Chapter 1
Uniform
Summary: Having found a cottage in the woods, Bella found a bit of her past and future.
Beta: Mistletoe
The cabin where they stopped had been clearly abandoned for years. Barely checking if anyone was inside, James went to hunt in the surrounding forest, leaving Bella to explore all the nooks and crannies.
She moved slowly around the house, rummaging through the closets and cupboards. All she found were musty, old-fashioned woman's clothes, fancy porcelain so worn out that the pattern was hardly recognizable, crochet serviettes on every surface, mirrors in solid, gold-colored frames, still lifes depicting massive bouquets, and dust—dust everywhere.
One of the doors disclosed a steep, narrow staircase, overgrown with cobwebs. Having found nothing of interest downstairs, Bella decided to explore the attic. Fighting the disgust, she made her way through the webs, thick and heavy with dust, pushing them aside before they clung to her face. The wooden stairs creaked with her every step. A crooked door at the top opened with the slightest of pushes.
The interior made Bella take an involuntary step back, almost falling down the stairs. Two of the four walls of the attic were covered with mirrors. A wooden bar ran along their whole length.
After a long moment of hesitation, Bella stepped over a high threshold into the room. The door closed behind her with a soft thump. Overcoming the tightness in her chest, Bella came up to the smooth surface.
What little light that filtered through the small, dirty windows showed the thick layer of dust on the mirrors. Looking past the grime, Bella saw her own reflection. Quickly averting her eyes, she spotted something else: the old pictures shoved behind the mirror's edge.
Bella came to look at them. She saw a ballerina in a deep bow, half-sitting on the floor, with her fine-featured face turned up to the photographer. Bella's attention was arrested by her eyes: triumphant and joyous; filled with that kind of self-satisfaction that comes with achieving one's aim. The next pictures showed the ballerina among the enormous bouquets of flowers in what must have been her dressing room, the next one—her standing by an old-fashioned car with a small dog under her arm, waving at someone outside the frame. The biggest picture showed her on stage, dressed in a black costume with tutu made of feathers, with an arrogantly poised head and a slight curl to her delicate lips.
"Hello, Odile," said Bella quietly, touching the picture. "You were so much trouble."
Dragging her finger along the barre, Bella looked around the little studio: nothing except a simple, wooden chair and chest.
Bella sat criss-cross in front of the chest and opened it slowly. It was filled to the brim with layers of tulle of different colors, satin ribbons, shawls and pointe shoes. Bella dug into the treasury and started to lay out all the pieces on the floor next to her. The faded fabrics still had an air of grandeur to them, the satin stretched over the toe box still gleamed in the faint light.
When her fingers glided over the feathers of a black tutu, Bella stood up.
"All right. Don't look," she said to the woman in the pictures and wrapped the skirt around her waist, slightly above her jeans. The costume was fitted for a slimmer person, but Bella didn't care. She tied the ribbons as best as she could and moved the tutu around, pushing the gap to her back. "Much better."
Pulling herself up so that her posture would match the refined costume, Bella tried a few positions for the arms.
Don't stick out your elbows, Bella, her former professor's voice sounded in her head. Round, Bella, they have to be round!
Round elbows seemed to be one of the marvels of this world, yet the woman who had lived here had managed that. Bella stared at her graceful pose.
Curious what kind of exercises she would still be able to do, Bella tried the five positions of the feet. She had never managed a full turnout at the hips and ankles, and after all those years, the moves were less than correct, but somehow, with the glamorous skirt on, everything looked better. After a few repetitions her movements became more fluid and confident.
Bella smiled and rose en pointe. Her worn sneakers didn't provide enough support but for a few basic steps.
The layers of feathers in her skirt bounced slightly with her every move, giving an impression of more skilled performance. A pirouette must be something that would bring the tutu to its full advantage, Bella decided. One careful whip of her left leg to the side and then back sent her body into a spin. The feathers rustled and bobbed.
"Nice, Bella. Now, with life," she ordered herself and spun several times with brief breaks between each turn. Her eyes caught her own image every time she returned, her arms moving fluently, her working leg resting in one place, according to the rules, and her skirt flowing like a five-year-old girl's dream.
Bella laughed out and stopped abruptly, feeling giddy.
"Show them what you're made of," she said, panting slightly.
She eyed the room carefully and then went to stand in one of the corners.
"You only live once," she muttered and made a step forward, taking a swing with her other leg. Her body pivoted and she made another step forward. It was quicker and the whip more forcible. She bit her lip and took another step, still quicker. Her arms kept on opening and closing almost without her thinking about it. The consequent pirouettes carried her across the room. Elated by the fluidity of her movements, Bella risked a glance into the mirror and crashed into a solid barrier.
"Brings back memories, doesn't it? And you fell into my arms just like you had done then," she heard.
James hold her up to his chest, crushing the ancient skirt between them. Bella looked up at him, catching her breath. Her head spun.
James' eyes slid to her lips, and he bowed to kiss her. Bella closed her eyes and returned the kiss. A slightly coppery flavor tinged her senses when his lips parted hers. James shivered and kissed her harder.
When he broke away, he took a few steps back.
"Brings back memories," he repeated, barely above a whisper.
"I told you not to kiss me after you've..." Bella said between her gasps for air.
James glanced at her mouth.
"It's your blood."
Bella touched her lip where her teeth had bitten into the flesh when she collided with him.
"Oh." She licked it.
James watched the dart of her tongue as the drop of blood disappeared into her mouth.
"Yes, oh," he said harshly. "One of these days I won't be able to stop myself. Aren't you afraid?" He looked her straight in the eyes.
Bella scrunched up her nose and took off the tutu. They had this conversation much too often.
"No."
She placed everything back in the chest and closed the heavy lid.
"What if I got carried away?"
"I will be dead and you will be sorry."
"Sorry?" James assumed his nonchalant pose, with his hands jammed into the pockets of his worn out jeans. "Me? No. I'd find myself a new human to play with."
"Just like you did all those times before."
"Exactly."
"Only none of your human toys survived a day with you." Bella walked past James, opened the door and started to walk down the stairs.
James squeezed past her in the narrow staircase and walked backwards in front of her.
"It doesn't prove anything," he said and raised his brows, looking at her provocatively.
"No?"
"No."
"Let's see."
Bella reached out to him, and James immediately stopped. Propping herself on his shoulders, Bella kissed him delicately. His arms went around her and he kissed her back.
Bella broke away and rested her cheek against his temple.
"You were right. It doesn't prove anything," she whispered, hiding her smile.
She felt his hands sliding under her t-shirt on her back, just above her waist.
He muttered something unintelligible against her neck and then said, "You know, you could always perform that Black Swan for me some time."
Bella sighed exasperatedly, freed herself from his embrace and started to descend.
"Odile wasn't a swan. Odette was. During the day."
"Don't change the subject. We could stay here for a while and you could wear that feathery thing again, without your jeans for a change." He caught up with her. "What do you say?"
Bella smiled without turning around to look at him.
"I say that you really want to see me breaking my leg again, don't you?"
They exited the staircase and went into the sitting room.
"Come on, I'll catch you." He grabbed her by her upper arm to demonstrate the move.
Bella swayed to the side and propped herself against an armchair. From between its backrest and the wall, a walking stick slid out and fell to the floor.
"If this is how you're going to do it—" she began, bending down to pick it up, only to knock a picture frame from a chest of drawers with the stick.
She groaned with frustration and opened her mouth to comment further, but after one glance at the picture she had in her hand she fell silent. There was an old woman looking at her from the frame. She had a bitter look in her beady eyes, not accepting her fate, longing for her glorious past. She seemed to be hidden inside the shell of her shrunk, wrinkled body, propped against the walking stick.
"This is how it ends, Odile," Bella whispered, putting the picture in its place and turned to James. "Let's get going."
2008, October - 2010, April
A/N: Odile and Odette are the characters from "The Swan Lake". Odile is sometimes wrongly referred to as "Black Swan", the costume often adding to the confusion.