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Yellow and Red
By CEA
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There was a tangent pause in the air. Her lithe form was tense, crouched, her small hands wrapped tenderly but firmly around the gun she knew better than she knew her own body. It fit into her hand like a glove after all this time, and it was pointed directly between his eyes. He knew she would not miss if she fired. She was breathing laboriously from their combat, before when he had moved too quickly to give her time to pull out her gun. Her hair was out of its customary clip, falling around her shoulders in a golden wave. He had never seen hair of such a yellow color on a woman before. All the women of his people had dark, dark, hair. That yellow was forbidden, and enticing. Some of it had fallen in front of her eyes.

Those eyes. Red, like his, but so much more beautiful. Huge, soul-searching. She was such a cold woman, yet every emotion she was feeling flashed across them like a map.

They were standing outside of the house of one Colonel Roy Mustang. Scar remembered Mustang well from the Ishbal Massacre: the young, new alchemist, who was nevertheless more potent than all the rest with a single snap of his fingers. He remembered the first time he had noticed her, when he had been ready to kill Mustang and she had saved the Colonel's life. You're useless in the rain.

He remembered the look in those eyes when she had thought Mustang could die.

It was the same look that was in them now, that determination to save him, the anger that anyone would dare. Mustang is a lucky man, Scar thought, and he doesn't even realize it.

"Riza Hawkeye," he spoke now, in that low voice. "First Lieutenant under Colonel Roy Mustang. Loyalist of the loyal. Foremost sharpshooter in the military."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Her laboured breathing had slowed though she hadn't moved an inch. That gun was still trained on him. He debated asking her what she was doing dressed in today's clothing outside of her superior officer's house at one o'clock in the morning. He imagined she might blush, or that she might grow even more angry.

"You shouldn't defy me," he told her. "It may only add you to my list."

"Just try and kill me," was her cold reply.

He was silent for a moment. His right arm twitched. "I won't kill you." Scar couldn't, and he knew that. He couldn't imagine placing his huge hand across her heart-shaped face; he couldn't fathom seeing that face as a bloody mess on the ground, blown apart, distorted. That pale, perfect face. The blood would ruin that amazing yellow.

And those eyes. It would ruin those eyes, the only real connection he had with her.

"I will never let you hurt him," she told him softly.

His eyes narrowed. "No, I know you won't."

Riza's lips were set in a thin line. Even from here he could see that they were dry, cracked, unfeminine. She had no one to impress, no one she cared to impress, save for that man she was perfectly willing to give her life for. But she would rather serve under him and kill for him than admit it freely.

He walked towards her. She tensed and stood, backing away from him and around to protect the house as he passed by it. He stopped when he was parallel to her, and turned his head, so that red met red. "You should tell him."

Scar left quickly enough that he didn't see the flash of shock in those red irises, or the way that unfeminine mouth opened slightly in surprise.

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AN: I have nothing to say XD This is just one of those plot bunnies that crops up unexpectedly and then you write it in 10 minutes. So sorry if it's off or if there are any typos :)