Pas De Deux By Icewyche

Disclaimer: You guys know the drill by now.

Part Five: Coda

      He was on autopilot and he knew it, but Sage couldn't seem to break through the numb haze that surrounded him in the wake of Carey's departure.  He got up in the morning, went to work, went home as he had always done, but with a sense of unreality, as if it were happening to someone else.  He ate because he had to, slept because he had to.  At night he would wake up to find himself reaching toward the side of the bed where she had slept, but he would find only emptiness and it would be a long time before he could fall asleep again.  His coworkers and friends asked him if anything was wrong, but Sage just murmured something about the flu and changed the subject.  He was vaguely surprised that they couldn't see the gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be.

      One night, almost two weeks after Carey had left him, Sage was startled by a knock on the door of his apartment.  For a moment he entertained a wild fantasy that Carey had changed her mind and come back, but he quickly and brutally squashed it.  She's already made up her mind, he told himself firmly.  Don't get your hopes up.  All the same, he couldn't help the faint flutter of anticipation in his chest as he opened the door.

      Rowen leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.  "Rowen, what are you doing here?" Sage demanded.

      "Checking on you," came the reply.  "Can I come in?"

      Sage nodded mutely and stood aside as Rowen walked past him into the apartment.  Rowen glanced briefly around, then turned his keen gaze on his friend.  "I'm not who you were hoping for, am I?" he asked suddenly.

      "Don't be silly, Rowen, you know you're always welcome here," Sage muttered, refusing to meet those piercing midnight eyes.  "Of course, you'd be even more welcome if you told me exactly why you're here.  What's the matter, buddy, had enough of algorithms and drag coefficients?"

      Rowen's eyes held a gentle sympathy that cut to Sage's heart.  "She's not here, is she?" he queried softly.

      "She?  She who?"

      "Come on, Sage, let's not play games.  You've been looking like death warmed over lately, and don't tell me you had the flu.  Two weeks ago, you were the happiest guy on Earth, planning to propose to Carey.  Now I feel like I should be hiding sharp objects from you, and there's only one reason for that.  She turned you down, didn't she?"

      Sage collapsed into a chair, and the look in his violet eyes tore at Rowen's heart.  "Worse," he said heavily.  "She left me."

      Rowen's jaw dropped.  "Left you?  Why?"

      "She got a better offer."

      Rowen sat on the couch opposite Sage and stared at his friend.  "A better offer?  From who?  Was she seeing someone else?  I can't believe it."

      Sage rubbed his eyes.  "Pacific Northwest Ballet in Seattle is planning to offer her a principal position while she's teaching at their summer intensive.  What was I supposed to do, beg her not to go?  She's never really been happy in Japan, Rowen.  My family would make her life miserable.  And I can't ask her to give up everything she's worked for just to stay here and marry me.  I don't have that right."

      "So you just let her go?"

      Sage laughed bitterly.  "Let her go?  I told her to go.  How's that for devotion?  Sometimes I'm so damned noble I hate myself."

      Rowen just stared at him for several astounded moments.  Then he shook his head.  "Well," he said finally.  "I figured you two had broken up or something.  That's why I came over --- I thought I could at least try to help you over it."

      "Yeah?  How?"

      "Well, since neither one of us are big on talking…"  Rowen pulled a bottle from the bag he had brought with him and set it firmly on the coffee table.  "The time-honored guy cure for heartbreak --- we're going to get so drunk we don't remember our own names, much less hers.  Thank God it's a Saturday."

     "Rowen, I don't drink."

     "Neither do I.  But tonight we make an exception."

      Two hours later, they had finished off three-fourths of the bottle, and neither was feeling any pain.  Rowen was astonished at how Sage, who rarely managed anything stronger than an occasional glass of wine with dinner, was tossing back shots of tequila like a seasoned pro, two to every one of Rowen's.  "Ohhh, man…we should do this more often," Sage murmured vaguely.  He squinted at Rowen.  "You have a twin.  Did you know you have a twin?  He's right there," he added, waving an arm somewhere in Rowen's general direction.

      Rowen slouched in the corner of the sofa, a blurry smile on his face.  "We're a disgrace to the Ronin Warriors," he proclaimed solemnly.  "What would we do if Talpa showed up now?"

      "Invite him to join us --- he had woman problems, too, you know," Sage replied firmly.  He downed another shot of tequila and swayed dizzily in his chair.  "Ooohh…my head is fuzzy," he announced with delight.

      Rowen eyed Sage's unruly blonde hair.  "Sage, your head is always fuzzy."

      "No no no no," Sage explained with the odd dignity of the very drunk.  "Fuzzy inside.  My thinkings is fuzzy.  Are fuzzy.  Whatever."  Sage reached to put his glass back on the table and slid out of his chair, landing on his backside with a thud.  He blinked in surprise for a moment, then leaned his head back against the seat and began to giggle wildly.

      "Sage, my friend, you are stoned," Rowen told him, laughing helplessly.

      Sage gave him an angelic if rather unfocused smile.  "Am I really?  I've never been stoned before.  And you're resh… ress…it's your fault, you know."  He frowned suddenly.  "Wait, I can't be stoned --- I still remember my name.  At least I think I do.  Oh, well, I'll know it when I hear it."  He giggled again.

      Rowen groaned and stood up rather unsteadily.  "Come on, old buddy, let's get you to bed before you start throwing furniture or something."

      "I can't throw anything.  I can't even stand up," Sage replied happily as Rowen hauled him to his feet.  "Where are we going?"

      "We are not going anywhere.  You are going to bed."

      Sage perked up.  "Really?  With who?"

      "With nobody.  You are going to bed and you are going to sleep off about fourteen shots of tequila and you are going to behave."

      "Behave behave behave," Sage grumbled as he and Rowen staggered down the hall to his bedroom.  "That's all I ever do.  I'm always so proper and good and perfect.  I never get to be bad like everybody else."  A lost, unhappy look settled over his face as he turned to look at Rowen.  "Do you think she would have liked me better if I was bad?" he asked in a small voice.

      "I think she likes you just fine already," Rowen consoled him.

      "No, she doesn't," Sage pouted.  "That's why she wouldn't marry me and she went off and left me, remember?  Went off and left me so I could get wasted and spill my guts to you and sleep all by myself and I don't like sleeping all by myself, not anymore."  Rowen helped him over to his bed and Sage flopped onto the mattress with a heavy sigh.  "It's all my fault, though.  I let her go 'cause I thought her ballet was more important than us.  I'm so stupid," he finished mournfully.

      Rowen drew the blanket over his inebriated friend.  "Go to sleep, Sage," he said gently.

      Sage gave him a weary smile.  " 'To sleep, perchance to dream.'  That's what I'm afraid of."  He caught Rowen's hand.  "Rowen, don't drive home.  You're almost as drunk as I am.  With my luck you'd crash into a tree or something and then I'd be even more alone than I am now."  Another unhappy sigh escaped him.  "I don't want to be alone," he whispered sadly, and Rowen saw the lonely little boy that Sage had once been.

      "I'm not going to leave you, Sage," Rowen reassured him.  "I'll be in the living room.  Now get some rest.  You're not going to be alone, I promise."

      Sage nodded tiredly and closed his eyes.  Rowen waited until Sage was asleep, then turned out the light and went back into the living room.  He rinsed the glasses in the sink and put the nearly empty tequila bottle in the trash, then pulled a pillow and a blanket from the linen closet and made himself a bed on the couch.  He turned out the lights and lay down and eventually managed to fall into an uneasy slumber.

      Some time later, Rowen awoke with a start.  His instincts told him that something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what it was.  Struggling against the remnants of an alcohol-induced haze, he scanned the darkened living room, searching for the source of his unease.  As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a figure silhouetted by the window.  Street lights gleamed faintly off tousled golden hair.  "Sage?" Rowen mumbled drowsily.

      Sage didn't answer, but kept gazing out at the night.  Rowen rubbed his eyes and got up, blinking away the last of his sleepiness.  "Sage, are you okay?" he asked gently.

      "I don't know why I keep doing this," Sage said quietly.  "Every day I tell myself that I'm fine, that I can get by without Carey, no problem --- and every night I wind up standing by the window just hoping that if I watch for her long enough, she'll come back.  But she's not going to come back, is she?"

      Rowen slipped an arm around his friend's slumped shoulders.  "Sage, she's in Seattle, she's not dead.  You can call her, you can write or e-mail her, or your work might even take you over there sometime.  But it's not as if you have to completely lose contact," he cajoled.

      Sage's forlorn expression didn't change.  "Rowen, I let her go.  I loved her more than I ever thought it was possible to love.  She was the first woman who saw me for who I really am and loved me anyway; I could be less than perfect with her and I knew it wouldn't matter.  I was willing to go against my family to marry her.  Hell, I would have laid down my life for her.  And none of that changes the fact that when I had to make a choice, when I should have fought for her, I let her go.  And the worst part is, I'm only just now realizing how monumentally stupid that was."

      Rowen was silent, unsure of what to say.  Sage went on, "I keep having these nightmares where I'm at work, or walking down the street, and suddenly I look down and I'm covered in blood.  There are all these people around me, but everyone is wearing a mask, and when I try to get their attention they force me to wear one too.  It hurts and I can't breathe and nobody can hear me through it, but I can't get it off no matter how hard I try.  And if I do manage to get the mask off, nobody will acknowledge me because I won't look like them.  I'm standing there mortally wounded, bleeding to death, screaming for help…and nobody hears."  He sighed deeply.  "That's what's happening, isn't it?  I have to wear my perfect little mask, to go about my business, to act like nothing's wrong, because that's what I've been trained to do --- and all the while I'm bleeding to death inside."  He finally turned to look at Rowen, and Rowen was shocked by the desolation in Sage's lavender eyes.  "Oh, God, Rowen, I miss her so damned much," he whispered.  Then something in him seemed to crumble and he buried his face in his hands and began to cry.

      Rowen steered his friend over to the couch and wrapped his arms around Sage in a fierce, protective hug, offering his own strength as the deep, heartrending sobs wracked Sage's body.  He had only seen Sage like this once before, when Sage had grieved over the death and destruction caused after the demon Shikaisen kidnapped him and stole his armor in New York.  Rowen realized that now Sage was mourning another kind of death --- the death of his most cherished dream, the love he had waited for all his life.  And I can't even take the pain away, Rowen thought despairingly.  All I can do is let him grieve…and be here for him while he does.

       After a while Sage's sobs faded to muted little hiccups, then finally stopped.  Rowen tenderly guided him back to bed and tucked him in as if Sage were a child.  He turned to leave, but was stopped by a quiet voice from the bed.  "Rowen."

      Rowen looked back at him.  Sage's eyes were red-rimmed and his voice tear-clogged, but the terrible bleakness was gone, replaced by a calm resolve.  "Thank you," Sage said.  "For being there…again."

      "You're going to be okay now," Rowen told him.

      Sage smiled wearily.  "For the first time, I actually believe that," he murmured.  Then his eyes closed and he fell into a deep, healing sleep.

~~~~~

      The days passed, and it got easier --- although Sage swore to himself that, one, he would never touch tequila again as long as he lived and, two, the next time Rowen offered to help him get over a breakup he would toss him out a window.  He found some solace in his work, in meditation, and in kendo practice; the rest, he knew, would come in time.

      The phone rang one morning while Sage was thoroughly absorbed in appraisals for the gallery's newest acquisitions.  "Kazuhara Gallery, Sage Date speaking," he said automatically into the receiver.

      "Sage, it's Toshi Hamada," came the voice on the other end.  "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about a couple of kendo tournaments I'm thinking about entering.  Could you meet me at the NBT studios today --- say, around four?"

      Sage checked his schedule.  "Well, I'm free then, but you know, if you really want to do this, you don't need to clear it with me."

      "Yeah, I know.  But I'm not sure which tournament would be more suitable for my skill level, and you're the most authoritative source I know.  Look, I know you're probably not too eager to hang around NBT," Toshiro said.  "I mean, you haven't been here since…since Carey left, and I know it's got to be hard for you.  But I have to make a decision tonight, and I won't be able to get away until late.  If it's too painful, for you, though, I understand," Toshi apologized.

      "No…no, it's okay."  Sage took a deep breath.  "I have to face this sometime, I guess.  Four o'clock at NBT --- where exactly should I meet you?" he asked briskly.

      "You sure?  I mean, I don't want to call up any bad memories or anything."

      Sage had to smile at that --- his memories of National Ballet Theater, he realized, were all good ones.  The dance lessons with Carey, watching her rehearse, their first kiss in Studio Four…He brought himself back to the present with a quick shake of his head.  "I'll be fine, Toshi," he replied firmly.

      "Okay, then.  Meet me in Studio Two --- I'll be finishing a rehearsal."

      Sage made a quick note.  "Studio Two, four o'clock.  Got it."

      "And Sage…thanks."

      "No problem.  See you then."  Sage said, smiling at the relief in Toshi's voice.  He must really be serious about this, he mused.  Well, it was nice to see that kind of enthusiasm.  And besides, he couldn't just pretend that NBT didn't exist anymore.  He still enjoyed the ballet, and he saw no reason to give that up just because Carey had rejected his marriage proposal.  If she can move on, then so can I.  He returned his attention to his work, feeling better than he had in weeks.

      At three-thirty, he gathered his things and prepared to leave.  "Are you sure you don't mind my leaving early?" he asked Matsuka.

      Matsuka shook her head with a smile.  "Sage, you've been staying late almost every night for the past month and a half.  Thanks to you, we're not only caught up but running ahead of schedule.  Go.  Get some fresh air.  Do something besides chain yourself to your desk all day.  The world will not end if you leave work a little early," she scolded, shooing him out of the office.  Sage chuckled ruefully to himself as he left, knowing Matsuka would probably physically toss him out if he didn't.

      The sunlight felt warm on his face for the first time in over a month, Sage realized with a slight feeling of surprise.  He rummaged in his briefcase for his sunglasses and his hand hit something small and square.  It was the box containing the engagement ring he had bought for Carey.  He drew it out and looked at it for the first time since that night, watching the diamond flash in the light, then gently closed the box and slipped it back in his briefcase.  It's time to move on, he thought.  I told her to go on with her life…now it's my turn to do the same.  She taught me at least that much.  He looked over at his car, then at the people milling around, going about their business.  Oh, what the hell.  He started to walk downtown, listening to the voices around him raised in anger, in excitement, in laughter, and he found himself smiling.  The music of everyday life.  

      The ballet school was exactly as he remembered it.  Young girls in black leotards and bun hairdos milled around, chattering excitedly.  Two boys in white T-shirts limbered up against a wall.  A trio of somewhat older dancers walked down the hall, commiserating about the arduous task of breaking in pointe shoes.  A piano thumped in the distance and the air smelled like rosin, sweat, and institutional air freshener.  Sage looked at his watch.  He had fifteen minutes to spare, so he decided to watch Toshi's rehearsal from the observation hallway.

      The National Ballet Theater occupied a four-story building in the heart of downtown.  The top floor was occupied by the costume and administrative departments, and the huge main rehearsal hall took up most of the third floor.  The first-floor practice studios stretched up into the second story, so the second floor was really half a floor with offices and a lounge flanked by a hallway on either side.  Both halls had huge windows overlooking the studios, so that parents could watch a class or choreographers could observe a ballet in progress.  One side overlooked Studios One and Two, the other opened onto Studios Three and Four.

      Sage stood in the hallway that looked onto Studios One and Two.  A beginners' class was underway in Studio One; the tiny moppets in pink leotards brought a smile to Sage's lips as he watched them earnestly mimicking their teacher.  They didn't quite have the rhythm or coordination yet, but everyone had to start somewhere, Sage thought, recalling his own awkward first attempts at dancing.  He shook his head with a rueful grin and moved to the window overlooking Studio Two.

      There was only one dancer in Two, a slender, dark-haired young woman, and Sage wondered if Toshi had made a mistake or if his rehearsal had been moved.  But he still had time to kill, so Sage decided to watch the girl for a while.  And she was good, he realized.  She whirled into a series of chainés, then piquéd up into a beautiful high arabesque.  Tombé, glissade, into a grand jeté that seemed to hang in midair forever. She moved with the music, understanding its every nuance, and Sage felt a gentle mist of tears come to his eyes.  She reminds me of Carey, he thought. That same daring, that same joy.  He shook his head, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.  Why am I torturing myself like this?

      The dancer turned, extending her right leg in a high, knife-sharp developpé á la seconde.  Sage glimpsed her face for a moment --- and his heart stopped.  No, he thought wildly.  It can't be, it's just not possible.  He backed away from the window…and then he was running for the stairs.  He tore down the stairs at breakneck speed, ignoring the startled protests of some parents on their way up to watch their little darlings play ballerina, and didn't stop running until he had reached the door of Studio Two.  He skidded to a halt in the open doorway, afraid to look but even more afraid not to.

      The girl came down from a flawless pirouette to face the mirror.  She looked up and froze at the sight of the wild-eyed blonde man reflected in the doorway behind her.  Sage saw the reflection of wide golden eyes, a delicate, pointed chin, full lips parted from surprise and exertion.  "Carey?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

      "Sage?" Carey echoed, sounding as startled as he was.  "What --- what are you doing here?"

      "I could ask you the same thing."  Was it his imagination, or did she sound a little guilty?

      "I was supposed to meet Toshi here to go over the sequences for Flower Festival, but he's late," Carey explained, glancing at the clock over the door.

      "And he wanted me to meet him here to discuss a kendo tournament," Sage replied, mentally making a note to kill Toshiro Hamada in the most prolonged and agonizing way possible.  "So…how was Seattle?" he asked, forcing himself to keep his tone light.

      Carey smiled.  "Kind of rainy, lots of Volvos and flannel shirts and Kurt Cobain wannabes, and a Starbucks on every corner.  Can people actually drink that much coffee?"

      "And the summer intensive?"

      "It went fine.  The dancers were great, my class was a big hit, and Kent Stovall offered me the principal's spot."

      Sage hadn't even known he had any hopes left until they crashed into rubble at her words.  "Well…that's great," he managed to say, pasting a smile on his face.  "I guess this means your career will really take off now, huh?  Dancing with one of the top ballet companies in the world --- you've got to be happy."

      "I turned him down."

      "Soon you really will be a ballerina," Sage continued automatically.  "Today Seattle, tomorrow London or New York or Rome --- you what?"

      "I turned him down," Carey repeated.  "I decided to stay with NBT."

      Sage stood there frozen, gaping at Carey as if she had suddenly grown two more heads.  It took several moments before he could find his voice.  "Why?" he croaked.

      Carey sighed.  "Sage, Seattle was wonderful.  My friends took me to all sorts of interesting places, the dancers welcomed me with open arms, the staff treated me like I was visiting royalty.  I couldn't have asked for a better three weeks --- and yet I was miserable the whole time.  Still, I was ready to sign on with PNB if they asked; I figured I just needed to readjust to living in the States.  When Kent and Francia Russell sat me down and offered me that contract, I should have signed it right away.  But I couldn't."

      "Why?  Didn't they offer you enough?"  The words were unusually harsh and Sage regretted them as soon as they left his mouth, but Carey just smiled sadly.

      "Actually, they offered more than I could have hoped for, especially considering that I'm still relatively unknown outside of Japan," she replied.  "Kent was telling me how impressed he had been with me, how much he and Francia were looking forward to working with me.  Meanwhile I just sat there staring at that paper, knowing it would give my career the boost I'd always wanted, knowing that hundreds of dancers would kill for what was being handed to me, and still not being able to pick up that pen and sign my name.  Then Francia said that she knew it might take a little adjusting, but that I'd feel at home in no time, and that's when it hit me --- I would never really be at home in Seattle or anywhere else, and I was just kidding myself if I thought otherwise.  There was only one place in this world where I would ever truly be home…and that was with you," Carey finished quietly.

      Sage just stared at her for several moments, torn between joy at what she was telling him and fury at the hell she had put him through.  "So what did you tell the people at Pacific Northwest?" he finally managed.

      Carey shrugged.  "I told them the truth.  I said that I appreciated all they had done for me, and that I was honored by their offer, but I couldn't accept it.  I told them that I made a horrible mistake when I left Japan --- I threw away the most precious gift I had ever been given, and no amount of international fame could ever replace that.  I had done the one thing I swore I would never do again; I had caved under pressure trying to please everyone else instead of standing strong and listening what I knew was right.  I had enjoyed working with them and hoped to have that chance again in the future, but now I had to go back home, back to where I really belonged…and see if I could somehow make things right again."

      "So --- what?  You think you can just walk back into my life, that we can pick up where we left off?" Sage demanded.  "How long have you been back, anyway?"

      "Almost three weeks," Carey answered ruefully.  "I was on that plane the minute summer intensive was over."

      "And when did you plan to tell me about your momentous discovery?"

      "As soon as I found both the courage and the words," Carey said.  "Sage, in case you haven't noticed by now, I have a great deal of courage in theory, but it's somewhat lacking in practice.  I know I hurt you badly, and I didn't want to make it worse.  Not to mention the fact that I was afraid you'd shut the door in my face the minute I showed up trying to explain."

      "Which I probably would have," Sage pointed out somewhat huffily.  "I asked you to marry me and you turned me down."

      "I know."

      "You were planning to stay in Seattle and you didn't even tell me until the last minute."

      "I know that, too."

      "I went through the worst six weeks of my life while you were trying to make up your mind about where you belonged," Sage ranted.  "And then you didn't even bother to tell me you were back --- you had Toshi trick me into coming here."

      "Now hold on there," Carey warned.  "I had nothing to do with this.  In fact, the next time I see him I fully intend to eviscerate Toshi for pulling this little stunt."  She hesitated.  "Sage, I caused you a lot of unnecessary pain and I'm sorry.  I know that doesn't even begin to make up for what I did, but I'm trying.  If you feel like you just can't trust me anymore, then I won't stop you from leaving --- hell, I really can't blame you if you do."

       She turned away for a moment, biting her lip.  Then she squared her shoulders and faced him, looking him straight in the eye.  "Look, I know I really don't have any right to ask you to forgive me, and I'm too damned proud to beg you to do that.  All I can say is that I was wrong and I'm sorry and I love you and I want to try again.  If that's not enough then tell me now and put us both out of our misery," she said, quietly but firmly.  "It's your choice."

       He was halfway tempted to walk out that door and never come back --- well, all right, he'd come back just long enough to murder that sneaky little son-of-a-bitch Hamada --- but something she had said stopped him.  I threw away the most precious gift I had ever been given.  And finally it sank in, what she was trying to tell him.  She's not going to dance in Seattle.  She turned them down.  The chance of a dancer's lifetime, and she turned her back on it to come back to a place where she knows she's an outsider --- and she did it because of me.  And she did all this not even knowing if I'd take her back.  He felt his anger evaporate.  She has the courage to admit that she was wrong.  Do I have the courage to accept that and trust her again…to reach out for love and hold fast to it this time?  I guess there's only one way to find out. 

      Sage took a deep breath.  "You know it won't be easy," he warned.

      "Yes, I know. Your family doesn't like me too much and I will never be the perfect Japanese woman and our children would be --- I don't know, quarter-breeds or something.  But I've learned something from you --- that there are some things in this world that are worth fighting for, no matter what the cost.  And that it's easier to fight together than alone.  Besides, someone has to protect you from that bitch Yayoi." 

      Sage ignored that last remark.  "You really did hurt me," he said quietly.  Carey said nothing, just watched him with that intense golden gaze.  "But at least you've been honest with me, even if it took a little while.  I can't do any less.  God help me, Carey, I still love you and I have a feeling I always will.  If you're willing to try again, then so am I."

      The topaz eyes glistened, but Carey's expression remained solemn.  "Don't take me back out of pity or obligation, Sage."

      "I'm not," he replied.  "I'm taking you back because I love you and I can't live without you and I don't intend to let you get away from me again --- not even if I have to chain you to my wrist for the rest of our lives.  I want forever, Carey.  Do you think you can handle that?" he challenged.

      Carey lifted her chin.  "Try me."  They gazed at each other a moment longer --- and then suddenly she was in his arms and he was whirling her off her feet, laughing and crying at the same time, kissing her until they were both breathless and starry-eyed.

      Finally Sage came up for air.  "Hold on a minute," he said.  "I have something for you."  He searched through his briefcase for a moment, then returned to where she stood eyeing him curiously.  He took her hand and slipped the engagement ring onto her finger.

      Carey stared at the diamond as it flashed under the studio lights.  Her eyes welled with tears as she looked up at Sage.  "Sage…are you sure?" she whispered.

      Sage's answering smile lit the room. "I'm sure.  Besides, it looks better on you anyway," he added lightly.  "But just so we're clear --- will you be my wife, Carey?  For better or for worse, as long as we both shall live, and all that?"

       Carey tenderly brushed Sage's golden hair out of his eyes.  "At least that long," she agreed, and Sage gathered her into his embrace.

      …And they lived happily ever after.

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terminology

Chainés: (sh-NAYZ) French, meaning "chains" or "links".  A series of rapid turns on pointe or demi-pointe, done in either a straight line or a circle.                           

 Piqué: (pee-KAY) French, meaning "pricked".  The dancer steps directly onto pointe or demi-pointe of the working foot with the other foot raised into the air.

Tombé: (tawm-BAY) French, "falling".  A movement in which the dancer, with the working leg raised in the air, falls forward, backward, or sideways into a fondu (see Part 3) on the working leg.

Developpé á la seconde:  See notes for Part 3 on developpé.  Á la seconde means that the leg is extended out to the side (second position).

Kent Stovall and Francia Russell: the Artistic Directors of Pacific Northwest Ballet.  Their names are used for historical purposes only and do not imply any endorsement of or cooperation with this story.

Source: Technical Manual and Dictionary of Classical Ballet by Gail Grant.

Author's Note:  Okay, I know…I'm a hopeless romantic, not to mention a sucker for a happy ending.  Sue me.

     Well, gang, that concludes Pas De Deux.  Hope you enjoyed it (and mille mercis to all who told me so).  But don't worry, the saga of the Ronin and the ballerina isn't over yet.  Soon I'll be bringing you Heart Of Darkness, a mystery/adventure fic that involves not only my favorite couple, but the rest of the Ronin gang as well.  And to whet your appetite, here's a little teaser: It's seven years after the events of the Message OVA, and the armors have been put aside.  The Ronin Warriors are grown up and living normal lives as they gather for Sage and Carey's wedding.  But there's a new evil about to be unleashed…and it wears a very familiar face (no, it's not who you think).  And if the guys thought demonbusting was hard when they were teenagers --- try doing it when you have to juggle a full-time job, a home life, and wedding preparations!  Curious yet?  Heart Of Darkness…coming soon from yours truly! *[^