Hello there! I guess I was feeling excited, so here's chapter one! BTW, I think it's fair to tell you guys that the first chapters (prélude/before part) will be an introduction to Marie's life prior to the accident. And once again, The Flash belongs to Warner/DC/CW, while Marie and a few other characters come straight from my imagination. If you spot any mistakes in this chapter, feel free to point them out so I can fix it :)! Oh, and Rien Que Poussière is supposed to mean "nothing but dust"... you'll see why ;)

Chapitre Un

Rien Que Poussière

A few years later

Marie is sitting on the floor of the backstage, looking at the main stage through the wings. Paige is beside her, fixing the hidden knot of her pointe shoes. They're both watching as Damien Hathaway, 20, performs Prince Siegfried's variation on their final stage rehearsal. He joined the company in the beginning of the season and was already playing a main character. This makes Marie feels sad, even a bit envious – specially because Swan Lake's her favorite ballet – but it doesn't matter. Even if she never gets the chance to play her dream parts, she's fine as long as she can dance. That's what moves her every day out of bed.

Penelope Álvarez, the company's youngest Principal Dancer, goes on stage to practice the coda. She performs the 32 fouettés with a certain difficulty, but everybody expects that. They know she is much more of a jumper. But she holds her own, like Marie knew she would, and makes it look easy as breathing. Natural as blinking your eyes. And that's what makes her the great dancer she is.

"I heard something interesting today," Paige says. Marie turns to look at her, a questioning look on her face. She goes on: "We're dancing a new ballet next season."

Marie is instantly excited. "A new creation? For our company?"

"Well, not exactly," Paige tilts her head.

Most of Marie's excitement is gone now, replaced with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not a brand new ballet, just something the company's never performed. Pierre Lacotte's La Sylphide."

And now Marie's excited again.

"I never imagined I would get to dance this one day! Imagine it, Paige, where going to be sylphs! Doesn't it sounds fun?"

"If it's anything like the willis from Giselle I'm going to die in boredom" she sighs dramatically. Marie laughs.

"I'm sure it'll be great!"

"Ugh, your positivity is annoying sometimes."

This only makes Marie smile more.

"Why, thank you, dear."

One more season is over. The promotions are up. Penelope Álvarez is leaving for a year to perform as a Guest Principal in some European company. Damien Hathaway is promoted to Soloist. Paige Hemmings is also promoted to Soloist (something Marie expected since Paige got to dance Princess Florine in Sleeping Beauty). And Marie? Well, she is still part of the corps de ballet.

She hugs her best – and only – friend, and promises that they'll celebrate later.

Paige goes call her boyfriend and Marie her mother. She answers in the second ring.

"How was it?" she asks through the phone.

"It wasn't this time, mom. At least not for me, but Paige was promoted!" Marie tries her best to sound excited for her friend, but she knows her mother will see right through her.

"Congratulate her for me, dear. Are you coming home?" the change of subject is quick and blunt.

"Yes. I'll see you soon!"

"I love you, daughter," her mother says, as always.

"I love you too, mom".

Marie hangs up.

Karen Sheperd, Marie's mother, doesn't live with her. She still lives in Rhode Island, were Marie lived most of her life – until she was accepted by a ballet school and left. It was hard for both of them, but the Sheperd girls are tough – at least that's what her mother told her.

Right now, Karen's visiting for a few weeks, to watch Marie dancing in Swan Lake, the last ballet of the season. But now the season's over, and soon Karen will return home.

That's why Marie puts her sadness aside and enjoys her last couple of days with her mother. They talk, laugh and watch movies together, like they always do. But when Karen goes to bed, Marie sunks into the bathroom floor and cries for one more season that she spends in the background. When she is done, she washes her face with cold water and prays that her eyes won't be swollen in the morning.

"You don't think it might have something to do with my skin tone?" Marie asks Paige one day, when they're having breakfast together.

"Well, Central City Ballet never had problems with dancers of other ethnicities," Paige points out. "Just look at Penelope: she's clearly latina, but nobody cares. It's her technique that matters."

Marie takes another sip of her coffee. In years following Paige to coffee shops, she has learned to appreciate the taste of it.

"Then I guess I need to work harder on my technique."

Paige sighs. "That's not what I meant. Marie, you're a beautiful dancer, but I guess it takes time to be recognized for it. I'm 25 and that's the first time I've received a promotion. Yours will come, I know."

Suddenly Marie feels ashamed of her attitude.

"I'm sorry, Paige. You're so happy for your promotion and I'm here talking about my identity crisis. Let's change the subject."

"Wait, wait, miss Sheperd," Paige raises her hands. "First, there's nothing to apologize for. You are my best friend and that's what best friends are for. Second, this has nothing to do with your skin. You a beautiful biracial girl and that's nothing to be ashamed of. And if you're right and they're not giving you the parts you deserve because of your skin tone, then they're huge racists idiots and we'll expose them for that. Alright?"

Marie swallows her tears. She doesn't know what she did to deserve a friend like Paige.

"Alright."

They finish eating and before following different paths, Marie hugs Paige and thanks her for being here, making sure to congratule her one more time. Paige deserves it, Marie knows.

Marie's mother is the daughter of a black man and a white woman. Marie's unknown father was white, according to her mom. And Marie is the mixture of both. For the lack of a better term, she has olive skin. She's too white to be black, and too black to be white.

Growing up, she always thought she looked like Beyoncé, her early teens icon. Then, when she figured out that her skin was lighter than Beyoncé's, she went trought her so called "skin tone crisis". It was when her mother stepped in and told her about her father.

Karen never talks about him. That was the only occasion she did.

"Your father was white. He had this wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. Sometimes you look like him, Marie. Your nose, your face shape."

"Is he dead, mom?" thirteen-year-old Marie asked, noticing her mother's use of the past term.

Karen face instantly hardened. "It's like he is, dear. It's like he is," she smiled wistfully. "But don't think about him anymore, darling. He is nothing but dust to us."

And Marie did exactly like she was told.