Author's Note: The inspiration and title of this story come from a quote. My English textbook says: "A popular cartoon strip of the 1920s and 1930s was called 'Happy Hooligan.' It was about two Frenchmen, Alphonse and Gaston, who were excruciatingly polite and continually said, 'After you, my dear Gaston' and 'After you, my dear Alphonse.'" I've taken the latter quote and attributed it to everyone's favorite Alphonse. I think the quote sums up a feeling of polite restraint, and the Al of the first few episodes of the anime comes across to me as being a little subdued.

The barrier between Alphonse Elric and his brother Edward was nearly physical - or it would have been if anything about Alphonse was physical. There were many downsides to not having a body, to not being able to feel anything. Alphonse felt subdued and contained from the moment he woke up to find that his body was hollow and made of steel. And after that first horrifying night, that night filled with confusion and blood and screams, Alphonse felt more subdued than ever. He would sit at the foot of Edward's bed, or in the darkest corner of the hall, and pull his legs up close to his body, trying to make himself as small as possible. And yet, 'as small as possible' was still much too large for a ten-year-old.

In the months following Edward's automail surgery, while Alphonse waited for him to recover, he would sit by himself on the green hills of Risenpool. He would sit, and think of his brother lying on his bed back at the house, groaning in pain and muttering in his feverish sleep. He would think of how kind their neighbors, the Rockbells, had been to bind his brother's wounds, outfit him with automail, and care for him as he recovered. But most of all, he thought about his body, and what had happened that night...that horrible night... He couldn't keep himself from thinking about it, for it was right there with him in his every waking moment. And, for a living suit of armor, every moment was a waking moment.

You're big, fat, and ugly, he would say to himself. You don't even have a body. Your brother had to give up his arm just to pull you back. A lot of help you were. It was in those moments that Alphonse would want to cry, but he would find that he couldn't. He couldn't cry. He had no skin to feel with, no heart to throb with sorrow, but in those moments when he wanted nothing more than to vent all his feelings with a few hot tears, he could feel a faint, faraway pain deep inside his soul. He would moan and rock back and forth on his heels until the pain was roaring all around inside his empty suit of armor. He would keep rocking back and forth, back and forth, until the pain became numbed once again, and he felt nothing. That was when he would creep as silently as he could back into the house, find a dark corner, and sit down, feeling empty, drained, and subdued.

He might sit at the foot of his brother's bed and watch his movements in his sleep, hearing him mutter over and over again, "Mom...Mom...Al..." Once, Alphonse reached out with his thick gauntlet and touched his brother's cheek, wanting nothing more than the feel of Edward's hot skin. But he felt nothing, absolutely nothing, nothing but a void of empty nothingness. Alphonse decided not to touch his brother any more after that.

Perhaps when Edward had recovered and was able to walk about without wincing at every other step, he noticed how Alphonse kept his distance. If he did, he never mentioned it. Alphonse often wondered if Edward saw how he always chose the chair across from him instead of right next to him. He wondered if Edward noticed and was saddened, but didn't want to bring it up. Alphonse wanted to breach the gap that had appeared between them, but he didn't know how.

Alphonse was touched when Edward told him of his determination to bring back his body. It was exactly what he wanted: to be able to reach across that gaping chasm and grasp his brother's hand. He was so filled with gratitude, sympathy, and guilt that he said with conviction, "I'll find a way to return your arm and leg to you."

And so they began their journey. Alphonse gradually grew used to his 'body', to his limitations and those of his brother. But one thing he never got used to was the rift between him and his brother. It was as though a barrier of politeness had been erected between them, hindering the familiarity they shared as brothers. It would hardly have been surprising if Edward had begun opening doors for his little brother and saying, "After you, my dear Alphonse." Alphonse never failed to notice when Edward avoided touching him, as though the cold steel would shatter his memories of warm flesh. There were some special moments when Edward would touch him, pushing him out of harm's way or helping him polish parts of the armor Alphonse couldn't reach. Even though Alphonse couldn't feel these brief moments of contact, he liked to pretend he could. He liked imagining the gentle feel of his brother's fingers and knuckles and palms. But the moment of contact always passed, and generally Edward avoided touching him, as if doing so would only remind them of that missing body. But Alphonse wished Edward would touch him anyway. Anything was better than this unnecessary barrier between them.

Several times Alphonse hesitantly expressed his desire to be touched: "I want to touch you again, Brother. The sensation of touching you and the warmth of your body...I can't remember them." But every time he did, it only made his brother press onward harder. Alphonse understood Edward was only trying to get his body back all that much sooner, but sometimes he just wished Edward would take the time to touch him casually the way he used to do when they were children - maybe rub the top of his head, his earliest method of comforting his little brother.

After one incident in which the two brothers were separated and Alphonse didn't even know if his brother was still alive, the barrier was briefly torn away. The minute Alphonse saw his brother - alive and well, excepting a few cuts and what looked like a broken bone - he threw himself onto his brother, hugging him as tightly as he could, oblivious to Edward's yelps of pain. He had thought he had lost his brother for good, that he was completely alone, and being proven wrong was so painfully wonderful it was amazing his blood seal didn't shatter with joy. He hugged his brother close, even though he couldn't feel him, and after he finally let go his brother did what he had been hoping he'd do for a long, long time. Edward apologized for all the worry he'd caused, and reached out, patting Alphonse on top of his helmet, just like he always used to do when Alphonse was worried, or sad, or afraid. It was a rough, awkward, older brother sort of comfort, but the barrier had kept back even that small gesture of familiarity.

The barrier shimmered back into place after this, but Alphonse was heartened to know that it could be breached after all. His attention was directed elsewhere for the most part, until at last the day came when they had the Philosopher's Stone in their hands. Alphonse could almost feel his nonexistent heart thumping with excitement as he met his brother's gaze. "You should use it first, Brother," Alphonse said, his voice hushed and choked with emotion. "Get back your arm and leg."

Edward smiled and took Alphonse's helmet off. Touching the Stone gently against the blood seal, he murmured, "After you, my dear Alphonse." In a flash of alchemic red, the barrier was destroyed for good. Alphonse took a deep breath and opened his eyes, then clapped his hands together and used the last of the Stone to restore his brother's limbs. When the red flashes were finished, and both brothers stood facing each other in their original bodies, they embraced. The Philosopher's Stone had built a bridge across the gorge, and now Alphonse was with his brother again.