disclaimer: I own nothing

Warnings: nothing really on this chapter, though this is the 'exhibit' chapter, so some people may find the concept disturbing.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! It's really encouraging. Shorter chapter than the last, but it needed to be this way. Enjoy!

Sam was alone in her room when John left her there, informing her of when Dove would arrive to transform her. Jack had gotten the journal into her room for her and Sam picked it up, heading into the closet. She found a corner softened by white clothing and wedged herself there with the journal. Instead of turning to the pages John had marked for her, Sam started at the beginning. It seemed disrespectful to read the middle first. She smiled faintly as she looked at her mother's beautiful handwriting.

I played my part well. I never want my daughter to find out just how well I played it. She knows only what I give to her, so carefully. She hears the stories, the fantasies that I've told even myself, that always end with my escape and hope. But she only sees the surface, takes the words at their face value. She does not see the story of what exactly gives me nightmares every night. She does not know the things I have done...or the things that were done to me or how I convinced myself to love them. She is such a sensitive thing. How could I ever tell her about how the man of she already knows is a monster chained me to a post and directed the artist to paint my naked skin as white as porcelain and paste real gems on to my body just so he could rip them off later? I became his Unicorn on the sick carousel that is his Penthouse. How can I ever tell her that my lips twistched into a smile when he brushed the riding crop against the back of my neck? Or when he braced his whip if I didn't perform to his satisfaction? How can I tell her that I shook my mane for him whenever he desired? How easy it was? How I slipped far into the back of my mind, letting the Unicorn take over because she wanted the flick of his whip and the touch of his chest against her back as he took from her behind? How the Unicorn loved Director Ba'al...

Sam's smile vanished, sickness rolling in her gut. She understood more than her mother thought, though she had never known the details. They had never been allowed to say his name. Her mother just called him the Vampire. She had never known what he had done to her. Only that he had bled her dry and her father brought her back to life.

She hoped that no one would ever bleed her dry. But she had already felt the first prick. Would she bleed further?

Dove's voice, muffled by the door, interrupted her thoughts.

"Swan? Are you in there?"

She knocked slightly on the door and Sam buried her mother's journal behind a bunch of stockings in one of the cabinets before opening the door before Dove could come in. She stepped into the bedroom to find Dove and a medic standing in the room. Sam was confused.

The medic confirmed her bone had healed, the brusies were gone, and gave her a required anesthetic, whether Sam wanted it or not.

Then it was time for Dove to transform her into the Swan once more.

Tonight, Sam's gown was slit all the way up one side to her lower thigh while the other side cascaded to the floor in spectral wisps, swathed in hundreds of crystals with glowing optics in the center. Sam liked those. Dove patterned the same crystals into a circlet for her hair. No simple task when her newly silvered hair adorned her face in chaotic curls. From the white cliff of her breasts on down, the dress was nothing but swan feathers stitched together into an elongated, magnificent corset. Chiffon swathes made up a strap across her left shoulder, connecting in the back far down to her lower spine, delivering a teasing, tantalizing peek of skin there. Even the gloves that went part way up her forearms were lace and fathers, much smaller than the ones coating her body.

Once the ensemble was complete, Dove painted elaborate curving designs along the panes above and around her eyes. At the end of all of it, she stained Sam's lips white and placed her before the mirror.

Sam felt like she could fly away, far from the Aviary.

Sam felt like the Swan.

For the first time, the glass walls around her seemed like a cocoon rather than a cage. She was ready for her metamorphosis.

For the first time in her life, Sam saw a version of the girl she had always wished to be -the girl she was on the inside, albeit with more paint and glimmer than she had imagined- reflected in the mirror. Hauntingly beautiful, she was a goddess of starlight, trailing silver and secrets in her wake.

Sam felt mysterious and powerful. But the source of her power perplexed her. Nothing inside of her could ever, ever appreciate what John had done to her. Could it? No. Never.

Dove breathed in deeply and stepped back, admiring her work.

"I was wrong. You did not just walk in off the pages of a fantasy book. There is no better explanation than near magic for your existence. Some unseen force of the galaxy. You are some siren, and you do not even need a song to lure men to their deaths. You could tempt an angel to sin."

Sam stared at her reflection. "I've never looked like this before," she said, stunned but grateful.

"Your beauty does not come from some paint and chiffon, child. I comes from within you. Make it your own. Remember, this is your body. Only you can make the choice when to reveal yourself to the world."

Dove departed before Sam could say what she wanted to say. She brushed her fingers over the crystals. She had always loved the stars. It was as if Dove had known. Shaking those thoughts off, she rushed into the closet, suddenly realizing just how close she was to stepping out into the void. She needed a piece of her past to hold on to.

"Please, Mom. Give me something." she begged outloud, opening the journal at random, hoping for anything that would keep her grounded, sane, in what was to come.

I miss the days when she was young. The nights when Jacob would take her out to look at the stars, telling her all their names and the planets closest to Earth. She would take it all in with a child's pure fascination and wonder. During the day, Jacob would hoist her over his shoulder and throw her into the water-pool, lake, or ocean-again and again. Every single time, she would ask for more. Our daughter, the little daredevil. Always swimming deeper, running faster, begging to be taught things we don't want her to have to know. Nothing could keep her from the water, even when she was young. Her escape. The world she made her own. She would always go back to it, even when Jacob did his best to put a dose of fear and caution in her by throwing her further out, letting her sink deeper before pulling her up when she was only two years old. She always came up laughing and begging for more.

Sam closed the book, letting out a breath. A silly little memory was not what she needed.

She started to flip fro another entry, something, but a knock on the closet door halted her search. He didn't wait before opening it, but Sam managed to toss the journal in a dark corner and turn before he entered.

"It is almost time." John announced.

He didn't ask her why she was in here, like Sam had dreaded. Instead, he drew her out, eyes flicking down to her trembling hands. He took them in his and positioned her in front of the mirror once again.

Sam couldn't bring herself to look this time.

"The moon herself would quake in the silver shadow of your beauty." He fingered the swan chain at her neck.

"I prefer the stars." Sam managed to get out, trying to still her chest as John warmed the naked skin of her back with his palm. Again, she felt the temptation to embrace his touch. Everything from their garden visit together, to watching him with Blackbird, and now the way his fingers lingered on the space just above her cleavage where the charm rested...

But then, Sam remembered.

She remembered the slices and bruises on Jack's skin. His blood.

The punishment John had already inflicted on her. The one that he promised later tonight.

She remembered her armor.

Instantly, Sam stepped away from John, mentally spitting out any sense of appreciation for him. She would never be his Swan.

"Perhaps you do. But the stars are dim in comparision to you, Swan."

She was Sam. Sam. That was all she would ever be. Except her mother's words in the journal haunted her. Was her blood her own? Or did too much of hers run inside of her? What if the Swan was really there, lurking inside of her like the Unicorn had been inside of her mother? Still was in her mother? Sam trembled at the thought, at the question no one could answer.

"Come with me." John's fingers touched her wrist. Sam shrinked from his grasp, from the cold sting it gave her. He tried again. This time, gritting her teeth, Sam yielded.

Instead of her leading through the main lobby from which all of the exhibits branched out, John took Sam to a door at the end of the hall, which opened at his command. It was incredibly difficult to walk in the dress. Her left leg was completely free because of the thigh high slit, but her right was trapped by the fabric that restricted her movement. Sam kept trying to coax at least part of the fabric around to her left side, but it wasn't designed for that and stayed put, tripping her up.

After a few more moments of watching her struggle, John finally paused and took pity on her. "Take it like this." He gathered up a bundle of fabric, lifting it to expose her right foot. "Leave the left alone. You do not need to hide it."

Sam was still self-conscious about how much of her leg was exposed, but she concentrated on the crumpled fabric that John passed to her. A part of Sam wanted to rip it, tear it, delay the exhibit somehow. But she wanted -needed- to trust Jack, remembering his words about the chocolate house in town, secure in the knowledge that he would find a way to help her once she earned a city visit.

Bottling up her resentment, Sam played her part, walking almost demurely beside John. So much of her wanted to fight what was happening, but if she did, Jack would reap a punishment as well and she couldn't let that happen.

John led her to an entirely different wing where a winding glass staircase descended to a lower level. John offered his hand and this time Sam accepted it, her other hand gliding over the glass trailing as they walked down. Upon her descent, the dress pulled back to form a V at her lower thighs, freeing both her legs, the long train on the right flowing behind her. Sam was careful not to get it caught in any of the gaps.

The staircase seemed to descend for age, her stomach descending with it.

At its end was a door painted with the insignia of a swan.

When they got there, John stopped and turned to her.

"I have waited any years for this night." He stepped towards her, leaning closer and breathing in her scent. Sam trembled, knowing what was about to happen. His hands cupped her shoulders. "Shh..." He curled a few fingers under her chin, raising her trembling jaw. "They will worship at your feet."

Sam couldn't stop shaking. His words made her shake harder. He kissed each of her eyelids. Whispered,"My Swan."

Then, he opened the door.

It was a smaller room than Sam had anticipated. Inside, there was a steel swing suspended by cables. It was surrounded by black walls so close she could touch them just by raising her arms away from her body. This was a gateway. And John directed her to sit, to keep her hands braced around the cables. To hold tight.

"Be still. Be brave." And he closed the door.

Hysteria attacked Sam.

She didn't have a moment to breathe, to stop shaking. Above her, a series of pulleys cranked the swing and she ascended. After a feet feet, she was lifted above the room to see walls of water behind glass on each side of her. The pulleys continued to lift her until she was well above the water and once she was through the gap, she heard a mechanism thundering as the floor descended back into place, shifting the water below her. Deep enough to be a manmade lake.

The pulleys riased her until she was level with trees. A rush of wind stirred her hair, but when Sam looked around, surprised, she saw only glass walls. It was artifical. The glass domed above her head and the galaxy was spread there. Stars that weren't visible to the naked eye and hadn't been in generations because Earth was too bright. Some were planets, the far pulled in close. John had brought the galaxy to illuminate her. The stars were reflected in the water. So was she. And John was right, though it was by his own doing. The stars were dim in comparision.

So, this was her exhibit. From hotel pools to the manor lake where Jack and she had swam when they were children, water was her glory. Stars, her wonder. How had John known those things?

Sam glanced at the shore of the lake not far from her swing. Behind the glass windows, scores of people dressed in fine clothes watched her. Mostly men. But there were also curious Birds and some women. All of their heads were craned up to see her. In their hands, each person held a candle -something she assumed was John's idea to benefit the effect.

This was her grand opening.

Sam swallowed back the panic that was still threatening to cleave herself in two. Be still. Be brave. She had to make this good. If she didn't perform well, would John sell her off to the next highest bidder? Worse, if they loved her, would she become the Swan the way her mother had become the Unicorn? It scared Sam to realize just how easy it might be.

Sam searched for Jack in the crowd, but she couldn't find him. There were too many faces.

Instead, she remembered the time she and Jack had snuck out of the lake house after midnight. Jack had walked the two miles with her through the woods to the old Sycamore tree swing. They had swung and laughed for over an hour.

Sam took a deep breath and chose to embrace the childlike glee she'd had then.

And she pumped her legs to swing.

Even from the height she was, Sam could hear the pleasured voices of the men. She had to force the retch down when she considered how many of those men imagined her in their escorts' places. Imagined her in the client rooms.

Her dress become a cloud swinging behind her, long enough for the edges to skim the water. She should have been cold, but Sam noticed that the wind around her was strangely warm. But it was still just one gigantic display case, no matter how comfortable and pretty it was, like all the others. Sam didn't know why she had expected anything but an illusion. John would never allow her exhibit or any other to be ouside.

There was the sound of snapping somewhere far above her. Something was happening to the cable. The people, not thirty feet from her, must have seen what was happening, better than Sam, because alarm became their unified expression.

Another crack caused the swing to dip. Then the last cable broke. The swing dropped and her body sailed through the air towards the water.

XXXXXXXX

It turned out that a silly memory was exactly what Sam needed.

Chilly water engulfed her. White sheathes of fabic danced across her vision. Sam was grateful that the water was so deep. Grateful because she didn't want to surface and she didn't have to. Somewhere far above her, she heard shouts of alarm. But down in the water, the stars gleaming above her, it was peaceful, quiet. Calm. Down in the water was another world beneath the Aviary. One she let herself believe was magic. So, Sam held her breath just as she had always done.

She swam deeper.

The dress countered her movement, threatening to rise instead of sink, threatening to pull her back to the air. She denied it. She ripped off the gloves, swam deeper. All at once, the optic crystals came to life so they wreathed her body in a soft glow. Underwater, Sam could see both of her legs, nothing but shimmery white stalks in the darkness. Her hair was like glorious silver serpents coiling and twisting around her. She was a creature of starlight and mystery, darkness and danger.

Sam's lungs stared to ache. But not burn. Not yet. She swam through the water until her fingers connected with a thick pane of glass. No. She pounded the glass with a fist. More air was siphoned from her lungs. She fanned her hand against the glass. As she did, Sam realized that there were people behind it. Dozens upon dozens of men and their Bird escorts stood there, watching her.

Sam choked, liquid slipping into her mouth. She closed her eyes and pushed herself towards the surface. Her lungs contricted with the need for oxygen. As she neared the surface, an arm plunged down into the water, reaching for her. Since her lungs were burning, threatening to collapse from the feeling, Sam accepted the hand waiting for her. John was strong enough to pull her our of the water and into a boat beside him.

"You were glorious." He situated her gently and stood, perfectly balanced. Sam watched as he spread his arms like a showman. Loudly, he declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Swan!"

The air seemed to explode with a thunder of claps and cheers. Sam flinched as she took a few more breaths. She looked behind her and saw that there was a monstrous voxel-image lighting up the starry night of the exhibit. On it was a projection of her performance -her swan dive- and her swimming beneath the surface.

It was all staged. Of course it was. The cable snapping, the swing giving way, her plummet into the depths. It was all a show. And they were still watching her.

Amidst the applause, John lowered a hand to her chin and tilted it towards his face.

"You don't need to stand. Simply raise your neck and look to them. They adore you."

Slow and stunned, Sam twisted to see the hundreds of people watching her. All she could do was stare, wide-eyed and terrified. But another sensation crawled inside her skin, multiplying like a bacterium. Adoration. It took all of Sam's willpower not to tip the boat and drag John down to the depths with her. She wanted him to feel the whirl of emotion that she was right now. She wanted him to feel terrified and thrilled and a million other things right at the same time.

As the hundreds of people applauded, Sam found herself reacting to it. She was supposed to revel in this, but she couldn't latch on to anything but revulsion. Instead, her lightning, her fire, hinged on this moment, fusing with the cheers of the crowd. She hated john even more for this. More than anything, Sam hated herself for loving the sick and twisted performance.

Author's Note: Please review!