Author's Note: Well, everyone, this is it! The last chapter. I just want to thank everyone who's shown interest in my crazy little idea. I wasn't expecting much interest in this one, just because hardly anyone has even heard of The Fall. Speaking of which, I want to encourage everyone again to watch the movie if you get a chance; it really is a masterpiece. Much more a work of art than this thing!

A short note to anyone who's following me or is interested in reading more: From now on, I will be updating the Updates section at the bottom of my profile once a month to keep everyone up-to-date on my progress towards the next chapterfic. I'm probably going to go silent for quite a while, but that's not because I've stopped writing! It just means I'm working on more chapterfics, which probably will not see the light of day until after I graduate, at least.

Again, thanks to everyone for reading!

Ed huffed out another sigh and rolled over onto his other side. No matter how much he fussed and fidgeted, he couldn't seem to get comfortable. He tried squeezing his eyes shut, then stared up at the dark ceiling. The stump of his left leg still throbbed dully—not painful enough to worry him, but insistent in a lingering sort of way that made it impossible to fall asleep. He decided he must have twisted his neck or something too, because a dull headache pounded away at the base of his skull.

With nothing else to occupy him, his mind kept returning to Roy. A cold knot of anxiety twisted and tightened in the pit of his stomach every time he thought of the expression on Roy's face. It was like the man he'd befriended had suddenly vanished, to be replaced with a snarling monster.

He needed to sleep. He was exhausted, his emotions run ragged after all the excitement of the day. But no matter how still and silent he lay, everything hurt too much—inside and out.

His eyes popped open again. Of course! He knew exactly what to do when it hurt too much to go to sleep. If it worked for Roy, surely it would work for him too!

Moving as quietly as he could so as not to alert the night staff, Ed eased himself out of bed and into his wheelchair. He checked carefully before venturing into the hall, but he knew that in between their hourly rounds, the nurses sat in the dimly-lit nurses' station and watched late-night talk shows or gossiped about the petty scandals of the hospital. He'd snuck out of bed and eavesdropped plenty of times until he realized how boring they were.

Ed winced as the elevator dinged, but he made it safely inside before anyone came to investigate. On the ground floor, all was dark except for the receptionist's desk. Unless an ambulance came in the night, all would be quiet until morning. He breathed a sigh of relief when he slipped through the door of the dispensary and closed it softly behind him.

For some reason, he'd half expected the pills to still be scattered all over the floor, but when he flicked the light on he saw that the floor was clean and everything was in its place. This time, he took the time to poke around in the cupboards and under the table, and after only a few minutes of searching he found a small stepladder. Pleased with himself, he placed the stepladder sturdily in front of the right shelf and clambered up on his one leg. He balanced himself carefully, then grabbed a new bottle of morphine pills. With only a little bit of wobbling, he made it back into his chair. No loud crash, no mess. Easy.

After he'd put the stepladder away again, Ed struggled to open the bottle. Eventually he managed it by gripping the cap in his teeth and turning the bottle with his hand. He pulled out the wad of cotton they always stuck in medicine bottles for some reason, then fished out a pill.

He'd watched Roy swallow all the pills dry, but Ed only succeeded in choking and coughing when he tried. The bitter taste of the slowly-dissolving pill made him gag, and he spit it out quickly into the trash can. Grimacing at the taste, Ed carefully left the dispensary again. It was still dark and quiet, so he made a beeline for the nearest drinking fountain.

All the drinking fountains in this hospital had a dispenser next to them with little plastic cups you could fill up. It was supposed to be more sanitary or something. Ed had to stand up to reach the fountain, but by leaning his body against the switch, he managed to fill up a cup. Then he sat back down and grabbed a handful of morphine pills, washing them down with a gulp of the cool water.

It occurred to him, when he'd swallowed half of the pills, that he should probably have waited until he got back to his room to start taking the medicine. His vision was starting to blur, and his limbs felt heavy. But he kept swallowing the pills, pausing only to refill his cup.

He couldn't feel the pain at the back of his neck, nor the throbbing in his leg. He couldn't feel much of anything anymore. He was gliding away, lifting up out of his body like all those souls Father had pulled out of the people of Amestris. It was even getting dark, as though there was a solar eclipse...

Dimly, he was aware of the cold, hard floor pressed against his cheek, the brown bottle rolling away from him with the last few pills rattling around inside it. No...he needed those...

Why did he need them again? He couldn't remember. Maybe...maybe they could save the people of Amestris...

Utter darkness enveloped him.

Flames roared up around him. He turned around wildly, looking for an escape, but the fires greedily ate up everything around him. He was completely surrounded. Smoke billowed up around him, stinging his eyes and making him cough. When he tried to suck in a breath, it wheezed painfully in his throat as though his lungs didn't want to expand.

Someone was calling his name. The voice echoed around him indistinctly, and he strained to hear it over the crackling of the fire.

"Brother!"

He gasped, not caring how his breath stung his throat. "Al!" he yelled.

"Brother!" the voice cried again, now directly in front of him.

He hesitated, eying the flames fearfully, but he knew he couldn't abandon that voice. So he screwed his eyes shut and raced forward, jumping right into the heart of the fire. It seared his flesh, and he screamed and dropped to his knees. He looked behind him at his left leg and saw to his horror that it was nothing but a lump of iron.

"Brother!" screamed the voice again.

He looked up and saw Al standing in front of him, a circle of fire hemming him in. "I-I'm scared, Brother..."

"Al!" He tried to get up and run to his brother's rescue, but his leg was melting in the heat of the flames. It stuck to the floor, and no matter how hard he tugged on it, he couldn't move. "Al, no!" He reached out his right hand for his brother, tears blurring his vision.

But no tears could keep him from seeing the roof of the house fall down, burying Al instantly in a blazing inferno. The fire leapt to his outstretched fingers, licking up his arm in a rush of agony. He tried to scream, but now the fire was inside of him, filling his chest and throat. His stomach became a glowing coal, burning him from the inside out.

A giant eye opened beneath him, staring at him as if it could see right into his soul. He shuddered as he stared back, feeling the full weight of its judgment. Black wisps of smoke rose from the ground around the eye, slowly solidifying until they took the form of hands. Groping hands that reached towards him, stubby fingers stretching to caress his tear-streaked cheeks.

Then they pierced into him, jabbing like a thousand knives directly into his stomach. He had no breath to cry out, no strength to defend himself. He could only lie there and let them punish him, because he knew it was what he deserved.

After all, if he couldn't even save his own family, what right did he have to live on without them?

What right did he have...to get up and move forward...?

What right...

"What right do you think you have to make him an accomplice in your own suicide?"

Gradually, Ed became aware of a harsh voice speaking nearby. He kept his eyes closed, his breath wheezing with a weird hissing sound. There was also a quiet, steady beeping somewhere nearby. He didn't understand, but he was comfortable, so he lay still.

"You had a responsibility, Roy!"

"He's not my kid." That was a voice he recognized. Roy's voice was dull and flat, so unlike the way it hushed with excitement or flowed with beautiful turns of phrase as he told Ed his story. But it was so wonderfully familiar that Ed opened his eyes.

He lay in a hospital bed, but this was a different room than the one he normally slept in. There were lots of blinking machines in this one, and no windows. In a chair a short distance from the bed, Roy sat with shoulders slumped and hands lying limply in his lap. His head was bandaged as always, so he didn't see that Ed was awake. A man stood in front of him, hands curled into fists at his sides. Ed thought he recognized his black hair and squarish glasses. Hughes, Roy's best friend.

"He may not be your son," Hughes was saying, "but that doesn't mean you can just ignore the influence you have on him! Don't you see how much he relies on you?" His voice softened into a harsh, painful rasp. "That boy lost his entire family. As if losing his limbs wasn't enough, he had to watch his mother, his brother, and even his house burn to the ground. And in the wake of all that loss, he's turned to you. You're the one who needs to show him how to move on."

Roy's mouth twisted into an ugly smirk. "He made a bad choice then. I'm a liability to everyone around me."

Hughes sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You need to forgive yourself, Roy. It wasn't your fault, it was a mistake. You know she wouldn't blame you for that." He put a hand on Roy's shoulder. "But she would blame you for not doing everything you could to help those in need. And Ed needs you. Like it or not, he's looking to you for guidance. No father thinks he's cut out for the job, Roy. We just have to do the best we can."

Ed watched Hughes leave, then looked at Roy sitting slumped in his chair. Since he couldn't see, Roy jumped with surprise when Ed spoke. "What happened to me?"

"You're...not supposed to be awake yet," Roy said shakily, turning his head vaguely in Ed's direction. He swallowed, then added quietly, "They weren't sure you were going to make it at first."

"Really?" Ed looked more closely at himself, noticing the wires attached to his chest and the IV taped to the back of his one remaining hand. He felt a thin plastic tube running across the side of his face and poking into his nose, helping him breathe. He didn't think he needed it, but he couldn't dredge up the energy necessary to pull it out. It was much easier to just lie here.

Roy's hands knotted together in his lap. "Why did you take so many pills, Ed?"

Ed blinked. "Because I couldn't sleep."

Roy's mouth gaped open. "But...when they found you...you were barely breathing...and they had to pump your stomach... Don't you realize you could have died?"

Ed frowned in confusion. "But you said you had to take the whole bottle or it wouldn't work."

Roy lowered his face into his hands and didn't reply.

Ed fidgeted, then said, "Finish the story."

With a shaky breath, Roy straightened again. "I...I should go. You need your rest, and...they'll need to check your condition now that you're awake."

But as he started to rise, Ed reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Please?"

Roy hesitated, then slowly lowered himself back into his chair. "You know I was just telling you the story to get you to do what I wanted."

His words were a cold dagger in Ed's chest. Yes, he knew. In some ways, he'd known ever since Roy asked him to get the pills. Deep down, he'd realized that Roy was manipulating him, but... "I need the story." He tightened his grip around Roy's wrist. "Please..."

Roy sighed, then nodded, slumping in defeat. "Where were we?"

"Hohenheim's back-up plan was just activated. All the souls that Father stole went back into their bodies, so everyone was saved."

Roy nodded. "But it wasn't enough. Father still had all those souls from Xerxes, and he was still incredibly powerful. He barely managed to keep control of the immense power he'd gained from his enormous transmutation. But he still wanted more power. He wanted to obliterate everything in the world, so that he would be the only thing left alive."

How easily they fell back into the story. It was as if nothing had happened, as if they were once again lounging on Roy's bed while he spun this epic tale of adventure and excitement. No pills, no manipulation, no interruptions. Just a blind man and a crippled boy, clinging to this castle in the air as if it was the only thing that gave their lives meaning.

"So Father transmuted a pillar of stone under his feet, shooting him up through the ruins of Central Command to the surface. The others hurried after him as quickly as they could—transmuting their way up, or climbing as fast as they could. They knew they had to stop Father before he could get any farther, or he would take back the innocent souls they'd barely managed to save.

"They managed to attack him before he could consume any more souls, but they were severely outmatched. Even though they had so many soldiers from Central and Briggs, not to mention several skilled alchemists and even Hohenheim...they didn't stand a chance against Father's power. No matter what they used to attack him, he simply vaporized it before it hit him. He had a perfect dome of protection around him that wouldn't let anything through."

Roy's voice wasn't as powerful or charismatic as it usually was. It sounded as dull and hopeless as the situation the characters in the story faced. "There was nothing they could do. No matter how hard they tried...they just weren't powerful enough. They were all wounded...Alphonse was broken in pieces...and Mustang was blind. He couldn't even see, so how could he help anyone? He just stood there, blind...completely, utterly useless. He couldn't even watch his world crumble to pieces. He could only hear the dying screams of everyone he held dear."

Ed noticed two damp spots on the bandage around Roy's face and realized that he was crying. Ed reached out and grabbed Roy's hand. "But then he realized what he could do."

Roy raised his head, his lips trembling. "What?"

"Hawkeye was still by his side," Ed said earnestly. "And she could see. So she pointed him in the right direction and told him where to shoot his flames. And he'd seen the Truth, right? So he could just clap his hands and create fire that way!"

Roy let out a tiny, broken sound when Ed mentioned Hawkeye's name. A tear oozed out from the bottom of the bandage and rolled down his cheek. "But it wasn't enough. Even that wasn't enough. It didn't matter who they had with them. It didn't matter how much they tried to help each other. This was just too much. They couldn't escape.

"Edward fought as hard as he could, but not even he could touch Father. He leapt towards Father's back in one last attack, but Father let out a blast of energy that threw everyone back. Edward's automail arm broke into a thousand pieces, and his back slammed into a piece of debris."

Ed flinched. He almost thought he could feel the other Edward's pain.

"When the dust cleared, Edward looked out and saw that everyone had fallen. No one was moving. Not Hohenheim...not Izumi...not Mustang. Not even Alphonse. Father shuffled towards him, staggering in the wake of such power. Edward tried to get up, knowing that he had to fight back, or Father would take away his life. But he felt a pain in his left arm, and he realized that it was skewered on a metal pole sticking out of the rubble. He couldn't move at all. He couldn't even transmute, not with only one arm. He was doomed."

Tears poured down Ed's face as he stared at the grim, set lines of Roy's jaw. "Why are you killing everybody?"

But Roy continued the story relentlessly. "Father came closer...and closer. 'Stones,' he gasped, reaching out for Edward. 'Life...I need...your life...' And Edward realized that he was all alone. There was no one who could help him, and he was powerless to save himself. All he could do was watch the approach of his own death...and the doom of the whole world."

"I don't want them to die!" Ed sobbed, trying to mop at the mucus running out of his nose and over the tube stuck in it. His mind flitted to the images of his mother and brother screaming his name as the flames devoured them. "Why does everybody have to die?"

"Because it's my story!" Roy gripped the sheets with both hands, gritting his teeth as if in intense pain.

For the third time, Ed put his hand over Roy's. He felt the strong, bony knuckles and imagined he could feel the wounds from Wrath's blades. "It's mine too."

Roy raised his head, and even though his eyes were hidden from sight, Ed almost thought he could see them. The grim, despairing strength in Roy's jaw melted away as tears trickled down his chin and dripped onto Ed's hand. A sob broke from his throat and he gripped Ed's hand with both of his.

"And...A-Alphonse pushed himself up to look at Edward." Roy's voice shook as tears continued to pour down his face, but he continued the story. "A crack ran all the way down his back, just touching the edge of his blood seal. He knew he didn't have much time. So he got Mei to throw her kunai at the rock, making a circle right where Edward's arm had been. Then Alphonse clapped his hands...and traded his soul...for Edward's arm."

"No..." Ed continued to cry, but he couldn't stop listening to the story. "Not Al too..."

Roy gripped his hand so tightly it was starting to hurt. "He had his arm back, after all this time. Even as tears sprang to his eyes, he knew he couldn't let his brother's sacrifice go to waste. He clapped his hands together and broke off the metal pole pinning him down. Then he charged towards Father...and punched him right in the face. Father went sprawling, but Edward didn't let up. He pounded Father into the ground, not giving him a moment to retaliate. And slowly, everyone picked themselves up from the ground and realized...he was winning. Because he had the strength of all his friends, all of his loved ones, at his back. And what did Father have? Nothing. He didn't even have his Homunculi anymore. He didn't stand a chance.

"Father fell to the ground, all of his power spent. He couldn't even regenerate his body anymore. The weight of all the power he'd drawn on imploded, and he collapsed in on himself. What little was left of the Dwarf in the Flask was pulled into the Doors of Truth, disappearing back into the abyss that spawned it. And Edward stood tall, victorious, as everyone cheered. He'd won. He'd met so many setbacks in his life, and he'd had to endure so much pain. But nothing could hold him down, because he was so strong."

Ed ran his sleeve across his eyes, but his heart was still heavy. "Al?"

Even though tears were still running down his chin, Roy smiled. "I was just getting to that part." His voice softened, beginning to lilt again in the musical way it used to whenever he told the story. The images in Ed's mind almost seemed to glow. "As everyone was celebrating and drawing closer to congratulate him, Edward scratched a circle in the ruined ground around him. It was a circle for human transmutation. Everyone gathered around to watch, worrying over what he was going to do. 'This is the last transmutation of the Full Metal Alchemist,' Edward said. And he clapped his hands.

"When he reached his Doors of Truth, he knew exactly what he had to do. 'What are you going to give up this time?' The Truth asked him. 'You know it's going to cost you a lot to retrieve your brother from this place.' But Edward just smiled. 'Don't worry. This is what I'm going to trade for him.' He clapped his hands and disintegrated the giant doors in front of him.

"He knew that, without the Doors to open on all that knowledge, he wouldn't be able to perform a single transmutation ever again. But you know what he realized?" Roy's smile widened and he trailed his fingers up Ed's arm until he found his face. His fingers were somewhat clumsy because he couldn't see, but they were gentle and warm as he brushed the tears away. "He didn't need alchemy. He didn't need awesome powers or the renown he'd achieved as the Full Metal Alchemist. His true strength came from his friends and family. The people who knew him as Edward Elric, and loved him just the same."

Ed closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. His mother used to dry his tears for him when he was little, but it was nothing like this. The hand stroking his hair back away from his face was strong and firm. It made him feel safe and warm in this world that was so wide and cold without his family.

"And Edward turned around from his disintegrating Door, and he found himself face to face with Alphonse. His little brother, back in his body at last. He was skinny and weak from so many years spent in there, but his smile was the same as ever. Edward helped Alphonse to his feet, and they walked arm-in-arm through Alphonse's Door...to reclaim their lives."

Ed drifted back into sleep with the warm pressure of Roy's hand resting on his head.

The day Dr. Marcoh finally removed the bandages from his eyes, Roy insisted on having Ed there. The boy's wounds were healed, and he would be able to go home as soon as they fitted him with a prosthetic leg and started him on physical therapy. He would go to live with his godmother, Mrs. Rockbell, and her granddaughter Winry.

Roy had spent as much time with Ed as possible since the terrifying morphine incident. He knew some people frowned on this, and there always seemed to be a nurse casually sitting in the corner of the room while they talked. Roy supposed he should just be thankful that Mrs. Rockbell wasn't pressing charges, or he would be in even bigger trouble than he was already.

Even though their story had ended, Ed kept asking questions about what various characters did in the following years, and he came up with things that Edward and Alphonse would do now that they had their real bodies back again. Roy teased him about Edward and Winry getting married and having children, which made Ed yell indignantly about cooties and childhood friends. Roy had always enjoyed the boy's refreshing company, but now his heart felt as light as a feather. It was as though, in relieving Edward's guilt in the story, his own guilt had disappeared.

"All right, I'm going to take the bandages off now," Dr. Marcoh said, cutting into Roy's thoughts.

Roy immediately tensed, but nodded slightly and sat still as he felt the doctor's rough, experienced hands on either side of his head. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath—even Kimbley on the other side of the room. The ticking of the clock seemed unbearably loud as Dr. Marcoh quietly unwound the bandages.

His head felt light and cool when the bandages fell away. His eyes were fused shut; it was as though he had forgotten how to open them in the long days of darkness. Dr. Marcoh gently wiped his eyelids with a soft cloth dipped in warm water, and gradually, they peeled open as if of their own accord.

He hadn't been able to detect a difference in light even with the bandages off, since Dr. Marcoh had turned off the lights and closed the curtains. But when he opened his eyes, light—glorious, clear light—dazzled him. For a moment he couldn't even tell what he was looking at, but then a familiar voice piped up, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Roy blinked, and the blobs of color and light coalesced into a boy he had never seen before. Ed had described himself to Roy before, and now it was like seeing a piece of his imagination come to life. The cocky, irascible teenager he'd imagined for the story was now a small, skinny boy in a wheelchair with an empty sleeve, holding up his left hand.

Slowly, Roy grinned. "Ed? Is that you?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "'Course it's me. Who were you expecting, Garfiel?"

Dr. Marcoh examined him after that, shining a penlight into his eyes and having him read a chart with E's of various sizes. Ed watched all of this with interest, asking the endless questions of childhood, which Dr. Marcoh patiently explained. To Roy, everything passed in a daze. He could see.

It was like he was forgiven.

Ed lingered after Dr. Marcoh left, and sat on the edge of his bed until the Rockbells came looking for him. They had been introduced while Ed was in the emergency room, but Roy hadn't exactly been very responsive. Or polite. He immediately got out of bed and stood in a sort of half-bow, all too conscious of his faded hospital pajamas. "Mrs. Rockbell, I-I don't know what to say..."

The little old woman squinted up at him through her tiny, round glasses. "So your eyes are healed now?" She smiled kindly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with well-worn creases. "I'm glad for that. Ed's told us a lot about you."

Roy's stomach squirmed with guilt, but then he looked over at Ed and saw that he was trying to pull his wheelchair over to the bed so he could get in. Roy rushed to his side. "Do you need help?"

"Thanks," Ed muttered as he grabbed Roy's hand, using him for support until he dropped into his wheelchair.

When Roy looked up again, he saw Mrs. Rockbell watching him with a look of approval. "All right, we're needed downstairs now," she said as Winry hurried to grab the handlebars. "But don't be a stranger now, hear?"

Roy blinked down at her in surprise. "What?"

Mrs. Rockbell jotted down an address and telephone number and handed it to him. "Stop by for dinner some time. Meals taste better when you've got lots of mouths to feed."

"Yeah!" Ed cried as Winry turned his chair to face the door. "Come visit lots 'n lots n' lots, okay?"

Roy chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair. "You got it, squirt."

Ed scowled and brushed his hair back out of his face. "Promise?"

"Pinky promise."