"You better start explaining, Fullmetal." Roy's patience was short, even shorter now that there was a time limit.

24 hours.

But what did that mean? Did that mean 24 hours since he opened the parcel? 24 hours since Ed and Al had been buried? 24 hours since their unknown adversary mailed him the package? If it was any one of those factors—then how were they supposed to know how many hours they had left?

It might have been ridiculous, but the idea crawled across Mustang's mind before he could stop it.

Is he…watching us?

He cast a quick, fleeting and discreet glance over his shoulder and out the window into the morning light over hot, sweltering East City. Curse it all—despite the fluttering panic inside him, it seemed the world was still turning on, beautiful and mundane as always. No one had any idea what was going on inside this office, what the flurry was about, what his team was frantically hooking up wires and arguing about.

And he suddenly realized, with cold certainty, that they couldn't let anyone else know.

After all, who was to say that the person behind this wasn't outside their door, walking down the same hallways he and his men did every day? Who was to say they hadn't taken on a disguise and was watching them from the streets below, grinning and silent. Yet guilty.

Short-tempered and angry at the silence, the Colonel barked into the walkie-talkie. He needed to know more. And now. "Fullmetal—"

"—okay, okay. Geez! Can't be trying to conserve my air, here, if you're making me talk all the time."

"Then, Brother, let me do the talking. Save your breath!"

"Don't start that, Al—"

Mustang felt the walkie-talkie tugged from his grip, and jerked instinctively at the loss, but upon seeing it was Hawkeye, froze and watched as she lifted it to her lips calmly and ordered. "Edward Elric."

Silence. Somehow hilarious and awkward at the same time, wasting time that could be spent finding information, and yet giving them all a glorious moment to slow down and just take stock of the situation.

"…yes?"

Mustang fought to hold back the laughing smirk that stretched across his features at the timid, meek response the boy genius gave, so unlike his normal, brash and loud behavior. Hawkeye continued. "You will listen to your brother, and you will stop talking. Keep your breathing shallow, and refrain from letting your heart beat any faster than normal. Is that understood?"

"Um…sure…"

"Now, hold down the button and let Alphonse tell everything from the beginning."

God bless Lieutenant Hawkeye—the only one of them who could truly manage the brothers. Although how she had such an intimidating presence right now over them, when she clearly couldn't shoot through six feet of soil and didn't even know their location, was lost to Mustang, it didn't matter.

Alphonse's voice came over the walkie-talkie a minute later, sounding very nervous and scared.

"Well, you know that new mission you gave Brother, Colonel? It…was a set-up. We were apprehended before we even got to the Train Station…"

It had been quick and easy. Alphonse would realize with a start and realization later, that it was too easy—planned, and put into motion. A trap. Something that he had always heard about, something he knew they were supposed to always be wary of, especially while working on a military assignment, but something that, after their five months of duty, they hadn't experienced yet. So, they hadn't been prepared for it. Hadn't even been keeping their eyes open.

It was just another mission, to another city just an hour's train ride away from Central, that they could wrap up in a jiffy to begin looking for clues on the Philosopher's Stone.

Instead, the minute they were alone, sitting on a bench and waiting for the "All Aboard," a gun had been placed to Fullmetal's back, and the commands were given quietly, and slowly, murmured in hushed, dark caution.

"Don't give any sign that something is wrong. Stand up, and walk where I push you, and I'll let you live."

Alphonse didn't dare move. Edward had glowered, and it was evident—so blatantly so, with the defiant way he held his shoulders and stiff back—that obeying their would-be-captor was the last thing on his mind.

But there was a click as the hammer was pulled back, and with dread, Alphonse heard the voice threaten them even more.

"Don't think you're the only one a gun is aimed at, boy. There are several innocent people here who I know would hate to not make it back home today. You don't want to be the reason they don't, do you?"

No. Dang it, of course not.

Alphonse tried to be discreet, looking around to see where the other shooters were, see if perhaps, if he could locate them, they could remove the danger quickly and swiftly with a little nicely-placed alchemy. But there was none that he could see. So then, was it a lie? A bluff? To make them do what they wanted? Or were these guys just that good?

Edward huffed, standing up slowly. A frown traced his features as he stretched, nonchalantly reaching down for his suitcase as he asked, "Okay. But if I come with you, no one gets hurt?"

There was a definite grin in the other man's voice. "No one gets hurt. Not even your metal friend."

Friend.

Friend.

Alphonse saw the idea in his brother's mind form, but before he could stop him, the words were tumbling out of that mouth, perfectly and purposefully confused. "Friend? Who, this guy? You're serious, right? I just met him a minute ago—never seen him before in my life."

Alphonse felt his non-existent heart twitch with pain, but at the same time, frustrated understanding. If they let Alphonse go, he could report back to the Colonel. Then it would be easy—oh, so easy, then—to mount a rescue mission and find his brother. Everything would be fine in a matter of moments. It really was, when he thought about it, a good plan.

But it was hard to want to be separated from Edward in the first place.

The voice, amused, chuckled. "Never seen him before, huh? Interesting. But I'm afraid I can't let him go, either. He's heard me—haven't you? And if he runs, well, I'm afraid the same penalty applies. Not only you die, kid, but so do several other people. Nobody wants that, right?"

Edward grit his teeth. Foiled. But that was fine. They'd get out of this easy—quick. "Just get this over with. Where are we going?"

The voice laughed again. "Right this way."

The gun nudged, digging into red fabric and a stiff back, and then they began to walk—down the stairs, across the train station plaza, and out the doors, into normal society. No one had given them a second glance; no one had seen the gun pressed to his brother's back, no one noticed the uncomfortably close distance their kidnapper was keeping to them.

Alphonse tried to forget the way his hopes were crashed every time they passed an unsuspecting policeman.

"They took us to a house on one of the upper-class districts."

Roy held onto that piece of information greedily. "Did you catch a glimpse of the address?"

"I did!" There was pride in the younger boy's voice. "And I remember it, too! 1696 Bearburn Lane. Two-stories, brick walls, and red shutters." Instantly, Feury wrote that down, and Havoc grabbed the keys to one of the military cars, standing up and waiting for instructions from his commanding officer—but Roy simply held up his hand for patience as the conversation continued on the other line.

"Except for that weird blue one on the left side of the upstairs window," Edward added in. "Don't know why that was there."

"It was kind of strange, wasn't it?"

"Fullmetal, you're not supposed to be talking. Shut up," Roy barked into the walkie-talkie.

"You can't just tell me to—"

"—Brother, don't get excited! Your heart will speed up, and you'll use more air!"

Of all people, Roy Mustang groaned inwardly—of all people, Edward was probably the one to use air the fastest and in largest quantities. From an enemy's point of view, the perfect person to bury alive. "Alphonse is right," the Colonel continued, and couldn't help the grin that slid onto his face as he added, "You're only killing yourself if you get angry at me."

Hawkeye, exasperated, grabbed the walkie-talkie from him, covering the mouth of it as she scolded, "Honestly, sir, you're killing him as well if you keep antagonizing him."

…well, there was that.

Havoc grabbed Mustang's attention before he could respond, standing at the ready and waving a hand of keys. "Should we go, Chief?"

Mustang frowned, thinking for a moment. A glance at the clock on the wall revealed that it had been at least fifteen minutes so far. If they were lucky, then at the rate things were going, they'd have the two Elrics back in an hour or two.

If they were extremely lucky.

But the quicker, the better. Something told him there was something providing more air for Edward down there anyway. After all, someone buried alive, if they remained calm, might have around four hours to live before they began to suffocate. The note clearly said he and his team had 24 hours to find Edward—an angry, nagging voice in the back of his head wondered who would do this to them, anyway, and why—so that would mean…somehow, someone was keeping Edward alive on more air.

Somehow.

...alchemy?

"Sir?"

Havoc's voice interrupted his train of thought, but snapping back into reality, Mustang nodded. "Take Breda and Falman with you. Be careful. See if whoever did this is still there. If not, look for clues regarding where they may have buried the Elrics."

Nodding, the three wasted no time in leaving, gathering their guns, grabbing their coats and walking out the door at a brisk, excited pace.

Alphonse's voice came back over the walkie-talkie in Hawkeye's hands, timid and nervous.

"Um…there's a few more things you should know, Colonel."

Hawkeye responded, holding the instrument close to her mouth, as if somehow, the closer she was to the device, the closer she was to the brothers—and the more she could provide comfort. She always did have a soft spot for those boys, Mustang reflected. "What is it, Alphonse?"

There was an agitated sigh on the other end before the younger brother spoke—most likely, whatever Al wanted to say, Edward desperately wanted him not to. But it seemed that the younger one won the argument, because his voice came out hurriedly and strongly. "I don't know who buried us, and I don't know where. I mean, everyone had their faces covered with ski-masks, except for their leader, who I've never seen before in my life. I don't know where they buried us, either, because they really did put us in a co—a box, I mean. They put us in it before we even left the house. There's only me and Brother in here, and I can't see anything."

A nervous pause, and then the little brother continued. "They took my hands and feet, so I couldn't draw an array. They also…took Brother's automail. Both his arm and leg, so he can't do alchemy, either. We…we can't get ourselves out. We—we've tried…"

Hawkeye was speaking before the boy could even continue. "It's all right, Alphonse. We'll get you out. Don't worry about it."

"I know. I know you will, but…" There was a hitch, a falter. Edward must have let go of the talk button, because for a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence in the office. Feury, Hawkeye and Mustang waited, holding their breaths and waiting.

Finally, there was a burst of a shout from the walkie-talkie—so loud and shocking that the three jumped in surprise.

"—I need to tell them, Brother! You can't just keep this from them—!"

"—I'm holding down the button, you idiot! You win! Fine! Whatever! I'm not even going to be using it anyway, so what does it matter!"

Panting. Probably from both brothers, but the more Mustang heard the heavy, frustrated breathing, the more he worried they were using air that Fullmetal simply couldn't afford to waste.

But before he could move forward to bark a command into the walkie-talkie, Alphonse was talking, hurriedly, frantically, and with a large amount of quivering fear in his voice. An 11-year-old shouldn't have to face this, the pang in Mustang's heart voiced. "They left Brother with another alternative, Colonel. Another way to get out of here."

"What is it?" Hawkeye asked, trepidation lining her voice.

"A gun. And there's only one bullet."

Silence.

Then, for some reason—at that—Mustang found himself laughing. Laughing, brilliantly, mockingly, hardly, until both Hawkeye and Feury were gazing at him with mixing variations of concern and fear, as well as discomfort.

"Sir…?" Hawkeye asked, but he took the remaining step forward and swiped the walkie-talkie from her without responding, choosing to say instead into the device, "You'll have to forgive me, Fullmetal, but I find that utterly hilarious. For as much as these crooks seem to know about you and your brother, they don't know the most important thing, do they?"

There was something akin to smugness in the boy's voice as Edward responded. "Nope. Apparently not."

Mustang smirked. "Well, their mistake. I'll be seeing you in a few hours, then, Edward. Count on it."

Relief was evident in Alphonse's voice. "Good. Be careful, Colonel."

"And I've still got my pocket watch, Mustang," Ed's voice came through, still smug. "So I'll be holding you to that."

Don't fail me, now.

Mustang nodded, tossing Hawkeye the walkie-talkie. I won't. "Find out more from Alphonse about the kidnappers. The leader wasn't wearing a ski-mask, so get a description of him, and we'll run a BOLO; also, just because they were in a box while they were being transported to their location, doesn't mean that they weren't aware of how long it took to get there. Find out as much as you can. I'll get a map, so we can create a radius of where they would be."

But even as he turned and headed towards his office to grab one, he heard Hawkeye reiterate her previous, "Sir!", but with much more urgency. Briefly, he turned back to her, eyebrow raised and poised as she asked quietly, "What did you mean, when you said 'the most important thing'? What is it their kidnapper doesn't know?"

Another smirk played with Mustang's features. "C'mon, don't play dumb. You know it, too, Riza."

But when she only gazed at him blankly, eyebrows furrowed, he sighed and turned around, muttering softly, "You know how strong the brothers' bond is. Edward would never leave Alphonse behind. Not so selfishly."

There—there it was. The light of realization dawned behind her dark amber eyes, and with his smirk still in place (if not a bit wider than it previously was), Mustang turned back to his door. "They underestimated them—and that gives us an advantage. Edward wouldn't kill himself, so that leaves us a full 24-hour window to save them."

Not that we'll need it, of course.

Crystal's Notes:(tremble, tremble) (weep) You guys...are so kind. (sniff, sniff) I'm so unworthy of the generous reviews you all have given me! So I can only hope that this chapter will satisfy you, until things start to pick up in the next chapter, with all sorts of excitement and plot developments. Oooooo I've forgotten how fun writing fanfiction is! I have you all to thank for this wonderful joy! (weep) I'm not worthy...