A/N: A color meant for Jane, but has become equally relevant for Rigsby, I'd say. Suggested by Allia, ye faire maid of Olden Tymes.
Rouge
It all started when Jane had given her rubies and Rigsby saw red in more ways than one. Before a red mist of jealousy clouded his sight and made him want to dislocate the harmless eccentric's jaw, he'd seen her open the box and stare with wonder.
The facets caught the light and refracted across her wondrous expression and danced in her already resplendent hair. Rubies and Grace, the two red gems seemed surprised to see each other.
She put them on. Her eyes dropped shyly. She felt out of context, a child in her mother's clothes. But everyone saw how they molded to her throat and seemed to become part of her skin. A giant string of rubies would overwhelm most women's looks. On Grace, it clung naturally. It didn't overwhelm, it accentuated. The picky stones chose their wearer wisely, or so Rigsby chose to believe. It was better than admitting that another man had done the choosing, and worse still to admit that he'd chosen so well. When she'd modestly handed them back, his jealous side had rejoiced. No one got to mark that beautiful throat except him. Someday. But his romantic side felt it was a sin for her to part with them. They'd spent millions of years becoming a geological marvel for her. When they completed their transformation in that dark mine, they had passed purposefully between the rough hands of men before they found home against her pale body.
He noticed jewelry stores all the time now. Battalions of dead, lifeless diamonds cast their sterile reflections and made him squint. He never went in, but he always slowed down.
Over many months, he'd walked past a dozen windows a dozen times. He always searched for red. He never saw anything but white.
For some reason, this upset him.
Red was the most stunning color in the world. Didn't jewelers know that?
He knew he wasn't rich man. He knew he couldn't order an entire wardrobe of clothing made entirely of rubies for her like he wanted to. But he knew, should he ever drop to his knees and ask her to share her life with him, there was only one color of stone he'd slip on her finger if she made him the happiest man alive and said yes.