Color Theorem

Summary: For someone who managed to become a State Alchemist at the age of 12, Ed sure was dense. A color collection for Fullmetal Alchemists golden couple, Ed and Winry!
Authors Note: This one shot is just something I decided to write after I got a haircut (the weirdest things inspire me) and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you all for your lovely reviews.

Disclaimer: If I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, Alphonse would streak down HQ.

026: Pink

"He made wings out of wax so he could fly... but when he got too close to the Sun, to God, the wax melted and he crashed to the ground..."

She put her feet on the ground, lifted her face up to stare at the clouds. They shrouded the sun with their misty veil and a cool wind caressed the curve of her neck, raking through her hair and sending it spiraling behind her in a swirl of golds and whites.

"Ed," she said, clearly. The clouds slowly parted, offering a single stream of sunlight that touched the land with its warmth. "Full Metal..." she murmured thoughtfully, still staring up at the sky, as another cloud blew in and once again covered up the intense radiance of the sun. "Hero of the People."

It was quite saddening, in a way, how famous he had become over the years. He was not that silly country-born boy any more – now he was the greatest alchemist seen; a prodigy; a genius; someone of superior caliber and therefore deserving recognition. The talk of the young boy had come and gone throughout the years, and she had listened intently to every detail she could get her hands on. It was almost frightening, how desperate she was to hear from the brothers.

But days came and went.

Months slowly began to fade with time.

She coiled up on the dirty ground, closed her eyes and placed a hand underneath her ear to pillow herself. The wind rose and sent a chill down her arms, making her curl in even tighter. The sun often spotlighted her, often left her, and soon it became too cold to stay out in the plains. The wind had picked up, sun slowly began to dim in intensity, and she briefly wondered how long she had stayed out in the plains; letting her mind sluggishly drift from thought to thought.

The unsightly comparison between the hero and Ed made her feel bothered as she had lain there. Somehow, it did not fit right with Ed's circumstances. Because Ed had managed to succeed where the hero failed: he might've crashed and burned to the ground but he picked himself up and tried again, persevering where others found it impossible. His mission might've been considered a fools mission, laughable at best, but that did not deter the alchemist. He continued, through thick and thin, stubbornly refusing every negative thought that might deter him from his quest. He had overcome so much hardship, had crossed through that river of blood and soil, to reach a paradise not for himself, but for his own little brother. It was a quest to correct a wrong they committed – a journey to recover Alphonse's lost body – and though they reached many dead-ends and flawed hopes, they never gave up.

Ed never gave up. That was his trademark – what made Ed, Ed.

He was stubborn and bullheaded, refusing to believe what others would have accepted and moved on. He dug deep, never stalling to think things through. He always barreled through everything, even if the consequences for his actions paid a heavy toll.

"You crashed to the ground," Winry whispered, lifting herself up from the dusty floor slowly. "But you picked yourself up, too."

"There you are," a voice came from behind her. She froze momentarily, fear sweeping through her for a second, before recognition calmed her. "Granny said you'd be out here somewhere... what're you doing here all alone, Winry?"

"Ed," she said, her lips curving into a bright smile. She turned and looked up, watching the boy – no, man – with glistening azure eyes. He stood a few steps behind her with his hands jammed into his pockets, a curious scowl marring his face, head tilted at an angle that allowed her access to the many peculiar planes of his face. "You're back!"

He grinned lopsidedly, lifting one hand out of his pocket to set on his waist. "Look! This time my automail isn't broken!" His grin turned triumphant, showing it off in her face. "Ha! Take that, you automail dork! I went five months without a single scratch on my arm! I think this calls for a celebration."

Winry felt her heart swell – dare she hope he came to just visit? – before her eyes settled on his leg. The pants which were torn and bloodied, signifying he had gotten out of a recent scuffle. She could see a deep gash in the mechanical limbs calf, stretching all the way to the lower thigh before it disappeared under the velvet material.

"Uh, about that," Ed gulped, taking a wobbly set back. "I can explain! Let me explain before you hit me with your wrench!"

Winry stood up and dusted herself, an annoyed glimmer in her eyes. "Save it. At least your arms in good condition this time. It's not very often your leg gets trashed."

"I don't trash my arm!" Ed argued.

Winry rolled her eyes. "And I don't like the smell of freshly made oil in the morning!"

"Isn't it the expression 'freshly made coffee'?"

"Nope. Oil."

"Ugh, you're such a freak!" Ed groaned, gripping his leg as he struggled to turn around. Winry placed a hand on his shoulder and subtly guided him around, sighing when he limped badly back and nearly lost his footing. If he kept this up, his leg would short out before they even reached her house.

"Did you come all the way out here like this?"

"I wouldn't have if you'd only been in your workshop like a good automail engineer," he grumbled, sending her a glare when she slapped the back of his head.

"Come on, you," she smiled wryly, slipping an arm around his upper torso to help support part of his weight. Against her own will, her cheeks began to heat up from the contact of having Ed's body pressed up against her side.

They walked back to the house in strained silence: Winry looking ahead quietly, stealing glances at the alchemist every few seconds while Edward stayed carefully passive, looking ahead and not letting his eyes stray elsewhere.

"Do you really think so?" he said suddenly, as the Rockbell household came into view.

"About what?" she asked nervously, picking up her pace slightly. He refused the pace and slowed down even more, letting his leg drag them down.

"I heard you," he said slowly. "You said I picked myself up. Do you really think so?"

Winry pressed her lips together, her cheeks growing a dark pink. So he had heard her... "I do. I remember you telling me about the hero who built wings of wax and flew too close to the sun. I didn't like the comparison."

"What comparison?" he frowned, cocking a brow at her as she steadily stared at the house sitting on the hill, which came closer with every step.

"You can pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," she said softly, "but I know you compared yourself to that hero. You might have crashed to the ground but you picked yourself up and didn't let that keep you down." She smiled, the pink in her cheeks slowly ebbing. "You're definitely better than him. Or at least more stubborn."

She glanced at him, watched his lips pull upwards into a small smile.

"You have... way too much faith in me," he whispered, eyes downcast and troubled with past events.

"No, I have just enough," she corrected, adjusting his arm around her neck. "You should have more faith in yourself, Ed, because I'm positive that you'll get Al's body back in no time! I've never doubted you, not for one second. Never will, either, if you keep coming back to me in such a mess," she chuckled, "that's gotta' show that at least you're trying and getting something done! No matter how much it annoys me whenever you come back to me with a trashed 'mail!"

He didn't respond as they walked up the porch steps and into the house, where Winry was greeted warmly by her grandmother and Alphonse, who had been helping her granny peel some ripe peaches for baking.

As she left Ed sitting in her workshop and warned him not to stand up as she went to grab some tools, she just barely heard his hoarse whisper of gratitude.

"Thank you."

Winry paused at the threshold of the door but did not respond, opting instead to throwing a bright smile over her shoulder before continuing her trek down by the outside garage, where her toolbox was located.

Edward wasn't like the hero in that myth.

He was better than that.