Title: Mourir pour la danse

Author: L3af Con3yb3ar

Rating: M

Warnings: AU, OOC, Explicit Sexual Content, Dub-Con, Crude Language, Cross-dressing, Eating Disorders, Graphic Violence, Character Deaths

Characters: Kurt Hummel, Noah Puckerman, Blaine Anderson, Rachel Berry, Finn Hudson, Jesse St. James, Mike Chang, and others

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Swan, Glee, Swan Lake, or anything affiliated.

Part Three

As Kurt walked through the hallway near the dressing rooms, the other dancers glanced at him and parted, subtly, to make way. His new status already seemed to have an effect, he noted, although it made him slightly uncomfortable. Regardless, he smiled at them and approached the bulletin board, his eyes skimming over the rehearsal schedule. He made a mental note and continued on his way, his mood lifting when he saw his dressing room door a few feet away. Just then, he saw Rachel emerge from her dressing room.

She scowled at Kurt, sizing him up but the male dancer held his own, gripping the strap of his bag tightly as his lips parted. The two stared at each other for a few seconds until Rachel smirked and walked toward him, purposefully bumping into his shoulder.

"Watch where I'm going," she snapped.

Kurt said nothing as she walked away with a flip of her hair. He sighed, pacing to his dressing room before opening the door and slamming it shut. Once inside, he dropped his bag on the floor and relaxed a little, rubbing the shoulder she had intentionally bumped into. Eventually, he removed his coat and sat down at his vanity, removing a compact from his bag.

He jumped at the abrupt knock on the door. "Come in."

The short, stocky administrator opened the door and poked her head inside. "Good morning."

"Hi," Kurt said, taking off his knit-sweater, leaving him in a white wife-beater as the administrator entered the space, holding out a gray practice tutu, "Here."

"I'm wearing this?" he asked, looking at the tutu in awe, "I get to wear a tutu?"

"For when you're dancing the black swan—I don't know any details just yet but apparently it's part of Puck's 'vision' this year, I think," she said, picking off lint and smoothing out the fabric before handing it over to him, "Congrats, kid."

He smiled, taking the tutu from her. He turned back to the mirror and noticed that she was frowning at him, "What?"

"What happened to your back?"

Kurt contorted his body to get a view of his right shoulder. There was a small cluster of reddish bumps—a small rash. He moved his fingers over it, bothered by the imperfection, "Damn it…"

"The clinic upstairs might have something for it," she offered but Kurt shook his head.

"No, it's okay," he said, unzipping the compact and taking out a container of makeup—which he picked up right before coming in. "Thank you." The administrator nodded and left without a word, quietly closing the door after her. Overwhelmed already, Kurt twisted again to get a better look at his shoulder blade and then proceeded to cover the offending rash in makeup.

"Remember, Odette wants love," Puck said, "That's what is needed to break the spell."

Mike and Kurt were currently rehearsing the beginning of Act II when Siegfried and Odette first meet, accompanied by piano music. Sitting in his chair in front of the mirror, Puck watched the pair from a distance, nodding his head in approval.

A cross-bow in his hand, Mike danced around the space, miming a hunt. Kurt acted spooked and danced away when he spun around and saw him. Mike cautiously chased him, acting intrigued with the 'beautiful creature,' every now and then reaching a hand out to gently graze the other's back or arm. With a scared look on his face, Kurt gracefully retracted his arms, and then raised them, mimicking a bird flapping its wings. He snuck glances at Puck, eager for some type of feedback but the older man only had a fist tucked under his chin.

He spun on his toes, away from Mike's grasp, disentangling from him. In the middle of the next pirouette, he saw another man standing at the door way, watching them. He spun again, refocusing on the man, who looked almost like him. Another spin, and he got a much better focus—the man looked just like him.

Freaked, he stumbled, gasping a bit—but grateful that Mike had caught his arm before he fell down. "Are you all right?"

Puck stood up, "Kurt?"

"I…" Kurt recovered and shook his head, squinting to focus on the figure.

"Kurt, what happened?"

"Who's that?" he asked, pointing at the door. Instead of his double, Blaine stood at the door. He smiled and waved; Kurt relaxed but still watched the raven-haired man with distrust. Blaine diverted his eyes and walked away, so Puck barely got a glimpse.

"Come on, Kurt," the director said, "Let's keep going."

He nodded and took his place next to Mike, who leaned in to whisper, "Relax, you could hurt yourself."

"Didn't you see that?"

"Blaine? Yeah, he's a nice guy—

"No, he's not," Kurt interrupted, "I mean—it-it wasn't him standing there. It was someone else."

Mike stared at him like he had ten heads and then laughed. "Okay."

Kurt sighed, unnerved that Mike didn't believe him; regardless, he stood in position as Puck called out, "Maestro!" The two dancers began the routine again.

With only a small garden salad and a bottle of Snapple, Kurt paid for his lunch at the register. The cashier handed him his change and Kurt bowed his head, "Thank you." He entered the small, crowded dining space, tucked away in the bowels of the theatre, for the dancers, crew members, and orchestra members. Almost every table was full, except for the empty seat at the table near the back where the male soloists were sitting—his former group of soloists.

Almost immediately after he saw the group, Jesse looked up and peered his way. He raised a hand, smiling, and waved in his direction. Taken aback, Kurt started forward but Jesse shouted out, "Hey, Blaine, over here!" Kurt stopped moving, "Blaine!"

Blaine swiftly brushed past him but turned around, "I'm so sorry—hey!" Kurt tried to avoid his gaze.

"Hi."

"I saw you and Mike rehearsing this morning. You looked incredible!"

Kurt politely nodded his head, "Thanks."

"Yeah, so…" Blaine clutched his tray, a plate full of pasta, chicken Parmesan, Kurt noticed. "Hey, you should come sit with us!" he said, a huge smile on his face. Before Kurt could shake his head 'no' or even think up an excuse, he took his free hand and maneuvered him toward the table. He began panicking;

Unaware, Blaine sat down and took a sip of his water.

The brunet dancer felt uneasy as all eyes landed on him. Jesse spoke up, twirling a piece of celery in his hand, "I don't think there's any more room."

"It's okay, we can squeeze," Blaine said, "Grab a chair."

"N-no, that's okay," Kurt said, grateful that Blaine thought of trying to include him—even though the other guys probably hated him even more now, "I-uhm… I-I really shouldn't even be down here—I actually have to run to a fitting." He prayed to whatever entity that was up there that the boys would believe him. He doubted they did.

Blaine's face fell, "Oh… Well, I guess I'll see you around then!"

"Yeah," with a small wave, "Bye, guys."

He started walking away, ducking his head, when he heard Jesse shout out, offhandedly, "I guess the diva thinks he's too good for us now!" the other men at the table, save for Blaine, laughed but Kurt tried to ignore the remark, only concerned about getting the hell out of the there. He quickened his pace out the door.

Outside, in an empty locker-filled hallway, a ways from the cafeteria, Kurt picked at his lunch. The size of the space made him feel particularly small and lonely. He understood that that Blaine guy meant well, but he still couldn't help but feel some mistrust toward him. Why couldn't he spare Kurt the embarrassment and just leave him alone? Unless that's what he wanted, Kurt thought bitterly. Maybe he and Jesse are best friends now and he only did it so they could make fun of— Hearing footsteps, he looked up to find Blaine approaching him, a small bag over his shoulders.

"Hey, you."

Blushing, Kurt looked away and stood up to throw out the rest of his salad. Maybe he'd be safe in the confines of his dressing room until his lunch break was over.

"Sorry about that," he said, "I didn't mean to take your spot."

"It's fine."

"I don't want you to think I'm trying to replace you or anything," he said. Kurt felt uneasy at that but Blaine didn't notice. He smirked, "What a bunch of cunts, huh? God, who knew gay guys here were so catty?"

Kurt shrugged and bit his lip. "I should probably—

"Yeah, of course!"

He started to leave but Blaine grabbed his arm, "What?" he said, finally about to tell the guy to leave him alone. He noticed that Blaine was a few inches shorter than him.

"I was just wondering…maybe we could go get a drink some time?"

No way. "I-I'm not… I mean, I don't…"

"I understand—it's okay if you don't want to," Blaine shrugged, "I'm new here and you seemed cool, unlike some people…" he said, rolling his eyes and smiling. Why was he always doing that? "Maybe some other time?"

Kurt nodded and feigned a smile, "I'll think about it."

"Cool, see ya later!" Blaine grinned, ran a hand through his curls, and started to walk away, "Oh, and hey—don't let those douchebags get to you. I'm pretty sure they're just jealous. They'd probably do anything to be where you are right now."

Maybe. "Thank you," Kurt said, looking elsewhere.

"Okay, well, bye!"

"Okay, that's enough," Puck ordered, "Thank you." Mike and Kurt were once again rehearsing Odette and Siegfried's meeting, both now drenched in sweat. They stopped dancing and parted, Mike going over to his belongings to get a towel while Kurt approached Puck, "That was beautiful, Kurt."

The brunet grinned, still a little out of breath, but, nevertheless, flattered by the compliment. "Thank you."

"But, you see, I knew the white swan wouldn't be a problem for you."

And there it was.

"The real work would be your metamorphosis into the evil twin," Kurt nodded, as if he didn't already hear this about a hundred times in the past three days, "And I know I saw a flash of him yesterday," Puck continued, folding his arms and crossing one leg over the other, "The Act III coda, please," he gestured to the piano player.

An hour later and with a pain in his ankles, Kurt stood at a water fountain in the hallway, filling his water bottle and taking a few sips. He could hear the clapping of pointe slippers against the floor from the other side of the walls.

Curious, he entered another large rehearsal space, where the corps and soloists practiced the choreography from Act II. Among them was Blaine, who danced as if he didn't have a care in the world, long arms gracefully moving as if he were a magnificent bird. Kurt wondered why Puck just didn't choose him to dance the role.

He watched in fascination and slight envy as he danced alongside Santana, a close friend of Brittany's, and Jesse. Blaine had a looser style than Jesse, less precise and articulated, but fluid. He then spotted the two tattoos on his back underneath the white tank-top—a pair of black wings.

Puck snuck up behind him at the doorway, "Look at the way he moves…" he noted, "Imprecise, but effortless…" he closed in on Kurt's ear, dauntingly, "He's not faking it." Kurt's expression hardened and he suppressed a sigh, bothered by Puck's praise of the new guy and backhanded jab toward him. "You'd do well to mirror him."

He knew exactly what the director was implying.

Unlike Kurt, Blaine looked completely at ease, despite a small mistake he made, which he ended up laughing about it with Jesse and Santana, amused rather than bothered at his faux pas.

Kurt gulped, threatened.

"Come, my little prince," Puck said, leaving the rehearsal room, "We have a long day ahead of us." Kurt stole one last look at Blaine and then followed suit.

Back in the other rehearsal room, hours later, Puck and Kurt continued practicing the pas de deux from Act III, without music. Kurt now wearing the gray tutu, and soaked in sweat, did a series of spins and lifts with Puck's hands placed firmly around his waist. The older man lifted him into the air and then set him down. Kurt leaned in close, as if to kiss him, but pushed off of him, strutting away to dance a short solo, trying his damndest to act seductive.

"Now, remember, Odile offers Siegfried what Odette lacks," Puck said, analyzing Kurt's every move with his eyes, "Lust…sex… And you'll do whatever it takes to get what you want."

Even after hours of practice, Kurt looked stiff…and a little frightened. The total opposite of that Puck was looking for. He shook his head.

"No, Kurt, stop…"

As if he were a chastised child, Kurt stood with his head down, in embarrassment. "I can't do this…"

"Yes, you can," Puck said, holding a hand out, "Baby, you're beautiful, you just…" he paused, trying to find the least offensive way to say. Kurt approached him and took his hand, too embarrassed to look into his eyes. "You just have no idea how to use it—

Suddenly, all of the lights in the room shut off. Complete darkness.

"Damn it," Puck shouted, finally losing it, "Fuck!" He stormed up to the door and threw it open, "Excuse me, we're still working in here!"

Kurt stood still, watching the door, and waiting for Puck to come back. "Noa—

Kur'…

The dancer froze in his place.

Kurt…

"Wh—

Suddenly, the lights turned back on and Puck returned, "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, "We must be the only ones still here."

"Were you just calling my name?"

"…No?"

Kurt didn't say anything. He instead nodded and wrapped his arms around himself as Puck approached him. "Now, where were we?" he said, his hands gently touching Kurt's arms.

"The lean-in…"

"Right," Puck said, leaning in, "The kiss." He studied Kurt's face for a moment, "You know what? We'll stop here for today."

"N-no! I can keep going—

"No," he said, rolling his eyes, "No. More practice won't do any good."

Slightly hurt, Kurt nodded and looked anywhere else in the room, ashamed to look at Puck. "I'm sorry," Puck turned his face toward him and pecked his lips.

"Please, stop apologizing," Puck said, burying his nose into Kurt's hair, "No more of that." He wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulder and escorted him out the door, "I've worked you enough for today. Get dressed and I'll take you home."

Freezing in his bathrobe after stepping out of the shower, Kurt quickly tip-toed to Finn's bedroom door and knocked, "Finn?" He waited a few seconds before knocking again. "Finn, are you in there?" he called out, pressing his ear to the door. Cold and impatient, he turned the knob and pushed the door in, "Finn—

"Hey!" a voice bellowed from the front door, terrifying Kurt enough for him to jump back.

"You frightened me—

Finn stormed up to his brother and tugged on the knob, making sure his door was closed. A loud slam resounded through the hallway, "What are you doing?"

"I didn't know you left," the younger man quickly tried to explain, pulling the front of his robe together to make sure the cold air couldn't get to him.

"I was taking the trash out," Finn folded his arms, "Answer my question, Kurt: what are you doing going in there?"

"I thought you were in your room."

The older man visibly twitched and pointed at his door, "You have no business in there without permission!" he barked.

"I'm sorry."

"What do you want?"

Kurt felt a lump in his throat, reluctant to bother Finn any longer if he was going to blow up at him, "Do we have any more shampoo?" Finn said nothing as he glared at Kurt. What was his problem? "Finn, please, it's freezing."

"Check the linen closet," Finn said, annoyance in his tone, "Anything else?"

"No," Kurt shook his head, "Thank you."

"Look, from now on, just stay out of there, all right?"

"Y-yes, yes…of course," the two stood awkwardly before Finn's door for a moment, before the taller man gave him a pointed look as if asking if he needed anything else, or ordering him to get out of the way. Once Kurt finally got the hint: "Oh, right… Sorry," he moved, allowing Finn to shove past him and open his door. He shot Kurt another dirty look and slipped inside, "I'm sorry—

He was cut off by Finn slamming the door in his face. To Kurt, it seemed everything he'd done lately—even the smallest thing—would annoy or make Finn angry, so there wasn't any point in trying to argue with him—just apologize and move on, hoping that whatever it was would eventually go away.

As he searched through the linen closet, he realized that not once had he ever been inside Finn's room. What could he possibly be hiding in there that he wouldn't want him to see?

Kurt unbuttoned his coat as he approached the large bulletin board, reluctant about checking the schedule for the day. Just as he thought—Puck had him down for rehearsing Act III the entire day. He took a deep breath and continued scanning the sheet, but then noticed something odd: Rachel's name had a line drawn through wherever it appeared. Furrowing his brows, he continued down the hall, hoping to get an explanation from Puck.

Noticing that his door was open, he walked right through and found Puck sitting at his desk.

Glasses on his face, Puck looked up from his paperwork and could immediately tell that Kurt was upset, "Yes, Kurt?"

"I just looked at the schedule…"

"A last minute decision," he shrugged, matter-of-factually, "I figured you could use the practice—

Kurt shook his head, "No, I'm not here about that," he took a deep breath, "What happened to Rachel? Why is her named crossed out on the schedule?"

Puck pushed the paperwork aside and removed the glasses from his nose, "Rachel's time with the company, unfortunately, has ended."

"What?"

With an unreadable expression on his face, Puck stood from his desk and shut the door, afterwards, taking a seat on his desk.

"Noah, what do you mean?" Kurt pushed, feeling as if the wind was knocked out of him.

"It means," Puck paused, "… she's decided to move on." Kurt looked down at his hands, guilt consuming him. Puck sensed this and immediately wrapped his arms around the dancer's frame, "Believe me, my little prince, this has nothing to do with you." Kurt pressed his face into Puck's chest. The older man pulled away and held his face in his hands.

"It's because of me, I know it," Kurt said, "She's angry at me."

Puck shook his head, "No, babe…" he soothed.

"Yes," Kurt sniffled, shaking slightly as Puck rubbed his arms.

"She's received an offer from a company in Russia." Kurt looked up at him and Puck shrugged. "She'll be missed but believe me, this is a fantastic opportunity for her," Puck kissed his lips softly and groaned as Kurt clutched his shirt. He pulled away from Kurt and caressed his face, grinning when he blushed. "Don't think about it, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, go get ready," Puck said, gently pushing him out the door, "We start in five minutes."

A/N: There we are... Please forgive any mistakes or typos that I've missed. I'm not so sure when I'll update with Part IV, as classes resume next week. But I'll do my best to work on this as much as I can. Again, reviews and criticism or whatever helps a lot. Thank you to those who reviewed Part II.

Next chapter, tragedy strikes within the company. See you soon!