Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal.


The belltower room was very small and, even though it was dark, Fuery could still see the first lieutenant sitting close beside him. They had been installed here – "just in case" the Colonel had said – for several hours now and the moon had risen and was shining in through the window in front of which Hawkeye sat.

Fuery pretended not to be uncomfortable with the situation, attending to the headsets and the small radio they had brought with them in order to keep in contact with the Colonel and the others. Riza Hawkeye was both beautiful and deadly, two things that made Fuery more than a little scared of her. He had the utmost respect for her of course. She was practically the perfect officer and her loyalty to the Colonel and her coolness under pressure had always impressed him. He was far from cool under pressure, he knew that. He wished he was more like her, her steady hand on the trigger of her rifle and her cold, assessing eyes never giving anything away.

The moonlight was shining on her blond hair, the hood of her cloak lying over her shoulders and leaving it bare to the silver light. She really was quite beautiful, despite how severe she sometimes appeared. There was a gentleness to her that he had seen on rare occasions, and sometimes it showed through in the softness of her features. Those large mahogany eyes held both fierceness and kindness in concert and he felt himself filled with both fear and admiration when she turned them on him.

"Hey, Kate," called the Colonel's voice over the radio and into Fuery's ears. "How's it going? So, do you think you could put Elizabeth on the phone for me?"

"The Colonel wants to talk to you," he said, pulling a second headset out for Hawkeye to put over her ears. He saw a slight flash of light off one of her earrings as she put the headphones on.

"Hey there, Roy," she said warmly, a flirtatious purr in her voice playing up the act in case anyone was listening in. Both her tone and the fact that the short cord on the headset was making her lean over him slightly made Fuery even more nervous. He tried to contract himself into as small a space as possible so that he wouldn't touch her, but the tiny room provided him with few options.

Her head was right beside his, their shoulders practically touching. She was still somehow keeping an eye on the street below them, rifle at the ready, as she spoke to the Colonel over the radio.

The smell of her hair reached Fuery's nose before too long. The room was warm and the light breeze from the belltower window blew it right to him. She smelled like flowers, like the Lilies-of-the-Valley his mother grew in her garden at home, like the lilacs that bloomed for such a short time every spring. He was a little surprised at how good she smelled – he had rather expected her to smell more like metal and gunpowder and polishing cloths. He leaned in, almost involuntarily trying to get closer to the pleasant smell, to identify its components. She reached a hand up to steady the headphones and now he could smell the coppery scent of bullet casings and triggers, but the smell of her soap was there, too, rosewater and lavender. And, the further he leaned, somehow forgetting his earlier desire to retract away from her, the more he could detect the sharp, warm scent of the sweat gathering under her hairline and on the back of her neck.

"Is there something the matter, Sergeant?" she asked, those frightening, mesmerizing eyes now on him and her face only inches from his. Her expression was cool and unreadable and immediately sent Fuery into a panic.

"No, sir, nothing, sir, sorry, sir," he blathered, once again trying to shrink into a tiny ball.

"Calm down, Kain," she said, smiling softly and placing a hand on his shoulder, causing the smell of flowers and gunmetal to return to him. "The Colonel seems to think that everything will go smoothly tonight. We probably won't even be needed."

"That's good," he said, sighing with relief that she did not seem to have caught him in his highly inappropriate act of trying to . . . smell her. His cheeks turned red at the thought and he was thankful that she had turned away from him and back to the window and hadn't noticed.

But despite how inappropriate it might have been, he found himself furtively trying to again catch the scent of lilies and lilacs until the Colonel called them at sun-up and told them to move out.