Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Wish You Were Here ( Chapter 13 )

Wish You Were Here

 

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell; blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? ~ Pink Floyd (Wish You Were Here)

 

Jet had barely let the Hammerhead come to a complete stop before he was out of it, and jogging to the Swordfish. From the sounds behind him, Al was hot on his heels.

 

However, it was Major Armstrong who got to the craft first, and was slinging up the canopy when it didn't open up fast enough for him. He leaned over the side, and reached in for Spike. And as Jet got closer, he saw that Ed was also leaning over the unconscious man in the back.

 

McKenna came running out of the bay, pushing one of the carts the crew usually used to move supplies; thundering up the dock was Winrey, Ross and Brosh carrying supplies, and Aunt Pinako bringing up the rear.

 

Jet was well aware of the fact that everyone would be there. McKenna had informed him that his departure had not gone unnoticed, and that she'd told the soldiers what was going on when they came asking.

 

“At this point, I saw no reason to lie,” she'd told him. He had to agree.

 

He had to admit she did a bang-up job helping coordinate everything; including having both bay doors wide open, and the emergency brakes ready for the rather precarious landing he had to make.

 

It was something that would be worthy of his partner, though. Jet brought the Hammerhead in low from one end of the Bebop, through the bay, and out the other end. He only actually hit the deck of the ship when he was out the other side, and the emergency brake strung across snagged the hook on the old craft neatly. What he hadn't asked for but McKenna anticipated, was jury-rigging the brake on the other end of the deck to catch the backwards-moving Swordfish.

 

By the time he got through the bay and to the Swordfish, Armstrong was already laying Spike on the makeshift gurney, and Ed was climbing down. Jet only then got a good look at the boy, and he was an absolute horror. It brought the older man up short. Ed was covered in blood, gore and dirt; his long blonde hair was the colour of mud, his clothes were filthy, and torn. He was unrecognizable, except for those huge gold eyes of his. “Ed, are you—“

 

Al whizzed past him, and said, “Brother! Are you hurt?”

 

Ed grew a huge cocky grin and said, “Nope! Not even a scratch.”

 

The suit of armor actually relaxed. “Good,” Al said.

 

The next instant, Jet saw Ed spin, slam face-first into the side of the Swordfish, and sag to the deck. Only then did he see Al's clenched fist.

 

Ed sat up, shook his head, and then bounded to his feet. With fists clenched at his sides, he shouted up at Al, “What the hell did you do that for?”

 

Al grabbed his brother by the front of his tattered shirt, and leaned down into his face. “Because you took a stupid chance, Nii-san! You could've died and killed Spike too! Then where would we be? `Live and be content,' you keep saying! `Stay alive to research more Alchemy, so we can get our bodies back', you said!” Al shoved his brother back against the Swordfish for emphasis. “How can we do that, if you're dead?”

 

The suit of armor was an intimidating figure towering over the diminutive Ed. His fear and rage had the armor shaking so hard Jet could hear it rattling. But apparently it wasn't enough to cow the little firecracker, because Ed was right back in his brother's face defending his decision.

 

Jet left Al to mete out punishment on his big brother with a chuckle. The lightness of the moment was immediately ended when he saw Pinako hovering over Spike, and barking orders at the soldiers.

 

He had no idea what condition his partner was in, until he got close enough to get a good look. His shirt and jacket had been cut away, and Pinako was cleaning the wounds, revealing just how bad they were.

 

Three huge slashes cut across Spike's ribs. The edges were ragged and livid, but they didn't appear to Jet to be near any organs. Although as thin as Spike is, they probably cut down to the bone, he thought.

 

The tiny old woman was all business, as she set right to work patching his partner back up. There was nothing for Jet to do now, but wait. And at that moment, the adrenaline that had been surging through him drained, and he felt his knees buckle. He didn't fight it, but just sunk down to the deck, and hung his head between his knees.

 

After a few minutes of just letting the sounds of activity roll around him, he had the feeling he wasn't alone, and looked up. McKenna was in front of him, holding what was to Jet the most beautiful thing in the universe at the moment; a mostly full bottle of single malt scotch.

 

A slow smile spread across his face as she handed the bottle to him. “I figured you didn't need a glass,” she said.

 

He took the bottle, and tipped it up, reveling in the luxurious burn as the amber liquid slid down his throat. He wiped his mouth, and just stared at the bottle a moment. “Where the hell did you find that?” he asked.

 

McKenna flopped down on the deck next to him, and held her hand out. He gave her the bottle and she took a healthy sized swig of the alcohol, too. She didn't even cough, and she certainly didn't sip it daintily. Jet was impressed.

 

“I found it behind your `fridge, of all places,” she said as she handed the bottle back to him. “When we were cleaning up.”

 

Jet looked over the label, and shook his head. “I don't remember it. Must be Spike's.” He held the bottle up in a toast to his partner. He was already starting to feel a buzz from it, and was planning on achieving a bigger one. “Considering the circumstances, I don't think he'll mind sharing.”

 

All thoughts of drinking himself stupid vanished, when Ed showed up in front of him, dripping wet. He dropped a backpack and a satchel made from his red coat in front of him, then flopped unceremoniously onto the deck, and leaned against McKenna with a huge yawn.

 

He was at least semi-clean at this point, and smelled of the river. Jet had a feeling Ed hadn't gone in voluntarily, though. The boy might not've been injured when he got here, Jet thought. But it looks like he's developing a doozy of a shiner now.

 

McKenna shifted Ed until he was lying down, with his head in her lap. He was instantly asleep. Jet chuckled. “I wonder where Al is, now.”

 

McKenna jerked her head toward the back bay door, and said. “Cooling off, I think.”

 

“He's pretty pissed at Ed,” Jet said. “Scared too.”

 

He reached for the backpack, and opened it up. “Looks like they got what they went after, though,” he said as he reached in, and brought out a small handful of glowing red stones.

 

He looked hard at McKenna. “I hope they're worth it.”

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

Jet rubbed his burning eyes, and tried to read the data crawling up the computer screen again. It was useless, he knew. He was too exhausted to know what he was looking at, but he was too worried about Spike to sleep. He shut the computer down and stretched. Ed and Al had long ago lost interest in the marvels of computer technology, and were in a corner of the lounge, asleep. At least Jet assumed Al was asleep. Ed was snoring softly, his head on the metal lap of his brother.

 

That boy can sleep anywhere, Jet thought, and smiled. One more thing he has in common with Spike.

 

McKenna was dozing on the couch across the room from him, the soldiers had gone back to the house with Winrey, and Pinako was taking a shift at Spike's side in his room.

 

About two hours or so ago, the girl had brought dinner, but Jet had barely noticed. He had fresh stones, and he was determined to analyze them before letting McKenna drop them down her gullet. All of his own knowledge screamed that pretty rocks were not going to solve their current problems. It didn't make a whole lot of sense to him.

 

Then again, there isn't a lot here that does make sense, he thought. He rubbed his head, and looked down at the deck. Ed's report was frightening, and I was getting it second-hand. Spike was right there.

 

Dear God! Real live chimera. Actual animals that had been genetically fused to create some kind of monster.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Pinako standing there. “Is he awake?” Jet asked.

 

Pinako shook her head. She took out her pipe, lit it, and scanned the lounge. “Mr. Black, sometimes an injury can go unseen. It sits in the dark, and festers until it poisons the entire body.” She looked at him, worry etched her ancient face. “If it gets to that point, there is often nothing anyone can do to heal. Even if the infection is removed, the scars will remain.”

 

Jet felt a cold chill at those words. “Don't speak in riddles, Old Woman,” he whispered. “Give it to me straight.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Ed was sitting up, watching the exchange.

 

“Mr. Spiegel is trapped inside his own nightmares, Mr. Black,” she said. She stared straight ahead, not looking at Jet. “I'm a good triage physician. But this is beyond my abilities. I'm sorry.” Without another word, she left.

 

Jet buried his face in his hands. Snapped? Spike?

 

He barely noticed that McKenna had chased the boys out, as he collapsed into his own dark pit of anguish.

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

“Beautiful. Like a viper. Get too close and you're dead.

 

“Lust. He called her Lust. She could make you lust after her. Black hair, the eyes. Curves made for hot, passionate hands to caress.”

 

The coldly beautiful woman glided out of the shadows, and struck a seductive pose.

 

“Elegant. Like she's going to a party.”

 

She smiled and gestured to come closer with a delicate, velvet-gloved hand.

 

“A party for just the two of us.

 

“Handling vipers is dangerous. You have to be very careful, and stay out of the way of the fangs, or you're dead.”

 

His hands rested on her widely curved hips.

 

“Soft and warm. Alive.

 

“Velvet. Luxury and sensuality. Naturally.”

 

His hands slid up her body, and brushed against voluptuous breasts wrapped in yellow vinyl.

 

“Faye.”

 

He unfastened the yellow top, and cupped a heavy breast in his hand.

 

A fine, china-doll hand slid down the front of his body, to the waistband of his pants.

 

He slid his hand further up, to the long, elegant neck. Entangling his fingers in long sandy hair.

 

“Julia.”

 

He looked in the cool blue eyes, and leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Her hand slid back up his body, under his shirt, tickling his side.

 

“Yes, Julia.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and kissing her deeply.

 

“Run away with me, Julia. Let's just go.”

 

He felt a sudden ripping pain along his side, and Julia shoved him back. He grabbed his side in shock. His hand came away covered in blood.

 

“Julia, why?”

 

Julia changed back into Lust. She held up a hand with incredibly long fingers, dripping with blood. His blood.

 

Her fingers shrunk back to normal, and she licked his blood off of them with relish.

 

In the dark behind her, glowing red embers appeared, and he heard low growls.

 

“Where's Julia?”

 

He heard the sickening sound of bones being broken, and crushed, and saw the short fat one gnawing on an arm.

 

He dared to look a little closer. The arm was attached to the body of a slender woman, with long sandy hair. Her face was covered and partially hidden in the darkness. He didn't want to see any more.

 

The growls came closer, and he looked at Lust… watched her morph into something reptilian…

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

When Jet knew anything again, he found himself lying on the couch, staring up at the slowly turning fan. Damn, he thought, as he slowly sat up. Now it's my turn to lose it.

 

Memory returned, and Jet buried his face in his hands, shamed. Shouting, angry voices echoed through his head. He blamed McKenna for everything that had happened. And he told her exactly what he thought at the moment. Cruelly. Viciously.

 

He wanted her to hurt as badly as he did at that moment. She couldn't possibly understand the bond between himself and Spike. She was never anywhere long enough to form any bonds. Had he called her a freak? Incapable of anything remotely resembling love? Even friendship?

 

He remembered the sound of crying. Hers? His own?

 

“You can be a real bastard, Jet Black,” he said to himself. He got up off the couch, and went in search of McKenna.

 

He found her in the dark, on the bridge. She was leaning against one of the ports, staring off into the night sky. On the nav table next to him, was an empty bottle of scotch. He saw her bring a half-full glass up to her lips, and take a drink.

 

He stood there for a long while, not sure just how to approach her. He thought she was unaware of him. He couldn't find the words he wanted at the moment, and turned to leave.

 

“I know it's cold comfort Jet,” she said, and he stopped. “But I'm sorry.”

 

He turned around, and she was facing him. Her lips were drawn low and trembling. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

 

“It wasn't supposed to happen this way, you know?” She took another drink from the glass, draining it. Her hand fell to her side, and she stared down at the deck. “I was just going to give you the data, and then go on to Earth. I thought… I had enough time.”

 

She crossed the space between them, and set the glass on the nav table next to the empty bottle. She picked up the bottle, and smirked. “Damn. Empty.”

 

“You've probably had enough,” Jet said.

 

McKenna set the bottle down, and said, “No, actually I haven't had nearly enough. I never do.”

 

She looked up at him, and smiled sadly. “I'm a freak of nature.”

 

Jet winced, and said, “McKenna, I'm sorry I said that. It was cruel.”

 

She shrugged. “It's the truth, though. Like the Red Eye, I don't metabolize alcohol the same way normal people do. I get a light buzz, and in five minutes, it's gone. Kinda takes all the fun out of it, you know?”

 

“I know a few people who would envy that.”

 

“No,” she said. “Not with what comes with it.” She reached over, and touched his cybernetic hand resting on the nav table. She ran the tips of her fingers along the valleys between the tendon ridges that were supposed to make the hand look more realistic. Jet just watched her fingers trace along his hand, wishing that he could feel it.

 

“Alisa lied to you,” she said.

 

He looked at her, cocking a brow, inviting her to continue.

 

“When she acted like she didn't know you'd left the ISSP and became a bounty hunter. She knew.”

 

Jet felt a pang of regret. Knowing she knew; knowing that she kept tabs on him, and didn't just write off that part of her life, hurt. If only, he thought.

 

“That's ancient history,” he whispered. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Alisa was my friend, Jet. I trusted her.” She curled her fingers over his. “And she trusted you.

 

“I've trusted three people in my entire life. I daresay I loved them. Hohenheim was one, Alisa was another.”

 

He didn't say anything. He couldn't find the words.

 

She let go of his hand, and went back to the ports, turning away from him, and crossing her arms. “You know what the cruelest joke of all is, Jet? It's not living for as long as I have. It's not even that I didn't dare stay in one place for too long.”

 

She looked back at him, the moonlight catching the wetness on her face. “The cruelest joke is being truly alone. Never being able to share what I've experienced. Even a little bit of it.”

 

She turned back to the port, and rested her forehead against it. “Of course, it no longer matters. When we get back, you'll have the data, and you'll let me go.”

 

Jet came up behind her, and rested his hands on her shoulders. She leaned into him, and it was just natural that he wrapped his arms around her.

 

“I wish you could have seen what I've seen, Jet,” she whispered.

 

He held her closer, and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. Silently, he wished the same thing.

 

They stayed that way for a long time, a million thoughts circling through Jet's mind. He wondered what it would have been like, to travel across time and the multiverse with her. Seeing what she saw, experiencing it all right along side of her.

 

Seeing what she saw, he thought again. Seeing what… Spike saw?

 

He spun McKenna around, and planted a kiss on her lips. At her shocked look, he grinned and said, “Thank you.” Then he dashed off the bridge.