A/N: This is actually a fairly pointless bit of writing. I just sort of jotted it down in the middle of an idea but I figured I'd post it anyway. It came out less shippy then I originally intended which may or may not be a good thing, depending on your point of view. Set in manga!verse, but it's not so specific that it couldn't be taken as anime. Not beta-ed.
Disclaimer: All rights go to Arakawa-sensei (a.k.a. God).
Red, Yellow, and Blue
When Winry is alone in her workshop, surrounded by the chill of tools and metal and the constant clang of pounding steel, she sometimes puts down what she's doing -- building, repairing, experimenting -- and thinks about Ed. She does not think about where he is or what he's doing or the state of his health. She doesn't even think about her precious automail that he has almost definitely damaged by now, if not worse, or how close he and Al are to getting their bodies back and coming home, so they can be a family of sorts again. She just thinks about him. And color.
Winry isn't much for color, really. Black and white is almost all she wears, not wanting to bother fussing about what matches and what doesn't, and grey, silver, and brown is almost all she sees, surrounded by the automail and dirt and cloudy skies of Rush Valley. When Ed comes to mind though, she can't help but think of blue; a light, almost pastel blue that just seems to fit him. She never thinks of red.
Red is the color Ed hides himself behind, she thinks. It's the color of the coat that's too big for him and the anger he radiates to ignore the pain. It's the color of every false smile and the fire that engulfed his house and his past, and the blood that slips slowly down his face and chin and onto his shirt when he's wounded in his endless, endless battles. In fact, it's the color of the homunculi, of their marks and their intentions. It's the color of every sin. Winry refuses to connect Ed with something like that.
No, Ed is blue in Winry's mind. The color of the tears he won't cry and the shine on his automail hand when he takes off his glove. It's the color of the rain in his head and on his shoulders and Al's empty armor in cold weather. It's the color of his cries in his sleep when can't stop himself, and the pocket watch that he wants nothing more then to throw away.
(The color of her eyes as she watches his large back growing smaller and smaller, when she wants nothing more then for him to turn around and never leave her waiting again.)
It's the color of sorrow and it's only just barely better then red, but at least it's better.
Winry can't wait for the time when she thinks of Ed and sees yellow; the color of sunshine and pure, happy laughter and wheat in the mid-day sun. The color of his eyes full of joy instead of worry and the color of bells chiming and birds singing and Al's smell. The color of kindness and friendship and love.
The color of their hair (all of them: her, Ed, and Al) all those years ago as the sun set and they grew tired as they trudged home to warm beds and loving parents and happy tomorrows.
