Grrrr! I can't believe it! That guy that I hit is claiming to be hurt . . . even though, at the scene of the accident, when asked several times if everyone was all right, he said that he wasn't hurt. It's even on my ticket! Injuries: 0

Stupidnogoodfuckingsunuvawhorebastardjackass . . . (exasperated breath)

Thank you for listening! As your reward, here's the new chapter! It was gonna be the lemon, but this scene just implanted itself in my head and I couldn't get rid of it . . . Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to Pickles for being the 100th reviewer! Yay!

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't have time to write fanfiction . . . besides, why would I want to? I'd just make Roy and Ed do this kinda stuff in the series.

Chapter VIII: Connection

The Thursday afternoon sun was already filtering through the drawn curtains when a nearly-awake Ed felt someone unceremoniously prod him in the side. He grumbled incoherently and made to smack away the offending digit, only to be rewarded with a slap on his hip and to have his comforter and sheets ripped away from him.

Golden eyes widened at the audacity of this person who had so boldly interrupted his sleep, and he sat bolt upright to glare at them through sleep-crusted eyes. He was greeted by the sight of Madalay, the housekeeper, stuffing his bedding down into a wicker laundry basket at her feet. She straightened and turned her dull blue eyes back to him, placing her hands on her hips in a motherly, almost scolding manner. "Mr. Elric, I need to change your sheets. Get up, please."

Ed grunted a sleepy negative and fell back onto the new mattress; he could imagine Madalay shaking her head in annoyance, her curly auburn locks bouncing with the motion, but he was really too interested in staring at a small dirty spot on his new bedroom ceiling to care. The blonde thought that the spot might be some sort of wood polish, simply because the room had been a storage place for extra furniture before he and Roy had hastily renovated it—but, what the spot was doing on the ceiling, he didn't know.

It might've been a burn mark, knowing his lover—he had discovered some cleverly concealed scorch marks at various locations around the manor . . . most of them located in places that, Ed knew, caused Roy annoyance and comical grief: the library, his study, his personal office, and of course, the kitchen.

Of course, those were just because he couldn't cook.

A light tapping suddenly interrupted his reverie and he glance over to see the petite tanned woman tapping her sneakered foot in vexation.

"What time is it?" Ed yawned out with a long stretch.

Madalay glanced down at her wristwatch and stated, "It is now 1:45 in the afternoon." Looking back up at him, she added, "You know, Edward, sir, it really isn't good for you to sleep this late. It throws off your sleeping habits, which isn't healthy."

"Why, Madalay, I didn't know you cared," the blonde teen said in a sarcastically touched voice, pressing his hand to his chest in a show of mock sentiment.

The woman harrumphed and said, "I don't really—but, if you're healthy, energetic, and . . . active, then that means that Mr. Mustang is happy. And if he's happy, then that means that he pays the staff more."

Ed chuckled. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

"You do that, sir," she replied with a kind smile. "In the mean time, though . . . I need to change these sheets. I could try with you on top of them, but that would make my job much more difficult, so . . . if you don't mind . . .?"

With a listless sigh, the Elric rolled over and got out of bed, stretching his arms up above his head with a barely-stifled yawn. Grabbing a tie from his bedside table and then reaching up to begin languidly braiding his thick hair, Edward asked, "Where is Roy, by the way?"

Madalay had already moved to strip his mattress and responded while she worked, "Mrs. and Ms. Mustang wished to go shopping and sight-seeing today."

Ed quirked a curious eyebrow, wondering if the woman would choose to elaborate on this enigmatic statement, but she said nothing further on the subject; she completed stripping the bed, told him that she's be back in a few minutes to remake it ("So, you had best not go back to sleep."), and then left without a backwards glance.

Once the door shut behind her, Ed immediately padded back to the bed and crawled in, curling up into a tight ball in the centre of the naked mattress. "Mm . . . sleepy," he mumbled to himself, tucking his face into the crook of his flesh elbow. However, for Edward Elric to say that he was merely 'sleepy' would be a vast understatement.

Ed was dog-tired. Dog-of-the-military-tired, in fact . . .

He had stayed up till the wee hours of dawn with Roy, doing nothing but talking and some G-rated snuggling . . . but that didn't seem to compensate for the fact that the young alchemist was emotionally drained. Ed opened his eyes to stare past his arm at a bare spot on the wall, letting the golden orbs go unfocused as his mind drifted back to the previous evening.

Edward stormed out of Tamalynn's room, slamming the door behind him. Okay, so he was mad . . .

No. Scratch that. Not mad—furious. He could feel the blood boiling underneath his skin, the marrow of his bones liquefying and seeping out through the calciferous pores to blend with his spasming muscles; he could just smell the tears burning his eyes, warping the golden halos into flames and vaporizing them, turning them to dust. He was seething, ready to spit fire and sulphur at the first person who looked at him wrong, even though the only thing he could taste in the back of his throat was his own vomit.

The blonde torpedo was dead-set on finding Roy and having a long talk with him—and, of course, by talk, he meant that he was going to hurt him. Badly. He was gonna grab him by the collar of his nicely-pressed uniform and pound his pretty little face in, until he either confessed to Ed why he had cheated on him . . . or until the blonde knocked all thirty-two of his goddamned teeth out.

God . . . Hughes. It had been fucking Hughes? Why didn't I see it? I mean . . . they were close . . . I thought that they were friends, but . . . Hughes. Dammit! Even when you're dead, you somehow manage to take Roy away from me . . .

Now, Edward had been intent on doing great harm to his dark-haired lover; however, somewhere between Point A and Point P (which, coincidentally, stood for pummel), he stopped. Halted dead in the middle of the hallway at this thought . . .

And he gagged.

Luckily for him—and the hallway carpet, for that matter—the point at which he had stopped was conveniently located just outside the upstairs lavatory and Ed made immediate use of it. For the second time that night, he slammed a door behind him and, kneeling before the toilet like some sort of drunken worshipper, vomited into its watery mouth.

The Fullmetal emptied his stomach and spit and cried and gagged again . . .

He retched because the realization had hit him square in the gut:

Hughes was dead. Roy hadn't cheated on him. He had gotten turned down, rejected. He'd had his heart stomped on by his best friend . . . and he hadn't even known Ed back then . . .

Back then.

Not now.

Not ever . . . He'd never cheated on him.

His nose and throat burning with the acrid taste of bile, Edward reached up and pressed the flusher, watching through blurred eyes as his own stomach contents swirled around once . . . twice . . . countless times . . . and then disappeared, only to be quickly replaced with fresh water.

"Dammit . . . I'm such a fucking idiot . . ." he whispered hollowly to himself, leaning heavily against the toilet bowl and crossing his arms across the rim of the seat; resting the side of his head on his flesh arm, Ed slowly let his eyes flutter shut, his body ultimately succumbing to the late hour.

"But then again . . . so are you . . . Mustang . . ."

Ed sighed as he made his way down the stairs and into the living room, wobbling to and fro slightly—partly due to his exhausted state, and partly due to the nasty welt he was now sporting on his backside, courtesy of Madalay.

Well, he couldn't say that she hadn't warned him.

And, he had to admit that he was now very much awake . . .

The Elric slowly meandered over to the front door and glanced out through the amber-tinted, rippling lead glass of one of the vertical windows that framed it; his eyes subconsciously darted towards what Roy called the "parking curve" of their circular driveway and he saw, with slight trepidation, that the car was gone. Though, Ed just as quickly heaved out a relaxed breath as Madalay's message replayed in his head.

"Mrs. and Ms. Mustang wished to go shopping and sight-seeing today."

Ahh . . .

As the housekeeper had so cryptically explained, Roy must've taken his mother and sister into Central for the day—that certainly clarified why the car was now missing, anyway. The Fullmetal turned away, arms akimbo, and made his way towards the library. If Roy and the rest of the Mustangs had departed from the residence for the day, then that gave him plenty of peace and quiet to get some research done. And, he was happy to report that his boyfriend could claim one of the most extensive private libraries in all of Central—second only to the fuhrer's, actually.

Lucky him.

Edward pushed open the heavy wooden doors—which Roy had installed to keep out unwanted sound, much to the appreciation of Ed (especially during the final weeks leading up to his yearly assessment)—and entered the athenaeum, immediately turning to head over to his favoured alchemic section; however, he stopped short when he caught sight of someone else seated in the carrell.

The Major General looked up from the thick tome he was currently reading to eye Edward past his long-stemmed pipe.

"Oh," the blonde stammered in surprise. "I-I'm . . . sorry. I didn't . . . I didn't realize that there was anyone else . . . here. I'll just go—"

"No, no," the dark-haired man cut in smoothly, removing his pipe from his lips and setting it down on the gueridon next to his chair. "Come in. Sit down. Do what you will . . ." He then placed his book, face-down, in his lap and busied himself with refilling his cup of tea, likewise located on the gueridon.

"Oh . . ." Ed muttered uncertainly. "Okay . . . sure . . ."

The blonde stood there entranced for a moment longer, then continued on to the alchemic section. It took only a short search and the resentful obtaining of one of the rolling shelf-ladders to retrieve the book that Ed wanted; he then shuffled back over to the sitting area, and plopped down into one of the comfortable armchairs near the Major General.

He slowly situated himself into a position that he knew from experience would be appropriate for several hours of quiet reading, and then opened up his book to the dog-ear that showed where he had stopped last time. However, instead of immediately picking up where he left off, he took several seconds to gaze out of the corner of his eye at the Major General.

The man had his unlit pipe back in his mouth and was casually leafing through War and Peace like it was a romantic paperback that one selected out of a train station kiosk; instead of the blue military uniform that Ed was used to seeing him in, he had on a checkered smoking jacket, covering up his silken pajamas.

Well, I guess he's not going out today, thought Edward to himself. At least, the blonde suddenly felt a lot less insecure about the pajama-like clothes that he was now wearing.

With a silent sigh, Ed turned back to his book and found the line that he had abandoned last time, in favour of more . . . stimulating activity with Roy. He smiled and blushed slightly at the thought, glad that his fringe was now covering up his face.

We have good times . . . Tamalynn's right. We are good for each other . . . And I do love him . . . the big idiot.

Edward suddenly let the smile on his face drop, replaced by a contemplative look. Yes, he did love Roy. Loved him terribly . . . but, even still, he wasn't able to tell him the whole truth the previous night.

Yes: He had been mad at Roy for not telling him that he loved Hughes to his face. Yes: He had been pissed at Hughes for, ironically, making Roy gay. And yes: He had lastly been furious with himself for getting so worked up over things like that. But that wasn't everything. There had been one more thing . . . something that he had simply been too terrified to ask the man . . . something that, from now on, would sit in the back of his mind like a tipped inkpot, slowly seeking a black stain out over their relationship.

It had, ultimately, been Tamalynn who had put the thought in his mind. When she had been confessing in Roy's stead, she had mentioned how it was only after he had gotten shot down by Hughes that the colonel had begun to throw himself into meaningless relationships with hundreds of women.

Women.

And that was what had Ed so concerned. That was what had chewed at his nerves all night and kept him awake. And that ink stain would only continue to grow larger . . . until the Fullmetal finally got brave enough to ask his lover . . .

Am I just a replacement?

"You know, if you're simply going to stare at that book all afternoon, then you should just put it back on the shelf," said a voice suddenly and Ed nearly jumped. Looking up, he saw that the Major General had once again set down his book and was now gazing at him intently over half-moon shaped spectacles. "Letting it just sit there isn't very good for it."

Ed released the breath he had been holding since the man had first spoken and furrowed his brow. "I didn't know that books did anything other than just sit there."

He was really only half-aware that the previous thought had actually come out of his mouth . . . that is, until the Major General smirked and shook his head in amusement; Ed thought that he might have even heard a small chuckle escape past that steel-streaked moustache.

Edward had, in the most basic sense of it, been stripped naked and shoved into an icy pool of shock. Who knew that the man could laugh, let alone smile without looking smarmy about it? Of course, only months before that, Ed had had pretty much the same impression of his son . . .

Bastard.

While the blonde was recovering from the blow he had just received, the Major General chose to deliver another roundhouse punch:

"The Rockbells make your automail, correct?"

Ed blinked. "Huh? Y-yeah . . . they do, but . . . how'd you . . .?" For a moment, Edward thought that maybe because of his . . . notoriety, the maker of his automail had likewise gotten some attention for her work; however, that notion was quickly thrown out the proverbial window when the Major General took his pipe by the stem and reached over to tap Ed on the bottom of his bare left foot, the wood making a strange pinging sound against the steel.

"I recognized the maker's logo," the Major General stated, leaning back in his chair.

"Ah . . ." Ed knew that Winry had put the Rockbell logo—a small bell within a circle—along with her initials on both the pad of his foot and near the socket of his shoulder, basically marking her prize work. She had told him once that all automail mechanics did it, so that no one could claim anybody else's work as their own.

Ed didn't deny that this was a good idea—there had to be hundreds, if not thousands of automail mechanics out there. Anyone, if they so chose, could claim to have made someone else's limbs and get away with it. And, seeing as how he was known throughout all of Amestris as the Fullmetal Alchemist, he realized—not without some haughty satisfaction—that his limbs would be one of the top claims among automail technicians.

Of course, that also meant that there were hundreds or thousands of mechanic's logos out there—how the Major General had deciphered that a bell in a circle belonged to the Rockbells of Resembool . . . well, that was his next question.

"You recognized the logo? How?"

The man shrugged lightly and took a sip of his tea. "They do good work," he admitted. "I wish that they had designed and constructed my automail."

Back into the pool Ed went.

"Y-y-you . . . your automail?" Ed nearly-shrieked, incredulity apparent in his wide golden eyes. "You have automail?"

The Major General nodded placidly, not at all alarmed by Edward's somewhat violent reaction; he reached down and pulled up the pajama-pant of his right leg, revealing the glistening steel and other, visibly soft, alloyed metals of his decidedly well-made leg. "It's automail from about mid-thigh down," he explained. "Yours?"

Ed was silent for a moment, staring at the metallic tendons and muscles of the Major General's prosthetic calf, before he shook his head and responded, "Oh, um . . . my left leg is automail all the way up till just past my knee . . . and my entire right arm, shoulder to the tips of my fingers . . ."

The limb disappeared as the older man dropped his pant leg and sat up straight once again, giving a slight nod of his head to indicate that he had heard Ed. "Hurt like hell, didn't it?"

The Fullmetal felt a small smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah . . . it did. But . . . Ro—I mean, Colonel Mustang never mentioned . . ."

"Neither of my children knows, Mr. Elric," said the Major General as he picked up his book once again, turning back to the page that he had stopped on before. "And, I'd prefer it if they remained oblivious, if you don't mind."

Ed knew that it wasn't really a request.

He sighed, eyeing the older man for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and hesitantly questioning, "Do . . . do you mind if . . . if I ask how . . .?"

"How I lost my leg?" the Major General finished without looking up.

The blonde nodded. "Yeah . . ."

The man took one final sip of tea, draining his cup, and then set down the container on the tray to his left. "Well," he began. "It was in the Northern War. Back before we had a peace treaty with Drachma . . . I was just a sergeant back then . . . lower in rank than my son, or even you are now . . . but I was air-headed and so full of myself." The Major General glanced over at Ed. "Sort of like you, I suspect."

Ed huffed indignantly at this comment, but didn't interrupt the man as he continued. "Well, my unit was up in the Briggs Mountains, near a little town called Vernal. There was a battle going on nearby and our general had learned that a small Drachmanian division was being held in reserves in that town; our unit was to go in and disarm them—keep them from heading into battle when they were needed."

Ed suddenly noticed that the Major General had gotten a distant, haunted look in his cobalt eyes. The young alchemist knew that look all to well.

He recognized it as the same look that Roy sometimes got . . .

He also knew that he himself had gotten it on more than one occasion.

"So . . ." the Major General stated with a small sigh. "We went in. Stormed the place . . . Unfortunately . . . we miscalculated exactly how large the division was. We were outmanned . . . at least five to one. We all knew that we were dead . . . and even worse . . . my younger brother was in the unit with me."

Younger brother? Wait . . . hadn't Tamalynn said something about an uncle that Roy had been named after?

"Royce," Ed murmured, almost to himself.

The Major General turned to him, a curious expression on his face. "Yes, that's correct. How did you know that?"

"Oh, well Tamalynn told me that Roy had been named after an uncle who had . . . oh, no . . ."

The dark-haired man smiled sadly and nodded. "Yes. My younger brother Royce . . . died on that faithful day. He and I, along with four other soldiers, including our colonel . . . were pinned down by Drachmanian fire. There was so much happening all at once . . . we were taken by surprise when some soldiers broke down the door of the building we were in. I suppose that if I had run, then . . . I would have saved my leg . . . but all I could think about was putting myself between my brother and their guns.

"I lost so much blood that I passed out. I found out later, after I woke up in a hospital in a city in northern Amestris . . . that one of our backup units had come in at the last second for a rescue. Unfortunately . . . they didn't arrive soon enough to save my leg . . . or Royce . . ."

Ed stared. The Major General had . . . given up a limb to try and save his younger brother . . .

Oh, irony was an evil bitch.

Sure, he had failed where Ed had succeeded—if you can call what the blonde accomplished a true success—but the resemblance that the alchemist saw mirrored in the man seated across from him was enough to stun him speechless.

"Would you like some tea?"

The question was so unexpected that it took Ed rather by surprise. "Huh?" he mumbled, still not quite able to form a coherent thought.

The Major General frowned. "Tea. Would. You. Like. Some. Tea?" He said the words slowly and deliberately, making sure that Edward heard each of them correctly—he might have been trying to be kind, but to the blonde's ears, it still sounded harsh.

He cringed. "Oh . . . um, yessir. Sure. Sure, I'd like some."

The dark-haired man nodded curtly and poured the teen his own steaming cup of tea, adding in a cube of sugar and no cream—strangely, exactly how Ed liked it. "Yes," the Major General said to no one in particular as the blonde took the cup. He held up his own delicate cup in a cheers type gesture, more reminiscent of something one would see done with a mug of beer in a smoky bar, instead of in a library with a tiny, bone china teacup. "Let's drink. I shall drink to your leg and you'll drink to my leg. We'll drink to each other's legs!"

As the Major General laughed and clinked their tiny cups together merrily, Ed vaguely wondered if there wasn't something more than just tea in his tea. And as he sipped down the sweet, raspberry flavoured water, watching as the older man downed his own, the realization of how much the two of them shared in common finally hit him:

Both of them had automail and both had obtained said automail because they had wanted to protect their brothers (in the Fullmetal's case, that was only half-true, but still . . . no use splitting guilty hairs); both were stubborn, begrudging dogs of the military; hell, they both drank their tea the same, apparently; and both—whether or not they chose to openly show it—dearly loved Roy Mustang . . .

Ed grinned into his drink.

Maybe they had more of a connection than Ed had originally thought.

Okay. Hope y'all liked this new chappie! To Star Girl11 please read your author's note below. It's important.

To everyone else, the lemon is next chapter . . . I'm gonna try and get it out by Saturday, but if I can't, then it'll be posted on Monday—Cause I refuse to post a lemon on Jesus's birthday. (laughs)

Reviewer worship:

Edo-kun's Angel: (laughs) Okay! Here you go! Thanks for the review!

fobroks21: You're welcome! I don't like it either, especially when it's over something stupid . . . Hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for the review!

Lurkinshdws: Thank you!

Belletiger: Thank you . . . you almost cried? Well, I try . . . Roy's mom knows, just not his dad.

Thanks for the review!

sexy pancake: (laughs) I'm . . . sorry that I'm getting them out at a decent speed . . .? Glad you like it so much—I certainly enjoyed writing it. To me, emotional stuff is so much more fun to write than the innuendos and lemons and humour . . .

Thanks for the review!

Neo Diji: Hello Kara. Likewise, I have to scroll down to read your response to my response . . . if that made any sense . . . (laughs) A friend of mine will actually open the phonebook and call the people who have strange names . . . She's a psycho.

(laughs) That whole balcony thing is actually a running joke between Nana (my friend/coauthor) and myself. I was on the phone with her, telling her about something bad that had happened to me (something stupid like a bad grade or something), and she went, "Lina, don't kill yourself!" And I responded, "No! I'm gonna throw myself off my balcony!" She found it hilarious, due to the fact that she knew that I live on the ground level . . . and to the fact that I walked outside while yelling it and a bunch of people stopped to look at me . . .

Yes! I love all animals, actually . . . except kissing bugs (makes disgusted sound and does the heeby-jeeby-jitterbug dance). A zoo? (laughs) That's nothing compared to what I used to have. The most at one time was:

10 snakes (one of which was named Cain—but not the one from FMA); 13 geckoes (most of which were leopards); 4 iguanas (Vann, Vash, Vaughn, Vexx); 2 bearded dragons; two dogs (both herders); 15 cats (only three of which—Kiara, Mario and Luigi—actually belonged to us). The strays were Nat and Cole (bro and sis), their kittens Stub and Love-Machine (plus Mario and Luigi); then, there's Stub and L-M's kittens—Ardis, Casper, and Chloe (who she abandoned after one hour, I was forced to take care of, and I cried hysterically when I failed to do so). There are also Nat and Cole's kittens from that season: Binx, Jonesy, Mardi, Idgie, and Obs (short for Obsidian). Told you that they were hillbilly cats.

Why did I tell you all of this? I don't know . . . Possibly to give you some insight into the source of my lack of sanity. After all, animals may lower blood pressure and stress, may give you unconditional love and affection . . . but animals need to be fed. Which costs . . . well, lots of money. Hence my stress.

Your sister's nickname for your cat is Cinnaminamimanin? Damn, I am psychic. And I just realized that I once had a cockatiel named Cinnamon—oddness. (laughs) She is Ed! Sha! Kiara's a brown tabby—actually she's a mixed tabby, but still pretty close. I'm sensing connections, too . . . Hmmmm . . . (laughs) Though I only call her Envy because she has those pretty green eyes, I only started calling her Envy because of FMA—it put the idea that a sin could be a name in my demented little head. So, go ahead and say it . . . "Take that obsession!"

(laughs) Sorry. Can't post all the chappies at once—wish that I could, but can't . . . Though, I'm cranking them out as fast as I can so I can put this plot behind me and have a clear head to work on my Mpreg. Hope that makes you happy, Kara! (smiles)

Wow. This has reached a scary length . . . I'm gonna go now. Bye!

Sakuranbo Nayamu (laughs) We are alike. Coy and Keith are nice names! (nods approvingly) And don't sweat the name thing—I'm getting along fine with copying and pasting!

Thanks for the review!

BlackFire-Dog: (laughs) My uncle (actually, my aunt's ex-husband, thank God) ran over his girlfriend with his truck—fictional evil, fat men aren't on the top of my 'Watch Out For' list, if you get my drift . . .

Yes, I am a college student—after this Christmas break, I'll be entering the second semester of my sophomore year (or my fourth semester of college). (sniffle) I feel so old . . .

(laughs) Yes, it'll be a RoyEd where Ed is pregnant. Hope you like it! Thanks for the review!

Freak0515: (laughs) Thank you! Try not to think too hard!

Aemi-Kaishima: Why thank you! If I could make a favourite reviewer list, you would be on it! And you'll just have to keep reading to discover how Roy's dad finds out, silly!

Thanks for the review!

GlorysGirl4ever Hm . . . Does that mean that if I don't update soon, you'll only support this fic half-way? (laughs) Thanks for the review!

Star Girl11: Hello! First, thank you for the review!

Secondly, you must know that next chapter is only the second lemon that I have ever written—I am also a rather-easily-embarrassed-when-it-comes-to-sex-scenes-virginal-Catholic-girl, so there won't be anything too extraordinarily explicit. My lemons are . . . G-rated and tasteful, let's say.

I ask you to at least try to read the chapter, because it doesn't go right into the lemon. However, if you begin to feel uncomfortable, please scroll down and at least read the last line. It's essential to the plot.

Thank you for listening to me!

Trespasser1307: (laughs) I don't know why you keep rereading it either, but I thank you for doing so! I'm not suicidal either—I actually have a pretty good life . . . but, sure. If I ever throw myself off of my first-floor balcony again, I'll call you first. And that's okay if you talk more about my author's notes. I like conversing back and forth—it gives me something more interesting to say than "Thank you!"

So I don't mind . . . Thanks for the review!

Briesmile: Why thank you! And I shall!

Pickles: (smiles) Thank you!

Prozacfairy: Well, as long as life was good. (salutes) Thanks for the review!

dragon shadows: Thank you! I agree that she should be in the story more, but I guess because she already knows and is okay with it, then the story should focus on Ed buttering up the Major General. (smiles) Well, I try my best when it comes to angst—and if you felt sorry for the characters all through the chapter, then I've done my job!

(laughs) Most pets are like that, I guess . . . Most of mine are, anyway. Don't worry about it—Snowball ran away years ago . . . I've gotten over it. Blacky and Fluffy? Bleh . . . I could never name one of my animals that. I like weird, but meaningful names (like, we adopted one of our dogs out of Oklahoma, so we called him Sooner)—Snowball was just an odd slip.

(laughs) Don't worry, I didn't. it wasn't really my window—it was my balcony/porch. The ground is only, like, an inch down . . . so, no I didn't hurt myself. But thanks for caring! (smiles)

(laughs) That was pretty random. A gingerbread house . . . (frowns) It's not that I don't like them—it's just that in my . . . (counts) twelve years of Girl Scouts, I made a lot of GS cookie houses . . . none of which I got to eat. (sad)

Thanks for the review!

Sakura-Chan: (laughs) Thank you for caring . . . but, as I told Shadows, my balcony/porch is located about an inch off of the ground. Your transmuted net would be wasted . . .

Thanks for this review and the one that you probably already did in 'Automail'!

Yumiko Yoshihana: (laughs) Well, I suppose that I feel honoured that you would be happy enough with a new chapter to openly embarrass yourself in your school library. I'm also glad that you liked that chapter so much!

You have a cat named Hikaru? Hikaru is my friend's IM name and the name of her OC from a Wolf's Rain fic that we had planned on doing . . . How interesting . . .

(laughs) You and your friend were reading my story during a test? Shame on you. (smiles) Though, I'm glad that my story could inspire such an act of deviance. Glad she liked it!

(laughs) You poor thing. I hope that you can count them all . . . And, I'm . . . sorry? Check out my favourite authors—all but one are FMA authors and most like to write RoyEd. And they're all awesome—otherwise, they wouldn't be my favourite authors. (laughs) I can imagine you sitting there, leafing through the stories, talking to yourself like that . . .

I hate that, too! (shakes hand) Glad we can see eye to eye. That's why I started writing these stories.

Hagane No Chibi-san means Fullmetal Midget in Japanese. In fanfics, it's what Envy calls Ed a lot of the time. (laughs) I love how you're having an argument with your cat . . . My sister and her cat, Kiara do that all the time.

Yay! I'm Faerie-sensei now! (sniffle) I feel so loved and important! (laughs) I'm not sure how Arakawa would react either . . . I suppose that's why we have disclaimers . . . (shrugs)

Thanks for the reviews! See you next time!

imyourvillian: No, just almost another wreck. Thanks for the site! I actually did see that before, but didn't read it. I will now, though! Glad you like 'Dark Humor'.

Thanks for the 'slew of reviews'! I appreciate your lack of life! (laughs)

Midori-Jester: April or May. I can still see it being kind of cold—like, in this chapter, I can see Ed wearing blue checkered pajama pants and a semi-tight, long-sleeved blue shirt . . .

Why I told you that, I don't know . . . Thanks for the review!

Buried Fairy Tale: If you mean the first wreck, then thank you! If you mean the second (non-existent) wreck, then . . . well, it was non-existent—he didn't hit me. But thank you for caring, anyway! And it's okay if you didn't review the last two chapters . . . I still love you! (hugs)

Thanks for the review!