Everything I Do

OceansAway and Gerik's Angel

Christine bit her lip in anticipation. She had just received her letter that she had gotten the job as a dancer in the Opera House. She had already been given a dormitory room, and now was all set for dancing once again. It would feel good to stretch out her legs again to grace across the stage.

She couldn't help think, while her voice talents rotted away from silence. That talent that she almost wanted to rot away. At least then, she wouldn't have to torture herself with what ifs.

"Row four." The ballet mistress called out. That was her row. She fluttered out in pearl steps with the other eight girls in her row. She kicked out her foot high as she twirled around, and then kept going. She found herself near struggling to keep up. After all, she hadn't been a student of strict Madame Giry for well over a year. Just as she was pinching her eyes closed to picture her old teacher's face, she lost balance. She desperately grasped for her dignity, but lost it when she grabbed another girl's skirt, sending her and two others down on the floor. And suddenly, her new ballet mistress was glaring directly at her.

"Miss? What is your name?" She asked sternly.

She almost replied with Christine, but then paused, as the instructor was still glaring at her, and remembered what she had put on the form. "Aminta. Aminta Giry, Madame."

"Are you alright?"

"I...I think so, Madame."

"Then get yourself up and move to row five. You'll have to try this again. If you mess this up once more, you'll have to train harder." And then to herself, she added, "Really...those managers will hire just anyone now. And imports? Really!"

Christine sucked in her hurt and scrambled herself to her feet. If only they knew... If only she could reveal to them just who she was... They'd all be at her feet.

Crossing her arms tight to her chest, she walked over to the side stage, her ankle burning but forced to ignore it.

Christine sat at the window seat, her cheek lying against her knees that were tucked tight against her chest. Her ankle still hurt, but after such a brutal day, it was the least of her problems. She had bruises all up and down her legs, her toenails kept oozing blood, which stained her shoes. Her hair was in matted knots that she didn't have enough strength to comb out.

There was no longer any Meg to insist she could do it, or a Madame Giry to give her tutoring after ballet hours. She was on her own, struggling to keep up against all these other girls.

Hot tears stung at her eyes that refused to fall. She wouldn't cry. Crying was not the answer. It wouldn't help. It wouldn't bring in any money or bring her the comfort of home. It wouldn't take away all her problems and sew everything back together. It would solve nothing.

Therefore she laid down on her bed stiffly and closed her eyes tight, falling asleep to her mind imagining she was back in her old dormitory room, imagining where everyone would be sleeping and all the things that would surround her in the room.

Christine suffered through another week of glares and fallings, until she was alone. She had fallen asleep at the side stage hours ago when her row was finished, and no one had woken her up. The stage was dark, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't like the dark. Things of all different sorts lingered in the dark, this she now knew well. Her arms against her tight for lack of security, she started walking through the hallways with trembling, weak legs. What a mess she had gotten herself in to! This whole ordeal was an entire mistake! She had made so many in the last year. Feeling a wave of fear coming on, she started to sing to chase it away. She decided to began singing the opening scene of Hannibal, for she could then practice the ballet steps.

"With feasting and dancing and song,

Tonight in celebration,

We greet the glorious throng,

Returned to bring salvation!"

She paused; then continued decided to sing the next lines several octaves higher.

"The trumpets of Carthage resound!

Hear Romans now and tremble!

Hark to our steps on the ground!

"Sad to return to find the land we love,

Threatened once more by Rome's far-reaching grasp.

Tomorrow we shall break the chains of Rome.

Tonight, rejoice – your army has come home."

She began humming the background music and began her steps, hesitantly. A leap here. A jump there. A twirl, then a fan kick. Bend, with her arms flailing above her. A box step, quickly followed by a grapevine. Run in a line across the stage. Repeat until cued to stop. Spin, spin, and spin. Stop; then turn backward. Run forward. End with a curtsy and fall to the floor.

"Is someone there?" She heard a man's voice call out. She gasped and quickly ran to the side of the dark hall against the wall.

"Excuse me, who's there?" The voice asked again, but this time he opened the door he was in, and light from the room flooded on both of them. It was one of her managers.

"I monsieur. I was practicing my ballet. I seem to grown out step lately. Please don't be mad at me, I don't mean to be out so late. I know it's against the rules to be around here, but-"

"I will excuse you this time. Please head to the dormitories." He instructed.

She nodded as her cheeks flared. She ran away, guiltily to her room.

She returned to the her room, which she shared with another dancer, Marie. She was already asleep, but a light sleeper. Christine's light noise woke her. Marie opened up the door leading to the small, common entrance area. She spoke, the slur of sleep heavy on her voice, "Aminta… Quipour? Where were you after rehearsals? What are you doing awake amie?"

Marie was also from France. She had come over several years ago to work for the ballet company, as the company she danced with was failing. She was her only true friend here. The rest of the immigrants were just polite, too busy to talk. Everyone else gossiped, because she was a foreigner with mediocre dancing, yet got in the company. Marie was helping Christine with her English after rehearsals.

"After rehearsals…" She blushed, "I fell asleep. But just now, I was dancing. I am unpracticed and need to improve. Greatly." She looked down.

"Oh! Mon chéri!" Marie embraced her lightly. "I understand. If you wish, we can do your lessons later, so you can practice more."

Christine returned the hug. "Merci beacoup Marie, that will work good?"

Marie smiled, "Well. The English has the oddest grammar."

After her fourth week in America, third at the Opera House, Christine grew into a routine. She would wake up, dress for rehearsals, then go to the mess hall with the rest of the girls. They would all walk together to rehearsal. After rehearsal finished, they would all go off to more specific training. The corps de ballet stayed on stage, under supervision of the ballet mistress, Mary Clairvet.

Today Madam Clairvet had an announcement. "There is news, girls. We after this show, our current conductor, Mister Britton, will retire. Our new conductor and composer will be Mister Destler. He is from France and he wishes for us to perform "Hannibal". After the final performance, next Friday, we will begin learning the dances. Begin warm-ups. We will begin with our partner dance from Act III." They all hurried to their places.

Christine stretched with Marie. But unlike the rest of the ballet rats, who gossiped at every possible moment, Marie continued to teach Christine English. They were interrupted learning about conjugating verbs; George – Christine's dance partner – tapped Marie on the shoulder.

"Hello Aminta." He smiled at who he knew to be Marie.

"You're looking for her." Marie's blush was as bright as a tomato as she pointed to Christine.

George turned to Christine. "Oops! I'm sorry. You're just so beautiful I was confused!" George complimented in his own odd way.

Christine rolled her eyes. "You're such a flirt." As Madam called for attention she smiled at Marie and mouthed, "See you later!"

Marie nodded and looked for her partner.

Rehearsals went on as usual, without any missteps, which Christine was very proud of. When it ended she wished him a good day then began stretching for her self-inflicted rehearsals.

George waved; then walked over to Marie. She looked surprised then brought them into a hidden corner. Christine smiled, but continued stretching, still smiling.

When she later saw them leave, she saw Marie looked for people watching. Christine turned away.

When she looked back again, Marie had nearly pulled George off the stage. They were both smiling, lips swollen.

A/N: I needed that bit of fluff at the end... I thought it was cute. Tell me what you think! That means review!!!

I have the power to take away the fluff. MUHAHAHAHA!!! So... Review to keep the fluff or to lose it!

Whoops! I accidentally had people calling Christine, Christine when they thought her to be Amita. Thanks for pointing that out Nyasia A. Maire. I'll get the next chapter up sometime today.