Hey guys, felt inspired again, so here's another oneshot. I like writing oneshots. Slight ending spoilers.

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Property Damage

A clap of the hands and a porch was mended. Another clap and the roof he'd landed on earlier sprang back up and reformed, perhaps stronger than before. Add another repetition, and the cobbled street was back to normal. He even fixed a teddy bear he was nearly ninety percent positive had not been a causality of the battle.

What? He hadn't banged up his automail for once, and he was feeling nice.

All in all, the town looked the same—hell, it looked better. He was a genius alchemist and all. Maybe they wouldn't charge the military this time.

Who was he kidding? They always did.

The Fullmetal Alchemist was known for triumphant battles, staggering intellect, and heroic feats thought impossible. He was also known for being the military's most expensive wrecking ball since Ishbal.

Every mission came with the inevitable comments, lectures really, from Mustang about the devastation he left in his wake. Edward was told of blown up buildings, demolished streets, whole districts brought to the ground. Thousands and thousands of dollars in property damage.

And it was true, the Colonel apparently forgetting he had to be there to cause the devastation. Perhaps a little exaggerated, but true. He did destroy buildings, warp streets with alchemy, and cripple whole towns.

But he fixed it. Every last bit, before he left. But he let them complain anyway.

Why? Because Mustang, the whole military never checked. They never sent someone to see if these accounts were true. They just sent the money, and let the townspeople take care of it. And those towns were in desperate need of money.

How could he possibly be called the People's Alchemist if he was constantly razing their homes and livelihoods to the ground? What kind of person would he be if he did? But no one ever checked. They just signed the bills for property damage. Because they believed it of him.

Mustang saw the brash, rude teenager bent on a single quest and believed it of him. Maybe he thought it incapable of Edward to pause and fix the damage he'd caused.

Why not? Every other time he'd tried to fix something important, he'd only made it worse.

His mother had been a kind woman. She had passed away, then been resurrected into a monster when Edward had tried first to fill the space that his father had left in her heart, then to fill to space she had left in theirs.

Al had been a whole, innocent child. He'd become an empty shell by the time Edward was done trying to save him.

Nina had been a lonely girl. She and Alexander were doomed by the time he had tried to see past her father's smile.

Hughes had been a wonderful father. He was buried by the time Edward had tried to visit again.

He was done trying when he stood before the Gate that last time. And when the Truth asked, he was only to happy to give away the instrument through which he had tried and tried and only damaged.

So, there you go. I don't know why I like lists so much. They just seem so effective.