Okay, I'm churning out oodles of oneshots recently, but I don't care. I've been thinking about the concept of Al not being able to control his thoughts and what he says for a while now, and I'm finally writing it out. I'm a little frustrated though, because if someone was really thinking these thoughts, it wouldn't take very long. Ah well, it helped my brain-block on my real story. But now I should probably go to bed. I'm tired… I don't own FMA. G'night.

Talking to no one

"It's hard," Al said softly to the increasing darkness of the Rockbell household. "It's hard to control what I say out loud and what I keep inside my head in this body. Back before Nii-san made me like this, if I ever had bad thoughts, I could just think, 'Bite your tongue, Alphonse!' and then I would, because it kept me from saying things that could hurt people's feelings. But now, I don't even have a tongue to bite, so everything just kind of comes out. I have to figure out some way to control it," he mused thoughtfully to himself. "There's got to be a way."

"Maybe if I focus really hard… Don't say anything, Don't say anything, Don't say anything, just shut up, Alphonse! No, that didn't work. Maybe if I practice a bit more, then I'll be able to do it."

"Is it weird that I call myself by my own name in my thoughts? I don't know of anyone else I know doing that, but then again, I can't really tell how other people think. Maybe in some of the books that I read with Nii-san, but…" he sighed, hugging his huge metal knees to his chest. "We didn't really read books like that. We mostly just read alchemy books and concentrated on our studies. I liked books like that, even though too much reading gave me a headache sometimes. Now I guess I can't get a headache… but part of the fun was feeling the thick paper between your hands, letting that book smell tickle your nose… Once I get my body back, I'll read more books like that and less alchemy books. It was fun."

"I guess it's true when people say that you don't really know how good you got it until it's gone. Before I got this body that can't feel much of anything, I didn't really pay much attention to how good food could taste, especially after working out for a long time with Nii-san, or how nice it was to feel prickly grass between your toes and a clod breeze in your hair… I have to just keep describing these things to myself, and keep remembering, and then maybe it won't be as hard in this body."

"I wonder if someone who became blind because of some accident still remembers colors, and still thinks of how things would look with all the colors. I know that when I shut my eyes – wait, I don't have eyes to shut anymore – I still think of things in color, but I can just open my eyes and see all the colors again. A blind person wouldn't be able to do that. They'd have to live with only darkness for the rest of their lives."

"Well, nice job Alphonse, you have now thoroughly managed to depress yourself. That's okay though, because most of the stuff around here ends up being depressing nowadays, even though I know that Winry and Granny Pinako are trying really hard for Nii-san and me. I don't think that they realize though, that every single moment of every single day we're reminded of the horrible thing we did with these physical barriers."

"I wonder how Nii-san is doing. And Winry. She's been working really hard to take care of Nii-san for the past few days, and if I didn't have to stay up every night because I can't sleep, I'd think that she wasn't really sleeping at all." He shifted slightly, and the loud creak of metal echoed across the room.

"I hate that sound. I know Nii-san sacrificed his arm to make sure I was okay, but just want to go back to being my old self. I bet Nii-san does too. His arm and leg looked so bad the other day, and he was bleeding so much. I was so worried that he could die. But I didn't get that adrenaline rush that people always talk about getting whenever something serious like that happens."

"You know, this is actually kind of nice. It's almost like I have a diary, except I don't have to write everything down. It feels good to get all my feelings out like this. Maybe I should keep doing it even once I learn to control what I say." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"Huh. That's funny. I never noticed how the Rockbells' ceiling looks kind of like cottage cheese," he said, and then went on with a laugh. "Nii-san never did like cottage cheese. It has too much milk in it for him to consider it a decent food. He could handle macaroni and cheese, but never cottage cheese. It probably looks a bit too much like milk too. I always like cottage cheese, especially when mom kept it cold for me, and then I could come home and have some after a hot day in the garden while Nii-san drank his juice. We used to have lots of fun in the gar-" he stopped suddenly as Winry came out from the door in front of him – Ed's room – with a damp washcloth clutched in her hand.

"Oh no! It's Winry! I didn't know she was still up! I thought she went to bed a while ago! I wonder if she heard everything I said?!" Winry smiled slightly, and then walked over and sat down next to him, pushing her back against the wall.

"I heard it," she assured him

"Great," Al sighed. He didn't mean to interrupt her, but he couldn't help but think. "I never realized before that even when I'm listening to somebody I still have a few thoughts here and there. I don't want people to get mad at me because I keep interrupting them."

"I'm not mad at you," Winry assured him. "You can't help it right now. But you better be glad that Ed's unconscious right now, because he would probably feel even guiltier if he heard all your thoughts. You might want to work on controlling it better."

"Nii-san always feels guilty, even if it's not his fault. And I don't think he'd realize that just because I think it doesn't mean that it's the way I feel."

"I know," Winry murmured softly. "But there are times when it's better to be able to keep thoughts to yourself."

"I know," Al assured her. He spent hours afterward practicing controlling his thoughts before his brother was conscious again. Winry eventually fell asleep on his shoulder, soothed by the steady stream of his gentle voice.

By the end of the night, Al could control what he said, and what he kept to himself.