Wowzers. Got 22 reviews in two days of posting the first chapter? Now, I may not be an expert, but I'd say you guys like this story. xD

All editing goes to Kib, my beta, of course, as always.

He wasn't sure what it was that woke him up. He was aware of his own cry of pain echoing around the room before he even felt the painful slithering in his stomach, metal pumping inside him and artificial organs tugging at his flesh, tearing down the walls of his outer stomach.

God, not again.

A small whine sounded in the back of his throat as he sat up, clutching his stomach and curling up in a ball, head tucking under his chest as he rested the back of his head against the bed. He knew it was an odd position, but right then he would do anything to alleviate the pain. Another soft groan escaped from his lips, and he buried his face in the pillow, not wanting to have to wake anyone up. But still… if he could only get the nerve receptors in his side shut off, it wouldn't hurt. Fumbling around in the dark, he lifted the side of his shirt and felt the cold metal plate, fused with the side of his torso. He ran his fingers along the puckered, red skin that connected the side plate to his body. If only he could open the small plate right below his ribs, then he could get at the small compartment that held all the tiny, numerous wires, keeping his system going. One good tug could rip all of them out, and he would be dead in less then an hour. Sometimes, when this pain hit him, it was a tempting thought.

Pushing the morbid thoughts out of his head, he heaved himself off the mattress spread out on the ground and crawled halfway across the room on hands and knees. He finally had to stagger to his feet in order to reach the door handle, and every single step hitched his quick, pained breathing as he slipped out into the corridor beyond.

Him and the whole gang of twenty lived in a run-down, abandoned hotel, just another ruin in a whole street full of old, wrecked buildings, often referred to as 'The Ghetto'. It had been a very long time since anyone had seen the elderly man who supposedly held the deeds to the hotel; according to popular opinion, the old man was probably dead or dying by now. Either way, the threat of being kicked out was not a frightening one for the hardened gang members. Spending five years in a place made a man quite attached to his home, and when the Brat'ja wanted something, they got it.

Swiping uselessly at the sweat dampening his forehead, Ed stumbled down the narrow hallway, counting the doors as he used the wall to support himself. His bare feet scuffed on the dirty floorboards as he stepped around a crate and knocked on the door with a number 100. The small bronzed sign hung off one screw sideways, looking rather clumsy and forlorn. Ed often wondered why the room's occupant didn't just fix it. Given her first-rate mechanical skills, it wouldn't have been too tough to put some new screws in.

Ignoring the embarrassed, awkward little voice in his head that told him to wait for her to answer the door, he just wrenched the door open and went to step forward, only to find himself collapsed on the floor, gasping in breaths. He heard the bed creak once before two black-socked feet appeared beside him, and a sleep-laced voice addressed him.

"Ed? Is it your side again?" Winry asked, rubbing her eyes with one hand as she struggled to help Ed up.

He barely managed a nod before he having to bite back a small whimper as something grinded in his side, sending shockwaves of pain through the rest of his system. He folded forward instinctively, trembling.

Winry forced him to sit up and lean against the wall, her hands gentle but firm. "Stay sitting up, Ed. You could get colic again," Winry told him, dragging a large metal box out from under her bed and pulling it up beside him. She opened it up with an apologetic smile he barely registered and began to remove his shirt. "I think I'm gonna need Al's help, Ed. Just wait here and stay up." She stood and ran out the door, shooting him a worried glance as she left the room.

Ed felt another throb in his abdomen, and his body slouched forward uncomfortably of its own accord. He obediently tried to straighten up, but his body had a mind of its own, and it was starting to feel oddly numb as his breathing became more and more irregular. He groaned, drawing his knees up to his chest in order to bury his face in them. This wasn't just some little mishap – this was the worst it got. How long had it been since the last time? Surely it wasn't time yet…?

Stronger hands gripped his bare shoulders and leaned him back. "Is it restart time already?"

Ed cracked a smile, ignoring the continuing twinges in his side. "What? Getting sick of me already, Al?"

"Of course I'm not, Brother. We already had a restart time four months ago. Your intervals are starting to get closer together."

There was another sharp tug and he clenched his eyes shut, hearing Winry speak up, "I have two theories. One, it could mean your body is finally accepting and adapting to the artificial organs, or two… your body is shutting down for good."

Smiling again, he squeezed his eyes shut tight as there was another sharp tug at his rib, making him gasp before laughing, "Well, won't it be fun to find out what it is once the intervals start becoming daily?"

"Shut up, Ed. As if I'd let that happen. Who do you think you're dealing with?" Winry demanded. He peered back at her through screwed up eyes, finding her pointing a small flashlight into his side as she took a pair of small tweezers and reaching into the metalwork within. "I am the best after all. Al, get the Risendol."

Ed groaned. "Not that shit again. Fucking stings to swallow – AH!"

"Alright, I'm going to disconnect the main wire, Ed. Ready to die again?" she asked with a light humor, but he could see the fear in her eyes, just praying and hoping that this wasn't the last time she would see him. After all, every time she reset the system, the whole thing could refuse to start up again and leave him dying right in front of them.

The young blond clenched his fist and closed his eyes again. "Yes," he muttered back, "For the millionth time."

There was a small splitting noise and everything was drowned out in a low droning noise, sending him into the dark.

~*~

Finally getting a lead on the Fullmetal's location hadn't come cheap, Roy reflected bitterly as he gingerly fingered his newly forming black eye. He had been unpleasantly surprised at the furious response his innocent question had brought. It seemed lots of the people around the area stood beside and were loyal to the feared leader, whoever he really was. Fear or respect? he wondered idly, swallowing down nerves as he headed towards this so-called 'Ghetto'. The two often came hand in hand and got mixed up. Do I fear dying or respect dying? That's the only time when those two aren't confused.

Gripping the bag in his hand tighter, he quickened his pace, trying hard to think about anything other than dying. His boots began to hit hard dirt instead of tarmac and he felt the air become almost dirty as strode along the crumbling road, mostly all dirt and pieces of broken cement. He had assumed the Fullmetal would be living somewhere more… classy. At least mid-class, if not mansions or fortieth floor penthouses. He certainly wouldn't have expected to find the infamous gang leader down in the abandoned buildings of the city. Forgotten and rotting in the darkest part of the city, a place the sun never shone because of all the tall buildings surrounding it, avoided by the rich, famous and snobby… it was, Roy admitted, a pretty good hiding place.

Crunching on broken glass, he stepped up to one of the largest buildings, looking it over. He had memorized the directions word for word, and this looked like the place. Dilapidated, abandoned, a three-storey hotel on the brink of collapse. And I'm trying to get inside. Hmm, this makes perfect sense. Roy's eyes wandered over the building, eventually taking in peeling patches of salmon-pink paintwork still valiantly spelling out every other letter of the building's original name – "The Coral Inn". His eyes narrowed. So… this was the place.

He had expected everything to be quiet, but this silence was unnerving, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck as he looked around skeptically. He knew he'd find a bullet lodged between his eyes if he wasn't careful. His apparently casual gaze scanned the windows of the building for any sign of life, but there were none. Anyone passing wouldn't have been able to believe people actually lived in such a wreck, but now that he knew, he noticed the windows hadn't been boarded up and yet were conspicuously absent of damage, unlike the others on the street. There was a bunch of keys on one of the window-sills on the second floor and a curtain trapped in a third-floor window where someone had obviously shut it too quickly. Also, despite the terrible state of the place, there was hardly any dust to be seen.

Just as he lifted his hand to knock on the door, which was hanging dangerously off one hinge, there was a loud 'thunk' and he jumped back with a start, staring down at the ground. A small pocket knife had appeared in the dirt next to his boot, and had stuck straight into the ground. Stepping back carefully and trying to think rationally around the sudden rush of adrenaline through his system, he stared up at the higher up windows, expecting to see a head poking out of one… but there was nothing.

"Hey! I need to talk to the Fullmetal!" he yelled up to the windows, stepping back further to see more easily into the windows.

No answer.

Throwing the bag down, feeling like a naughty child being given the silent treatment, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted again. "I know there's someone in there! I just never expected the famous Fullmetal to be a little chicken shit!"

"Better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life," a voice replied, making him freeze on the spot. The sound echoed in the silence, and he couldn't quite figure out where it was coming from. "I just want to know what the hell you're doing on my turf. You have ten seconds to explain before a knife finds a nice, cozy spot lodged into the back of your neck."

Feeling his throat grow dry, he blurted out the first thing he thought of. "I-I was fired from the military!"

There was a loud clang and he swung around to see a blond across the street, glaring profusely at him. Black jeans and a simple torn-up red t-shirt was all he wore, with some rugged boots on his feet. It was hard to see how old he was in the dim light, but from his height and his cocky, belligerent stance, Roy would have guessed at late teens. He seemed to be alone and vulnerable to an easy attack, but Roy knew that was what he wanted people to think, just daring people to try something on him. He was well aware that there was most likely a gun trained on his head somewhere and even more members hiding in the shadows. No-one, he remembered belatedly, could use the darkness to their advantage as well as the Brat'ja.

Roy resisted the urge to bite his lip, keeping his eyes fixed on those of the young blond and concentrating on keeping his face emotionless.

The blond, on the other hand, was doing quite the opposite. "The military?!" he spat, his odd golden eyes flashing in the dim lamplight as he shook his head in disgust. His rage twisted his whole face and distorted the cold, smug voice of before into an animal snarl. It was frightening to behold, Roy had to admit. "Why the fuck is a dog here?! Are you insane? Suicidal? Everyone knows this is off-limits to the military-"

"I was fired," Roy answered quickly, perfectly reciting what he practiced for hours. "Those bastards just threw me out and I have nowhere else to go! I want payback! Tell me what I have to do to join! I'll do anything, just tell me and consider it done!"

They both stared each other down, but Roy kept his glare down a few dozen notches so as not to appear challenging. One sign from him and he'd be dead in a heartbeat. Whoever this kid was, he was obviously high in rank… perhaps even the leader himself. Everything matched up so far.

Eventually, the blond leaned back slightly, tilting his head and crossing his arms as he treated him to a lazy smirk. There was something wicked in that smile, Roy thought warily. "Well, you came so damn early in the morning, I should kill you just for that alone. But… I'll make you a deal."

The older man blinked, trying to think of what the kid could want possibly want of him, before watching him lift a hand and hold up three fingers.

Roy tensed, almost flinching as he expected the worse. A bullet in the back, three knives in the chest, anything. All he heard was a soft step to his left and a small boy practically melted from the shadows, so perfectly trained in the art of blending in. He was slightly shorter than the blond kid across the street, with short, sandy brown hair and big gray innocent eyes. Whatever Roy had been expecting from the second ever Brat he had seen, it certainly wasn't that childish, friendly face. There were a couple bandages on his arms – the only possible sign of the kid's nature as a violent gangster – and he was wearing a baggy tank top that hung low making him appear thinner than he already was.

The officer let his gaze return to the high-ranking blond, who was still eyeing him malevolently as another taller figure stepped out and Roy had to swallow the lump in his throat as he realized how big this guy was. What was he? Some sort of club bouncer? Well, in this situation, it was obvious what he really was. A brute. … A brute and a half.

He was too nervous to take the chance to notice he was pretty much surrounded. Not completely closed in tightly. But they were around him, hidden, watching and waiting with shark's grins on their faces. They knew what was coming.

"You beat Al, here and I'll think about letting you live," the boy smirked eventually, eyes glinting. Now Roy knew why the smile had looked so evil. "But well, I guess that depends on how amusing you are." The smirk matured into a full-fledged grin, all pointy white teeth. "I have to have some reason to keep you around."

Roy looked back up at the hulking man, eyes wide. He was still across the street, nonchalantly watching the blond for a signal, but Roy knew he was still a threat. He had to beat that guy?! He was gong to be splattered across the buildings like a grape being stepped on!

"Here are the rules," the blond continued, his grin slipping off his face once more. "You pull any weapon, knives or guns, you will be shot and then I will kill you myself. Trust me, you don't want me to have my fun." He left the statement in the air, both threatening and promising. "Just stay alive until I decide what to do with you, got it?"

Roy nodded, prepared to be throttled like a stick figure. At least he would be pretty damn amusing, being tossed around like a rag doll while the small blond laughed his ass off. Clenching his fists, he stepped forward out onto the middle of the broken road, staring down, trying to think this through. He'd have to limit the damage – if he killed a gang member he would be shot down immediately. And he didn't like the idea of being locked in the same room with the blond. He did look dangerous – almost more dangerous then the big man towering over him. And damn… that was dangerous.

Steeling himself and sinking into a defensive stance, Roy looked up at the blond and nodded once, his dark eyes hard.

The smaller, gray-eyed boy stepped out in front of the blond and walked over to the edge of the road, facing off against Roy.

At first, Roy just stared, uncomprehending. No… surely that big guy over there was supposed to face him off, not this little kid. A snort escaped him, then Roy laughed, pointing at the boy he now knew was 'Al'.

"Are you serious?!" he laughed. "I'm not fighting a little kid!"

They didn't answer him as Al bolted forward, catching Roy off guard and slamming a palm up into his chin within the blink of an eye. All Roy saw was a flash of a thin, pale arm and he was on his back, scrambling backwards from this kid as he sought his feet once more. He could have sworn he saw a flinch and heard a quick apology as the boy advanced, barely giving Roy a chance to stand up. He backed away, keeping his hands up to block, but not making any attempt to hit back. He couldn't hit a kid! It went against everything he'd ever believed in! But then, this kid was obviously trained to fight and a few bruises on the kid were well worth it for the exchange of keeping his life. He wasn't about to hold back. Military training kicking in and he ducked as Al threw a punch and brought his fist up towards the smaller boy's stomach, knowing that one blow would be enough to take him out due to his size.

A quick twist and Al was barely brushed by his hand. He stared in shock, as Al clenched his fist and threw a punch, smashing into Roy's nose with devastating force and precision. The world was suddenly pulled out from under his feet as a boot collided with his gut. There was a heavy thud and a strangled gasp as he hit the floor, winded and clutching his bleeding nose as he gave up and laid there, prepared for the finishing blow. He knew this gang was violent and would kill without a second thought. He had been beaten so easily. There was no way they'd let him live after this, let alone join.

Loud laughter met his ears as he cringed and blinked up at the gray, polluted sky, before he finally comprehended the laughter was coming from around him. Most of it was just soft sniggers and mocking snorts, but one laugh rose above the others. It was a surprisingly innocent laugh, unrestrained and free as the high-ranking blond kid's cackles rang around him.

"Alright, alright! That was just priceless!" the kid gasped, clutching his sides. He had tears running down his face, his face creased in a huge, shit-eating grin. "Man! You couldn't even land a hit on him!"

He stared dazedly, feeling hot blood gush over his top lip and down his chin from his broken nose. A hand reached out and helped him sit up, worried gray eyes scanning his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break it. Here – " Before Roy could protest, Al snapped the nose back in place with two experienced thumbs. Roy flinched back, half-wanting to strike out at the kid who had humiliated him in front of all these people, before Al added in a whisper, "I think Fullmetal likes you. He wouldn't usually laugh like this if he was going to kill you."

Roy blinked at him, forgetting his grievances as he stared back at the blond, realizing this was the leader, Fullmetal. He watched for a moment as the young man spoke with the big man, his bright gold eyes still lit up with amusement but with a firmer, more business-like set to his mouth. The sharp gaze flashed over as Fullmetal felt Roy's eyes on him. It darted across to Al, then back to Roy, before Fullmetal rolled his eyes and looked back to the bigger man, speaking in a lower voice.

He had no doubt that Fullmetal knew exactly what had just been disclosed, just from that one glance. He licked his lips, recalling Colonel Jameson's words. 'Strength, cunning, charisma… who knows? I hear he's also quite the genius.' He was certain of all of that just from taking one look at those piercing gold eyes. The blond's whole demeanor almost screamed 'danger'. "What…" He swallowed, took a deep breath, and continued, glancing at Al. "What happens now?"

"He's deciding. He consults with Jeremy every time someone asks to become a gang member. Usually he's the one who ends up killing them," Al said, eyes downcast. "I don't like it, but if we don't keep a firm ground then we'd all be wiped out. I apologize for hurting you, officer. I hope you can forgive me."

Roy stared at the boy, now standing in front of him, eyes still locked on his boots with something like… shame? Was this kid serious? "… I forgive you," he answered at last. "And I'm not an officer anymore. I was fired, remember?"

"What for?"

"Being a free thinker and having new ideas to make this world a better place. Using the all the money we have to help all these homeless people instead off opening new barracks and training even more soldiers." Roy sighed, gingerly wiping his nose off on his sleeve. "As if this military needs more men. We have the world's strongest army already, but right now there are so many people dying on the street after the Harmonsea Plague. We should be doing something about that, not mustering up an even bigger military to force people to obey laws they never wanted."

The boy stared at him for a moment, then spoke, his voice a little more trusting than before. "I used to have that. Harmonsea."

Sniffing, Roy looked back up at the small boy with a frown. "How did you survive? I thought there was no cure."

"I'm… not really sure. My friends call it a miracle. But don't let Fullmetal hear you talking about religion or anything. That drives him mad."

"Jerico, check the bag," Fullmetal's voice broke into their conversation, snapping Roy out of the oddly comfortable atmosphere. Despite being beat into the ground by the boy he was talking to, he felt at ease around him. But just that one assault from Fullmetal's glare had him on edge again. He was… was just so evil-looking.

A wiry looking kid ran out from behind Fullmetal and past Roy and Al, snatching up the bag like a thief before booking off back towards the blond leader. "Here, boss!"

Roy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They could have just asked.

The Fullmetal gave the bag a look before grabbing it from the boy's grasp and opening it up. He gazed into it for a moment before making a face at the contents. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No," he replied softly. "Do what you want with it. It's for you to dispose of however you see fit."

Raising an eyebrow, Fullmetal pulled the navy blue coat of the uniform Roy used to wear and gave it an odd look. "What? Some kind of symbol to prove your loyalty and life-long devotion?" The blond snorted in contempt. "Sounds military to me, and I don't like that." Bright eyes flashed back at him from the coat and he couldn't help but flinch, surprised by how much fear this kid could hold over people.

Fullmetal tossed the coat back in the bag and threw it at one of the kids. "Take that to Al's room."

Al looked up from Roy and over at Fullmetal, frowning. "Why my room?" he asked. Roy blinked at him, startled at how casually he addressed his leader.

"I need you to fix it up so it'll be a blanket. The ones we have for the kids are getting too ratty," he replied, just as casually. Apparently, Fullmetal and Al were close, close enough for the younger to get away with questioning orders. Roy stored that tidbit away for later.

The blond shot him one last suspicious glance and stalked off for the hotel across the road, wearily rubbing at the back of his neck. The light finally hit the kid's face and he saw that he was even younger-looking than he'd expected, with wide eyes and a feminine-looking bone structure. Dangerous as he seemed, he also looked startlingly fragile and thin, as if he were often sick. As Fullmetal stepped towards the hotel, he saw a slight limp in the blond's gait and was nearly blown back when he noticed for the first time that the kid had a metal arm. The light from the street now fully illuminated his arm, still rubbing sorely at the back of his neck.

He didn't look back as he slipped around the broken door and disappeared into the recesses of the hotel, but Roy still could have sworn he saw a grimace of pain on the boy's face as he limped away, seeming to sink into himself as he disappeared from view. The soldier's eyes narrowed as he watched, wondering what could make a teenaged kid hobble like an old man. Not that he didn't already suspect. Everything matched up – a metal arm, an animalistic hatred of the military, a hidden illness that he had to hide around even his most trusted gang family members. He's the one, Roy thought. He's the one I'm after. A.E. Experiment number 23.

Roy sighed and turned away, half-relieved, half-nervous. At least it looked like he was off the hook for now. Fullmetal wasn't spitting fire at him – that would at least give him some breathing space and get the gang members off his back as well. Even if he had now met the man he was someday going to betray.

A hand appeared in front of his face, being offered to him. Frowning sulkily, he took the hand and stood up, becoming suddenly light-headed as the blood rushed to his aching head.

"Fullmetal might let you join," Al warned as he steadied himself, gesturing at him to follow. "Just don't get on his bad side. Speak when spoken to and keep your nose clean, 'cause he won't give you any second chances."

Roy put his hands in his pockets and resolutely tried not to sulk as he followed Al to the building. He'd half-hoped that he'd got the wrong building and this wasn't really where the Brat'ja resided. But no, he had just given up his nice, comfortable apartment, shower and food to live like a street rat. This was to protect his job, he reminded himself wearily. Without it, he'd have nothing.

"First off, you'll be on parole for a few months," Al continued as he held the door open, smiling already. "Four tops. It shouldn't be too long, anyway. You'll go out with one of us to get you prepared and trained to fly solo, and eventually you'll get the initial trust from Fullmetal. It isn't a lot, but it's definitely better than nothing."

Mustang followed Al into the building, putting on a bored, casual face as he asked nonchalantly, "What is Fullmetal's name anyway? I mean… he must have a real name, surely?"

The boy lifted an eyebrow, but didn't give him a second glance. It must be a common question, after all. "Yes… he does, but it's confidential. Only a few people know it, so don't even bother asking him… or them. Just call him Boss or Fullmetal and you won't get in trouble."

It was worth a try, he thought, feeling put out at the quick rejection as he looked over the inside of the building. It was the original hotel lobby from what he could see of the room he was standing in. Old, unused tables were lined up everywhere, the old reception desk was now a dumping ground for coats, boots, umbrellas and various other articles of clothing, and there was an unpleasant, musty smell that made him turn his nose up. If he was looking for a hotel, he certainly wouldn't be convinced.

"This is where we live. It used to be a nice hotel quite a long time ago."

Roy sniffed again and rubbed his nose with the cuff of his coat. The sleeve was really going to be ruined if his nose kept bleeding like this. "Any tips on how to stay off the Fullmetal's bad side?" he asked.

Al crossed his arms and seemed to think for a moment, measuring him up with a gaze almost as sharp as the Fullmetal's. Contrary to popular opinion, none of the gang seemed to be as brainless and stupid as they'd been made out to be. "If you really are serious about this and not some spy or assassin then you'll be on his good side in no time," he said after a pause. He hesitated, then shrugged, his lips twitching in a long-suffering smile. "Well… the side where he doesn't want to kill you, anyway."

Nice guy, this Fullmetal, Roy thought wryly. "No suggestions at all?" he complained out loud. "That's pretty harsh. I'll have to learn the hard way then, huh?"

Al chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before taking the closest seat at one of the tables, indicating to Roy to sit down beside him. Roy refrained from putting his elbows on the stained wood top and watched Al fidget for a moment. For such a tough kid he seemed pretty helpless and innocent. Who would have thought to find him so high up in a dangerous gang? "He doesn't really want me talking to newbs but I really don't want someone else killed, just listen and don't repeat to anyone, alright?" he said in an undertone at last, looking over his shoulder and searching the empty room for any listening ears.

"… Alright."

The boy nodded once, then launched in, his gaze intense. "One: Do not say a word about height around him. He has this height complex and a really short temper too. Don't think he won't take a good swing at your head with his metal arm. Trust me, no-one's ever done something twice after he nailed them with his right hook." Al grinned weakly, then continued, a little more hesitantly. "Two: Don't insult me around him… or say anything negative about me or to me. Just wait till he's not around and we can talk it out. That's fine, he's just… erm, a bit overprotective."

Roy frowned and was about to interject, but Al hurried on.

"Three: Do not ever talk to Winry unless she talks to you. Don't even look at her. He caught Jeremy looking too long and broke his jaw, and three ribs. He had a concussion for days."

"What, is this his girlfriend or something?"

Al cracked a small smile and shook his head. "You'd think so by how protective he is of her, but they're just friends. But since she's a girl and a close friend… he's going to be extra protective."

He nodded, storing that away for later, then remembered the other point about Fullmetal's protectiveness. "What about you?" he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. "What did you do to get on his good side?"

The kid hesitated for a moment before shrugging, "Many years, I guess. He's stubborn, and really suspicious. It takes time"

The more Roy thought about it, the more he was sure something was being hidden from him here. He'd always had a gift for spotting lies, and this had one written all over it. However, he could tell he wouldn't get any more out of Al today, so he changed the subject quickly. "So, this Winry girl. Could you tell me what she looks like so I don't get my skull caved in?"

Al laughed. "Um, she has long blonde hair, blue eyes, lots of ear piercings. She's practically the only girl here in this family. Other families of the gang have lots of girls too, but we just have Winry. Its nice though, we need someone around here with some sense, and she keeps Fullmetal in line."

"You're telling me that Fullmetal is scared of a little girl?" Roy asked, suddenly interested.

"Well, yeah. Everyone is, even me. She can be pretty scary and she isn't afraid to crack you over the head with a wrench. … She's also a mechanic," Al added, seeing Roy's questioning look.

Roy just nodded, thinking as he looked Al over. The kid couldn't be any older than eighteen. He was so small and still had that boyish face still. Getting his courage up he asked, "How old are you, Al?"

He was taken aback for a moment, blinking as he scratched the back of his head. "Umm… sixteen, I think. I don't know when my birthday is. I lost my mother when I was pretty young and I can't remember."

"Oh, I'm sorry…"

"It's fine… how old are you, if you don't mind?"

"Twenty-eight."

"You're not too old then. Fullmetal is about twenty too, 'cause obviously neither of us… ah, I mean, he doesn't remember his birthdate either. But, you know, erm…" Al flapped his hands, looking oddly flustered for a moment. "It's just a coincidence. It's not really uncommon not to know. You're lucky to know your birthday!"

The soldier nodded sadly, feeling a little guilty for his fortune compared to Al's and the others. He totally missed Al's relieved sigh as the boy realised his slip had gone unnoticed in a conversation full of secrets and lies.

Ages dont really matter but if you are curious, Ed is 5 years older than Al, like in the original anime after they got his body back. Cause his body didn't age, and I like the idea of a much younger Alphonse, more reason for Ed to be over protective 3

So Al is 16, Ed is 21, and Roy is 28, and Winry is 22.

I didn't want Ed and Roy's ages too far apart, for my own reasons, not for yaoi you perverted little fangirls. I know you're out there! :

I know what you're thinking. Colic? Morgan, really? He's a human not a horse. Well...that'll explain itself in due time...AND NO HE'S NOT PART HORSE!!!

(B/N: Watch out for the talking socks)

B/N is beta note...for those who don't know...which is Kib....yeah....