Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Deep Silent Complete ( Chapter 14 )

Deep Silent Complete

 

In your creation heaven did decree; That in your arms sweet death should dwell ~ Nightwish (Wishmaster)

 

 

“So cold. Dark. The place smells of death.”

 

He shivered, and wrapped his arms about himself. He was naked. He looked into the darkness and saw an endless corridor, and a faint light at the end of it.

 

“There. That's where I need to be. Where I have to go.”

 

He walked toward the light. His bare foot hit something in the darkness, and he looked down. A skull grinned up at him, eyeless sockets seeing into eternity. Never blinking.

 

“Death.”

 

He stepped around the skull, and continued on toward the distant glimmer of light.

 

“Steep. Like I'm walking uphill.”

 

He heard a distant scream. A woman's voice.

 

“Julia.”

 

He looked around, and back the way he'd come. The skull had turned to face him. The debris on the floor around the skull began to shimmer, and shine.

 

“Like quicksilver.”

 

The quicksilver began to move, to gather, to collect around the skull. He watched in horrified fascination. He couldn't turn away.

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

Jet had carried Spike into the small lab and laid him on the table as McKenna ran to fetch Ed. The space was tight, dominated by the exam table on one side, and a huge monitor-keyboard-CPU set-up on the other.

 

Jet set the bowl-shaped cap on Spike's head, and went about the task of fastening the myriad of wires to it. He leaned down, looking into his partner's face. He could see the eyes moving back and forth under the lids, in a permanent state of REM.

 

Gently he placed a hand on Spike's shoulder, and said, “I'm coming for you, Partner. Just hold on a little longer.”

 

As he finished hooking the last of the wires to the CPU, he heard several sets of footsteps coming his way. One set sounded rather metallic. He didn't know how much help Al would be, since he wasn't there, but he certainly wasn't going to turn him away.

 

As they reached the doorway, Jet booted up the ALFA Catch, and gestured to McKenna. “Keep an eye on his vitals. Ed, I need you over here with me.”

 

Ed stood behind Jet, looking over his shoulder at the screen. “What's this?” he asked.

 

The screen came to life with static and snow. Jet created some commands on the keyboard, and said, “It's called an ALFA Catch.” He turned to Ed. “It's supposed to read the electrical impulses of the brain that create and store memories.”

 

“Vitals are nominal, Jet,” McKenna said.

 

He nodded, and went on, tapping on the screen. “It translates those electrical impulses into images, so that we can see what Spike saw.”

 

Ed's eyes went wide, but there was little reaction beyond that. Kid's probably overwhelmed right now with all our little toys, Jet thought.

 

“How can I help?” Ed asked.

 

Jet took a deep breath. “I might need you to translate. Give me a little commentary.” He glanced up at Al. “You can probably help, too.”

 

Al nodded. “I'll try.”

 

A flash of data rolled up the screen, and Jet made a few adjustments. “It's compiling right now. We'll run it from the time you two entered Lab Five.”

 

“I know we're doing this to help,” Al said. “But isn't this an invasion of privacy?”

 

Jet looked at the boys, and saw the same concern on Ed's face that Al voiced. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking for a way to explain the ALFA Catch. He shook his head. “Not really, no. This is used in witness testimony, usually. More accurate than how we used to do it, with just verbal testimony, or hypnosis. All it picks up is actual memory. Not what the witness was thinking, or even their impression of what they saw. Thinks like thought, or dreams are a much weaker electrical impulse. The ALFA Catch won't pick those up.”

 

He smiled a little, and shook his head. “We won't see anything that's none of our business.”

 

“Something's wrong. This is way too easy,” Ed's voice said from the monitor, and real-time Ed scowled.

 

“Something's wrong with that machine, I don't sound like that.”

 

Jet chuckled and turned back to the monitor. He made a few minor adjustments to the gain on the screen, and the picture started coming in clearer, albeit a bit fuzzy. The picture still appeared strange, until Jet realized that Spike was wearing infrared goggles.

 

Then the motion sensors chirped. Spike lifted the goggles and looked at the screen.

 

Jet saw the blobs moving toward them. There must be at least a dozen, he thought.

 

“That's where we came across the chimera,” Ed said.

 

Something growled low in the darkness.

 

“You spoke too soon, Ed,” Spike said. “Looks like someone left the dogs in charge.”

 

Jet watched in horror as something leapt out of the darkness and at Spike. The sound of gunfire echoed off the metal bulkheads of the small room. From behind him, he heard McKenna announce, “Pulse rate is up, respiration rapid.”

 

“He's reliving it,” Jet said. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, and the nightmares appearing on it in an overwhelming wave.

 

“My God,” he whispered. “What kind of sick, twisted mind would create something like that?”

 

“His name is Shou Tucker,” Ed said. “The `Sewing Life' Alchemist.”

 

The bitterness in the boy's voice caused Jet to look at him. Ed wasn't looking at the screen, but his expression was haunted all the same. “He's a State Alchemist?” Jet asked, in shock.

 

Ed looked up, and nodded. There was a burning ember of tightly controlled fury behind the boy's eyes. This one's personal, Jet thought. He'd be more than capable of killing this Tucker, if he had the chance.

 

He faced the screen again, even though he didn't want to. He was sickened by the monstrosities that Ed and Spike were hastily dispatching.

 

What few glances Spike had managed to get of Ed while they were defending themselves was of someone in a berserker rage. Definitely personal, Jet thought.

 

That would be enough to send most normal people into shock, he thought. But Spike isn't like anyone else. And this isn't the last of it. Jet suddenly dreaded what else he was going to see.

 

He let the memories play out in regular time, even though he knew that there was nothing really to see that would give him any clues for awhile. According to Ed's report, the fun starts up again when they get out of the lab, Jet thought. But he wanted to keep watching, in case there was something missing from the boy's report. Not that I don't think he was being completely honest, but he could have left something out because to him it was inconsequential.

 

He saw Spike grab his side, then look at the fresh blood on his hand. “He was injured when you fought the chimera,” Jet said.

 

“Yeah. He didn't tell me about it though.”

 

Typical, Jet thought.

 

He continued to watch, as the images would blur a little, then clear. Loss of blood, Jet thought. And the first stages of shock. Bad combination, as it is.

 

They'd gotten out of the lab, and Ed was off to the side. From the flash of light, Jet assumed he was repairing the hole he'd made in the wall earlier. But Spike wasn't looking at Ed. He was watching something moving in the shadows on the roof of the building across the road.

 

He heard the explosion and saw the rubble rain down on them, but Spike's point of view never wavered. Jet couldn't tell what exactly it was he was watching. It had disappeared into the shadows, but Spike kept watching close.

 

“What is it with you and explosives?” He heard Ed say.

 

In typical understated fashion, Spike said, “I like to blow things up.”

 

He was still staring intently at the shadows across the road, when Ed came in view, and started helping him up. “No shit. Let's get out of here before we attract too much attention.”

 

A fairly large man, with an `X' shaped scar across his face charged out of the darkness from across the road. The look was determined, and angry.

“Too late,” Spike said.

 

As Ed turned, a man with an X-shaped scar on his face decked him, and slammed him against the wall.

 

“Scar!” Al said.

 

“You know this clown?” Jet asked.

 

“Unfortunately,” Ed said. “He's been going around killing State Alchemists. He uses Alchemy to blow out their brains.”

 

Al went on to explain that Scar was Ishbalan, and about the massacre. Jet heard compassion in the younger boy's voice.

 

“A jihad,” he whispered. He wondered if he were in the man's position, if he wouldn't be much the same way.

 

Scar had essentially ignored Spike. He's not an Alchemist, Jet reasoned. He's not his concern

 

Something in the man's demeanor and voice set alarm bells off in Jet, and from the looks of things, Spike had come to the same conclusion, because he was grabbing for the semi-automatic hidden in the shoulder holster. He aimed the gun at the killer, and said, “Get away from him, Scar.”

 

The killer spun on him, and reached for the barrel of the gun. “I told you thi—“

 

Jet saw the man's red eyes go wide in shock, and Spike's point of view scanned down to see three black claws shoot out of the killer's abdomen.

 

“What the hell?” Jet said.

 

“Lust,” Al said.

 

Spike's view went beyond Scar, to a coldly beautiful woman dressed in a formal looking dress. A bright red tattoo of an oroborus stood out against the milky skin of her chest. Next to her was a short, obese man, who was drooling like a starving dog.

 

“Can I eat him now, Lust?” the fat one said. A chill ran down Jet's spine, because that little man was staring right at Spike.

 

“Gluttony,” Ed said.

 

“Your homunculi?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was the sound of Ed practically begging Spike to get his ass in gear, and run, but Spike didn't move. The imagery blurred a little, then cleared, as Gluttony charged for him, and Spike raised his gun.

 

Flashes of bright light and several loud reports told Jet that he was firing right in the monster's gaping maw. And he watched in horrified fascination when the top half of his head was taken completely off. And as soon as Gluttony fell out of Spike's line of sight, Lust was leaping for him, her claws extended. Without a bit of hesitation, Spike cut her down, as well.

 

It was then Jet saw him look down at Ed, and start running.

 

“That was it,” Ed said from next to him. “We made it to the warehouse without any other problems.”

 

But as he spoke, Spike's point of view changed, and he looked back over his shoulder. What he saw made Jet think he was going to be having nightmares right alongside of his partner.

 

Lust sat up, and the bullets fell out of her. But Gluttony…

 

“My God! He's… reforming!” Jet whispered, as he felt the blood drain from his own face.

 

“Jet!” McKenna yelled from behind him. He spun, and saw Spike starting to convulse. She was trying to hold him down, but without much luck.

 

He bolted out of his seat, and jumped on top of Spike in an effort to hold him down. “Get me something to shove in his mouth, qui—“

 

He saw a large, armored hand wedge itself between Spike's clenched teeth, and looked up to see Al. “I can't feel it,” the boy said.

 

“I thought this thing would only pick up what he's actually seen,” Ed said, and Jet looked at the screen.

 

Dark, distorted and nightmarish images jumped across the screen, almost too fast to really see clearly. Jet felt his gut clench, and an icy chill surging through him. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.

 

He turned back to his partner, placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, and leaned right into the convulsing man's face. “Spike!”

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

“If there is a hell, I'm sure this is how it smells.”

 

He walked away from the skull as it was being covered in quicksilver. The light beckoned.

 

“The quiet screams, but I refuse to listen.”

 

A form wavered in front of him, like water made animate. It spread across the corridor, blocking his path. Trying to keep him from the light, and the warmth it would give.

 

He pushed against it, feeling it bend under his hands, but it refused to open for him.

 

He heard a voice whisper his name. A familiar voice.

 

“Deceptive. It wants me to look back. But back is Hell. Forward is safe.”

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

The seizures had stopped, but the nightmare continued on the monitor. Jet shoved Al out of the way, and slapped Spike. Hard.

 

“Dammit, Spike! Snap out of it!”

 

“His vitals are dropping,” McKenna said.

 

[4.4.4.4]

 

He pushed through the barrier, and reached for the light.

 

“Home. This is where I need to be.

 

The voice continued to whisper his name. He was struck by an invisible hand. He rolled with the blow, and got back to his feet. The only thing was the light. It was all that mattered.

 

His hand touched the light, penetrated it.

 

Warm. So warm.

 

 

[5.5.5.5]

 

 

“His heart stopped,” McKenna whispered. “No pulse, no respiration.”

 

There was a horrible moment of stunned silence. Jet stared at her, one thought going through his mind. No!

 

“He's… dead?” Ed whispered.

 

Jet looked down at his partner's face, slack and lifeless. Dead? Spike? Just like that?

 

 

[6.6.6.6]

 

 

He stepped all the way into the light. It was where he belonged. He could hear them calling his name, calling him to join them in the light and the warmth. He took another step forward, then couldn't move any further. There was resistance. Something didn't want him to go on. He felt it in his chest, this push.

 

[7.7.7.7]

 

Dead? Jet thought as he looked down into his partner's slack face. Not if I can help it.

 

He found the right spot on Spike's chest and gave it a good thump, then started CPR. McKenna jumped right in with mouth-to-mouth.

 

In rhythm with his pumping, Jet said, “Oh no you don't! You're not going out like this, Spike. You're not going to leave me to deal with this alone.”

 

[8.8.8.8]

 

He was being stopped. He couldn't go any further. Familiar faces began to gather. More pressure on his chest. Voices mumbling, shouting, incoherent.

 

Out of the crowd of faces, one came closer. Familiar.

 

The silhouette became defined. “Jet?”

 

“It's not your time, Spike-o.”

 

His hand came up, and hit him hard in the chest. Something pulled at him, and then the light rapidly receded. He felt despair and loss. The light wasn't his. Not yet.

 

 

[9.9.9.9]

 

“C'mon, Spike!” Jet said, as he pumped his partner's chest. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, stinging his eyes, but he wasn't going to take the time to wipe it away. Not yet. “It's not your time.”

 

Spike gasped, and started coughing. Slowly his eyes opened, and he looked around. Jet saw him look at him, and struggle to focus.

 

“His vitals are returning to normal, Jet,” McKenna said.

 

“Spike?” Jet said. “Talk to me, buddy.”

 

The younger man just stared at him in silence a long moment, then said, “Ya gotta cigarette?”