Samsung Super Aladdin Boy II wrote a short fic about Ed's automail a while ago. I thought it was an interesting subject, so . . . this is the result. I therefore dedicate this story to you, my dear friend, as gratitude for that little bit of inspiration. ;)

Disclamer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

That Blasted Arm!

Ed's right arm despises him. Long ago, when things were pretty and perfect, it loved him for being its owner and for bestowing upon it the gift of movement. Then it was ripped from his body in a most brutal way, and has despised him ever since.

But what exactly is the importance of this? Surely Ed's left leg despises him also. But no, that is not the case. Ed's leg is much milder and more forgiving than his arm. It understands how Ed felt when his mother died, and why he was so desperate to resurrect her. It didn't complain once, even when he sacrificed it a second time to retrieve his brother's body.

His arm, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. As soon as it realised that there was no escape from the Portal of Truth unless Ed personally came to rescue it, it sulkily put up with its new body, which was apparently called 'Truth', 'One', 'All', 'God', 'The Universe', and many other preposterous names it didn't bother to commit to memory. It thought Ed would come for it soon enough if it settled down and waited, but the boy, instead of doing so, not only neglected it, but dared to replace it with a new arm! It was furious.

That isn't to say, however, that Ed's automail arm liked him very much either. It was tough and arrogant and didn't like to go down without a fight, so when it was connected to his nerves, both Ed and the arm screamed and yelled and tried to conquer one another. The arm was rather embarrassed to admit that Ed always won, no matter how long it took. But it did resist with all it's might at first, as all prosthetic limbs do, until Ed managed to take control of it completely after only one year.

Ed's automail leg was quite similar in nature, and although it caused him plenty of trouble, it didn't seem to possess so many negative feelings regarding him. It is probably safe to assume that the arm's hostility stemmed from Ed's poor treatment of it – after all, it always received the worst damage from his countless fights. In a nutshell, it was broken, fixed, caused to malfunction, fixed, destroyed, fixed, deconstructed, fixed, and so forth. At one point Ed went so far as to alchemically remove it himself, and that time it had already been severely damaged. The arm's loathing of Ed was therefore somewhat justified – what kind of arm would be content doing this sort of slave labour?

So it expressed its contempt most passionately. When it rained it caused Ed as much discomfort as possible, and when it shone it tried its best to have Ed roasted alive. The leg, seeing the enjoyment in what the arm was doing, indulged freely in this new pastime.

The arm's golden opportunity for revenge came when Ed went north in pursuit of a little girl who owned a black-and-white cat. Ed didn't know that a different type of automail was required for cold climates, and his ignorance delighted the arm. It made sure it was exposed to the cold for an extended amount of time, and to its utmost satisfaction, Ed began to get frostbitten. But most disappointingly, the fight with the bear-like man who sported a mohawk was over far too quickly, and the arm was unable to cause permanent damage.

Despite all this, Ed tried very hard to like his automail. He tried to accept it as part of his body, but it always felt so foreign. Sometimes, when it was paining him, he even talked to those insolent limbs, tried to make peace with them. But they never listened.

Even so – even though he didn't enjoy having a steel arm and a steel leg attached to his flesh, he took pride in the fact that the leg enabled him to walk on his own two feet, and that the arm allowed him to do many things that would be impossible without it. He believed in those limbs, in their begrudging loyalty to him – he never doubted that they would get him out of a fight alive.

And what of his real arm? The one he was born with, that contains his DNA from both his parents? The one he gave to the Truth in exchange for his brother's soul? It waited impatiently in a body to which it didn't belong, with only the Truth and Ed's real leg for company. Ed's leg consoled and reasoned with his arm as best it could, but his arm grew decidedly stubborn and thought sour thoughts about Ed for four whole years. At the end of this period of time, Ed did get it back, but only to fight with it.

So ultimately, Ed's real arm's loathing of its owner is also somewhat justified. It is true that Ed left it to waste away and to become skin and bone – and as a result of this, his arm is now jealous of many things. Of Ed's no longer existent automail arm, for instance. And of his left arm, because it is strong and muscular, whereas his right is weak and useless. When he puts his hands together and pretends he can still do alchemy, his right arm notices how much shorter its fingers are, compared to the ones of his left hand.

Ed knows how his right arm feels about him. He tries to make up for what he's put it through, but he has a feeling its anger at him won't diminish much, no matter what he does.

As for his left leg, which is still made of steel, it behaves much better now that his automail arm isn't here to set a bad example for it. It doesn't get along too well with him despite all that's happened, but nothing can be done about that.

Occasionally, when Ed is alone in his room, he can be heard saying, "Won't you ever stop holding a grudge against me? But then again, I guess it can't be helped." There is always a note of amusement in his voice as he mutters, "Blasted arm."

A/N: Well, I also thought it'd be interesting to personify Ed's various limbs. I was bored, after all, and I wanted to write something different.

Thanks for reading, anyway!