Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Forsaken ( Chapter 17 )

 

 

 

 

Forsaken

 

"The only thing that burns in hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life: your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away, but they're not punishing you, they're freeing your soul. If you're frightened of dying and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. If you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels freeing you from the earth." - Meister Eckhart

 

And whose life do I lead? Whose blood do I bleed? Whose air do I now breathe? I'm convinced there's nothing more. --VNV Nation (Solitary EP)

 

Stunned silence echoed through the ship. Mustang had no real idea of what just happened, but he didn't need anyone to tell him that it was disastrous. He couldn't see the other two men; they'd fallen away from his line of sight. But the body language of both Elric brothers spoke volumes. Al had fallen back against the bulkhead, and slid down to the deck in shock. Edward's face was white as death, his eyes were hollow holes, and his whole body was stiff and shaking. The boy looked like he was going to pass out, or puke. Or both.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Hawkeye leaned in to whisper. “Perhaps we should wait outside.”

 

Mustang nodded, and they quietly left the group.

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

About half an hour later, Mustang was still leaning against one of the supporting posts of the dock, contemplating his fingernails for the thousandth time.

 

Hawkeye was sitting silently on the dock next to him. She'd finally given up trying to convince him to go back to the Rockbell house. He had his mind set that he was going to collar Ed as soon as he stepped off that boat.

 

She tried to piece together what had just happened, but it was beyond her at the moment. She was no Alchemist, but working under one for years had taught her a few things. What she saw in that shower was not the result of any Alchemy she'd ever heard of, nor seen. And who were the people who owned this boat?

 

One of them, she noticed, had an automail arm, but it didn't look like any she'd seen before. There were only a handful of automail mechanics who were supremely skilled; the Rockbell's being two of them. But the little she saw of that arm looked far more advanced than even they should be capable of.

 

And what had Ed tossed to the one he called Spike? It was a red liquid. Almost like the red water Dr. Marcoh had created in his own attempts to make a Philosopher's Stone. Alchemic enhancement.

 

But Mustang said it solidified in the air, she thought. This didn't. It was sprayed in her eyes. Faster absorption, but for what?

 

She heard footsteps on the deck of the ship, and saw Ed with Al following close behind. Both the boys had their heads hung low. From her angle she could see the haunted look in Ed's eyes, and the faint traces of dried tears on his face.

 

She noticed Mustang had perked up, but was acting unconcerned. She wondered if he'd noticed the same thing she had. The boy's not a cry-baby. If this incident brought him to tears, it's more serious than we first thought.

 

The boys walked down the dock and past them without a word. She glanced at the man next to her, and saw him cast a sideways look at her, then to the boys.

 

“I need your report, Fullmetal,” he said.

 

Ed kept going. Not even a pause in his stride. “Later,” he said without even looking back.

 

“Don't let this distract you from your mission,” Mustang said, as Ed hopped off the end of the dock.

 

He stopped dead, and gave Mustang an icy glare over his shoulder. Mustang came up out of his casual slouch, and fully faced him.

 

Uh-oh, Hawkeye thought, and got to her feet, to take a position behind and just off to the side of the Colonel.

 

“I won't,” Ed said finally.

 

“Really? It looks like you already have, Fullmetal.”

 

Good one Roy, Hawkeye thought. Remind the boy he's a `Dog of the Military' when he's this miserable. Are you trying to piss him off? Outwardly, she didn't show any emotion.

 

“To put it in your words, Colonel, `It just dropped a rung on my priority list',” Ed said.

 

“I suggest you bump it back up,” Mustang said. “Your mission is far more important than babysitting a pair of pirates.”

 

Ed stalked up to Mustang and opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He tried again, sticking his finger under the Colonel's nose. Still nothing. His face was livid, and his jaw set. He growled in frustration and balled up his fists.

 

Then he clipped Mustang hard in the cheek, knocking the taller man off balance and into Hawkeye. She caught him, and got him back to his feet, but Ed was already storming off.

 

Mustang chuckled low, and spit. There was a tinge of pink in the saliva.

 

“Sir?”

 

He faced her, wiping his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, and smiled.

 

Riza Hawkeye suddenly understood. “You provoked him on purpose.”

 

“I never do anything by `accident', Lieutenant. You know that.” He started walking toward the Rockbell house, and she fell in step with him.

 

“We can't afford to have him moping around like some hormonal, angsty teenager,” Mustang said. “He needs to either resolve whatever the issue is, or drop it.”

 

“And goading him into striking a superior officer is going to do that… how?”

 

Mustang gave her a sideways glance and a smirk. “Did you happen to notice his body language in the ship?”

 

“Yes Sir. But I'm still not following you.”

 

“He wasn't just shocked, or upset. He was frustrated, and angry. He needed to strike out at something, but he wouldn't allow himself to do it there.”

 

“It wasn't exactly an appropriate time, Sir,” Hawkeye said.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Riza Hawkeye stopped dead in her tracks. Mustang took a couple more steps, then stopped and turned to her. He dropped his head and rubbed his eyes, as though there was something in them, and then she could have sworn she heard him sniffle.

 

“Colonel Mustang?”

 

“Yes,” he said. His voice was thick. “Our little Alchemist is growing up.”

 

Hawkeye's jaw dropped. “Uh…”

 

Mustang looked back up, and smirked. “But he's still a short-tempered pipsqueak.”

 

She gave him a narrow-eyed glare, and then huffed past him.

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

Ed stalked up the steps, and into the Rockbell house without even a word to the soldiers all gathered there.

 

To Maria Ross, it was clear that something was seriously wrong, and when Al reached the porch, she said, “Al? What happened?”

 

The boy stopped, and looked down. His whole body just sagged. After a long moment, he looked up. If he could cry real tears, Ross was certain she would see them streaming down his face at this very moment.

 

“Brianne…” He choked, and it sent a small thrill of fear though her. “Brianne is gone,” he finally said.

 

“Gone?” Armstrong asked. “In what way?”

 

Ross clamped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes went wide.

 

Al just stared at the group. She saw him struggling to find the words he needed. That was all it took for her to understand. “I don't think a search party is going to help, Major,” she said.

 

Armstrong looked at her, understanding the implications, and not liking them one bit.

 

Al went on into the house without another word.

 

Stunned silence settled over three of the officers. Confusion settled over the others.

 

A moment later, Mustang and Hawkeye returned. Ross noticed that the Colonel was developing a rather interesting bruise on his left cheek, and wondered about that. She knew better than to ask, though.

 

He stood silent a moment at the head of the stairs, looking over the three soldiers. He glanced at the house, then off to a copse of trees a little ways away. “Let's go somewhere a little more private,” he said.

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

Jet had no sense of how long he sat on the floor of the shower room, and stared at the empty space that was once occupied by McKenna. Only one thought whirled through his mind. She's gone. It's over. And we're stuck here.

 

He barely noticed when Spike tried to get him to leave the shower room. He didn't notice that Al and Ed had left. And he didn't care. There was nothing left. His life was over, as far as he was concerned.

 

He knew that this possibility existed, but he never thought about it that much. He was certain they'd get out of this, somehow. Didn't they always land on their feet? Hope was never completely lost. Even when it looked like impossible odds, they always came out of it alright in the end. That was how things worked. Always.

 

But not this time, he thought. Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect Two Hundred woolongs.

 

His eyes started to sting, and he brought his hand up over them. Game over.

 

He couldn't stop the sob that escaped his lips.

 

[4.4.4.4]

 

Spike found another squirreled-away bottle of whiskey behind the fridge. In fact, he found three of them. Somewhere in the back of his non-functioning mind, he heard a small laugh escape him. I keep forgetting I have a bottle hidden, and buy another one when I have the woolongs.

 

He grabbed all three of them, and a glass. He figured that three fifths of whiskey wasn't going to be nearly enough, but it would be a good start.

 

He fell into the pilot's seat on the bridge, and propped his feet up on the control panel. It wasn't going to be good for anything else now, he reasoned.

 

Beyond the ports, the lazy river flowed off into the horizon. Along with the golden, rolling hills, and the misty mountains. The beautiful scenery and the bright sunshine mocked him. “God I hate the country,” he said.

 

He poured a glassful of whiskey and downed it quickly. Then his eyes landed on the Swordfish, still sitting on the front deck. It was still facing the bow and the wings were still spread. The back half of the craft was hidden from view by his line of sight, and the control panel.

 

He got up, and headed to the ports to look at her fully. He wasn't going to be flying her now. Not with the situation they were stuck in. But he loved that ship.

 

As he got to the ports, and got a full view of her, his teeth started to grind, and his eye twitched. He was out when they got back to the Bebop. He had no idea how they managed to make it, and he was in no condition to ask at the time.

 

Unfortunately, things started happening too fast for him to find out, and prepare himself for the shock of seeing his precious Swordfish sitting with a harpoon right through her heart.

 

He yelled wordlessly, and hurled the empty glass at the nearest bulkhead. The sound of it shattering wasn't nearly satisfying enough.

 

He punched the glass on one of the ports as hard as he could, over and over. It was too thick for him to ever break it that way, but the sound of the bones crunching in his own hand was good enough. He needed to break something. It didn't matter what. If it was his own hand, then so be it. At this point, he couldn't feel it anyway.

 

[5.5.5.5]

 

Mustang remained sitting in the grass, with his back against a tree. He demanded a report from the three officers who had been assigned to protect the Elric brothers, but considering the circumstances, it was off the record. Formalities, therefore, were not needed. In fact, they were likely to be detrimental to the situation at hand.

 

After he heard what they had to say, he was glad he didn't ask for it in writing.

 

His original thought was the men and the technologies on the ship were under the auspices of a different military group. Much like Gran and the Fifth Laboratory. He knew how to deal with that.

 

Here, he was in unknown territory. Those men and their ship weren't any way connected to any secret experiments, or research of the military. They weren't even associated with anyone on the planet, except by sheer coincidence and happenstance.

 

He looked at each of the officers in turn. Ross and Brosh were clearly shaken, and with good reason. But he was impressed at the control they kept. He could see tears threaten to spill over Maria's lashes. But her face remained impassive. He could forgive Brosh for the slightly scared look on his face. The officers who'd come here with him; especially Fuery and Breda, were dealing with the information as best they could, given the circumstances. In this case, it was shocked silence while they tried to wrap their brains around the information. He rather envied their position at the moment. He would like nothing more than to be able to shut down, himself.

 

Havoc, as usual, made a typical smart-assed remark. It lightened the mood a bit. But there was a hard edge to the comment. Understandable.

 

So, we're not alone, Mustang thought. The question that has nagged at philosophers and scientists for centuries has finally been answered. And it makes us vulnerable. Not a nice feeling.

 

The question is; what do we do about it? And how can we turn it to our advantage?

 

He looked up at Armstrong, who was on his feet, and leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He was facing away from the rest of the group, and separate from them in more than just distance. Mustang wanted to talk to him, especially. But alone.

 

Finally, his eyes fell back on the other officers. “Dismissed,” he said, and they got up to leave.

 

“Lieutenant Ross?”

 

Ross stopped and faced him.

 

“You seem to have a special rapport with the Elric brothers. Please make sure they don't go off half-cocked.”

 

She saluted. “Yes, Sir.” Then she left, as well.

 

He noticed that Armstrong hung back. Good, he thought. We're on the same page. This should make it easier.

 

He got to his feet, and nodded at Hawkeye. “You too, Lieutenant. I want to have a few words with Major Armstrong alone, please.”

 

Hawkeye nodded, and left.

 

The two men faced each other in silence. Armstrong was at stiff attention. Looking straight ahead. Mustang let him sweat a moment, then smirked. “At ease, Major. You're not in any trouble.”

 

Armstrong slipped into proper “at ease” stance, and breathed. Mustang wondered briefly just how long the man had been holding his breath.

 

“Walk with me, Major. I want your personal take on this.”

 

[6.6.6.6]

 

Edward set on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor. Seeing nothing. A million thoughts screamed around his mind, and he couldn't grab hold of a single one at the moment. He felt his brother's presence on the bed across from him, doing much the same thing.

 

Al had been silent for so long, that Ed was startled when he asked, “What do you think Jet and Spike will do, now?”

 

He worked to find his voice. To find something intelligent to say, even if it was speculation. All he could come up with was, “I don't know, Al.”

 

He mentally reached out and grabbed one of the whirling thoughts, and said, “But I'm scared for them.”

 

He looked out the window, off in the direction of the Bebop. It was blocked by rolling hills, but he imagined it; knew where it was. “The military is going to want to get their hands on that ship. And probably those two.”

 

“Brother,” Al said. Fear made his voice sound hollow and shaky. “What do you think the military will do to them?”

 

Ed's lips turned down low, and he felt a lead ball in his stomach. He looked down at the floor. “They're going to take that ship apart, bold by bolt,” he whispered. “To see how it ticks. And…” Ed hesitated. The idea he was about to voice was repugnant, and brought back visions of a little girl he'd grown very fond of. “They'll do the same to Jet and Spike.”

 

The suit of armor in front of him straightened, and rattled in shock. “But… They're human beings!”

 

Ed's lips trembled, and he got to his feet. He wrapped his arms around himself, and crossed the room. His eyes burned, and he covered them with a hand. Dammit! He thought. I'm not a baby. I should be thinking of a solution. Not crying my eyes out.

 

“Nina was a human being too, Al,” he whispered. “And her own father turned her into a chimera.”

 

“We can't let them do that, Brother,” Al said.

 

Ed heard the plea in his brother's voice. The hope… the need to know that big brother had at least an inkling of an idea. But Ed was fresh out at the moment. In frustration, he punched the wall.