FINDING SPIRIT

This is set after Nina's death, so surprisingly (but not really) it's a Nina/Lily fic. Think Ghost meets Black Swan. Kind of.

Disclaimer: None of the characters from Black Swan belong to me.

Rated M for language and sexual themes that will be coming along later in the story.

Fyi: This is my first proper fan-fic, so please bear with me. Constructive criticism is appreciated. I hope you like it. If you don't, that's cool too.

Prologue: Awakening

This is a story about death. Mine, to be exact.

My name is Nina Sayers and half a year shy of 24, I plunged a fatal shard of glass into my abdomen.

To be honest, my death wasn't planned. Not by anyone. Not even by myself.

I don't mean to be morbid, or depressing, or even self-pitying. That's the last thing I want. But they say that opening up every once in a while helps keep you sane and stops you from breaking. Stops yourself from building up a giant Jenga tower of darkness that soon becomes as fragile as a feather in a sandstorm. Stops your demons from getting their deadly vice-like grip on your soul and never letting go.

I wish I figured that out sooner.

I look back, and the Nina I was when I was alive... it's like we're two completely different people. Ironically enough, death has opened my eyes up to what living is all about. And boy was I doing it all wrong.

The afterlife isn't as riveting as you might imagine. Especially when you're stuck where I am.

I'm not in Hell if that's what you're thinking. I'm not in Heaven either. Though the two do exist, I'm told. I guess its Purgatory. Minus the indefinite amount of pain, torment, and everything else that is expected in purgatory...

I don't understand why I'm in this numbingly quietly place of limbo and not somewhere else. I don't understand why I'm anywhere if I'm supposed to be dead. I'd never put much thought into life after death, but I always assumed it just went black; that your body was no longer living and your soul was free to be present in the universe as the salty fresh smell of the ocean, the beautiful lone daisy in a field of green, or a bright fleck of stardust dancing among the infinite blackness. But, apparently not.

I would've thought it'd be at least a little different though. But it's exactly the same as being alive. Except no one can see me, I can't really feel anything, and there isn't anyone else like me around. The most that I've gathered so far about my situation is that a decision is being made somewhere more important than here, and I just have to wait. You can imagine my confusion when I awoke on the mattress, still on the stage. It didn't occur to me at first that the burning wet mess of blood on my dress was no longer burning, wet, or much of a mess. Just a dried up patch of colour, giving the jagged rip in my dress a gothically inspired tint of rose red.

Sitting up slowly, I look around at my surroundings and realise where I am. And in that one second of realisation, anxiety hits my stomach like a ton of bricks. The show. A million and one questions rush into my head at the very thought.

Did I finish it? Did the audience see the tear in my dress? Did I dance well enough? Did I disappoint Thomas? Did Lily dance better? Did the audience like me? Did I do it right?

My lip trembles in worry and I bite on it hard, but I feel nothing. The auditorium is empty, and the stage is still set. Has the show even happened yet? Or is this all another wicked conjuring of my imagination? No... the show must be over; the cut in my flesh gives truth to that. I think... I run my finger delicately over the break in my skin and suddenly feel as though I've been hit by a lightning storm of memories;

My mother locking me in. Hurting her to get out. Lily's face when I showed up. My fall on stage. My fight with Lily. Dragging her body away. Becoming the Black Swan. Realising that the fight never happened... Realising that I was going to die... Realising that I had achieved perfection.

But then, why I am here? And where is everyone else…? They wouldn't leave me, surely. Maybe they went to get help. But it's so quiet, and I feel fine now, it can't have been very deep- and the audience, where-…

Like I've done a dozen fouéttes, I stumble with dizziness and just have enough time to hope that I land on the mattress. But instead of falling, I am caught and held tight by a pair of arms stronger than I've ever felt. I let out a disheveled scream and push off the arms that hold me up. I fall onto my knees and try to crawl across the stage, but before I convince myself I've moved far enough away, my hands meet with a pair of shiny black shoes. I look up at the owner and shriek again, whipping my head back around my shoulder to see that the person behind me has disappeared. Before I can cry out for help, the man kneels down and puts a heavy hand over mine, cutting off my noise with a low, calm voice.

"Stop, Nina. I'm not going to hurt you."

I am petrified silent.

I hold my breath with fear and swear that I can feel tears beginning to run down my face. I don't know that that is an impossibility, yet.

"Don't be scared. I'm here to help." he says again, his voice steady, reassuring and with a twang of a European accent. English, I think.

I let out a quiet sob that I can no longer keep in and attempt to speak.

"W-who are you? Where am I? W-what's going on?" I manage to squeak out. I wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't hear me.

Instead of asking me to repeat myself, he just looks at me with the most sympathetic look in his eyes. Or, wait; is it empathy? Through my invisible tears, I can't tell.

Before he answers, I scan my eyes over his face and his body. He looks like a God. Around the same age as Thomas, maybe a little younger, but doesn't carry the same air of arrogance and accomplishment that Thomas did. His skin is tanned and beautiful. Glowing, almost. And his deep blue eyes contrast perfectly with the neat golden blonde arrangement of hair on his head. He looks dressed for an occasion, wearing a smart black 3-piece suit, bow tie and all. The man had enough class on him to match his shoes.

"My name is Sebastian," he said, answering the first of my questions.

"We are on the stage of your show. It's been only two hours since you last danced here." Sebastian continued, answering the second and tapping the floor lightly with his free hand.

I listen to his words intently, trying to make sense of them. I break the hold his eyes have on mine and look down at the cut in my dress again. It all begins to add up in my mind, but I'm avoiding the only conclusion there is. Noticing my denial, Sebastian lifts my face up to look at him, his eyes demanding mine to meet them.

"Listen to me, Nina." he says again, his voice unfaltering, "You died."

And then it all went black.

Again.

The next time I woke up, I was no longer on Leroy's renowned stage, but a pastel coloured bedroom that was beautifully coordinated to match the furniture. Just as confused, and still very scared, I cried dry tears and begged myself to wake up, convinced that I had driven myself to insanity. I was sure that in reality, this very second, I was a delusional patient in a mental asylum, or asleep in a comatosed state lying in a hospital bed, or just back at home, having another vivid nightmare/day-mare.

Anything but dead.

But as I would find out in the next few moments, I really was dead. That my last moments had been on the stage, and that I left the world with Thomas, Lily, and the entire company watching, in fact.

Funnily enough, that day I learnt to accept that I had died marks down as the first day of being the closest to normal I'd ever been.

So, yes. This is a story about my death, and how I learnt to live the 'sort-of' life I got after my death.

But this is also a story about how I was saved. Saved by a girl, with the wings of an Angel painted on her back.

So yeah. This is the Prologue. Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think. I'll try and write up the first chapter asap.

Cheers for reading.

Sky.