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52,560 hours. 3,152,640 minutes. I want to get out I want to get out I want to—

To my left, footsteps thunder past The Door. The Door…What was The Door? That was the problem. That was why I couldn't get out. The Door. A mysterious alchemical compound made up of parts I can't even begin to guess. Not that it mattered.

Even if I did know, they always find a way to make it harder. That's what they did before, at least. I got out of three different kinds of cells before they made this one. This one. I can't freeze it, or boil it. It never warps. It keeps me in. At least, that what I found out before. Alchemy is impossible without hands.

I'm suffocating, I'm suffocating, I'm…

Alarms are going off now, putting off wailing ululations that hurt my ears. I hear an explosion close to my cell and find my eyes drawn away from the corner I'm in. "Hold on, Al! I'll help you!"

"Brother!" A different voice chimes.

Before I understand what my body is doing, I'm on my feet and running to the door. "Hel-puh," my throat is raw from screaming. I didn't realize until now that I am afraid, that the alarms are hurting my ears after years of a fearful quiet.

"Brother," the treble voice repeats. "I think I hear someone."

"No time, Al! The place is falling apart!"

"Brother!" now the voice is reprimanding, scolding of the deeper voice. "We can't just leave them!"

"It could be a guard." The voice points out, but the footsteps draw close once more. "Where did you hear it?"

"This way," the building gives a shuddering shake and stone crashes around my metallic cell.

"Hel-puh, hel-puh, hel…p. Help!" I throw myself against The Door. Freedom is close. I taste it on my lips. Outside…The idea is so beautiful it hurts. Grass, trees, birds, air…air. My lungs suck in greedily at the idea of fresh air. All they receive is the stale, bitter air that I've lived with for six years.

The Door quivers this time, and I see the blue flash of alchemy. "Damn it. Hold on, lady! We'll get you out of here!"

I continue my pleading chant and back up. Helpless. The Door flashes again, melting into various gases and liquids. "Hah!" A short silhouette dances at the open door. "I knew it had helium in it!"

"Brother," a taller, bulkier shadow shook its head.

"Let's go, Al!"

I stumble forward, barely avoiding the liquefied metal. Air is rushing into my cell now, carrying the scent of sulfur and burning. "Hel-puh," I repeat, unable to stop the chant as I take my first step out of my cell.

The dust clears and I see the shorter silhouette more clearly now, a blond with a red jacket and golden eyes. A blond. I squint my eyes at him and lean forward. "Great," he scowls. "We saved a crazy."

The large silhouette turns out to be a suit of armor. "Ed," he accuses. He reminds me of a mother hen trying to keep everyone safe.

A deep, echoing crack resounds through the hall and I'm scooped into the one named Al's arms. There is a flash of blue and Edward breaks through the wall and into the night. The sweet air intoxicates me and I gasp for it as quickly as my lungs allow. The acrid smoke still rises up behind us, but now I can smell water and grass and coolness.

"Fullmetal!" A new voice cries out. "What the hell is happening here?"

Edward stumbles forward before regaining his balance. "We were following Scar."

"And he happened to waltz into a maximum security asylum?" A military clad officer glares down at us, running a disgruntled hand through his raven hair. His black eyes examine me and his scowl deepens. "You let one of them out."

Alphonse lets me stand my own ground and sets me down. "We couldn't leave her to die! The place is falling apart!"

I examine his military pins. From the looks of it, he's a colonel. "She's so dangerous that they cut her arms off."

The reminder of my lack of limbs is the jolt I need to bring the spark of fear back to me. Amestrian soldiers are the ones who put me here. I kick Al in the chest and fall the ground with a thud. The wind is driven out of my lungs at impact, but I regain my footing. I scan the Marigold Correctional Center for the Mentally Insane's ground carefully. "I left her, I left her behind! She's going to hate me."

The colonel draws his gun. "Move and you're dead." His eyes are cool, serious.

I stare down the barrel, my eyes flickering between him and his gun. The black, empty endlessness of the barrel is the same as the black of his eyes. Hard. Unforgiving. I step closer and press my forehead to it. It's cold against my skin, but I look at the soldier. "Please," I whisper. I close my eyes. "Don't make me go back."

The gun is holstered and the soldier speaks. "What's your name?" He inquires.

"2701." I answer automatically. It had come to be as familiar to me as my heartbeat. Warden would strike up conversation with me occasionally back in the days I'd respond and search for how to get out. My real name was a fragment of the past; just as broken as everything else.

The pity on his face is sickening, and Ed asks, "Do you have a real name?"

Anabelle Anabelle Anabelle Ana—

I look at the boys. Ed has the golden-eyed complexion of someone from Xerxes. The thought reminds me of home, and of the days I spent with my father studying alchemy. "Resembool," I mutter. My brain is a storm of thoughts at the image of my home. Trees, grass, birds, crops, friends, family, mom, dad, Ed, Al—

The night goes strangely quiet and my gaze is drawn once again to Ed. "Little brothers," my heart says, pounding in my throat.

Ed's pupils contract and he scrutinizes me more carefully now. The years changed me just as much as they had changed him. The rags that covered my body couldn't help him recognize me.

The soldier blinks in confusion. "There are more of you?"

Alphonse speaks the word I can't say. "Anabelle?"

A blinding light is turned on me as another soldier approach. "Colonel Mustang, the crazies are escaping. The civilians are giving us Hel—." The voice cuts short and I know that she's watching me curiously.

The next words I speak are just as familiar to me as 2701. "I am not crazy." I hiss, baring my teeth like an animal backed into a corner. The emotions bottled up inside of me spilled out. "If I am, it's because of the Hell I've gone through in here." I glance up at the clouds curiously. The stars don't show, but the idea of rain seduces me.

"I will never make a Philosopher's stone again." I spit on the ground. "Even the Truth isn't worth so many innocent lives."

Edward pales even further and Mustang throws his black jacket over my jumpsuit and buttons the top button. "I have a feeling this is going to be a long story with a lot of questions."

I shift uncomfortably under this unfamiliar layer of clothing and glance up at him. "Fullmetal, Alphonse, meet me at my office tomorrow morning." He puts his arm over my shoulders tenderly, and I know it's because he isn't sure of how wounded I am. We're walking to a black car.

Edward catches up with us and sends a sharp look to Mustang. "What the hell? You can't just steal her away after—."

"If she's really your sister, you'll be the first place they look when they're looking for the patients." He snaps haughtily. "They won't expect a colonel to keep one stashed away."

Edward challenges him, glaring at the colonel. "But they told us she was dead. Why would they come to us?"

"Because you're the only family I have," I whisper. "They'll look to you before they search Resembool. No one escapes The Warden. Whenever I got out she found me. No matter where I hid, what I did differently."

This comment concerns Mustang. "What do you mean?"

"When I escaped the first time, I killed her." I gauge their reactions. Horror, surprise, sadness. "Or at least I thought I did. She found me at the train station and dragged me back. I escaped a second time without being noticed. She caught me. The third time, I made it to Resembool…As they say; three times a charm. She put me to use after that." I stop myself there.

"You saw the Truth," Edward announces tentatively.

There's a crack of thunder and I feel a wet droplet of rain on my face. My excitement soars and I turn skyward. "It's raining," I breathe, closing my eyes and accepting the icy water. Each drop bounces off my skin, but it's not long before I'm soaked to the bone. I can't see the others, but I hope they're taking as much joy in the rain as I am.

I imagine the rain is washing away my sins. "I'm sorry."

Alphonse shakes his head. "You couldn't help it, sister."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. "That I can't hug my baby brothers after all this time."

Mustang wraps his arm over my shoulder tenderly, and I tense under the physical contact. He leads me through the muddy, slippery grass to a car, and I leave my brothers behind again.