She had stopped being startled every time she saw Al. She was growing used to the way he resembled Ed. After all, they were brothers. Even if they didn't look much alike when they were kids, it made sense that they would look more alike as they grew older. Or, at least, as Al grew older.
He was sitting, cross-legged, on her couch, nose buried in an alchemy book, when she came pounding down the stairs. When he heard her heavy footsteps he looked up, grey eyes serious, and smiled serenely at her. She gave his bronze ponytail a gentle tug as she passed and continued into the workshop.
Ed was not someone they talked about. Ed was not someone Alphonse spoke about to anyone. At first, he had been all questions and eager ears, but one day, suddenly, he had refused to hear any more. He couldn't remember, he said, and that was that. It was time to move forward. And move forward he did, becoming a State Alchemist, like Ed had. Growing his hair out, like Ed had. He had even taken to wearing Ed's old red coat with the flamel on the back of it.
There had been a period of time when the people of Amestris mistook him for Ed. There had been rumors that he and Ed were really the same person, and that the suit of armor that followed Ed around and claimed to be Alphonse was just an elaborate ruse. That was the closest any rumors got to the truth: that the armor had been empty all those years.
But Winry knew he was not Ed. She knew, every time she touched him, that he was not Ed. When she held his two flesh hands in hers, when she looked into his wide grey eyes, she knew he was not Ed. She did not hold him close in the evenings to try to fend off his nightmares because she thought he was Ed, or because she wished he was Ed.
Their relationship, which progressed hesitantly and innocently past friendship, past sibling-like love, was not built on her feelings for the brother who was years since gone.
It wasn't.