Pas de deux
By Telcontarian
Chapter Three: Variation: Première partie
The next week passed in a flurry of rehearsals with the Royal Ballet and lessons with Master Llewelyn, and Sarah was worn out and stretched thin as she flitted back and forth between the two studios. She avoided his eyes, pretending not to notice Jareth's concerned gaze every time she entered his studio on Portobello Road, stumbling with tiredness. She pretended not to notice when his mouth tightened as he realised that she had spent another sleepless night tossing and turning, and the dark bruises beneath her eyes steadily becoming more pronounced. She danced with a frenzy that she did not know that she possessed; a scorching heat licking through her veins, and the flames threatened to devour her.
The morning of Sarah's audition dawned bright and clear, a stark contrast to the frigid temperatures and icy winds that London had experienced this past week. She was extremely unhappy at Jareth's insistence on not having a lesson before her audition, but his word was final, and Sarah had learned long ago that arguing with him was generally pointless. She had spent yet another sleepless night at the tiny living room window, and the golden lights of London had illuminated her face, casting soft shadows over the permanent bags that seemed to have settled beneath her eyes. She wrung her hands together, and the anxiety curled deep in her stomach as she puttered aimlessly around her apartment, muttering the movements of her upcoming pas de deux under her breath like a mantra. Her morning coffee had done nothing to soothe her frayed nerves and she opted for a hot shower, turning the temperature up as high as she dared. Sarah hissed when she dipped her hand under the showerhead, gritting her teeth against the heat of the near scalding water when she stepped into the bathtub. She allowed the spray to pound over her back and ease the stiff muscles that had protested violently this past week at the rigorous rehearsals that she had subjected them to. Despite the heat of the water, she could not seem to rid herself of the chill that felt like it had permeated to her very bones. Sarah stepped out of the shower, a threadbare towel wrapped around her body while she dried her hair with another, and she frowned as she rushed to answer her mobile phone when it rang shrilly from her bedside table.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Sarah," Jareth replied, and she was not entirely certain whether or not the shiver that ran along the column of her spine was due to the biting chill of her apartment.
"I didn't miss a class, did I? I thought that you cancelled this morning's lesson."
"I did," he hummed, and the smirk in his voice was evident even over the phone. Sarah could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, and she rolled her eyes at whatever nefarious plan Master Llewelyn had cooked up this time. "I thought that we could have lunch before your audition?"
"I'm not hungry."
Jareth sighed, and it was only then that Sarah realised he was driving when she heard his fingernails tap against the steering wheel in his frustration. "You're not looking after yourself, Sarah. I know that you're nervous about your audition, and I completely understand that. But you're not sleeping, and I have never known you to turn down a meal. I'm concerned about you. I won't force you to eat if you don't want to, but at the very least join me for coffee."
She chewed her lip, cursing him for knowing her weakness. I'm—"
"If you say you're not hungry one more time, I am banning you from the studio," he interrupted in mock serious, although Sarah could hear the underlying bite in his tone. "No buts, Sarah. Besides, I'm already on my way to your apartment; I'll pick you up at eleven."
She glanced up at the clock on her bedroom wall and frowned when she realised that it was already ten to eleven. "A little warning would have been nice," she grumbled, and he chuckled in her ear before he disconnected the call. Sarah dressed in record time, tugging a freshly laundered t-shirt and hoodie over her head, and she wriggled her way into a pair of denims that moulded to her slender form before blow-drying her hair. She frowned when she noticed that her trousers were a little looser than she remembered and she pouted, wondering if maybe—just maybe—Jareth was right.
Jareth greeted her warmly all the same, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek when he opened the passenger door for her. He was dressed impeccably today in a pinstriped, navy-blue, three-piece suit that had been expertly tailored to his lithe body, and she longed to run her fingers over the sleeve of his suit jacket to see if the material was as soft as it looked. Sarah was touched that Jareth had put so much thought and effort into dressing up for what was quite possibly one of the most important days of her life, and she was grateful for his suggestion of accompanying her to the audition.
After Jareth assured Sarah that Spill the Beans served the best coffee in all of London, they drove to a tiny little coffee shop in Covent Gardens, less than a ten-minute walk from the Royal Opera House. When Jareth held the door open for her, the earthy aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and Sarah sniffed appreciatively. Her mouth watered at the selection of freshly baked cakes and pastries; her nose almost pressed against the glass. The friendly barista took their order, winking conspiratorially at Sarah when she placed an extra lemon and yoghurt muffin on her plate, and invited the pair to take a seat in one of the overstuffed sofas that littered the room. Sarah sighed contentedly as she sank into the buttery softness of the leather chair, trying desperately not to give into her exhaustion and fall asleep. When she opened her eyes, Jareth was staring at her with an inscrutable expression on his face, a single eyebrow raised at her antics and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk.
"How are you feeling about your audition?" asked Jareth gently, thanking the barista when she placed their coffees down on the table in front of them. Her heels clicked gently against the hardwood flooring as she returned behind the counter to take another customer's order.
Sarah grimaced. "I won't lie, I'm pretty nervous; I haven't been to any auditions in over a year." She hesitated and glanced down at her coffee, the heat from the steaming cup finally warming up her cold hands. "Linda always used to belittle me, especially before auditions. It was only after she cut ties that I realised how much she tried to break my confidence and cause me to become a nervous wreck before every audition." Sarah laughed bitterly, "I can still remember her words: 'you can practice all you want and hit every step, but you'll never have that natural spark, the one that will set you apart from every other pretty face. You are forgettable as soon as the music stops.'"
Jareth grimaced at her words, though he gave her a sympathetic smile. "I used to make myself ill before my auditions," he admitted while he tore apart his muffin. "I was always very hard on myself, especially when I was one of the few ballerinos in my school. I was, and still remain to this day a perfectionist, and I am my own worst critic."
"How did you get over your fear?" asked Sarah curiously.
He pondered her question for a moment while he sipped on his coffee. "I learned not to care what other people think," he answered with a shrug. "I was extremely lucky to have the support of a mother who was fully invested in my career, although I'm aware that not everyone was offered the same courtesy," he continued, casting a sympathetic smile in Sarah's direction, and he reached across the table to cover his hand with her own and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "When my mother caught me one day being overly harsh on my technique, she offered me words of wisdom that have stuck with me to this very day: 'When you do not seek or need approval, you are at your most powerful.'"
Jareth hesitated briefly, his thumb brushing gently against her knuckles, before he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her skin. His eyes were molten fire as his lips lingered, and she was unable to take her own eyes off of Master Llewelyn bowed over her hand. "You are an extraordinary dancer, Sarah; the best that I have seen in many years, in fact." He paused, tearing his eyes away from hers, and Sarah realised that his mother's ghost still weighed heavily on his shoulders. "We are all products of our past," he said softly, and a sad smile pulled at his lips. "But that doesn't mean that we have to be prisoners of it."
From the very moment that Sarah entered the Royal Opera House with the legendary Ballet Master by her side, whispers followed the pair, mapping their every movement. It seemed that every watchful eye to have ever graced the Royal Ballet turned in their direction and Sarah held her head high, determined to ignore the insidious whispers that echoed around the deathly silent auditorium. She refused to be cowed by her peers, and her fingernails biting into the delicate flesh of her palms was the only outward sign that she was affected by their gossiping. She was well aware that the malicious rumours would no doubt be circulated around the rest of the principal dancers before the end of the auditions. Jareth was silent as he walked beside her, although she drew comfort from his reassuring hand on his back, his thumb brushing almost absent-mindedly over her warm skin to ease her nervousness.
Sarah knew that Jareth was aware of the exact moment when her eyes rested on the familiar face of her mother, and his fingers drifted to curl protectively over her hip, encouraging her to continue walking when all time and reason seemed to grind to a halt around them. Her wide eyes were pale emeralds in her chalk-white face, and the slight trembling of her lower lip were the only outwards signs that she acknowledged the presence of her daughter. As they approached the front row of seats, Linda Williams sat stiff and unmoving in one of the chairs assigned to the members of the board who were overseeing the auditions for the principal roles.
Swallowing past the lump of emotion that had lodged itself firmly in her throat, Sarah forced her gaze to flicker briefly over the panel, her chin raised in reluctant defiance. She finally managed to tear her eyes away from the woman who birthed her—her own mother who had cut off all contact with her daughter almost ten years ago. Sarah smiled prettily for the board even it was rather feigned and did not quite meet her eyes, exchanging pleasantries and small talk while Jareth shook hands and kissed cheeks dutifully beside her.
She did not spare another glance for her mother as she left the auditorium and continued towards the changing rooms, Master Llewelyn following quietly behind her. When the door closed behind them with a resounding thud, Sarah finally allowed herself time to ponder just what atrocities she had committed in a past life to be finally reunited with her mother on what was quite possibly the most important day of her life. And in the cruellest twist of fate Linda Williams—the world-famous principal ballerina who had abandoned her own family for fortune, fame and a scandalous extramarital affair that had been broadcast over what seemed like every last tabloid in America—had the power to make or break her own daughter's promising career.
"Are you alright, Precious?"
Sarah shook her head, wringing her hands nervously as she struggled to control her breathing that she knew was beginning to spiral out of control. "Did you know that she was going to be here?"
"No, Sarah," he replied softly, "I did not."
"Haven't you been in contact with her to arrange payment of your fee?"
Jareth's gaze was cautious as his eyes traced over his student's face, hesitating only briefly. "I have never charged you for your lessons."
Sarah frowned, a curious sensation unfurling in her belly even as her heart thumped painfully within the walls of her chest. She only hoped that Jareth could not hear it. "Why?"
A sad smile played at his mouth. "It was never intended for you to follow in your mother's footsteps. You are destined for so much more than Linda Williams could ever provide for you. Let her go, Sarah."
She ran a shaky hand through her hair, taking a deep breath as she attempted to push all thoughts of Linda Williams into the darkest corner of her mind to deal with after her audition. Sarah had come this far in the ballet world without her mother's help; she would be damned if she allowed Linda Williams to sabotage her performance. "I need a few minutes," she muttered, unzipping her bag and extracting her costume to avoid meeting Master Llewelyn's eyes.
Jareth nodded, and he hesitated only briefly before closing the gap between them to brush a feather-light kiss against Sarah's forehead. "I'll meet you backstage before your audition. I should probably rub shoulders and play nice with the members of the board."
Sarah snorted and despite her black mood, she was unable to prevent the small smile that curled at her lips. "You? Play nice? I'll believe it when I see it. I never pegged you for such a kiss-ass."
"I'm not," he answered with a self-deprecating smirk, his eyes twinkling with untold mischief, "But I suppose that it is expected of me."
While she waited for Jareth to return, Sarah made her way to the stage wings to silently watch the principal ballerinas' auditions unfold. From her perfect vantage point, the little ball of anxiety unfurled in her breast to spread through her body like an insidious disease as she watched the ballerinas perform perfect pas jetés and tour piqués en dehors, unable to find fault in their routines. The pas de quatre that had been called on stage to perform the Danse des petits cygnes were breath-taking in their movements, their sixteen pas de chat in flawless synchronicity. They were graceful, elegant and everything that she longed to be. Sarah swallowed down her insecurities, her lingering fears of inadequacy and the crippling unworthiness that plagued her thoughts. Her teeth bit lightly into the rosy flesh of her lower lip, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she fought to prevent the tears that she knew were only moments away. She was barely aware of Master Llewelyn returning quietly to her side as she withdrew further inside her own body, the familiar voice of self-doubt buried deep within the darkest corners of her mind whispering that she would never be good enough to win the dual role of Odette and Odile.
It had been so long since Sarah had experienced crippling anxiety, so long since she had last endured the panic clawing at the walls of her chest before an audition. She had thought herself long past her fits of panic but a year of missed performances before an audience, a year of not having to ruthlessly step over her competition to obtain the coveted roles had stripped her confidence back to bare bones. The room began to swim around her in dizzying patterns as her breathing became rapid and erratic. The hustle and bustle of the stage before her became a deafening roar to her sensitive ears, and the edges of her vision slowly started to fade to soft shades of black and grey.
Suddenly, she became aware of Master Llewelyn's familiar form, the comforting press of his hand against her upper arm as he stepped tentatively into Sarah's line of sight. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in concern, he tucked a lock of stray hair behind Sarah's ear, and his thumb grazed along her delicate cheekbone. If Sarah had not been desperately trying to cling to consciousness, her fingernails scrabbling at the oppressive darkness that seemed to be surrounding her, she would have paused to examine the way that her breath hitched in her throat at the soft worry in Master Llewelyn's eyes. She would have wondered at the crimson stain that painted her cheeks when Jareth's touch seemed to steady her, centre her and tether her to his familiar and reliable presence.
"Breath, Sarah-mine," he murmured, and his fingers curled around Sarah's hip when he pulled her unresisting body towards him, slipping his hand under her sweater to rub soothing circles over the faintest trace of bare skin at the small of her back. Jareth placed her hand over his heart, covering her fingers with his own, and he encouraged her to follow the gentle thrum of his heartbeat as she fought to control her breathing once more. He whispered soft words of comfort in her ear as her racing heart finally began to slow, and the colour returned to her pale cheeks once more.
Embarrassed by her panic attack, Sarah stepped away from Master Llewelyn, unable to meet his eyes and therefore missing the way that his fingers clenched into fists by his side from the loss of contact. She did not want to stop and examine the fact that she already missed the warmth of his hand on her skin, or how her body seemed to crave more of his touch, and she fought with every fibre of her being not to step into his embrace once more. Sarah pushed away all thoughts of the undercurrents of electricity that even now continued to spark in her nerve endings, and she promised herself that she would take a moment to examine this curious sensation later. Smoothing back her hair and straightening her sweater, she smiled shyly up at Jareth who watched her quietly from the shadows. A peculiar something flickered briefly in his eyes, but it was gone before Sarah could decipher the fleeting emotion.
All to soon her name was called, intertwined with a promising young ballerino named Peter who had already won the highly coveted role of Prince Siegfried. "Wish me luck, Master," she said, casting an anxious glance towards the stage where the current principal ballerina was finishing her audition.
"Make me proud, Miss Williams," Jareth replied, and the rare hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
Her chin raised determinedly, Sarah took her position amongst the ballerina corps, speaking only to confirm her name for the members of the board panel who were overseeing the auditions. Her eyes lingered briefly on the pale face of Linda Williams whose gaze was fixed blankly on her daughter, and she released the ghost of what might have been. Taking a deep breath, Sarah closed her eyes briefly, and she took a moment to centre herself before taking her starting position for the entrée. Startled, Sarah all but jumped out of her skin when Peter's fingers brushed along her own in a feather-light touch when he passed, smiling at her reassuringly and hoping to instil an iota of calm in his apprehensive partner before they began Odette and Siegfried's pas de deux. Sarah cast a quick glance into the wings of the stage to where she knew Master Llewelyn waited, drawing comfort when she found his familiar form lounging gracefully against the wall, and he gave her a nod of encouragement.
When the opening strains of the Grand Adage echoed throughout the Royal Opera House, Sarah smiled as the music flowed through her, taking root deep inside her chest and soothing the last of her fears. And the fierce joy that gripped her as the chords hummed through her veins was a melody that she would endeavour to chase for the rest of her life.
Her feet silently kissed the stage as she portrayed Odette's apprehension of Siegfried with trembling limbs and hesitant movements, withdrawing into herself as she shied away from his touch. Sarah poured her despair and her vulnerability into her performance as the Swan Queen, her limbs heavy with grief as Peter supported Sarah through her backward falls. The music changed and the corps began their travelling arabesques around them, their port de bras perfect fluttering wings. Unable to resist Siegfried's presence, Odette danced her longing for freedom for her curse in the arms of the Prince, her cambrés and penchés faultless. Peter danced beside her, his own movements confident and flawless and as natural as the air that he breathed. When he lifted Sarah, her arms raised heavenwards in a silent plea for help, they moved together like fire and ember and smoke upon water, the music wrapping around them both in a lover's embrace.
As she performed her pas de deux with Peter, his hands covering her hips and their fingers intertwined, she was all the while aware of Master Llewelyn's piercing gaze fixed upon them. Just like the first time that she had danced for him in the privacy of his ballet studio, the same intimacy seemed to wrap itself around both Master and student, tethering them to one another in the quiet hush of the Royal Opera House. Removed from time, they were bound together here in this moment, between one breath and the next. And every frustrated tear that Sarah had shed, every pulled muscle, splintered toenail and broken bone had led her to this stolen point in time.
She let her guard down in a moment of weakness when Odette performed several promade penchés in the safety of the Prince's arms, her back leg wrapped around Siegfried's hips before withdrawing entirely in self-doubt and Siegfried moved away, giving up all hope that he would ever win the Swan Queen's trust. Unable to resist the pull between them, Odette finally released her fear and gave herself over to hope and devotion when she returned to Siegfried's side, and Peter gripped her wrists to support his partner whenSarah wrapped her non-supporting leg around him once more in another promenade penché. Odette finally allowed herself to trust the Prince completely when Siegfried's hands dropped to span her torso, and his fingers pressed lightly into her hips to cradle her body against his.
The music drew softly to a close and a light scattering of applause and murmurs of admiration from the judges and her peers who had stayed to watch the auditions broke though the muffled hush that had settled over the Royal Opera House. Sarah could not tear her gaze away from Master Llewelyn who watched proudly from the stage wings, and a delighted laugh bubbled up from deep within his chest. A rare smile curled at the corners of his mouth, and Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat as Jareth's smile seemed to transform him into a younger, carefree man. Sarah hugged Peter absent-mindedly, hoping that Jareth would not comment on the faint tremor that ran through her body like a current from the rush of adrenaline after her audition, and she willed herself not to stumble and embarrass herself as she left the stage.
"Extraordinary," he muttered, and Sarah momentarily forgot how to breathe when Jareth brushed his lips across his student's forehead. The air between them became heavier, charged with the promise of something when Master Llewelyn's eyes met hers and for the briefest moment, Sarah could have sworn that Jareth's eyes flickered with hunger and longing. She knew instinctively that something between them had changed irreversibly. Jareth swallowed heavily before stepping away, the moment broken. "The board would be idiots not to award you the dual role."
Sarah smiled shyly up at her mentor. "Thank you. I would never have gotten this far without your help, though."
Jareth tucked Sarah's arm through his own before he pulled her away from the wings of the stage. "I believe that this calls for a celebration. Would you like to join me for dinner?"
Despite the blush that she knew had risen to her cheeks, Sarah's smile was radiant. "I would love to."