Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and/or added this story to their alerts so far! I am truly touched by how much support it has received! I love you all!

Enjoy!

P.S. I have had a question about Ed's age and realized it had been a while since it was last mentioned! Ed is 19 now (her birthday was a month before losing Bucky). If any of you have any questions, leave a comment and I'll be glad to answer them! (Without giving away spoilers of course ;D)

"How did it happen?"

"Who in the world built that?"

Even though their voices overlapped, I clearly heard both questions.

I took a shaky breath as the answers came to mind, throwing me back all too suddenly to Amestris and THAT night along with everything that followed.

The failed human transmutation.

Losing Al.

Losing my limbs.

Seeing that – that THING we had created.

The automail surgery.

That year of pain…

I leaned back against the counter, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to push back all those memories. I didn't need to be reminded of any of that at this point. However, pushing those specific bad memories away brought forth better ones. Namely those of who built my automail.

Winry.

Her blue eyes, her blonde hair, her bright smile.

Her throwing her wrench at my head.

Damnit. I truly did not need this, not with what was going on.

I took another shaky breath, focusing on the present, on this specific mess I was currently in as I tried to steady myself.

"It was a mistake, losing – losing my arm," I managed to reply, keeping my voice just steady enough and I hoped they didn't notice anything too off. "A – a friend made this one, before I ever met Dr. Erskine, long before."

I was gripping my automail arm at that friend, holding it close to me, pushing those memories back to try to mentally stay in this time, this future.

"Ed, I'm so sorry," whispered Pepper, her hand still covering her mouth and it almost looked like her eyes were glassy with tears.

"I don't need pity," I quickly said. I hated pity. I didn't want anyone to pity me. "That's the last thing I need."

Before Pepper could respond, Tony cut in. "Duly noted, no pity party for short stuff." I sent him a glare at the nickname but he ignored it. "Any idea how this friend of yours made that arm?"

I continued glaring at him for a moment longer before shrugging. "She tried telling me but I was never really good at biomechanics," I replied, gripping my arm even tighter.

Tony's eyes widened at my explanation and my frown deepened. He better not be surprised that it was a woman who built my automail. I couldn't believe sexism was still present over 60 years in the future! I opened my mouth, ready to give this asshole a verbal –

"You're not good at something? Really?" cut in Tony, sarcasm clear as day in his tone.

Oh… His reaction wasn't about Winry. It was about me. And, once more, it was about my intelligence. Fine, I may have been known for my brain but I didn't flaunt it, I didn't brag about it to strangers.

So why was Tony…? "You really do seem to have a problem with me, don't you?" I said, trying to come up with some reason as to why.

"We've established that already. Keep up, brat," he replied without lifting his gaze from my hand.

I groaned in frustration at his damn sarcasm and insults. The way he acted, he was probably worse than Mustang, the one from Amestris. And that was saying something…

Tony moved slightly, his hand outstretched, but he stopped a moment later, almost looking hesitant. He didn't move as we eyed each other for a moment and I also hesitated. Even though he had mentioned that he wasn't going to take my arm, could I actually trust him?

Well, if I was honest with myself, I didn't exactly have a choice either. If I expected Tony to eventually, somehow, fix my automail, he was going to have to at least look at it.

Besides, if he tried anything, I would still be able to kick his ass and run out of here.

I would need to remember to get my journal from the bedroom though.

With a roll of my eyes, I lifted my arm and dropped it on the island counter. I pushed up my sleeve to my elbow and the bandages around it, giving them a clear view of the automail.

Tony stepped forward as he stretched back to put down his coffee mug on the counter, nearly missing the counter top itself as his focus was purely on my arm. He slowly reached for and lifted it, already studying it intently. Even though my hand flopped around from time to time, Tony was surprisingly gentle with the arm itself.

It then hit me. Tony had known who I was and he had extensive knowledge on me considering what I had seen the previous day. However, he had no idea about my automail arm. It was NOT public knowledge apparently.

Then…? Did that mean…? Had Colonel Grumpy not said anything to anyone after the mission? Why?

Well, it wasn't as if I could ask him…

Was it because of the compromise he had offered? To only tell Howard? Had he finally? But, even if he had, what would have been the point anyway? I physically wouldn't have been able to show Howard my arm and Colonel Grumpy hadn't taken a good enough look at it to even begin to describe how it worked.

Did that mean the Colonel just didn't say anything?

I sighed. What was the point of even trying to figure that out? It wouldn't serve any purpose, especially not now. Everything that had happened was YEARS in the past…

As Tony kept studying my automail, murmuring to himself so fast and using terms I had never heard, I turned my attention to Pepper. She looked upset as she continued to stare at my arm, attempting to hide her emotions. It still showed in her eyes though.

She caught me staring and she straightened, breathing deeply as if she was reigning in what she was feeling.

"It is impressive, Ed," she finally stated, motioning to the automail. "Your friend did a good job."

"Thanks," I replied and I noticed Tony nod. I wasn't sure if he was agreeing with Pepper or if he was still talking to himself at that point.

"We're heading to the lab," he suddenly stated, already tugging my arm to get me to move towards the kitchen's exit.

"What –? Why?" I managed to ask, grasping my arm and pulling back.

"To get a scan of it so I can pull THAT apart and see how it works," he explained, giving my arm another few more tugs.

I glanced at Pepper, debating on whether or not I should follow, especially considering I didn't understand what Tony meant by 'scans' and taking apart the 'scan'.

Pepper and I shared a look before she sighed, turning towards Tony. "Be careful with his arm, will you?"

He shrugged but Pepper sent him a stern look.

"Fine, fine," he accepted reluctantly, giving my arm two more quick tugs. "Coming, short stuff?"

Well, it still stood: I could kick his ass and run away. I grumbled as I followed Tony out of the kitchen and towards the staircase from yesterday. Going down said stairs didn't seem as long as it had seemed and, when we got to the bottom, I had a moment to take a look at the whole 'lab' in the basement.

My previous impressions still stood. I barely recognized any of the equipment down there. At least some tools seemed familiar. And wires, bolts, screws. Those I knew.

That surprisingly made me feel slightly better: it wasn't a completely new world.

As I followed Tony through the glass door, I continued to look around and… I slowed down, spotting something that looked like metal, silver-coloured boots on one of the tables.

Those weren't prosthetics, were they? They were definitely too wide but, at the same time, I had no idea how prosthetics had changed 60 years in the future. I reached the boots, studying them carefully, noticing that the insides were hollow.

So they were boots. Why did people need to wear these types of boots in the future? It couldn't be part of their fashion or… was it? I was still wearing my boots from 1945 and Tony was just in socks. I even think Pepper was wearing heels from the sound I had heard when she walked. So why –?

"Hey, short stuff, over here," called Tony near the middle of the room. He was standing next to the only clear table around us as he motioned for me to hurry up. "Sweater needs to go," he said and I rolled my eyes, slightly annoyed that I would need to struggle with putting the arm back into the sweater sleeve when we were done. I did what I was asked though, leaving me in just a short-sleeved shirt. "That too," he added, causing me to frown.

"No. It's staying on," I replied quickly, almost snapping. He may know about my arm but I was not in the sharing mood for everything else.

Tony gave me a look before rolling his eyes. "Fine, Jarvis could probably still get the scan done, right?"

"Yes, Sir," replied Jarvis, making me jump slightly. I needed to get used to him being everywhere and anywhere at any moment around this house. "A basic scan can be completed."

We were all quiet for a moment until Jarvis' voice rung out once more, "The scan is complete, bringing up the results, Sir."

Uh… Done? "What type of scan just happened?" I asked, glancing around. I didn't see any instrument that resembled an x-ray machine, something that I found out existed on this side of the Gate, in the 40s. I had thought that was what he had meant by scan but I guess I was wrong. Maybe the meaning changed in the future?

"A scan to get an idea of how that ridiculously heavy arm is even attached to your body and how it could work," replied Tony. So, he had noticed the weight. Of course, he would have considering how he had been handling it upstairs. I decided, though, to keep the fact that this was the lighter model to myself. Depending on how the following conversation was going to go, I may share it or not.

The table top it up at that point and I took a step closer as light shot up, forming a three-dimensional, translucent image of my automail arm, from the fingertips to the port. How…? This was amazing! I hadn't even felt anything and, in SECONDS, an image of my arm was in front of us! If this worked, Tony would even need to touch my arm to figure out what to do to fix what Schmidt had broken.

The future was definitely different then what I was used to.

Tony frowned as he moved closer to the image, his focus on my shoulder port. He used his hands, making a motion with them in a way that made the image grow larger and moving the port to the center. How did that even work?!

"What is this screwed into?" he asked, pointing to the screws at the port, the part connected to my body, glancing towards me.

I shrugged. "Bone, I guess." I didn't particularly want to dwell on it: I was reminded about that fact every time it rained or grew too humid anyway. Besides, I couldn't be too picky about how the arm was attached: as long as it worked, I was happy.

Tony stared at me for a moment, his gaze straying to my shoulder before he went back to the image, not saying anything else. He moved his hands around some more and the image followed, the image that was a pretty good replica of my arm.

My broken arm.

"Well, I have to say," began Tony, still focusing on the translucent arm, "apart from that clear break at the elbow and the damage at the shoulder, its still a well constructed prosthetic for the 40s. Your apparent friend did a good job, short stuff."

Even though it was a compliment to Winry, I still felt annoyed by the nickname. "Stop calling me that!" I snapped, going to cross my arms but changing my mind halfway. I forgot for a moment that I couldn't….

"Calling you what? Short stuff?"

"Yes! That!"

He paused, glancing back at me for probably a second before shaking his head. "Nah."

"Asshole," I grumbled, leaning against another table as he turned his attention back to the image.

He ignored my insult as he continued to study my arm. I had to admit, seeing it in the air like that, translucent and so easily manipulated, it was impressive.

If Winry had this technology to created her automail, her work would get even better! She would be able to design her prosthetics much differently and she would be able to get a clearer image of –

Something poked my right arm as I felt it move, brushing softly against my side. That was weird. Had I accidentally knocked into something? Was there –?

I jumped back, hitting the table painfully with my hip, a surprised cry escaping as I stared at... at... I don't even know what that was!

A large mechanical – mechanical thing was positioned about a meter away and the top, the end that had a metal claw attached to it, lowered. And then it beeped, sounding – dare I say it? – almost sad.

"Dummy, you got adventurous," said Tony, barely glancing in my direction as if this tower was a normal occurrence.

"Excuse me?" I managed to utter, shuffling a little further away from whatever that sentient mechanical tower was. It had gone specifically for my arm on top of everything else! Did it want to steal it?

Tony actually turned his head that time, eyeing me and the moving tower of metal. "Dummy, meet Short Stuff. Short Stuff, dummy."

"You're calling that 'dummy'?" I asked, pointing to the tower as its top part lifted, extending the metal claw in my direction and snapping softly two times.

"That's his name I made him. I named him."

I blinked at that explanation, glancing between Tony and the tower – Dummy – and back. Dummy beeped again, rolling a littler closer before lowering its top part towards my right arm.

"It's not trying to take my arm, is it?" I asked, weary of Dummy. Tony said he wouldn't take my arm but what he created could.

Tony eyed the tower and then myself, sending me a disbelieving look. "If I wanted your arm, I would have said so. Dummy just wants to say 'hi'."

I paused, eyeing Dummy. Well… I guess it couldn't hurt…

"Ok… Hi…," I began slowly, moving slightly forward. "Name's Ed, though." Dummy beeped again, the claw rotating a few times. "Uh… I'm not sure if I'm supposed to understand it," I said glancing towards Tony.

"He's probably interested in you arm," he replied off-handedly. "He's a robot, your arm could possibly be robotic in his lens so, ipso facto, he's interested."

Uh… "What's a robot, exactly?" I asked as I eyed Dummy's claw that was getting closer to my arm ever so slowly and my worry came back slightly. Why did my solution always seem to end up being fighting my way out of a situation? Because that was what came to mind on how to deal with Dummy if it tried anything.

Tony turned around, almost looking exasperated. "Robot. What Dummy is. What you is." That didn't make any more sense and my confusion must have shown on my face because he continued, "You truly don't know?"

"Sir, if I may, the term 'robot' only grew in popularity at the end of the 1940s, after his disappearance," explained Jarvis and I could tell Tony was not too pleased by the intervention.

"Thanks," he mumbled unhappily before motioning towards Dummy. "Long story short, wires and circuits run through him and he has, most of the time, a mind of his own."

I blinked again, trying to process that explanation and, by then, Dummy had reached my arm. Its claw slowly closed around my wrist, squeezing several times as he beeped some more.

"Do – do you understand it?" I asked Tony as I continued to watch the robot curiously poke at my arm.

"Vaguely. He only has a certain amount of beeps programmed. I can figure out the rest."

I nodded slowly, continuing to study Dummy and it seemed it was studying me as well. Whatever a robot was, it was the most advanced thing I had seen here so far. I had thought that table with the scan was impressive but, giving life to mere metal, without alchemy, without a soul…

My brain almost started to hurt.

"How – how did you make him?" I asked softly, noticing only after that I had changed pronouns with Dummy, no longer referring to him as 'it'.

Tony paused what he was doing, turning around and leaning against the table. "I told you, wires, circuits. Base is mainly metal. Gave him wheels so he could move. Solid basics. He's been with me for over 20 years so I guess solid is a good term."

My eyes widened. Over 20 years? So Tony was young when he built Dummy if I guessed he was in his forties now. "That's – that's impressive," I said, going back to the robot that was now amusing himself with poking my arm, following it as it swung from side to side.

"Yeah, until he decides to douse you with a fire extinguisher," mumbled Tony, almost to himself but I still heard him and cracked a smile at the image. "Remind me to let him to it to you next time, Short Stuff." Crap, he caught me.

"Promises," I replied, rolling my eyes. "So, you made Dummy and Jarvis. Any other robots hiding around?"

He shrugged. "Made you as well."

My head snapped back to him in confusion. "What?"

"Not 'you' you, the letter 'U'. Him." Tony pointed towards another robot hiding in the corner of the basement. I hadn't noticed him before but, the moment Tony mentioned his name, U moved slightly. "The only other one is him," he then motioned towards the robot next to me, "D-U-M dash E, and, of course, my A.I., not technically a robot considering he doesn't have a physically body, Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, aka JARVIS."

I paused, a thought coming to mind considering the new acquaintances I met. "Are there other humans around here? You seem to have a lot of robots."

He looked at me, confused and a little apprehensive. "Yes, quite a few humans in fact."

It was a valid question; he didn't need to act like that. "I've technically met more robots than humans," I explained. "So, having robots is common in the future?"

"Nope."

"Why not? You have two on top of JARVIS."

"Not everyone can build them. And there have been enough movies about robots taking over for people to be weary enough about them." That last part almost sounded mocking. I could somewhat understand why: if people believed something you created could become evil, it could sting…

"And people make those movies because robots have tried taking over?" I wondered, thinking about the movies I had seen. I had a feeling those probably got modernized as well…

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. "People's fantasies get the better of them."

The future truly is something it seemed… Because, looking at Dum-E next to me or U in the corner, neither of them looked like they actually take over the world. JARVIS though, I glanced up at the ceiling, thinking it over. He seemed pretty smart.

"Well, for that arm of yours," began Tony, catching my attention as he swiped at the image, making it spin around several times, "if there's any hope of figuring out what makes it tick, you'll need to take it off."

I stiffened at his suggestion.

"I know, I know, you made me promise not to take your arm," he grumbled, leaning against the table, rolling his eyes. "But, unless you want to walk around with a useless appendage for however long you plan on mooching off me in my own home, you're going to need to let me look at it."

My entire body was tense as I continued to stare between Tony and the image of my arm. I had thought that just doing the scan, that the image he already had would be enough. But… I gripped my arm, getting thrown back to the France mission, to when Hydra, to when Zola almost took my arm.

And the nightmares that had followed that mission.

Could I truly just let this stranger take my arm? To possibly fix it? Would he? Or…?

"You're overly protective of your arm, you know that right?" said Tony, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I took a shaky breath, slowly releasing my grip. "I had to be," I replied, eyeing said arm carefully.

"So, I'm guessing not many people knew about it?"

I shook my head, trying to control my breathing. "Dr. Erskine, when – when he found me and then, St – Steve knew after –"

"Oh, of course, America's golden boy knew about it," muttered Tony with a huff and I stopped. That tone. It was the same that he used when he had been angry with me for reasons I still didn't know. But now… He wasn't only mad at me but at Steve as well. But… why? According to files, we had both gone missing the day of the fight against the Red Skull.

Had something we had done back in the 1940s somehow affected Tony in the future? Had maybe affected something negatively?

Or was he truly on the opposite side? No matter what he had said.

So… What was to do? I needed my arm fixed but giving it up was not sitting well with me at all at the moment.

"Give me a week," I finally stated. "A week to decide whether I let you look at me arm or not." That would give me the time to determine whether or not I could actually trust Tony. He may not have been as much of an asshole during our conversation, but, bringing up Steve seemed to hit a nerve. Add that to how he reacted when I had arrived, I needed to determine where Tony stood.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, waving me off. "I can keep busy with another project. Now shoo."

The image of my arm vanished as Tony walked away from the table, heading towards the boots. He caught me staring and actually motioned me away, towards the stairs.

Great… Asshole was back.

Thank you once again to everyone! Let me know what you thought!