Rather short oneshot, set pre-season one. I've been practicing drawing anime style, and I use Layla a lot, and that gets me in the mood to write her. Enjoy!

Layla winced as she sailed through the air and released her hold on the trapeze, remaining steadfastly silent as she twirled lightly through the air before catching onto another bar. She felt her wrist burn in protest but stubbornly refused to let go, instead slowly easing herself up onto the moving bar to stand above her safety net, a small smile gracing her lips as she sighed softly. Not perfect, by any means, but she had many hours to practice yet.

Layla sighed again, lowering her head and loosening her grip on the trapeze. She let herself slip into a sitting position and glanced cautiously at her wrist. It was red and swollen, and she was lucky it wasn't broken. Her understudy was up and ready to take her part tomorrow, but for such a minor injury, Layla had no such intentions of stepping aside.

If she did that, her father wouldn't see her perform.

Yes, he hash told her he was busy and wouldn't be able to come. Yes, he had said he was in meetings all through tomorrow and was flying out late tomorrow night. But she had to be ready, in case he did come. She had to be ready.

With another sigh, Layla stood and shrugged off her thoughts, forcing herself to launch into another practice routine. She closed her eyes, moving about the air through memory. She felt the cool air blowing her hair into a golden fan behind her, catching and releasing trapezes as light as air, movements as simple as breathing. She lightly descended in a free fall only to catch herself in the quick movement, pulling herself upright, allowing the comforting movements to ease the pain in her wrist.

Lost in the world of the trapeze, Layla did not hear or notice the presence of someone was watching her. She continued her practice, never once opening her eyes. She soared through the air, flying, reaching out to raise herself higher-

And a hand clasped around her wrist.

Layla opened her eyes to see Yuri crouching above her, holding her uninjured wrist, pulling her back through the air. "Yuri," she murmured, giving him a slight smile.

He nodded softly at her, allowing the trapeze to slowly sway to rest without letting her fly off on a tangent to continue her flight. "Perhaps tonight is not the best time to continue your yearly tradition?" he asked, nodding at her injured wrist. "You were advised against this."

"My yearly tradition? Yuri, this is my every night." Layla kicked, bringing the almost still trapeze back into motion again, preparing to reach out and grab her tenuous thread at escaping this conversation. "You know as well as I that a night without practicing is dangerous. And with the Circus Festival approaching? No." She kicked again, gaining enough momentum to grab onto a passing swing and spin away from Yuri.

Yuri followed her path, both moving past each other, Layla letting herself fall backwards so she was hanging by her legs to avoid his hand. "Layla, you know what I'm referring to."

Layla sighed, coming to a halt again, watching him calmly from her still upside down position. Yuri slowly stopped as well and she closed her eyes, letting out a breath. "How was the party?"

"Beautiful deflection, Layla. And you know that it was cancelled."

Layla shrugged before swing herself upright. "I cancel it every year. Father still throws it."

"You're right. He talked you up to everyone but me. Promises every year that he'll talk you out of silly business any day now."

Layla sighed, shaking her head. "How much money did he give you this time?"

"I didn't count. And I don't know what I could have done with it, can't find it; must have slipped out of my hand on my way here."

Layla hide her face with her hair, unable to hold back a small smile. "Oh, did it now? Into a fire? A shredder?"

"Perhaps. Accidents can always happen."

"I'm sure." She sighed, then jumped lightly to a higher trapeze. "He still approves of you, then?"

Yuri laughed coolly, tossing strands of his long hair over his shoulder with a quick movement of his neck. "Hardly. He thinks I'm a bad influence on you. That I'm perpetuating this phase of yours."

Layla had heard this many, many times over the years, but that didn't stop it from angering her again. "Kaleido Stage is not a phase, it's-"

"Like it or not, Layla, it is. Perhaps a less immature word should be used, and you're not going to quit and leave to become a famous actress and model, as he envisions, but you're not going to be a Kaleido Star for the rest of your life. You'll move on to something else. You're just not satisfied as a Kaleido Star yet. You haven't done everything you can."

"So, what, then. You expect me to quit once we win the Circus Festival?"

Yuri laughed again. "Of course not, Layla. You're not quite as shallow as your father is and know there is more to life than a competition. And, so confident, Layla? You think the Golden Phoenix will win?"

"No. I think our Golden Phoenix will win."

Yuri grinned. "As touching as that may be, you can't spin with a hurt wrist. Take a break, Layla. You've hardly stopped moving the entire time we've talked."

Layla tightened her grip just before she had been about to jump, remaining still, the trapeze swaying from the extra force of her kick. She'd hurt her wrist this morning in rehearsal, when a young, new performer had jumped at the wrong time and ran into her in mid air. She had done her best to avoid him and had luckily avoiding anything more than a sprained wrist, yet rehearsal had stopped immediately, and she had been advised to not use her wrist at all tonight in order for her to be ready to carry the show tomorrow.

The problem with that was that she would never cease her practice for something so trivial. The harder she practice, the better she became- and the better she became, the more likely it was that her father would some day agree to watch her on Kaleido Stage.

With a sad sigh, Layla looked down at Yuri, who was sitting on a bar and watching her calmly. She jumped lightly off her bar to fall past Yuri. He reached and caught her before she hit the safety net. She hung below him, suspend in mid air, the position as natural to her as breathing. "One practice, Yuri? I've been working all day- but I can only do so much without a partner."

He sighed regretfully before nodding. "Fine. One run through of the Golden Phoenix. But then, you must rest. We have a performance tomorrow and if you keep practicing much longer you only hurt your wrist more."

Layla nodded without ever really promising to rest. They both knew she wouldn't. But it was their routine, and neither wanted to break it.

Their maneuver was as perfect as ever. Her spins were quick and tight, her release was smooth as a well-oiled machine, her dramatic flourish, the picture of a phoenix. And still, Layla felt that slight hint of dissatisfaction when Yuri caught her, when he pulled her up to stand beside him.

Always dependent on an other. If Yuri wasn't there to catch her, she would fall.

Her father had time to throw her a birthday party but not time enough to give her the only present she's ever wanted. Convinced that she would never make a career doing what she loved; that she was doing nothing worth being proud of- that she was nothing were being proud of.

She couldn't be dependent on Yuri to catch her. She had to be independent. If she couldn't even trust her father to love her for who she was and not who he wanted her to be, how could she trust Yuri to always be there waiting for her? How could trust anyone to ever follow through on their promises?

Layla watched as Yuri as he bid her good night and left her practice room before morosely turning to look at the trapeze across from her. The Golden Phoenix. Two lovers, Juliet jumping to her Romeo, the prince catching the princess.

But she was the Golden Phoenix. Not Yuri and her, she was the Golden Phoenix. And a phoenix did not depend on her prince to catch her. The phoenix could fly on her own.

Layla suddenly launched into action, jumping lightly from bar to bar before twisting around, hair swirling behind her, falling into rest as suddenly as she had erupted into movement as she gazed calmly at the trapeze waiting across from her. It looked almost odd, without Yuri standing there, waiting to catch her.

But Yuri wouldn't always be there.

And so she abruptly threw herself forward, catching onto her special trapeze and beginning to spin. She spun faster and faster, her stinging wrist beginning to burn. She closed her eyes in a hard-disciplined concentration, flying forward in practiced movements, spreading her arms as the winged phoenix and flipping through the air before reaching up for Yuri, grasping for his hand.

She missed the bar by half an inch and sailed forward to crash into the safety net. Her sudden flight ended as quickly as it had began, Layla bounced lightly up and down for a few moments, breathing hard, her chest heaving as she gazed at the ceiling.

This was going to be hard… harder than she had expected. But if she could do this, then her father might come see her performance. Then her father might watch her tomorrow or at least at the Circus Festival.

At least he'd see her perform once.

And so she climbed back up to try again, to spread her wings as the independent phoenix rather than the caged bird. She wanted to fly freely, not to move in these practiced movements. She and Yuri weren't Romeo and Juliet; Yuri wasn't boy willing to do anything for a girl's looks and she wasn't an insecure child looking for a man to protect her.

She was a woman seeking to gain her father's approval and pride.

Not only that, but she had to prove that she could make it on her own- that she didn't always need someone in the shadows offering her a helping hand of a modeling job or a way out of her 'playful position as an acrobat'.

And so Layla flew forward again and again, reaching constantly for the bar, her fingertips always soaring just beneath it as she fell in a cascade of gold to hit the net. And she always climbed back up again to try once more.

The hours passed, filled with numerous failed attempts. and the phoenix's wings did not spread

Finally, sore and and stumbling with exhaustion, Layla moved up to try one final time. She took a deep breath, stilling her trembling muscles and gazing calmly at the trapeze across from her. She had to do this. If she could not, then she would always be dependent on others to catch her when she fell. She was always waiting for Yuri to catch her- never able to catch herself.

She was jumping to her Yuri, even if he wasn't here. She was not reaching out a trapeze bar, she was reaching out to him. Reaching out to prove that she was worth it and her father wasn't right when he said told her to quit.

And she flew forward again. She spun faster and jumped harder. She soared forward, turning through the air and spreading her arms- her wings- as the golden phoenix. The wind rushed through her hair, fanning it out behind her as she flew.

Layla reached out, stretching for his hand, fighting gravity pulling her down, down, down, pulling her wings down like they were covered in tar-

And she caught the bar.

"Miss Layla!"

In her exhausted euphoria, Layla allowed herself to swing forward, still hanging from the bar, stunned. She slowly pulled herself up and looked over her shoulder to see Makkoli staring up at her in amazement from down by the door. Still panting for breath, Layla called, "Yes?"

"I… I thought Mr. Yuri caught you. That was… amazing."

Layla shook her head, then smiled. "Yuri doesn't catch me anymore."

Maybe this would be enough to get her father to come watch her perform