The Right Choice

Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Summary: "Did I make the right choice? Going into the Army? Did I do the right thing?" She asked. He brushed tears off her cheeks. "I know that if you'd never been in the Army, you never would have come to Eureka, and we wouldn't have the life we have now. I can't imagine my life without you, Jojo." What if Jo hadn't gone into the Army? If she hadn't come to Eureka? Would she and Zane still be together? NOT tied into the DWM universe, but started as a writing prompt from the last paragraph of my fic The Strong Are Few.

"If you'd never been in the Army, you never would have come to Eureka, and we wouldn't have the life we have now. I can't imagine my life without you, Jojo."

- Zane, The Strong Are Few

The music of Tchaikovsky's Arabian floated throughout the dance studio, and the pair playing the roles of the Arabian Coffee- the Prince and Princess of Arabia in the Land of Sweets- entered the studio, parting their attendants, who fled offstage as the pair began their pas de duex. Her bound feet touched down to the stage, and she began what little dance was in the pas de duex. The majority of the Arabian Coffee scene was lifts and tricks, not the typical Pointe dancing that the show centered around.

Though the Arabian was perhaps the most beautiful dance in the show- and the pair dancing the roles were equally beautiful together- making the dance all that more exquisite. The rest of the cast gathered in the studio watched in awed silence, watching the chemistry between the pair spark and sizzle. As the dance ended and the last notes of the music faded away, a slow applause began, and the pair stood, taking their bows.

When rehearsal ended two hours later, she dashed out of the studio and down the stairs, bursting out into the muggy New York air and hailing a taxi. She clambered into the taxi, headed home to her apartment. Once she reached her apartment building, she burst through into her apartment door, headed for her laptop. It was nine-fifteen, and she was late. She'd be lucky to catch her; most likely, she was sound asleep.

"Come on, come on. Pick up."

"Hello?" A smile lit her face as her pen pal appeared on the screen. The girl looked half asleep, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

"Hey Zoe! Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Jo!" The girl was instantly wide awake, a look of pure elation on her face. "What took you so long? I've been waiting for hours!"

"Sorry, Zo. Rehearsal went longer than I thought." Jo yawned. "How was school?"

The girl shrugged. "Brainiacs, exams, the usual. You know." Jo nodded, getting up and going into her adjacent kitchen to fix a cup of tea. She listened as the teenager talked, adding honey and lemon juice to her cup and stirring before returning to her desk. "... So, how was rehearsal?"

Jo shrugged. "It was good. Numb toes, lifts, bitchy ballerinas, the usual."

"When are you going to let me come visit you in New York?" Jo sipped her tea for a moment.

"You'll have to talk to your dad about that, Zo. I don't know whether he'd like it if you came to stay in New York with some stranger you've never met before and started talking to through your class's penpal program."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm sure dad will-"

"Zoe, I said lights-" The girl turned to see her dad enter the room. "What... what are you doing?" He cried, entering the room.

"Dad! I... I was just talking to Jo-"

"Jo? Who the hell is this Jo?" He asked, going to the computer. "Who are you?" Jo backed away as the man got right into the webcam.

"Dad, this is Jo. My penpal. From my class's penpal program. She's a ballerina with the New York Ballet." The girl said, as her dad moved her out of the way and took her seat.

"I want to know who you really are before I let you talk to my daughter!" The man cried; slowly, Jo scooted closer to the desk.

"What do you want to know, Mr. Carter?"

"You don't have to go through the third degree, Jo-" Zoe started.

"Back off Zoe!" Carter snapped; the teen plopped onto her bed, watching. "Who are you? Are you really a ballerina? Do you really live in New York? I want to know everything."

Jo sighed. "Fine. My name is... Josefina Kathleen Lupo; I'm twenty-four, and I'm a prima ballerina with the New York Ballet Company. Um... I grew up in a military family, my dad was a colonel- Army, as are my three older brothers. My mom passed away when I was ten, and I dove into dance. Got accepted to Juillard at thirteen and became an Corphyee with the New York Ballet at fifteen. Zoe and I met through Telsa's pen pal program."

Carter listened, letting the information sink in. "Prove it."

"What?"

"Prove that you're really a ballerina."

"Dad!" Zoe cried, getting up. Jo stared at him, shocked, before shaking her head.

"Okay." And she got up, going to her sofa and pulling her pointe shoes on. "Well?" Carter shook his head.

"Dance a little."

"Dad, stop!"

"If you're really a ballerina, you'll do a little of your... foot dancing stuff." Carter said, nodding towards her feet.

"Fine. What do you want me to dance to?"

"I don't care, just dance." After a moment, Jo went to her stereo and slipped a cd into the player. She flipped through the listing, before landing on one and pulling off her jacket. Then, she went to the middle of her living room and did a few quick warm up exercises, before going into the dance for the Arabian. Carter's mouth fell open and Zoe watched in amazement as Jo went through the motions of her pas de deux sans her partner. The ease and rhythm with which she moved was fluid, graceful, and the young ballerina soon became lost in the music. Eventually, she stopped, turning the music off and walking towards the webcam en pointe.

"Happy now?" Jo asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hello? Mr. Carter?" She glanced at Zoe, who stood behind her dad. "I think we broke him."

Zoe couldn't help giggling. "Wow, that was amazing. He has to let me come stay with you in New York now, Jo." Jo shrugged.

"I'd better get to bed. I have class tomorrow morning and then all night rehearsal, so I don't know when or if I'll be back on. Talk to you later, Zo. Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter." When she shut the webcam off, Carter turned to his daughter, snapping out of his shock.

"Well, dad? I think you owe me something."

"What?" Carter asked, confused.

"An apology- which I can pass on to Jo. Oh, and a plane ticket to New York."