Crimson

A/N: I do not own FullMetal Alchemist in any shape or form. Please enjoy the story.

Red was an ugly color. Every shade of red, from orange to burgundy.

Roy Mustang knew that more than anyone. If it was the sickening scarlet of blood or the horrifying orange tint of flame. They were terrible, pain inducing colors. Thinking about it, the man couldn't think of one happy thing that was red. Not one.

He brought death with the very color. In his time serving in the war, red flowed from his very fingers, bringing a slow, painful end. Red.

He was it's master in those times and still today. In his nightmares, red hot swirls masked the screams of the tan skinned children, steaming the purest tears away. As the fiery red inferno blended into the Ishbalan's innocent eyes, the only red that could be seen as mystical or good, the happiness and all past laughter burnt away. Into nothing more than a disgraceful ash. Black crumbles of what used to be.

There were far more terrible red things than fire or blood though.

The tattoo than still runs along his first Lieutenant's back was even worse. As a young child, the deadly notes of flame alchemy were sliced into her young, innocent skin. He couldn't even imagine the pain. An unsuspecting child, forced to have a needle stuck against her back, and dragged, creating even more suffering. He was positive she cried.

And getting the god awful markings on her back weren't the worst of it. It's what they brought to others.

Sorrow. Pain. Death.

Family members were killed, some of the most painful injuries were given. After all, nothing stings more than a burn. And of course, they too, were red. Burns hurt more than any other injury Roy had ever gotten. He knew this from the occasion self inflicting burn when he was practicing flame alchemy for the first times. God they were awful.

Another thing about burns. Giving them to others purposely was the worst.

Much to Roy's displeasure, he could clearly remember the day he was asked to burn someone. By the person who got burned. The scene played out in his mind all too clearly. Riza's cries as she gripped the back of the wooden chair that supported her weakened body. Her fingernails, dirty from the sandy terrain, digging into the wood. And of course, the blood that ran from her wounds. He hated it.

"M-Mustang...!" she called, slowly turning her head to him. She wouldn't dare move herself yet. Passing out wasn't an option. "Is it gone?" her voice was nothing above a teary whisper.

Roy lowered his hand, eyes closing. "...As much that needs to be." she forced his eyes open to look at the damage. A menacing maroon hue tainted her skin, the pain unimaginable. He couldn't burn her entire back off. He just attacked the necessary points of interest that completed the pattern. "Stay still. Don't try to get up." he said, voice weak as well.

She sighed, relief hidden inside. He saw her shoulders lower and her breathing return to it's normal pace.

Unable to stand looking at her wound any longer, Roy made his way to her front and bent down in front of the chair. He gazed upon her face, sorrow in his dark eyes. Her porcelain skin was drenched in sweat and tears. The salty water dripped from her eyes, onto the floor. Riza felt him near and opened her hazel eyes, head shaking slightly as she looked up at him. The sadness and sorrowfulness in his eyes made her frown deeply. "Sir..." she tried to move a hand towards his face, but found her muscles weak. Her arm flopped to her side and she winced, the strain of the skin pulling against her back burns. "Nng...!"

Roy gently lifted her arm onto the back of the chair where she was at ease. "Don't move I said." He slid some bangs that blocked her eyesight. "Rest for me."

She breathed lightly and nodded. "Yes."

He watched her shoulders rise and fall with each breath. Seeing that the burns were more stable, he made his way over to the ice water bucket that sat on the floor. He dipped in a towel a few times, rang it out and came back to Riza. He tries to speak as quietly as possible. "This will hurt, but only for a little while. Trust me, it will be worth it."

She paused for a second, then nodded slowly. "Alright. I believe you."

He nodded back and stood. After getting to her back he looked it over. The wound wasn't as big as he thought, but he couldn't comprehend the pain. "Here." he lowered the towel onto her reddened skin. Riza hissed and lowered her forehead onto the chair. Roy came back to her front. "Sorry."

She shook her head along the chair. Eventually her breathing slowed. "It's fine... it was just colder than I thought." she relocated her head so she could look him in the eyes. "Thank you."

Roy blinked. "Don't thank me-"

"But I asked you to do this. You have no reason to feel guilt." she interrupted. "Not doing it would have more cruel."

He lowered his gaze to the wooden floorboards. "I see."

They sat there, quiet for a moment. Riza's tired breathing and an occasional cry outside were the only sounds heard. Finally after what felt like an eternity, Roy heard her speak. "Mustang."

He looked up at her. "What is it?"

"Could you take me to the bed?" she turned her gaze to the back of the room where several small beds sat. A family must have lived here. "This isn't... very comfortable." she pointed out her position. Sitting backwards on a wooden chair, chest exposed to her superior wasn't that pleasant. All she had to cover herself was her white cloak, which she gripped with one hand.

"Ah... yes, of course." Roy replied, understanding. He made his way to her back and gently turned her so she was sitting sideways on the chair. She whimpered slightly, but soon regained composure. Roy froze. "Are you sure you can move?"

Riza caught her breath and looked up to him. "I can."

Roy nodded and picked her up onto his back. This way he couldn't touch her still delicate burns. She sighed onto his neck and muttered something. He glanced at her through the corner of his eye. "Hm?"

"...I want to go home..." she mumbled into his shoulder.

Roy could understand that plea all too well. "I know. I do too." Reaching the beds, she lowered her onto one. She positioned herself onto her belly as comfortable as possible. She let her head lay sideways, white cloak bundled up as a pillow. She watched Roy stand by the door, arms crossed.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her. "Of course not. I don't think you're doing much better. Get some rest." he attempted to keep a strong demeanor, trying to maintain his authority. "Don't push yourself."

Riza let herself smile slightly. "Yes sir."

They didn't speak for the rest of the evening. He would replace the towel on her back every now and then, but the two never said another word. Nothing else needed to be spoken.

Roy lifted another sullied towel from Riza's back. It wasn't as red as the past few, but a lingering maroon danced across the white fibers.

Red. How it was an ugly color.

A/N: I got some inspiration from a drawing I drew awhile ago. It was Roy tending to the burn wounds on Riza's back after the scene. So, yeah, I got some inspiration to write and came up with this. Please tell me how I did and if there were any spelling/grammar errors. I'll fix them as soon as possible. Thank you for reading!