Nina woke up the next morning after having passed a fitful night full of jumbled dreams whose images she couldn't fit together into any sort of logical pattern. She groaned and reluctantly tore herself out of bed, padding into the bathroom in her bare feet, dimly aware of the fact that her limbs felt like they were made of lead and that her eyelids each felt like they had fifty pound weights attached to them. She flipped on the bathroom light, groaning as the harsh fluorescent glare hit fully dilated pupils, and gasped when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, framed by deep purple shadows. Her skin had a waxy, almost jaundiced pallor, and the hollows under her cheeks were, if anything, more pronounced than the previous day.

"Great," Nina thought bitterly. "Just great. I look like death."

Well, not much she could do about it. She splashed some water on her face in an attempt to revive herself, ran a shower as hot as she could stand it, and hurriedly dressed for work, coiling her hair into its customary bun on the train to Lincoln Center.

David was already waiting for her in the principle's studio when she entered, Thomas in his customary seat to the left of the large mirror.

"Are you warmed up?" He asked curtly, and Nina nodded in affirmation. "Good, let's get to work on the black swan variation." Nina obediently took her place beside David. It seemed she had barely started when Thomas' French-accented voice cracked the air like a whip. "Nina! Nina, you're dancing like a frigid old widow!" Nina closed her eyes, allowing Tchaikovsky's music to lift her up, fill her soul, and was almost immediately rewarded with a feeling of fluidity and grace which had previously been lacking. "Nina, for Christ's sake, this is about seduction, not looking pretty!" Thomas called out sharply. Nina couldn't decide if she should scream in frustration or snarl in anger. But still she persisted, throwing herself into the coda with uncharacteristic abandon. The steps came in a flurry of almost frightening violence, and for that brief instant, Nina could almost hear the black swan snarling in rage deep within the confines of her mind. But still Nina could not release her, could not forgive her for the chaos that was now a part of her daily reality. She spun to a stop, panting with exertion and barely contained umbrage. She turned to Thomas, who was eyeing her, irritation evident in the set of his jaw. He blew out a disappointed sigh. "Nina, I don't understand…" He trailed off. But before he could go any farther, his cell phone rang, and he exited the studio speaking rapidly in French. Nina turned to David.

"Look, Nina," he said. "For what it's worth, you were spectacular the night of the performance. You have what it takes; you just have to quit fighting it." David spun on his heels, and he too left the studio, leaving Nina alone to wrestle with her thoughts.

"What a prick!" Lily exclaimed loudly, attracting scandalized glares from several of the fellow patrons at the Lebanese restaurant they had chosen for their shared dinner.

"Keep it down!" Nina hissed under her breath, casting apologetic glances in the general direction of the offended customers.

"What a prick!" Lily repeated, thankfully this time reducing the sonority by a considerable amount. "Look, you gave an awesome performance, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt you," She said, taking a long, deep drag off of the raspberry flavored Hookah she'd ordered to compliment the meal and expelling it in a carcinogenic cloud around her face.

"I'm giving him reason to doubt me, Lily," Nina protested. "Whatever it was that I tapped into that night, I haven't been able to do it since," she said miserably. Lily nodded her head slowly.

"You mean you've just been scared as shit to access it since," Lily countered. "There's a difference." She sat back in her chair, and Nina could almost feel the girl's gaze piercing through her to her very soul. "You know, Nina, you just need to get more fun out of life," Lily observed, offering Nina the hose of the Hookah.

"What is it?" Nina asked suspiciously.

"It's Hashish," Lily quipped sarcastically. Nina's head shot up, and she fixed a wide-eyed stare on Lily, utterly horrified. Lily just laughed. "Jesus, relax. It's just raspberry flavored tobacco. Nothing illegal. Try it." Nina hesitantly took the tube and replaced the plastic tip, inserting it into her mouth and sucking deeply. Almost immediately she felt as though her chest was exploding. The offending smoke was ejected in harsh, racking coughs, and Lily patted Nina's back until the coughing fit subsided, laughing. "I can teach you, you know," She said, her voice laden with amusement. "Here, try it again, but this time inhale slowly but at a steady rate." Nina complied, and this time it went down smoothly. Much to Nina's surprise and delight, she discovered that it actually had a pleasant taste.

"This is good!" Nina exclaimed, taking another hit.

"It is, isn't it?" Lily said, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself. "Just be careful with it. This is good stuff; high quality tobacco, probably straight from somewhere in the Middle East. If you go to a regular Hookah café, they usually give you this cheap shit that tastes like charcoal and will have you puking up your kidneys for hours."

"I'll bear that in mind." Nina replied. "So tell me, where did you learn this?"

"Me? I'm from San Francisco, babe. You wanna know about anything dangerous, immoral, or just plain illegal, I'm your girl," She laughed. "Or at least that's part of it. My dad's Jordanian. Mom's Dutch. I went to Amman with Dad just before coming to New York. The locals make something of a pastime out of Hookah." Nina was fascinated; she had wondered for months about Lily's bronze complexion and exotic features. Now she had her answer. "Okay, your turn," Lily broke in. "What's the story with your mom?"

For an instant, Nina wanted to collapse in on herself and disappear. But Lily was fixing her with another one of those penetrating stares, the type that suggested that lying would be detected with all the ease of changing socks, and so resigned, she sighed. "She was a dancer when she was our age," Nina started, and Lily nodded enthusiastically. "She wasn't very good, truthfully; never made it out of the corps. And then, when she was twenty eight she got pregnant with me, and had to leave dance." Nina paused, trying to put into words her complicated relationship with her mother. "Well, I guess she figured that if she couldn't be a star, being the mother of one was the next best thing. I started dancing almost as soon as I could walk," Nina said. Lily seemed to consider this.

"Do you even like ballet?" She asked, and Nina had to admit that it was a provocative question. After a moment's hesitation, she came up with her answer.

"Yes, I love it," she said.

"Then why do you fight it so hard?" Lily asked. Nina, not for the first time in Lily's presence, was rendered utterly and completely speechless.

Again, Lily considered Nina. "Say, what are you doing this Saturday?" She asked.

"Nothing of importance. Why?"

"We need to take you shopping," Lily stated.

"But I have plenty of clothes," Nina protested.

"I know you do, but how can I put this…" Lily paused, more for dramatic effect than for the sake of tact, Nina sensed. "I went to a Catholic school for five years. The nuns wore hotter stuff than you," Lily stated frankly. Nina spluttered a bit. "Come on, Nina, you're a beautiful girl, and it's time you started to dress like it."

Nina honestly had no idea how to respond. When she wasn't wearing dancing attire she was to be found in a drab array of greys and whites, usually with her pale wool overcoat disguising any shape the clothes may have displayed.

"So waddya say?" Lily asked. "Saturday you and I hit the mall and give your wardrobe a major overhaul, deal?" She held out her hand.

"Deal," Nina replied reluctantly, shaking it.