Before I get into the ficlet (my favorite of the three so far!), I'd like to ask you guys a question. Do you prefer that I reply to reviews in the chapter, or with the "review reply" feature? I haven't really done the review reply feature at all yet, because last time I was seriously posting a multi-chapter fic, it wasn't available. I'll go ahead and do it here this time... but feel free to tell me what you think, so I can decide what option I'll take in the future.

And is anyone else having problems with the document manager? Everytime I type in something with the edit feature, it always messes up the spacing. If you see two words slurred together, it's not my fault, I swear! I'm trying to fix it, but new instances of spacing issues keep popping up. (This is already the third time I've reloaded this chapter!) By the way, thanks to please-knock for pointing out the typo that was my fault. Thanks hun, it's all fixed now:-)

please-knock: Thank you for the wonderful compliments! Characterization happens to be the one writing element thatI beat myself up over the most. It means a lot to me that you think it was well done. Hugs for you.

Kabashka:Thanks for the reviews! Yes, puking is never fun. Poor Ed.:-(

Sera and Tails: Wow, what kind reviews! And I am so happy that I've found some kindred spirits out there who despise yaoi as much as I do. Especially Ed/Al. I would never write yaoi in a setting like this... the characters are too young, they're brothers, and... no.

CaptainKase: So kind as always! 1) Never yaoi. I really don't understand how Ed/Al would work with Al in the armor... and I really don't want to try my imagination on it. 2) There should be more fics in this time frame. It rocks! 3) Angst is good:-D 4) Wow... I don't know what to say. I guess "thanks" will have to do for now. I'm so glad you think I'm doing well! 5) "Off-camera" stories are my favorite to write.:-)

I'm so humbled by all of your reviews! Thanks, so much! I'll try and live up to your expectations.

Additional Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. Nothing in this story should be taken as medical fact. Nor am I an automail engineer. I've tried very hard to be as accurate as possible, but I needed more detail on the process of attaching automail than was provided in the series.I had to fill in the gaps, studying episodes and screencaps to try and understand how the parts of the process we didn't see on screen would work. If I've gotten something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it.

Also, we are officially up to a T rating, due to Ed's potty mouth.


"Brother, you need to hold still."

"Dammit, I'm trying!"

Edward squirmed in his chair. The seat reclined back ever so slightly, but it was enough that without a second leg to balance him, Ed felt like he was about to slide off. He reached about with his left hand for something to hold on to, but there were no armrests. He gripped the edge of the seat instead; it didn't help much.

Noticing his trouble, Winry came over from the other side of the room. Al scooted off to the side, making room for her to come right up next to Ed and pulled a little lever hidden behind the chair. It reclined further, allowing Ed to lie back comfortably. He sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Winry," he mumbled. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. The white walls in the room were blinding. Whoever said white was a calming color lied.

"Sure, no problem." Winry smiled. "You need anything else, ask."

Ed snorted. "Yeah, sure." He cracked his eyes open to watch Winry walk back over to the table in the corner and go back to what she had been doing previously – sorting sheets of metal and braided wires. Suppressing a shudder, he looked away.

He didn't like to think of himself as a particularly nervous person. Normally, he wasn't. But now, he felt … how to put it… 'jumpy.' Every time he heard a clang of metal from across the room, a strange jolt fluttered through his stomach. It didn't help that Al was hovering over him like a mother hen. True, he was silent and still… but he was hovering. Ed could sense it.

It was too silent. The only sounds present were Ed's breathing and Winry's distracted mumbling as she worked. Even as quiet as they were, the noises echoed in the room.

Ed hated this room. It was completely out of place compared to the rest of the Rockbell residence. It lacked that warm aura of a family home, the sort of comfort that comes from crooked pictures on the wall and socks lying haphazardly on the floor. This room didn't have any of the charm of fading wallpaper, apple pies, creaky floorboards. It was blank and stark. Gray tiles covered the floor, and the walls stood high and devoid of adornment. All of the furniture was comprised of two substances: cold metal and stiff leather. A flat surgery table sat ready and waiting on the other side of the room. Ed was trying very hard not to notice it.

There was a large steel cabinet in the corner. The first time that Winry had opened it, Ed had stared stupidly at its contents. Rows upon rows of screwdrivers, wrenches, pliers, and drills glinted wickedly in the harsh light. Tools hung on racks, perfectly in line like soldiers, organized by size and purpose. The cabinet next to it was worse. Ed was only able to catch a brief glimpse of the surgical needles and knives before Winry'd noticed his wide-eyed stare and quickly shut the cabinet.

The door opened, the sudden loud creak causing Ed to flinch.

"Good morning, Granny," Al said cheerfully – so cheerfully that Ed knew his brother was just as nervous as he was.

"I brought up the schematics," Pinako said, shutting the door behind her and carrying in a small case. "How are the preparations coming, Winry?"

Her Granddaughter looked up. "All right, I think. Will you check and make sure I did it all right?"

Pinako walked right past Ed and Al, going over to the corner where Winry stood pointing to what looked to Ed like metal scraps scattered across the table in nonsensical piles. Pinako, however, looked it over and nodded proudly. "Good work. That's one more thing to check off the list."

Only then did Pinako walk over to the chair where Ed lay. She lifted the case onto a small stand nearby. Opening it, she pulled out some papers and pinned them on the wall.

Tired of being ignored, Ed decided to speak up. "Are those…?"

"Schematics," Pinako stated matter-of-factly. "For the automail."

Ed frowned. "It doesn't look complete."

"Well of course not. We're not doing the entire surgery in one go."

"What!" He hated the way his voice squeaked just then. "Why not?"

"Brother," Al piped up, fidgeting restlessly, "Trust Granny Pinako. She knows what she's doing."

"But Al – "

Whatever Ed was about to say was cut off by a curt glance from Pinako. He was about to head off into an edgy sulk, when the woman spoke, "It's quite all right. Ed has every right to know what he's getting himself into."

Ed considered muttering, "Damn right," but thought better of it. Sure enough, Pinako continued after only a moment's pause.

"Automail surgery is too involved for just one procedure," she explained, while pinning more papers onto the wall. "Besides, your body would probably not be able to handle the strain."

"I see…" Ed gulped. "What part are we getting done today, then?"

"Today, we're installing the docking ports."

"So… no wire work?"

"No. Wire work comes later."

Ed expelled a long, slow breath. A couple of days before, Winry had explained the process of attaching his nerves to the wires in the mechanism. Safe to say, Ed was not looking forward to it.

Al must have sensed his older brother's apprehension. "It's okay to be nervous, Ed," his echoing voice piped up softly behind the chair. "I would be too – "

"I'm not nervous," Ed declared. He turned a pair of determined gold eyes to the blank armored face staring down at him. "It's all part of the plan. I get automail, become a State Alchemist, and figure out a way to put you back in the flesh again. Piece of cake, right?"

Ed hoped he sounded more convincing to his brother than he did to himself.

"All right, Ed," Pinako suddenly turned her attention back to the small boy. "Scoot over a bit for me, I need to get at the bandages."

Ed complied, allowing Pinako to begin unwrapping the itchy white cloth around his right shoulder. The view underneath was rather grotesque. Part of his shoulder socket had been torn out along with the arm, causing the skin to concave inwards where it should have been supported by strong bone. Around the gaping cavity were ragged, puckered scars that flushed an angry red from the blood that threatened just beneath the surface. Ed shivered. The sensitive, healing skin was not used to being uncovered, and the cold air tickled it horribly.

"Winry," Pinako's voice shook everyone's attention away from the gruesome sight. "Can you bring me the marker?" Her granddaughter pressed the desired object into Pinako hands almost before the request had finished being spoken. She eyed the schematics for a moment, before turning back to her patient and uncapping the marker.

Ed flinched as the rough ink tip made contact with his skin. He sat in silence, watching the expert automail engineer draw webs of lines, dots, and symbols around his shoulder. If he used enough imagination, it almost looked like a transmutation circle. He frowned when Pinako colored in a particularly large circle right on the curve of his collarbone.

Tilting his head back, he examined the schematic, trying to understand what all the marks meant. If it had been a transmutation circle, Ed probably would be able to comprehend it. Shouldn't automail be easier to understand than alchemy? There was a label, "ANCHOR POINT," adjacent to the corresponding area of the large dot on the schematic. Whatever that meant. There were a few more similar labels over a couple of the ribs and along the shoulder blade.

Seemingly finished with the markings, Pinako picked up a ruler and laid it across the large dot across Ed's collarbone. With the marker, she made necessary adjustments to the size of the dot. "1.2 centimeters - diameter," she called out to Winry, who picked out a small metal part from a case and packaged it in a sterilized baggie. Ed froze as he realized what that 'small metal part' was. A bolt. A mechanical bolt. 1.2 centimeters… the "anchor point" mark… the bolt… to be drilled into his collarbone…

Holy shit.


"That's good, Al. Just lay him down right there."

Ed, with his cheek awkwardly pressed up against the cold metal, could feel the vibrations as a small voice spoke, "Yes ma'am."

Careful not to jostle his older brother overly much, Al carefully set Ed down on the surgical table. Although it irked his pride to be carried like that, Ed knew that having Al transport him from the chair to the table was a far better (and easier) option than being half-dragged with Winry and Pinako struggling to hold him up on either side.

The table was hard, cold, and uncomfortable. Sprawled out flat like he was, with everyone bustling about around him carrying trays and boxes and rolling carts bearing automail parts and doing various other tasks to prepare for the surgery, Ed couldn't help but feel as if he were some sort of insentient test subject. Everything – the cabinets, the floor lamp, the medical carts, even Al – seem to loom over him. To make it worse, Pinako had stripped him down to practically nothing. The only thing preserving any shred of his dignity was a pair of very tiny boxers. So now he got to lie down half-naked in front of people who were about to scrutinize him with metal objects. Sure, if he were to trust anyone to cut into him, it would be the Rockbells. But still.

Suddenly, Ed realized that while he was internally complaining, Winry had been talking to him.

" – just going to be a quick pinch, don't worry." To his horror, Ed noticed that in his friend's hand was a syringe, with a long, thin, very sharp needle.

"What are you doing?" He exploded, backing away reflexively.

"I knew you weren't paying attention!" Winry groaned and rolled her eyes. "Granny says you need this shot."

"Why?" Ed's sweaty hand was slipping on the unforgiving surface of the surgical table. "Do I really need it? Can't we skip this part?"

"Absolutely not," said Pinako, having overheard the conversation. "The medicine in this shot will put you out for the surgery. Believe me, you will not want to be conscious for it."

Ed frowned. "I thought I had to be kept awake for the surgery?"

"Only when we're working with your nerves," the old woman explained, "to be sure that we're not doing anything to interfere with sensory pulses. Installing the docking ports, however, does not involve tampering with your nervous system. It would be best for you to accept the shot, young man."

Winry nodded, tapping the back of the syringe against the palm of her hand. "Are you ready, Ed?"

By this time, Ed's face had fallen. Gritting his teeth, he replied, "You know how much I hate shots, Winry..."

"Just look away. You'll be fine." Winry took his left arm firmly, laying it out on the table and exposing the tender, pale skin on the underside of his arm.

Although he tried his best to follow her advice, he couldn't help but watch as she dabbed a tiny, sterilized cloth across his inner elbow. The tiny area glinted wetly, coldly. A fat, blue vein pulsed beneath.

Winry felt him shiver, looked up to see his eyes wide and locked on her hand as it rubbed in the disinfectant. "What is it about shots that bother you so much, anyways?" She asked suddenly, hesitating while the syringe sat waiting in the palm of her other hand.

"I don't know," murmured Ed. He was embarrassed to be showing so much weakness in front of her. "I'm not afraid of the pain. Hell, it doesn't hurt that much anyways. I guess it's just… just the thought of metal going in me… sort of creeps me out."

She pursed her lips and frowned. "But Ed… if that's what bothers you, then wouldn't automail – "

"Just hurry up and get it over with, would you?" Ed grinned at her, relieved that she did not pursue her question that he had so blatantly ignored.

Tensing, he prepared himself for the shot. He picked a spot on the ceiling and stared intently at it, pretending that he wasn't aware of the dimple forming on his skin before the needle pierced his flesh and pretending that he didn't cringe as he felt the smooth metal sliding effortlessly into him.

He was still staring at the same spot several minutes later, when the medicine began to take hold. Hazy splotches ate away at the corners of his vision. The ceiling gradually blurred, faded, and then fell into blackness.