A/N- This story came to me while I was... Riding on a train. Al's a person, not a suit of armor, but Ed still has Auto- Mail. I dunno why- it just worked out that way. And Hughes is alive. And, sorry, I couldn't make Ed swear as much as I wanted to (keeping it rated 'T' here, people!) Also, Al does alchemy without a circle.

Once again, the Elric brothers were about to miss their train. Running down the platform, the train's whistle blew just as they arrived at the nearest car. Thrusting their tickets in the conductor's face, they collapsed into their seats just as the train pulled out of the station.

"Phew" Ed said, "That was close." His brother, Alphonse, nodded in agreement. "But if you hadn't stopped to yell at that kid in the station, we could have been on time." Ed sunk down in his seat.

"He couldn't have been more than like nine and he was taller than me. TALLER THAN ME! And then he bumps into me and says, 'Oh, sorry, little guy'! LITTLE! How dare he?"

Ed slid even further down in his seat, and propped his feet on the empty seat across from him. That's why, when the shot was fired, Ed couldn't even dodge it. He heard it, and a split second later a blinding pain stabbed his arm- His real one, not his Auto- Mail.

"BROTHER!" Alphonse screamed, and that was the last thing Ed heard before he blacked out entirely.

-(this is a line)-

"Will he be okay?" Al asked.

"Well, he'll be pretty sore for about two weeks- that's for sure." The doctor left the room, leaving Al with only his unconscious brother, laying on the bed. His unbraided hair was splayed across the pillow, and his closed eyes were relaxed to make him look a lot... younger.

Alphonse moved to a couch in the corner of the room, and picked up a mystery novel sitting next to him. But it didn't look very interesting, and he looked up just in time to see a small gray and white cat come into the room.

"Here, kitty- kitty!" Al whispered until the cat came and sat next to him, purring. It didn't sit there long before it got up and leapt off of the couch. Al stood up as well, and followed the cat. It walked across the room, and jumped up onto Ed's bed.

Ed grumbled something and pushed his hair out of his face with his Auto- Mail arm.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, opening his eyes. Al jumped a little, then sat on the edge of the bed.

"Well... We were riding on the train, and somebody shot you! They hit your arm, but they were probably aiming for..." Al trailed off, and put a hand on his brother's shirt, right over his heart.

"They were trying to kill you, but the train hit a bump and the person's aim got messed up. Or that's what the police said, anyway. Ed sighed heavily, and placed his Auto- Mail arm over the bandage on his shoulder wincing.

"Why the hell would someone wanna shoot me?" he asked, more to himself than to Al. Al shrugged and muttered, "I wish I knew."

-(this is a line)-

One agonizingly long week later, Ed was finally deemed well enough to travel. His arm in a sling and his golden hair re- braided*, he walked next to Al down the street. "Where to now, brother?" Al asked. "I really don't want to take the train. Not for a while, anyways. If something like that happens again, you might not be saved by a bump in the track."

Ed nodded. "The town we're headed for is only about ten miles away. I guess we have to walk." And so, with no other options, the brothers walked out of town.

After about half an hour of silence, Ed spoke up.

"You know, Al, we're gonna have to take trains again eventually. Walking will slow down everything- and we don't have time for ten- mile strolls through the desert." Al paused before responding.

"Let's wait, at least a little while. I just don't want you to get shot like this again. Because whoever shot at you was trying to kill you."

"I just wanna know who the heck tried to kill me. I've got a bone to pick with him. With my arm in a sling, I can't do alchemy. And the two of us aren't exactly good at avoiding fights." Al chuckled.

"You do most of the fight- starting. I just help you with the fight- ending" Ed gave a small smirk. "True enough."

A moment later, Ed stumbled over something in the sand and face- planted, landing straight on his injured shoulder. He groaned and rolled over, then sat up using his metal arm as a support.

"Dammit!" he muttered and looked back to where he'd tripped. There was a large rock, half- buried. Ed was ready to shrug it off and keep walking, but then he noticed that there were about a dozen spikes poking out of the sand. Looking down at himself he noticed a few small poke holes in his shirt. Reaching up to his face, he felt a few more of the punctures. He jumped up and took a few steps backwards.

"What happened?" Al asked, looking back and forth from his brother to the patch of sand.

"They're those stupid spike fungi I heard about. Great. Just great." Al was confused. Turning his head a little to one side, Al said,

"What? Oh. Those. If you fall on one, aren't you supposed to..." "I'm fine." Ed said. "But aren't those poisonous?"

"I said I'm fine. Okay?" And so the two continued on their way.

-(this is a line)-

By the time they arrived in the town, it was sunset. The brothers checked into a small inn, and walked to their room. Ed decided to take a shower as soon as they got to the room. However, he decided not to tell Al about the fact that the scratches from the fungus had inflamed painfully. He pulled on a t- shirt to cover the scratches, then flopped onto his bed. 'Why am I so tired all of a sudden?' he asked himself as he closed his eyes.

When Ed opened his eyes the next morning, his whole mind was fuzzy. He thought he saw a suit of armor running though the air chasing a kitty... He groaned and tried to roll over, but the inflamed gouges on his chest burned and his vision swam. He looked down at himself and noticed that his whole chest was red, and felt like it had been scoured by sand paper. He mumbled something incoherent, but it was loud enough that Al got up and came over to Ed's bed.

"Brother?" he asked tentatively, "Are you okay?" Ed may or may not have understood. Ed groaned again, and Al noticed his chest. Al quickly called a local doctor.

"So what exactly seems to be wrong?" The doctor asked when Al opened the door to the hotel room.

"I'm not exactly sure, but he fell on some spike fungus and..."

"Well that would do it. That stuff can kill people." Al, a look of horror on his face, led the doctor to Ed, where he lay sprawled under the sheet. The doctor took Ed's temperature, then pulled back the sheet. He took a half- step backwards at the sight of Ed's chest, then smeared some sort of cream across his chest. Ed mumbled something that sounded like, "I'm not short!", but he didn't put up a fight as the doctor then covered his chest in bandages. The doctor then washed his hands and gave Ed some medicine- and Al knew that Ed was completely out of it because he didn't mind taking the medicine at all. As the doctor left, Ed muttered, "Ponies?" before his consciousness completely slipped again.

*Not sure now he braided it with his arm in a sling but... Oh, well.

A/N- Who shot Ed? Who wants to kill him? I dunno, I haven't written it yet.