Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ The Storm ( Chapter 24 )

The Storm

 

In the wings of ebony; Darkened waves fill the trees; Wild winds of warning; Echo through the air… Blackmore's Night (Fires at Midnight)

 

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as Jet, Spike and their passengers neared the Bebop. There wasn't much light, but enough for both pilots to see several soldiers standing guard on the deck.

 

Several possible reasons flew through Jet's mind at the sight, none of them good. “What's going on?”

 

“I would hazard to guess that the Major took the ship, along with the Elric bothers, under protective custody right after your partner led me off at gun-point,” Mustang said.

 

Jet stared at the other craft, and the person piloting it. He was close enough to see Spike smirk and shrug. From behind him, he could hear Hughes start to chuckle.

 

“My goodness, Roy,” he said. “I never thought I'd see the day when someone actually got the drop on you.”

 

“I fail to see the humor in being kidnapped, Maes.”

 

Jet caught a look of pure mischief flash in Hughes' green eyes through the mirror. “That's your problem, Roy. You need to loosen up—“

 

“Hughes,” Mustang warned.

 

“—by finding yourself a good woman.”

 

A wordless growl came through the radio.

 

Due to the Swordfish on the main deck, and the soldiers all over the ship, both the craft landed on the ground nearby. By some unspoken agreement, everyone met in the middle. Hughes came out of the trip no worse for wear, and actually seemed to enjoy it. Sheska, on the other hand, looked pale, shaken, and as if she were going to fall to the ground and hug it like a long lost relative.

 

Hughes patted her on the shoulder, and said, “That wasn't too bad, was it?”

 

She looked up at him like he sprouted fangs, and just shook her head timidly.

 

Jet scowled at the armed soldiers on the deck of his ship, but Spike seemed unconcerned, as he stretched, and popped his neck. “It's always nice to be greeted by the whole family when you come home,” he said.

 

Hughes and Sheska stared at the Bebop. Neither of them looked real willing to come any closer to it.

 

“That thing… can fly?” Hughes said. He didn't look like he believed it.

 

“Finest rust-bucket in the Solar system,” Spike said, as he produced a bent cigarette, and lit it.

 

Jet shot him a dirty look. “Watch it.”

 

Lieutenant Hawkeye arrived and saluted Mustang, as he peeled off his damp coat and gloves. “Both the Elric brothers and the Rockbells are present and accounted for, Sir.”

 

“Good,” he said, as he tossed the damp clothing to her.

 

She scrambled to catch them, and added, “There's something else, Sir.”

 

Mustang cracked his knuckles. He never looked at her, but was staring hard at the back of Spike's head. “Is it urgent, Lieutenant?” he asked.

 

Jet glanced over at Hughes, who just shrugged. Something was up.

 

“Uh, no Sir,” Hawkeye said, puzzled.

 

“Then it'll wait a moment.” He took a couple steps forward, and tapped Spike on the shoulder. Both Hughes and Jet grabbed Sheska, and pulled her back away from the line of fire.

 

Spike turned, and instantly ducked out of the way of Mustang's fist. He smirked. “This should be fun,” he said. He came up with a kick that connected to Mustang's chin, and sent him reeling back.

 

Spike pulled his gun out of the back of his pants and tossed it to Jet. “Hold that for me would ya?”

 

Hawkeye glared at Mustang. “Colonel!”

 

Hughes laid a hand on her shoulder. She spun, and blinked, “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Sir.”

 

Hughes smiled, and jerked his head toward the ship. “Let them be, Lieutenant. They've been working up to this all night.”

 

She glanced back at Mustang, resignation written on her face. Then she joined the rest of them headed for the ship. She stepped up beside Jet and said, “Mr. Black, you should know…“

 

He looked down and saw the concern in her eyes. Behind him, the fight between Mustang and Spike continued.

 

Jet didn't like the look in her eyes. He started ticking off possibilities in his head. If it were something about the boys or the Rockbells, Mustang would already know, the Bebop looked like it was in one piece. There seemed to be only one possibility, and it was improbable. “McKenna?”

 

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes, Sir. She returned last night, right after Spike left with the Colonel.”

 

Jet ran.

 

Hawkeye called after him, “But, Mr. Black…”

 

She caught up with him, as he reached the entrance to the lounge, and stopped him. He glared down at her, then softened when he saw the worry on her face.

 

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

 

Hawkeye took a deep breath, and said, “She's not well, Sir.”

 

His legs suddenly felt heavy, and like they were about to give way. He was afraid of what the answer might be, but he had to know. “In what way?”

 

“She managed to ingest a handful of the stones, Sir.”

 

The look on his face must have been ferocious, because he saw the soldier flinch just before he lunged through the hatch into the lounge.

 

He aimed himself across the upper deck, and down the stairs, knocking Havoc out of the way without actually seeing him. He barely noticed Ed and Pinako making room for him, as he sat on the edge of the couch. He grasped McKenna by the front of her tunic and yanked her up to a sitting position.

 

His breath caught in his throat; the verbal flaying he'd intended dying before a word was uttered. She was so still and pale. Under the light blanket someone had laid over her, she looked even smaller than he remembered. He noticed the white streaks in her bangs and the tattoo on the side of her face, and wondered what she'd been through, and how long she was gone. But he mostly wondered if she was going to be able to get them home, now.

 

Her eyelids fluttered. “McKenna,” he growled low. Slowly, her eyes opened the rest of the way. She stared at him a moment, uncomprehending. Jet's brows furrowed, and he glanced back at Pinako.

 

“She's refused to allow herself to sleep deeply since she returned, and it's slowing her healing down,” Pinako said. “I believe she's been waiting for you to get back.”

 

Jet lowered her back onto the couch. “I'm back, McKenna. Get some sleep.”

 

He never noticed that the room had quietly cleared out.

 

She reached up for his face, but he pulled back. “I thought I was dreaming, again,” she said.

 

“It's real, McKenna. And Aunt Pinako said you need to sleep.”

 

She nodded and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, he heard her breathing slow and even. He quietly got up, and started out of the lounge. When he reached the upper deck, he heard her say, “It was your face I saw when I would phase.”

 

He stopped, a myriad of emotions fought for dominance. He waited without looking back, for her to say something else. After a long period of silence, he left the lounge.

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

When Jet made it back out on the deck, he had to shoulder his way through a sea of blue uniforms to get to the side. He found himself next to Hughes, and looked out on the river bank, where everyone else's attention was.

 

Spike and Mustang were still at it. Both of them looked like they had given as good as they got, too. Battered, bruised, bleeding from assorted contusions, and a little ragged. Jet was certain Spike had most likely reopened the wounds in his side and leg, and he knew Aunt Pinako was going to give him hell for it, later, too.

 

But both men had huge egos, and neither one was going to back down until the other was unconscious. And from what Jet could see, they were both too damn stubborn to give into that, no matter how hard he was hit.

 

Jet buried his face in a hand, and groaned. “Hasn't anyone tried to stop this, yet?”

 

Hughes chuckled. “They won't let anyone.” He nodded over at Armstrong and Ed. “They're probably the only two who really can. But the Major won't disobey a direct order, and Ed, I think is actually enjoying the show.”

 

Jet cocked a brow at him. “What about you? Aren't you Mustang's best friend, or something?”

 

“Sure I am. And I know Roy well enough to stay out of the way.” He glanced over at Jet, and he could see that mischievous look again. “Besides, I'm enjoying the show, too.”

 

Jet shook his head. He thumped Hughes on the shoulder and headed back into the bay. “Come with me,” he said. Hughes followed.

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

Spike was bent over, his hands on his knees, and panting. Sweat poured into his eyes, and he blinked it away as he looked up. Mustang was getting back to his feet after being slammed back several feet. He took some satisfaction in the fact that the man wasn't moving quite as quickly as he had earlier, but it was still annoying that he was moving at all.

 

“Why the hell won't you stay down?” Spike said.

 

Mustang wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiled. “Why won't you?”

 

Spike chuckled and wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Not a chance.”

 

“Then let's finish it.”

 

That was all he needed to hear.

 

Spike launched himself, ready to deal a swift, roundhouse kick that was supposed to connect with Mustang's skull, and put him down for the count. But in mid-leap, he was hit with a powerful force and violently yanked back. He tumbled several times on the ground while the world spun at crazy angles.

When he finally stopped his head was on the ground, his ass in the air, and his feet somewhere around his ears. It was that moment he realized that he'd been netted.

 

“Jet!”

 

He could hear his partner laughing.

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

“Nice little toy, Jet,” Hughes said. He laid the net launcher on the deck next to the one Jet had just used. “I think I might just have R & D see about developing our own.”

 

Over on the river bank, Spike was fighting to disentangle himself, cursing the entire time. Mustang had rather less of a problem since he hadn't been moving as much at the time he was hit and just pulled the weighted net off of him. But the look he gave Hughes was blistering.

 

“Good thing he's not wearing the gloves,” Hughes said.

 

Jet chuckled, then yelled, “Get your ass in gear Spike; we don't have time for this!”

 

Spike got to his feet; finally free of the net, and shot him a withering look. Jet was unphased.

 

“I suppose since you and Sheska are supposed to be here for information exchange…” Jet said as he turned to the other man. He stopped in mid-sentence, because Hughes had an oddly confused look on his face. “Something wrong?”

 

Hughes blinked, and glanced around, as though he were checking to make sure of where he was. Then he faced Jet again, a mask of calm on his face that was belayed by the confusion still in his eyes.

 

“Ah. No, nothing wrong,” Hughes said. “You were saying?”

 

“Information exchange?”

 

“Of course. Where's Sheska?”

 

Jet pointed her out, and took a moment to look around. Hughes wasn't the only one with a look of confusion on his face. He noticed that Ed, Havoc, and Mustang were also passing furtive glances at each other, as well.

 

He glanced over and noticed Spike was looking oddly at the same group of people. What the hell just happened?

 

Just as suddenly as it occurred, it was over, and everyone was acting normally. But Jet was watching them a lot closer after that.