Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of its characters
Author's Note: In the story you might see Nellie and Nelle, Nellie is the way it is pronounced, but Nelle is the way it's spelled! And any names with a j are pronounced with the y sound.
Chapter 1- Dzien Dobry
Ellen woke up in her bed, weary and antagonistic, like always. It wasn't that she was an easily convulsed person—she just didn't like being unnecessarily happy.
It takes 43 muscles to frown and 17 to smile, but Ellen enjoyed the exercise she got from stretching those extra 26 muscles in her face she never knew she had. Something cold lightly swung against her nose. Ellen looked up at stared at the gold Star of David that hung down from the old canopy bed's ceiling. It was protection given to her by her mother.
Some protection, she did a mental eye roll. Slowly Ellen looked at the paintings that hung on the wall in front of her to begin her morning ritual. She had acquired them from her mentor Fritz Lang— who in a dim-witted attempt to make her more lady-like for her role in his movie— gave them her to keep if she promised to stare at them at least five minutes a day. She had quit the production, before she received any major role, but she kept the small promise she made to him considering the paintings.
Ellen particularly liked the painting 'Sunlight and Shadow' by Albert Bierstadt the most out of all her paintings. Even though she didn't think highly of Germans, Ellen thought he had done a wonderful job of depicting the building— apparently a place of worship (church), and how it looked when the sunlight hit it (the 'c' word was very hard for her to utter because she hadn't visited one in a long while and had no intention of doing so anytime soon). She had assumed that he wasn't a highly religious person since there was only one painting that depicted the building. Still she had no idea why out of all the buildings in the world, Bierstadt would draw a picture of this building (church), when all his other works were of a more…'verdant' origin.
Maybe the painting really was just to show sunlight and shadow she thought, but that was too obvious, and Ellen didn't think a brilliant artist could be that simple minded. Even if he was German, she chuckled.
After her five minute analysis of masterpieces-she-could-never-ever-ever-emulate-in-a-million-years-even-with-art-lessons, she grimaced—noticing for the first time that her apartment was barely passing as… bromidic.
Compared to the Fritz Lang's character, Ellen's personality was tantamount to the atmosphere of a morgue, and it reflected in her choice of décor. The only objects Ellen had to vivify her mundane living space, were antique chairs (given to her by Fritz), some silverware/plates (given to her by her boss), and this canopy bed. The bed she had gotten from Mrs. Sobczak. It had faded from the brilliant coral pink it had once been in Mrs. Sobczak's younger days, and the ceiling and shrouds of curtains hung limp and dainty when moved by the faintest wind. But the fact still remained…
None of the stuff in her apartment was hers. Everything of Ellen's was older and wiser than her— which was fine because most of her furnishings were given to her by very sagacious people. Still, Ellen abhorred the fact that her house contained none of her own atmosphere and annoyed her greatly that everyone thought her apartment needed an atmosphere. A pebble clinked against her bedroom window and Ellen wondered what forces of nature were trying to keep her from ranting on and on about nothing. She looked out of her window, hoping to relieve herself by swearing up a storm at the disturbance.
The ground beyond her window, was covered in patches of white, brown and black snow. Slushy and disgusting was the theme for this month as well as many months to come. It didn't matter if you lived in a small city like Pabianice, no matter where you went, in mid-August Poland, repulsive would be on the list of words to describe the streets. Ellen gave a small smile when she noticed it was her best friend that had interrupted her.
"G-g-good morning Nellie!" the newspaper boy called to her.
"Morning Jasper!" Jasper smiled sweetly back to her. He had the cutest dimples she had ever seen.
Short blonde hair and blue eyes stood out from his drab gray uniform. Ellen noticed his teeth were chattering and his fingers were turning a grotesque blue. "You'll have to come up coffee sometime, you work too much! It's a wonder you don't get tired!"
"When I have p-pretty ladies like you to see, a m-m-man can't afford to get t-tired on the job." Ellen nodded, everyone worked hard in this part of town. Even if you were freezing your butt off you denied it until you blacked out or got home. Then, you would complain to whatever poor soul resided in your house.
"OK, well I'll see you later. I myself have work to start heading to work. I'll be done by ten, come over if you have time!" Jasper nodded and went on his way, but not before bowing and saying a few words…
"See you later Nellie, I shan't keep you waiting long!" She giggled and rolled her eyes, Jasper and his theatrics…
Ellen lay back on her bed and stared at the canopy's ceiling. She scowled at the necklace and punched it; it came back and poked her in the eye. "Ow- damnit!" I guess this is what they call karma… She looked away quickly and got up to go to work.
Ellen had changed her name since that day, nine years ago, to Nelle—just a backwards version of Ellen. She thought that maybe with a new name, a new place, with a new life, would give her chance to finally forget all that happened that night. You see, Nelle never had to cry for what happened to Ellen. Yes, she was sad about it every now and then, but, it never affected her personally. It was a sad thing that happened to Ellen, but there was nothing that Nelle could do about it. And that was the way both Nelle and Ellen wanted it to be. To just move on and be over with it…
Ellen looked into the mirror solemnly. She wore a newspaper boy's hat, given to her by none other than Jasper. It was drab, gray, and an ugly plaid, but it was the thought that counted. Plus it kept the world from seeing the mess that was her hair. Her hair was a disaster… locks and locks of lusciously long black hair danced with her shoulders and graced her back— or at least it should have been that way. And maybe, one day it might be, and one day it might also be the envy of all women. But today, it wasn't in any pageant-winning condition. Instead it was oily, somewhat tangled and smelled like leather. Grimacing at the smell, she tried to wash out the grime that caused the appalling odor. When she was satisfied that her hair smelt normal (apparently, only faint hints of oil was normal), she began putting on her work clothing.
She spent most of her time in the dust and grime and often went days smelling like motor oil and rust even after she had showered. The oil sometimes stained her skin if she waited to long to wash, but it never stayed forever (Although, there were the days where her complexion would turn gray). As you can tell, Ellen did not work the 'ladies' shift'. She worked with men, smelled like them and was getting to the point of looking like one. But even still, people would be able to tell—by the way she presented her face (make up and all), what sex she hailed from.
Ellen grabbed her jacket headed out the door.
Ellen lived in an apartment on the top floor (the fifth), and the elevator that resided down the hall refused to work for sometime. So every morning she had to walk down nine flights of fifteen steps, while saying hello to half of Pabianice's elderly.
"G'morning Mrs. Tomaszewski!" she chimed to the woman on the end of the fifth floor. Running down the fourth floor she called, "Edna, Jill, Raymond, Claymore, Rachel, Suzanna, Yvonne, Michael." The just awakening old men and women waved to her with their pruning fingers. She continued to the third floor.
"Good morning Madame…" Ellen said gracefully as she kissed one of the pruned hands she passed by on the third floor.
"Oh, Nellie, where are you always going in a hurry?"
"Work, Madame!" she called as she ran down the stairs to the second floor.
"Come back for tea! There's a nice gentleman coming to fix the elevator! I'll invite him to tea too!" Ellen barely heard her; she was on her way to the first floor when the Madame was done talking.
"Goodbye everyone!" She sung as she ran out the door. In a combined effort of momentum and gravity, she tripped and landed on top of a man.
"Oh…sorry sir!" she looked up at him. He was tall with cropped short brown hair, which looked fine until she added the mud. His eyes were brown, but auric somehow. He simply smiled and helped Ellen up.
"Thank you so much," she noticed he carried a small toolkit. "Are you here to fix the elevator?"
"Yup, that would be my job!" he responded enthusiastically.
Ellen laughed. "Good luck with that, I tried for months and only managed to make it go as far as the third floor, Mrs. Sobczak gets her jollies by playing bellhop. It gets stuck sometimes because the walls aren't that wide, so it screeches a lot whenever someone uses it. If you even attempt to try and free it sometimes-
"It falls?"
"Yes, I see you're well informed about your business. But you'll need a bigger toolbox than that."
"Toolbox?" He looked at his kit. "Oh! This is my lunch!" He laughed nervously. She gave him quizzical look.
"I'll tell you what, if you fix it up, not only will I replaced your jacket, but I'll treat you to lunch when you get done!" She stood up, "But for now, I have to go- Oh! What's your name by the way?"
"Alphonse Elric" he smiled. "And you…?"
"Uh…um...Nelle…Nelle…Lockman?" Ellen had never though of a last name. Alphonse laughed.
"Nellie, you're a bad liar…"
As far as you know, "Well if you fix that elevator I'll tell you my real name. Deal? OK thanks bye!" Ellen ran off before he could ask anymore questions. She was already late as it is, and she absolutely hated the special punishment the 'boss', had for being late…
A/N: Poland and Germany may have tolerated each other in this time period, but as you'll see (through Ellen), there were…some feelings of disdain when it came towards what they thought of each other behind closed doors.
Glossary
Pabianice—was a significant town that was finally 'occupied' by Germany in May 1942. Many people who fought back to defend those being sent to death camps (Chelmno) were killed along side the ones who were intentionally killed.