man's dark eyes, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “All of this is imagery and force fields, right?”

 

“Absolutely,” Riker said. “Once past that door, they don't exist.”

 

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Jet called back to Faye, and Riker saw a devious gleam grow even brighter as Spike got back to his feet.

 

“Not until all that… whatever it is, is gone,” Faye snapped back.

 

“C'mon, Faye,” Spike said. “You can't tell me you never made mud pies when you were little.”

 

Before she had a chance to respond, Spike flung a handful of sloppy mud right at her. She screeched and lurched back, flinging her hands up as she nearly toppled over. In an instant, she was seething, and looked ready to do murder on the lanky man. Then she blinked, and looked down at herself. There wasn't even a speck of muck on her.

 

Spike laughed, and then said, “It's not real, Faye. That's what Data was trying to tell you.”

 

Edward snorted and said, “Consider yourself lucky. Worf tried to decapitate me.”

 

Jet and Spike both stared at the Klingon with a mixture of amused shock and appreciation. The Klingon only said, “Demonstration. To verify the safety protocols were in place.”

 

Edward's eyes went wide, and he went pale under the mud caked to his face. “Verify?” he squeaked. “You mean you weren't sure?”

 

“There is always the possibility that something could go wrong,” the Klingon said, matter-of-fact.

 

The boy gaped like a grounded fish, but nothing came out.

 

“My apologies for overstaying our time,” Riker said. “We were going over the replays.”

 

Both Jet and Spike came around the frozen group to see what Mustang, Riker and Edward were so intent on. Spike's look grew interested. “Looks like you have a glitch in the holosystem.”

 

“Looks like moiré,” Jet said.

 

“Yeah, but—“ Edward said, as he moved around the image. “—it doesn't show up from this angle.” He gave Riker a puzzled scowl. “Shouldn't you be able to see something like that from all angles?”

 

“Depends on if it's caused by more than one projector,” Riker said, as he followed him. “Computer, run diagnostics. Locate and correct any problems.”

 

The computer chirped, then said, “Diagnostics complete. No anomalous readings in the program.”

 

“This won't mess with the safety protocols will it? We were planning on doing a little target practice,” Jet said.

 

Riker shook his head. “If there is a problem there, the guns won't even fire.”

 

He looked down at Edward and said, “We can analyze this on my computer, if you're still curious.”

 

“Hell yeah.”

 

Spike looked at the image of Edward in mid-air, and smirked. “Nice move, Ed.” He looked down at the boy, and added, “But you're still not using your height to your advantage.”

 

Edward just glared silently, but the look was tinged with deviousness and challenge.

 

“Computer, save session,” Riker said. “Transfer to my personal terminal.”

 

“Acknowledged. Session transferred.”

 

“End program.”

 

At that, everything faded in a wave of glittered light, leaving only the gold and black grid of an empty holodeck. Edward, Mustang and Alphonse looked down at themselves, surprised that all the slime and mud they were covered in had also faded.

 

Riker jerked his head toward the door, and headed out. Edward followed hot on his heels.

 

Spike tilted his head curiously, shrugged, and started following.

 

“Where you off to, Spike?” Jet asked.

 

The younger man looked back over his shoulder. “I'm curious.”

 

As Edward approached the door, he pressed up against the frame to keep as much space between himself and Faye as he could. She smirked down at him, and purred, “Good to see you looking healthy for once.”

 

He turned a deep red, and muttered, “Thanks,” then slipped away from her as quickly as he could.

 

As Spike slipped past, he just chuckled and shook his head at her.

 

Mustang however, paused and gave her an appreciative, full-body scan. He started to say something, but was yanked into the corridor by a tight grip on the front of his shirt.

 

“Forget it, Mustang,” Spike said as he practically dragged him away. “She'll break your balls.”

 

As soon as he was released, he smoothed down his shirt in an effort to retain some of his dignity. “I didn't realize there was a relationship between the two of you.”

 

Spike shoved his hands into his pockets, and cast a sideways glance at the Colonel. “Do you see me walking with a limp? Besides, I thought you had a thing for the Counselor.”

 

Mustang smirked, and attempted to look more casual than he felt. “Nothing wrong with appreciating beauty.”

 

“Heh. I hear some people think cobras are pretty, too.”

 

Faye caught the tail end of the exchange, and when Spike glanced back at her, she gave him a one-fingered salute. He smirked and kept going.

 

She turned and headed into the holodeck, and nearly slammed into a broad expanse of metal. She blinked and looked up, then lurched back at the life she saw from within the helmet.

 

Alphonse took a step back, clasped his hands in front of him, and bowed politely. “Miss Valentine, thank you for saving my brother's life,” he said softly.

 

She blinked and stammered. It still stunned her that this suit of armor was in reality the soul of a child. “Y—you're welcome,” was all she could get out. She mentally winced at how lame that sounded to her ears. The heartfelt gratitude in the boy's voice deserved a better response, but for the life of her she couldn't come up with one.

 

0o0o0

 

McKenna slowly opened her eyes, and winced. She felt like she was on the fourth day of a three day drunk, and the muted light of her surroundings even hurt. As she sat up, she took inventory of aches and pains. None of it seemed serious, but her muscles were tense; she felt like she was getting ready to pounce on something. Along with that, it felt like her bones were literally vibrating.

 

After another moment of growing coherence, she realized that the vibration wasn't within her, but from all around her.

 

She worked to focus on something in the distance, and blinked a few times until the large, pinkish ring became clear.

 

A thrill of fear shot through her, as she realized that it was pulsing. It looked like it was breathing. Contracting, then expanding. As she stared in horrified awe, she noticed that it wasn't expanding as far as it had contracted. The ring was shrinking; tightening.

 

She just sat on the cold floor of the lab, and shook. And all the while, the ring pulsed and shrunk.

 

Soon, she felt the air around her tighten, and her own body tense in concert. There was a moment of suspended breath and time stood still. Then the ring twitched and vibrated, and released a wave of built-up energy. McKenna was thrown back with the force of it.

 

As soon as the wave passed, she looked back up at the ring…

 

…and screamed.