Roy wasn't thrilled at the prospect of going back to the Rockbell residence to get Edward his automail; that Pinako woman was impossible to deal with, and a little too suspicious. He had to watch himself around her.
But Roy knew better than to renege on his word, and so they returned to get Ed measured.
"Through here, and for God's sake, put the boy down!"
"You know I'm an atheist, Granny," Edward chided, saving Roy the trouble. However, he did obey the tiny woman, placing Ed on an examination table.
Winry burst into the room, tape measure in hand, ready and raring to go. Roy had a feeling that one would grow up to be a lot like her grandmother.
"Okay, ready, Ed?" she asked.
"What's there to be ready for? All you're doing is measuring me."
"Yes," Pinako granted, "but we'll be completing the automail tonight, all we have to do is cut down the pieces and assemble them. It'll be an all-nighter, but we can do it. And you're staying the night." She turned her gaze to Roy. "No arguments."
Alphonse laughed, while Edward rolled his eyes. Roy conceded, figuring the boys were probably attached enough to him to not revoke their decision to travel to East City. After all, Al had a cat to look forward to, and Ed would never leave his brother.
"Now, go ahead, Winry."
Winry set about measuring Ed's remaining arm and leg, watched closely by Pinako. Presumably, the girl was new at this; she was only as old as Edward.
There must have been hundreds of measurements. The length of the arm and leg, of course, but also the length of the foot, shin, size of the knee, length from shoulder to elbow, length from wrist to finger-tip, on and on the list went. Automail was a lot more complicated than Roy had supposed, and they weren't even building it yet. He gained a small bit of respect of Pinako.
Finally, the women were done. It was only after they ceased fluttering about Ed that Roy realized how little he liked watching them touch the boy. He would have to work on his possessiveness. Edward himself did not look irritated, just bored with the process.
"That's it?"
"Yeah, you're done, Ed!" Winry chirped.
"Good." He stretched, reaching for Roy in a way that made his heart jump. The boy was just too fucking adorable. And the action seemed to irritate Pinako, which was a huge plus. "Dinner, then?"
Edward was surprisingly calm the next morning for someone who was about to undergo surgery. Hell, he even lacked the usual shadows under his eyes; the blonde had evidently slept better than normal. Maybe it was because he was moving forward, making progress.
Roy, on the other hand, was staring at the instruments and the automail arm and leg and the tubes around the chair, and thought he was going to have a panic attack. Alphonse seemed similarly concerned. Up until now, "automail" had just been helping Ed be able to keep moving forward; now it seemed like torture.
Winry was focused, and Pinako, for once, was not grumbling about Roy, totally concentrated. He brought Ed over to the chair, and reclined it. No going back now. He stepped back, standing by Al in a corner.
"Ready, Ed?" Pinako was brisk—she wasn't going to try to sugarcoat anything. Edward nodded, determination shining in his eyes. "Alright, here we go—brace yourself."
And they began, screwing and cementing ports into his flesh, Winry working on the arm and Pinako holding Ed down. The boy was thrashing about, gasping and crying out, his face contorted in agony. Every once in a while, a curse would fly from his lips.
A brief intermission came as they moved down, ready to start on his leg, in which Edward merely panted and groaned. Then it began again. Roy thought he was going to be sick. It was horrible, watching Ed go through this pain—it reminded him of Ishbal. Imagining Edward in that situation, that torture, brought bile into Roy's throat.
He had no idea how long it was before he heard Pinako say, "Alright, we're connecting the nerves, which will hurt, but then we're finished."
Edward let out one last, short scream as he was hooked up, to which Alphonse verbally winced in sympathy. Then there was silence.
The quiet scared Roy. "Well!? Did it work?"
"Oh yes," Pinako wiped her brow. "It went fine. Mind you, he's unconscious now, and he'll be that way for a few hours."
Roy breathed a sigh of relief, as the woman handed him a paper. "Now, don't let him get out of bed for a few days. You can carry him gently to the train station and then to your place, but try not to jostle him. After that, he can start moving normally. I'll be up in two weeks to check on him. Provided that goes well, he can begin to be more strenuous with his automail. Usually, I'd give it longer, but since he's so sure he can do everything in a year…" Pinako sighed. "I'll come for him every month after that, just to make sure everything's in working order. If adjustments need to be made, you'll have to bring him back here."
"Sure," Roy said.
"I think that's about it…in general, though, keep the automail oiled well in the joints, be on the lookout for any pain he has—it shouldn't hurt, now—or any strange noises the limbs make. It's water-resistant metal, but when he showers make sure he gets it dry."
"Don't forget the exercises, Granny!" Winry piped up.
"Oh, yes. While he's in bed, he can move his fingers and toes, then work up to his wrists and ankles, elbows and knees…you get it."
"Is that everything?" Now that it was done, Roy was in quite a hurry to get the boys on a train to East City.
"Almost." Pinako grabbed his lapels, pulling him down to her height, almost making Roy fall. "You listen to me, Lieutenant Colonel. I may not be related to them, but I care a hell of a lot about those boys, and certainly have more of a claim to them than you. If you harm them in any way, I swear I will do everything in my power to ruin your life and your career."
She released him, leaving Roy stunned as she turned around. "You may go now."
Eager to comply and avoid any possible violence from the woman, Roy gingerly picked Ed up—he was much heavier now—and walked out.
Despite the threats, Roy couldn't help feeling like he had won, especially with Edward's head pressed to his chest.