Author's Note: This might be kind of a weird fic to write for FMA Day, but the inspiration hasn't left me all summer, so I knew I'd have to write it eventually, and what better time than now? I was inspired by my personal experiences of having to watch others suffer in ways similar to this. If only alchemy were an option in the real world. (Also, though I've only started reading it in the past week and have had the idea for this fic since July, I'm sure I've had some influence from "Whispers of a Nightmare" by Haunted Obsidian.)

You should know you're not on your own
These secrets are walls that keep us alone
I don't know when but I know now
Together we'll make it through somehow

- "Courage" by Superchick

for Mary

At first he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Of course, for the first month after getting Alphonse's body back, Edward had eyes and ears only for his brother. Anything else, even his own condition, came second to making sure that Alphonse was recovering. He needed to be sure that his brother would recover after so many years of his soul and body being severed.

And even when he began to notice, after Alphonse was finally able to leave the hospital, Edward didn't think much of it. Sure, his normally ravenous appetite had settled down to almost nothing, but wasn't that to be expected? His soul was no longer tangled up with Alphonse's; now that he was back in his body again, Alphonse was able to eat for himself again.

It was wonderful to watch his little brother eating again, after so many years of being the only one who could enjoy a good meal. Alphonse had always been very patient about being unable to eat. He would sit there while Edward stuffed his face, never complaining about how much he wished to taste food again. Occasionally he would wistfully mention how much he missed food, but he always made sure not to blame Edward for it. Especially once they found out that Edward was the only thing keeping Alphonse's body alive in the Gate.

For a long time, Edward assumed that Alphonse was just trying to make up for lost time. He ate everything he could get his hands on, trying to taste as many different things as he could to remind himself of all the flavors he'd forgotten as a suit of armor. And gradually, he began to fill out again, till he didn't look so much like a stick figure anymore.

It wasn't until they moved back into the Rockbells' house that Edward noticed he was beginning to lose weight even as Alphonse gained it. When he put on some of his old clothes he'd left there, he discovered that he had to cinch his belt one notch tighter for his pants to stay on. He stood staring at his reflection in the mirror over the bathroom sink, frowning in confusion at himself, then shrugged it off as best as he could.

But as more and more time passed, it became harder to ignore what was happening. He'd never been fat, of course; he was used to having a trim, fit form from all the fighting and running around he'd been forced to do as a State Alchemist. But he was also accustomed to having muscles (he made sure no one found out, but sometimes he would pose in front of the mirror after taking a shower). Now, both arms were looking remarkably like his right arm when he'd first got it back from the Truth. Alarmed, he tried to work out more and spar with Alphonse, but he found that he had to stop after only a few minutes. His strength, his stamina...it was all gone.

What made everything worse was that the others were beginning to notice as well. Granny Pinako commented on his flagging appetite, asking why he'd lost his taste for his favorite foods. Winry looked at him strangely every now and then, when she thought he couldn't see, her eyes always scanning the clothes that hung loosely off him.

And then there was Alphonse. He was understandably confused when it became increasingly easy to beat Edward in sparring matches, and he also noticed when Edward started to only change his clothes in the bathroom for fear someone else would notice how easy it was to count each rib under the skin. While he became as healthy and plump as he'd ever been, Edward was wasting away.

As the leaves fell from the trees and the chill of winter began to set in, Edward felt like he was moving through a nightmare. Every waking moment, he tried to pretend everything was fine and normal, but he could feel the tension growing. He began to fear that the others suspected what was happening, and once or twice he walked into a room only to have everyone stop talking and share awkward glances.

He knew he was starving himself to death, he knew he should just eat more, but...nothing looked appetizing anymore. He would taste a few bites, and it would be pleasant on his tongue, but then he would just stare at his plate, unable to work up the motivation to finish anything. Especially when he watched Alphonse devour everything in reach, wander into the pantry between meals, and even sneak down for a midnight snack sometimes.

One dreary evening in November, Edward walked down the hall to fetch something from his room, but paused outside the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack he could hear the unmistakable sounds of someone throwing up. He pushed it open a little further, then stopped in shock when he saw that it was Alphonse.

"You okay?"

Alphonse jumped, looking up as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Brother?"

Then he completely wilted. He hung his head, flushed the toilet, and pushed himself off the floor to wash out his mouth. Edward stood in the doorway, watching in confusion. Then, as he watched Alphonse run his wet hands over his face and look bleakly in the mirror, a horrible idea slowly dawned on him.

"Al...are you making yourself throw up after you eat?"

Alphonse's eyes flicked to his in the mirror. "What? No, of course not! Why would I do something like that?"

Edward's heart ached. "Some people do that," he said softly, "if they don't like the way they look."

Alphonse stiffened and a steely look entered his eyes. "Are you speaking from experience?"

Edward's stomach – what little was left – did somersaults. So he had noticed after all. He stared at his little brother's pudgy face reflected in the mirror, looking so wonderfully like the brother he remembered from their childhood. Then his eyes wandered to his own reflection – the prominent cheekbones, the drooping bags under his eyes, the listless strands of his hair – and he realized with a shock that he looked disturbingly like Alphonse had a few months after he'd gotten his body back.

"I'm not doing this on purpose," he said softly. "I...I don't know what's happening. I just...can't eat anything anymore. I don't have an appetite, I guess."

Alphonse heaved a sigh and turned to face him at last. "I was afraid that's what was happening."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how you were eating for me while my body was in the Gate? Well, I think now I'm eating for you."

"But...that doesn't make any sense. I mean...I'm here, right? I can eat just fine for myself!"

"Yeah," Alphonse said, sympathy furrowing his brow. "But I think we're still tangled up, from all those times we've done human transmutation. And maybe when you went through my Door to come back, our places were switched, in a way. You look an awful lot like I did a few months ago. And I'm hungry all the time."

For a moment, the brothers stared at each other, realizing how bizarre this all sounded. Then Alphonse hung his head again. "I'm...I'm sorry it's come to this, Brother. I've been trying to eat enough for both of us, but..."

And Edward finally understood why Alphonse had been puking his guts out. "Don't do that to yourself," he said. "If you just keep on eating until you make yourself sick, you'll take away all the pleasure you used to get out of eating. Besides," he said, cracking a half-smile. "If you keep this up, you'll just turn into a fatso."

Alphonse frowned. "Okay, but that means you have to do your share too, Brother. We're going downstairs right now and you're eating a sandwich, whether you like it or not."

Edward rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was relieved. Finally, he didn't have to hide anything anymore. At least Alphonse knew and understood. Maybe they could find some way to fix this with alchemy, but at least in the meantime they were on the same side now. And he knew that, as with everything else, they could conquer this together.