Chapter 9

Wendy Elric

AN: Underlines denote speaking in German.

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'What was that saying, again?' Winry mused to herself. 'About when you hit rock bottom, the only place left to go is up?'

'They were wrong!' she thought viciously, wrapping the blanket around her body as she prepared to settle herself in the lee of a bridge to sleep. 'The only "rock bottom" is being dead! While you're alive, it can always get worse!'

Perhaps these thoughts were overly cynical, but they made her feel slightly better. With a slight huff, she tucked the edges of the blanket under her body to anchor it, and tried to ignore the hard ground beneath her as she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

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Dresser Wanted – Apply Within

Winry eyed the sign, measuring her options. What did she really have to lose?

But on the other hand, she didn't really know what a dresser was. Weren't they the people who helped actors? Or was that something else?

She'd been on the street for about three days, but was already beginning to feel the tinge of desperation common to the homeless. At first, her main worry was Eddie – Leeson could still throw him out, couldn't he? But when she visited him, she learned that – though Leeson hadn't been happy about it – Roy had pointed out that the public wouldn't look too kindly on him throwing a child onto the streets, especially if the child already had a couple willing to look after him.

While Winry was relieved, she couldn't help but be a little bitter. It mattered if he chucked the kid out, but not that he'd thrown the kid's foster mother out?

Winry shook her head to dislodge those thoughts, and knocked on the door of the small house.

The door cracked open, and she found herself looking a dark, liquid brown eye. "Yes?"

"Umm...the sign outside..." Winry stuttered, unsure if she was talking to her potential employer or a servant.

"Of course, come in."

The door opened, revealing a small woman with olive skin and long, jet-black hair. For a moment, Winry's voice failed her. The face, the features, the colouring...she was certain she was staring at this world's version of Paninya. Except the long, elegant dress the woman was wearing told her this would probably be a very different Paninya to the girl she'd met in Rush Valley.

"Have a seat," the woman said, gesturing at the table and chairs.

Winry did so, and the woman took the chair opposite her.

"First off, my stage name is Lily Passion, but my real name is Mary Dunkelt. Call me Mary."

"Winry Rockbell," Winry smiled, shaking the proffered hand.

"Now, Winry, let's be perfectly honest with each other," Mary began. "I'm difficult to work for. I'm fussy, I'm obsessed with my work and with going out with any of my various boyfriends. So my dresser is going to be more like a personal maid than just someone to help me into my clothes. You will need to help me rehearse, organise my appointments with hairdressers, jewelers and the like, as well as making sure none of the dates set by my boyfriends mesh. It may not sound like much now, but you must remember that a dresser travels with her actress, and I can tell you it will get very tiring, very quickly."

"So, now that I've been honest with you, it's your turn to be honest with me. What is your experience level, do you think you can perform those duties, and is there anything else I should know about you?"

Winry took a deep breath. "My experience is absolutely nothing. But I'm fairly desperate for a job, and will gladly take any I'm given. And you shouldn't worry about an extensive training period – I've always been a very quick learner. I see no problem with the duties you've mentioned, I've worked far harder jobs."

'Like those that require you to stay up all night making a mechanical arm.'

"I'm quite independent, at times I probably border on insubordinate," Winry continued. "I've got a stubborn streak, and my level of education is significantly above average. I've lived on the streets, so I can take care of myself, in the sense of both mental dexterity and physical altercations. I'm something of a perfectionist, and if you give me this job, I can promise you I will work to the best of my abilities."

Mary hadn't moved during her speech, save the occasional blink. When Winry finally fell silent, her blank expression shifted at last, breaking into a smile eerily reminiscent of Paninya, despite the fact that their personalities were miles apart.

"Well, Winry, I expect you're the liveliest person to walk in my door in years. If I have a weakness, it's that I simply adore excitement, and you practically bubble with it – you're hired!"

"I am?"

"Now, come over here and we'll get started. First, you need to learn the names of these garments, so when I ask for them I don't get a blank look in return..."

Winry listened attentively, making mental notes, hardly able to believe she'd been hired just because she was 'exciting'. Not that she was complaining – Mary would be infinitely more pleasurable to work with than Leeson.

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"Now, repeat after me," Mary instructed. "Es ist ein schöner Tag."

"Es ist ein schöner Tag."

"Very good. Now, using your current command of the German language, can you tell me what you just said?"

Winry's brows wrinkled. "Um...I said...it was a nice day?"

"Bravo, Winry. I tell you, you weren't boasting when you said you were a fast learner."

Apparently, Mary was from Germany, and while she could speak perfectly without the slightest trace of an accent on stage, she didn't want to do so in her free time. So, Winry was getting a crash course in speaking German from her.

Winry had always thought she'd be rubbish at learning a new language. But Mary gave her lessons every night, without fail, and because she insisted on speaking German to her at any other time, Winry found herself picking it up out of sheer necessity.

It had been several months since she'd first been fired, and Winry was a few days off turning twenty. She saw Eddie, Roy and Liza whenever she could, which was often, to her immense relief. While she longed to see more of her surrogate son, she also understood that travelling to the far reaches of the country on a regular basis didn't exactly promote stability. Even if the theatre group was based in London, they often performed elsewhere. So he stayed with Roy and Liza.

Winry had gotten the hang of being a dresser very quickly. It had been a rocky beginning, but now she felt at ease with the theatre group – performers and stage hands alike. Of course, there were people she didn't get along with, but Winry figured there were always going to be jerks in the world, wherever she went.

Like Darleen Le'veu, for instance. Mary was the 'prima donna', that is, the woman who took the leading roles, while Darleen always took the second female. But she was one of those people who were arrogantly confident they deserved a higher position, and had no qualms about voicing their opinion. Sometimes Winry just wanted to grab the over-dramatic woman by the shoulders, shake her hard, and scream 'the world does not revolve around you!'

But other than the occasional run-in with Darleen, Winry now found her life surprisingly smooth-going.

'Maybe there really is something to that saying about hitting rock-bottom and then going up.'

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"I cannot believe this!" Mary bellowed, sweeping into her dressing room and collapsing on the couch.

"What's the matter?" Winry asked in dutiful German, bringing her stressed employer a glass of water.

"Darleen is throwing another hissy fit," Mary sighed, "Insists that she won't perform until she 'gets what her talent deserves'. It's utter nonsense, of course. That woman has hardly any talent to speak of in the first place. Honestly, Winry, you show more feeling when you're helping me learn my lines than she ever has on the stage-"

Suddenly, Mary's voice ground to a halt. Her eyes lit up. "That's it!"

"What's 'it'?"

"You!" Mary exclaimed, "You'll do it! You'll play Darleen's part!"

"Woah, woah, woah! Hold up here one second, let me make sure I understand what you're saying here," Winry interjected. "You're saying you want me – a dresser – to take on the second female role in the play!"

"That's exactly what I'm saying! Think about it, Winry – you have far more talent than Darleen, you've already learnt most of the lines from helping me rehearse, and you're a far nicer person – although that isn't saying much, considering what a witch she is."

"You...you really think I can do it?" Winry stammered.

"Of course I do! Where's the manager, we'll start discussing it right now!"

"You really think he'll go for it?" Winry asked as Mary dragged her out the door.

"Darleen's hissy fits have been known to last long enough to delay openings. He'll jump at the chance to recruit someone less high-maintenance. Not that I think you're worth less, my dear, but you're a lot less demanding and a lot less arrogant – think of it as a compliment."

"So...I might be an actress by this time next week?"

"I practically guarantee it!"

Winry couldn't help smiling. She thought she liked this idea.

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Two weeks on, Winry still couldn't contain her disbelief that Mary had been right. The manager had loved the idea, and Winry had performed for the first time on her twentieth birthday. She found it astonishing that she'd even had a modicum of acting ability, even more so that she'd remembered her lines.

But what she found most astonishing of all was that the crowd had loved her.

"Fabulous performance, Winry, as usual," Mary crowed, breezing into her dressing room.

Winry looked up from the wash basin. In most actresses, make-up was a luxury to accentuate their features on the stage. In Winry's case, it was a necessity to cover up the scars on her breast and cheek.

She smiled at Mary's enthusiasm. "Thanks, Mary."

"You haven't forgotten your German, have you?" Mary asked in German, her eyes piercing.

Winry laughed, and answered in kind. "Me? Forget my German? I'm astonished you would even think such a thing!"

"Good girl," Mary praised, then sighed dramatically, "And I still think you need a better stage name."

"Hey, he asked out of the blue, and it was the first thing I could think of. But I've gotten attached to it now," Winry defended.

When the manager asked her for her stage name, she had cast around desperately for any name other than her own. The only things that had popped into her head were visions of Wendy and Ed. So she'd blurted the name 'Wendy Elric' before she could even think about it.

But she was telling the truth when she said she'd gotten attached to it. It felt natural somehow.

"Well, I suppose it's your name," Mary said, huffing as though mortified.

Winry, who knew by now not to take her seriously, simply smiled again. "There any particular reason you came charging into my dressing room?"

"Absolutely, my dear." Mary produced a thick script with a flourish. "Our new script."

Winry picked it up, glimpsing the title 'Phantom Of The Opera'. She flicked it open, examining the cast list.

"Hmmm," she murmured, "It says here that Charlotte's playing Madame Giry, so I guess that makes me Carlotta..."

"Not in a million years!" Mary snapped. "I'm playing Carlotta, you're playing Christine."

"But that's the leading role!" Winry protested. "You're the leading lady!"

"Generally, yes, but it's also about what roles would suit us. Look at Carlotta as a character – I just can't see you as a selfish, bitchy drama queen, Winry. Carlotta's character is about as far from you as you can get. But Christine, on the other hand...she's a modest, selfless, and compassionate young woman – a role that suits you down to the ground."

Winry tried not to blush at the implied comment. "Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure, my dear. Besides," Mary confided in a mock-whisper, "I've always longed to act like Darleen did, just to see what it felt like. And the role of Carlotta is absolutely perfect for just that kind of behaviour."

"I'll play Christine," Winry acquiesced, before joking. "Now get out here so I can start learning my lines."

"A workaholic, as always," Mary said.

"By the way," the older woman continued, "I've been dying to ask you...what's this?" She held up Ed's journal.

"It's a journal."

"That's written in gibberish!"

"It has sentimental value."

"Just like that thirty-something pound toolkit?"

"Don't be dissing my mementos..."

The friendly argument went back and forth like a tennis match until Winry left to meet Eddie, Liza and Roy in the park.

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Ed sighed as he pulled the final suitcase from the train. "Well, we're here," he said unnecessarily, looking around at the foggy streets of London. "Now where's this guy supposed to live again?"

Al unfolded the scrap of paper with the rocket scientist's address on it, waving it in Ed's face. "Unlike some people, I actually wrote it down."

"Where are we staying?" Noah asked.

Ed realised that, with the voices of London surrounding them, he and Al had slipped into English, a language Noah still wasn't completely fluent in.

"We're staying at a place called The Reagent," Ed supplied. "We'll only be here a few months, at most."

"You think this 'Marcel' will be as bad as Einchen?" Al asked, speaking in German in an effort not to leave Noah out of the discussion.

"Let's hope not," Ed snorted.

Einchen was the engineer who recommended Marcel to them. Basically a nice guy, but of the distinct opinion that women were below him in all ways. The few times he'd visited them, he'd been very disparaging to Noah, suggesting that women didn't have the intelligence to comprehend what they were discussing.

Several times Ed had caught himself thinking, 'You think women can't understand engineering, Einchen? Why don't you come to Amestris and meet a friend of mine – Winry Rockbell. She'd set you straight on gender equality. First, she'd wrench you for even implying she's inferior, then she'd leave in you in the dust with her knowledge of mechanics.'

It wasn't the first time he'd caught himself wishing Winry was with him – usually for more emotional reasons though, then mere mechanical knowledge. But he told himself it would be selfish. He'd seen the way this world treated women, and he didn't want to think of Winry being treated like that. He'd seen the dispirited, beaten-down look many women had after years of being looked on as property instead of human beings, and knew it would break his heart to see Winry as anything other than her feisty, argumentative self.

All in all, it was probably better for her that she never had to see this world.

It didn't make him any less lonely, though. Yes, he had Al and Noah, but Winry had always been...special. He thought of her before he went to sleep at night, trying to remember every detail about her. The exact colour of her eyes, the smell of her hair, the shape of her smile, the warmth of her body whenever she hugged him.

Frankly, it was torture. Torture to remind himself nightly of what he could never have, but it didn't stop him. Far more frightening than the pain of remembering her, was the fear that one day he wouldn't be able to remember her. That one night, he'd lie on his bed and realise he was no longer sure of the exact number of ear piercings she had sported.

It was six, incidentally. Two in her left earlobe, two in her right earlobe, and two in shell of her right ear. The earrings she wore were always silver. Ed wondered if that had changed by now.

Realising this train of thought would only lead to depression, Ed tried to drag his attention back to Al and Noah. They were gathered around a poster, talking in low tones.

"What are you guys looking at?"

They stepped aside, giving Ed a clear view of a poster announcing the theatric performance of 'Phantom Of The Opera'.

"We should go see this!" Al exclaimed.

"Al, we're here to see Marcel," Ed reminded.

"That's no reason we can't go see this," Al persisted. "Come on, brother...we hardly have any fun anymore."

Ed looked at Noah. "You okay with this?"

She smiled. "I think it would be enjoyable, don't you?"

"Fine," Ed sighed, "We'll drop our luggage off and buy tickets somewhere."

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AN: I am aware that 'Phantom Of The Opera' was not being performed in the early 1900's, but it happens to be the only play I really know well enough to discuss castings, characters, etc. And plus, there's this song that...well, you'll see in the next chapter.