Disguised

Amon didn't understand why she had cut her hair.

He hadn't said anything against it—goodness knew they needed enough help hiding as it was—but he didn't see the point. If anyone saw Robin, they'd remember the color of the hair, not how long it was. In all reality, cutting her hair wouldn't do an inch to disguise Robin.

Indeed, Amon was beginning to wonder if one could disguise Robin. He cast a glance at her over by the mirror. The red hair certainly made her easier to spot, but even outside of that, Robin was unmistakable. She was young and naïve and had a face that belonged anywhere except where they happened to be. Her eyes were green and clear and had a way of burning them into whoever saw them. Even sunglasses didn't really help.

Disguise was not incredibly tricky, Amon reflected, scratching his beard. Essentially it was the science of being plain. Of being forgettable. Or, failing that, of looking and behaving so unlike yourself that people remembered you, but didn't identify you with the one they were looking for. And even that alternative was dangerous. Preferably, you didn't want anyone to think about you anymore than was possible.

In Robin's case, of course, that was practically impossible.

But he had thought all this through long before. He had learned to accept it and work around it. And so, he thought, had Robin. And then suddenly she came up with the idea of cutting her hair. He supposed he should be glad that she was taking an active interest in disguising herself, but it seemed awfully pointless.

Of course if it was pointless, a tiny voice nagged him, why did it bother him so much? She had done silly little pointless things before—mending the ragged coats they wore every day, sweeping out the apartments before they left, buying a cupcake for his birthday, bargain-shopping for new clothes—but none of these had ever bothered him. (Except perhaps the birthday. That had been a little odd.) So why did this newest craze of hers annoy him so much?

Perhaps it was because he had a feeling she was doing this to please him. Robin wasn't the type to suddenly decide to cut her hair. At least—he threw another glance at her by the mirror—not in the way she was doing it. Disguise was more Amon's interest than hers.

Amon looked at the mirror again and winced.

That was another reason it bothered him, he supposed. Disguise was also supposed to look rather natural. It wasn't supposed to LOOK like a disguise, it should look like something that was just you. A different you, to be sure, but still you.

And to be completely honest, the close-cropped job Robin was hacking out of her hair looked nothing like her. It was short, choppy, pointed… ugly, put simply. Completely unnatural to anyone, but especially to Robin. Robin had a sense of smoothness, a natural flow and grace to her movements that was at completely at odds with the gelled disaster swiftly forming atop her head.

That's why her old hair had suited her so well, Amon mused. It had a flow and grace to it that fit in perfectly with her movements. It was long, even, smooth… beautiful, put simply.

Shaking his head, Amon scratched his beard. He needed to concentrate. They would be leaving tomorrow by tanker, and there were many preparations to make. What should he…

The squeak of a chair interrupted his thoughts. "I'm done." Robin announced, standing to face him. "How does it look?"

He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, to say that it looks ugly and completely unnatural and won't even help them with their disguise. But then he saw her eyes. She might be smiling, but her eyes were glimmering with tears. He even detects a few trails down her cheeks, though she's done her best to smooth those away.

She liked it less than he did. It hurt her to even ask, probably. But she did it to please him, so she asked anyway. Does he like this thing she's done to please him, or does he like what she used to be?

Amon felt a sudden kinship with men whose girlfriends ask them if they look fat in such-and-such.

"It's a new look for you."

A/N: Tell me if Amon's being a jerk here. I could never figure out the whole "Do I look fat in this" dilemna either.

No, I haven't updated this in a while. To be honest, there's not a lot more I can do with this story. I have a few more one-shot ideas to play around with, but it's been a while since I've seen the series and I sorta lost interest for a while. Plus, I've been busy. One of the beauties of a one-shot collection is that you can quit anytime.

Actually, I never intended a follow-up to the "Fuzzy" story, but people gave me some fun suggestions, so it kinda fermented in my brain. See what reviews can do? If people hadn't given me such fun reviews, I might not have written this, and THEN where would you be?

Speaking of which, I'm not sure if I'll post more after this or not. Like I said, I don't have a lot more ideas, and this isn't one of my more active stories. It would be fine really just to leave it here.

Hm. I'll give it some thought.