Emerald Green

Chapter Thirty-Three

Dream Come True

"Um," started Molly, staring. "Who's birthday party?"

"The Most High and Gracious Emperor," said the Doctor. "Or, as I like to call him, Bill."

"…Bill?"

"Short for Billiam."

"Not William?"

"No, I'm fairly certain it's Billiam," replied the Doctor. "Anyway, it's the Emperor's birthday party."

Molly finally remembered to release the bar. "You got invited to an Emperor's birthday party? And – which Emperor, exactly?"

"Of the Atrocious Galaxy," said the Doctor as he headed towards her. "Unfortunate name. It's actually quite lovely. A popular tourist destination. Remind me to take you to Prisma Beach sometime."

"How'd you score an invite to-"

"His palace had an invasion of psychic mites at one point in time. I helped him out with it." He stepped up the first stair. "Well? Birthday party?"

Birthdays were maybe her least favorite thing in the world, and they'd just gone through the physical and emotional trials of the flytrap house, the Silence, and Eleven being the Valeyard.

"Why not?" she shrugged. Something had to come after all that. Might as well be a royal birthday party.

"Perfect! You'll need a formal dress. I'll need…" he looked down at himself. "Non-bloody clothes. Meet up in fifteen?"

"Make it thirty," said Molly. "I'll need to do something with my hair, and that takes forever in and of itself."

He stared at her a moment. "Maybe try a bun. Some flowers, too, you might find them in the wardrobe somewhere. Height of fashion in the Atrocious Galaxy right now."

Molly raised a brow. "O…kay. Try to look presentable yourself."

"I'm always presentable," replied the Doctor, going up the stairs past her. "See you in a mo!"

He went out into the corridor. Then he came back. "Right," he mumbled as he went past her, headed down to where he actually kept his clothes. Molly snorted, and headed towards the wardrobe.

She went through the clothes in the wardrobe for five minutes before feeling like she was ready to give up. She had no idea what formalwear was in the Atrocious Galaxy, or how to dress for an Emperor's birthday party. She was woefully unprepared for a fashion emergency like this. But she also didn't relish the idea of going back to the Doctor for help. Having him dress her like a doll felt…weird.

But there was someone else who could help. Molly decided to give it a go, and headed back to her room. She stood in front of her personal wardrobe, and placed her hands on the surface. "Okay, TARDIS." She hoped she wouldn't be overly offensive. "I know, deep down, in my soul, you're as bossy as I am. And with all the clothes you have, you also definitely have fashion sense. You also exist all across time at once, so you must know what formalwear looks like in the galaxy and time period I'm going to. So how about you boss me around a bit and tell me what to wear, huh?" She paused. Maybe not the best way to plead her case. "Please. I'm totally lost and I don't want to embarrass the Doctor."

She closed her eyes and said a little wish, and then opened the door. "Oh, thank you," she said, taking the dress and various accessories out of the wardrobe. "I had no idea what I was doing."

Molly went into the bathroom to continue the ongoing war with her hair, and managed to pin it up decently, thanks to her years of experience pulling her hair into a bun for ballet. She was even able to pin the pale blue flowers the TARDIS had given her across the top of the bun, despite it being in the back of her head. Then she threw on some quick makeup.

She went through the pile of clothes the TARDIS had picked out for her. Blue dress, matching heels, and nude tights. Well, she'd skip the tights, given the burns on her legs. They were already largely healed, but it would still irritate her skin to have fabric that tightly wrapped around, so she set them aside.

Immediately, she felt a shock in her feet. "Ow!" She cried out, looking down, but all she saw was the floor. Confused, she looked up. "Did you just shock me?" Bzzt. This time the shock was strong enough that she could hear it, and she jumped up onto the bed to avoid getting hit again. "What the hell? Why…" She looked over at the tights. "Okay, right. I agreed to let you dress me. Fair's fair."

So on went the tights, the dress, and the shoes. She took a moment to admire herself in the mirror, like a main character in a YA book:

The dress was TARDIS blue, with a slight shimmer to the fabric, and the fabric went down to her ankles, but it was hardly modest. While the top went around her neck like a halter top, despite the otherwise sweetheart neckline, the back was, well, completely bare. The fabric hung open a bit around the sides, but otherwise was completely open in the back, all the way down until it was almost scandalous. Just before that happened, there was a silk bow. Along one of the legs, there was a slit that went to her thigh. The tights looked a little odd with the dark blue strappy heels, but it did make the dress a bit more modest. And though they did irritate the burns a little, it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

She went to the bathroom to pin back one last escaped strand of hair, and then headed back to the console room.

"Well, hello there, handsome," she greeted the Doctor, and realized it was maybe the first time she'd ever playfully flirted with him. That was odd. She usually play-flirted with all her friends – well, friendly acquaintances.

That wasn't something she wanted to examine, so she instead examined the Doctor, who did, indeed, look handsome in his new clothes. He'd exchanged the purple for a deep emerald green velvet waistcoat, opting to keep the vest underneath a silvery grey, and the same colored pants he'd worn with the purple. But the waistcoat and dark green bowtie with swirls of gold made the green of his eyes shockingly obvious in a very attractive way.

Attractive. Yikes. She needed to keep away from words like 'handsome' and 'attractive'. Sure, she knew him better as a person now, but that didn't mean there was any room for any sort of attraction whatsoever. She was in the wrong universe. She was still an anomaly. He was still the Doctor. And their friendship didn't need any complicating.

His smile still did weird things to her stomach. "Back at you, gorgeous," he replied. He shifted a white bag on his shoulder, a sort of cross between a tote bag and a messenger bag. "Ready for a party?"

Molly took a moment to steel herself. She used to be a party girl, but she'd left that behind years ago. And after everything they'd just gone through, she wasn't sure she was quite ready for a party, especially one that promised to be formal and full of anxiety, dealing with royalty.

But she'd probably have fun once she'd adjusted, and the Doctor was clearly looking forward to it, so she smiled. "I'm always ready for a party," she said, and joined him by the controls. "What's with the bag?"

"It's a birthday party," replied the Doctor, with his tone that said he was tired of companions who never quite caught on to the obvious. "You have to bring a gift."

"You're giving him a bag?"

"No, I'm giving him what's inside the bag." The same tone. "Shall we be off?"

"Let's do it," she replied.

They landed and headed for the door. "Hold on, hold on," she said, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulder to make him wait. "I'm American. The whole concept of royalty is foreign to me, and I definitely have never been around it before. What do I do? Does he expect bows? Is there a certain title I should refer to him with? Also, do I really have to be there to meet him?"

"It's his birthday. Not saying hi would be rude." The Doctor sounded almost scandalized. "And it'll be fine. Quick bow, call him Most High and Gracious Emperor-"

"I'm not going to remember that."

"-and just stick by me. I know what I'm doing."

Part of her doubted that, but then, he was more familiar with all this than she was. And he'd met him before. She'd have to trust that following his lead would keep her from humiliating herself.

Molly followed him off the TARDIS, onto a street that looked remarkably like Earth, save for the street being made of something dark red instead of black. There were a few people headed towards a high metal gate, with tall, smooth white walls on either side. Molly remembered the house and decided that she never wanted to see the color white again.

They approached the gate, that had guards dressed all in gold, even with a shine to their coats like the fabric was really made of gold. They had high hats with a silver buckle around the bottom. There was an extra hand growing from their wrists.

The Doctor gave a salute, then said, "The Doctor, plus one."

One of the guards opened his hand – well, one of them - with his palm facing him. Molly saw lights scroll across his face, and had a sick feeling when she realized there must be some sort of screen inside his hand the displayed the list of guests. "The Doctor and guest," said the guard, and he nodded at the other, who opened the gate. Molly gave a nod to the guards as they walked through.

The garden was massive, reminding Molly of pictures she'd seen of Versailles. Winding paths led through beds of trees and flowers, and despite the slight chill in the air, they were all blooming beautifully, in vivid colors she swore were never so intense on Earth. There were lights floating above them, in little spheres, glowing gold and silver, lighting the garden up in pools of light that shifted like the water had above her when she sat on the floor of a pool and looked up.

And then, of course, there was the palace. It wasn't as tall as she'd thought it would be, but it was beautiful, of grey stone with golden statues placed here and there, of gargoyles and something that looked like angels, but with inhuman faces and sometimes too many wings. Many of the windows were stained glass depicting scenes that weren't quite human, but felt like they were. Some that almost looked like a knight defeating a dragon, or some sort of saint coming down from a cloud.

The Doctor led her inside, where everything was all the more beautiful. The lights in here shifted in the same way as the ones outside, and she thought it should make her feel ill, but didn't. The floors seemed made of marble, the grey walls full of golden designs of swirls or flowers or crowns set with rubies.

They soon stood at the entrance of a ballroom that seemed impossibly big. She swore it was almost the size of a football field, and it was filled with people. Aliens, to her view. Some she recognized: a few Ood, a couple Hath, a Judoon. Most she didn't. One she could have sworn was one of the giant multi-face creatures from the Neverending Story. But there was not one human among them – except for her.

Still, she was relieved to see that the TARDIS had chosen well. Most other dresses were also floor-length, with different sorts of cut-outs, from other slits and backless dresses to more intricate ones that looked almost like lace. The Doctor had chosen well, too, as velvet seemed the most popular fabric all around.

Against the opposite wall was a large, gilded platform, with an even more gilded throne. On it sat a man who looked almost human, save for the stalk eyes at the top of his head, and what looked to be gills on either side of his throat.

A man with a horn coming out of his forehead like a unicorn stood by the doorway, and the Doctor whispered something to him. The man turned to the ballroom. "THE DOCTOR AND MOLLY QUINN," his voice boomed. The Doctor took her arm and they entered the ballroom.

Though normally thrilled at being the center of attention, the gaze of the whole of the crowd made her uneasy. She was about to have to improv meeting royalty, and she really wanted to limit the number of eyes on her when she inevitably screwed it up.

"Follow my lead," the Doctor reminded her in a whisper in her ear as they approached the throne. She tried to arrange her face in a way that didn't look terrified.

They stopped in front of the platform. The Doctor released her arm and made a sweeping bow, but Molly opted for a subtler bend at the waist.

"Oh, Most High and Gracious Emperor," the Doctor greeted in an almost comically formal voice. "It is a great honor to have been invited to such a prestigious and – and prominent and…esteemed event." Three words that meant the same thing. They were off to an awkward start. "It's magnificent you've gotten older, Billiam."

Molly couldn't rescue them from the 'old' comment, but when she saw a guard nearby mouth 'Billiam' with a confused but delighted expression, she decided she probably should jump in, despite her nerves. "He meant William, your…um…Graciousness. Sometimes he stutters a bit." She ignored the Doctor's glare.

"Welcome, Doctor, Miss Quinn," the Emperor greeted. Molly was grateful to find that his tone was friendly. "It is an honor to host you both. I'll speak with you more later, Doctor. Enjoy the party."

The Doctor gave another overdramatic bow, and Molly nodded her head, and they moved to mingle among the crowd.

"See?" said the Doctor, "Completely fine."

"Mmm…hm." She decided to limit her disagreement to that. "So…what now?"

"We mingle!" He exclaimed, gesturing to the people around them. "Get to know some people. Oh, and avoid that Geramynn in the corner. I'm fairly certain I owe him a lime, and I don't have one on me."

"A lime?"

"They don't grow on his planet," the Doctor explained. A server with an anteater-like nose stepped up to them with some sort of tiny food. "Ah! Snacks. Excellent, thank you." The Doctor took one, then another, and then a few more. Molly chose to leave the rest for everyone else.

"So, when's gift time? And what did you bring him?"

"We! We brought him. It's something pretty I'm sure he'll like," said the Doctor. "Don't worry about it. Oh! There's Ava-Lore the Eighteenth. I played croquet with her once. Let's go say hi."

The Doctor emptied one hand by tossing the tiny food into his mouth, then took her hand and dragged her over to a woman that looked to have little crystals added to her hairline. After a quick introduction, the woman and the Doctor started talking about old times on her home planet. The conversation fascinated Molly. She thought that maybe she'd always feel like it was her first time hearing about an alien planet.

And an Emperor's birthday party on another planet. These experiences would never feel completely everyday, even as she was getting used to them. And she was glad for it.

Eventually, the party was led outside, to the back gardens, which were even more expansive than the front. There were a few tents set up, some containing games, others comfortable seating to talk in, and another with ten whole buffets and tables. In the center of all the revelry was a stage, complete with curtains that hung from the spherical lights, hanging all around the stage save for the very front of it. There was no one on it.

"Is there going to be music later?" Molly asked the Doctor.

"Ah. Yes. Yes, there will most definitely be music later," said the Doctor. Something in his tone made it feel like a lie.

"What's the catch?"

"Catch? What catch? There's no catch."

"I know you-"

She was interrupted as the lights flashed purple, then blue, then green, and the booming voice of the announcer exclaimed, "TWENTY MINUTES TO THE PERFORMANCE OF GIFTS!"

Molly looked to the Doctor, who was still holding on to the bag, but now had a guilty expression on his face. "…okay, what's going on?"

"Hmm? Nothing. Nothing. Just…" He turned to her with a sheepish smile. "There may have been one tiny, little detail I forgot to mention. Or…possibly intentionally left out."

"And what's that?"

The Doctor turned fully towards her. "There's a traditional gift given to the Most High and etcetera Emperor on his birthday and high holidays. Really, it's a traditional gift for most of the planet, but it's much more formal when royalty is involved."

Molly felt her brows raise. "And what is that traditional gift? What do you have in the bag?" She hoped it wasn't something alive.

"It's a sort of offering. The traditional gift, I mean," he said. "The presentation of a dance."

"…a dance?"

"Yep," he responded. "Each formally invited guest – that's me – or their guest – that's you - goes onto the stage and gives the gift of a dance. A performance, usually something unique to their culture."

She found she couldn't keep the incredulous look off her face. "And…what? We're breakdancing or something?" She paused, then groaned. "Oh, no. Don't tell me you're going to do the Drunk Giraffe."

"Firstly, my dancing is impeccable," he said. "Secondly, I had another idea."

"What idea?" When he didn't respond immediately, she prompted, "What's in the bag?"

He finally took it off his shoulder, opened it, and held it out for her to look inside. All she could see for a moment were sparkles, and then she made out the white tulle-like fabric, the pink flowers, the blue ribbon.

She looked back up to the Doctor. "I changed my mind. The Drunk Giraffe is a masterpiece."

"Yes, it is," the Doctor agreed, but he took her hand, opened it, and then hooked the shoulder strap of the bag around her fingers. "This is better."

"Doctor…" She held the bag away from her like a venomous snake. "I really don't think it's such a good idea."

"I think it's perfect," the Doctor countered. "You're a dancer. The gift we need to give is a dance."

She shook her head. "I was out of commission for over a year. It's only the last…month?...I've started practicing again. And sure, I practice almost daily, but that doesn't mean I'm ready for a performance. I mean, what variation am I even supposed to perform?"

He looked confused, but she also saw a strange sort of softness behind it. "Giselle's first act variation, of course," he stated, again in that voice that declared he didn't understand why his Companions could never keep up with the obvious. "You said you always wanted to perform Giselle. Here's your chance."

She felt she couldn't move for a moment. Giselle. Her dream role. The one that got away. The one she still thought about, still regretted in a way that hurt if she thought about it for too long. Even just to be able to perform that one variation, that one dance she felt that worshipped dance, the dance she'd worshipped…

She looked into the bag at the costume. The Giselle costume. "It's been too long," she said, feeling an ache in her throat. "I can't do it justice. I'll screw it up."

"I know you won't," said the Doctor. "I have absolute faith in you."

Molly looked up to him, a warm feeling filling her chest instead of the ache. "It's touching you believe in me that much. Really, it is. I just…" She looked over to the stage, and tried to picture herself on it. "I don't want to embarrass us."

"You can't embarrass me," replied the Doctor. "And again, I know you won't embarrass yourself. Even if there are a few imperfections, it doesn't matter. No one here has seen ballet before, they don't know what it's meant to look like. And I'm sure you know how to cover a mistake."

She looked back at him, at the confidence in his eyes, and tried to turn his confidence into her own. "You're sure no one has seen it before?"

"Positive," replied the Doctor. He set his hand on top of hers and pushed the bag closer. "It's up to you to show them. To go up there and show them how important an art form it is."

Of course, he knew the perfect words to say. Ballet was so important to her, had always been important to her, even after it was clear she would never have a career in it. It still felt like a cornerstone of her being. And to have this audience that had never seen ballet, that had never experienced that feeling like she had when she'd sat in the theatre and watched them dance and glide and almost float through a glorious story…well, she couldn't deny them that. And it felt like a dishonor to ballet to not share it with as much of the universe as possible.

But there was still one problem. "I'm not even a little bit warmed up."

The Doctor pointed to a tent a ways behind her. "There's a space all set up for dancers to warm up and practice and get changed. We were near the last to arrive, so you'll be performing near the end. They'll have a list up. Should give you an extra hour."

One hour until she would be on a stage again. The butterflies didn't stay in her stomach – they floated around her chest until she couldn't help but laugh at the tickling sensation. "Okay. Giselle. On stage, in front of a crowd, for an Emperor's birthday." She took a breath. "I can do that."

"I know. I have complete confidence in you," he said with an easy smile. "That's why I brought the dress and shoes, and those toe pads you mentioned once. Is there anything else you need? I can go back."

She thought through everything she might need. Costume. Shoes. Her hair was already in a bun with the flowers, a traditional look for Giselle. She thought of another thing, and couldn't help but laugh again. "The TARDIS had it covered," she said. "Tights. She provided me with tights, and shocked me when I tried to skip them."

"That's my girl," he said proudly. "Always a step ahead of me."

Molly turned back to the warm up tent. "I guess I should go get ready," she said. She turned back to the Doctor. "Did you grab new shoes, or the pair I wore to practice this morning?"

"Looked like the pair you've worn before. New ones take some time to be broken in, I recall."

"And sewn," she said, relieved. She'd already made all the adjustments she needed to that pair. "Will I see you before?"

"I'll stop by before you go on," he promised.

"Alright, then," she said, and took a breath to steel herself. "I guess I better go get ready."

"It'll be grand," he assured her. "You'll have fun, too."

He wasn't wrong. Before she'd come here and befriended the Doctor and went on so many adventures in the TARDIS, ballet had been the most fun thing in her life. Well, other than getting chased down by probable mobsters and ruining wedding receptions.

She turned and headed for the tent, unusually large, like one that would host a wedding reception. There were several stations with tables and mirrors for makeup, and she saw a few people painting what must have been the traditional makeup of their people onto their faces. There were a few wooden screens to change behind. The other side had mirrors, where another couple people were warming up. One set seemed to be ballroom dancing, and though she wasn't as familiar with ballroom, she'd say it was a cross between a tango and swing.

Molly headed for one of the screens, and ducked behind to slip out of the gown and into the costume. She wished she'd asked the doctor for one of her practice outfits. She was terrified of getting her Giselle costume messy before going on. But it was what she had, and with only an hour to practice, she didn't want to waste any more time changing than she had to.

After getting her shoes on properly, she stepped out, and found a space near the mirrors to stretch. She took a long time, hoping to get her muscles warmed properly after everything that had happened in the flytrap house. Fifteen minutes later, she borrowed a chair to use as a barre, and did a few warm ups.

Molly realized she'd earned a few stares when she began to practice en pointe. Those nearest her stared down at her feet with wide eyes, and then looked at her in surprise. Maybe they figured that was just how human feet worked naturally. She didn't really feel the need to correct them.

As time ticked down, Molly began running through the variation, paying close attention to the parts she struggled with, particularly a part near the end. She was pleased to find that she had built up enough strength in her legs to handle it. She was even more grateful when she remembered what the Doctor had given her so she could keep that strength. Well, and live.

Finally, it was just her and four others in the tent, and she spied the Doctor slip through while she sat on the ground, doing a few more quick stretches.

"One more until you're up," he told her, though she'd seen the list by the door. "Are you ready?"

Molly leaned back on her hands and looked up at him. "I think so? I'm warmed up, anyway," she said. She decided not to mention the stage fright. It was an unfamiliar feeling to her. She'd never been afraid of being the center of attention back when she'd thought this would be her life.

"You've got this," he assured her again. He held out a hand to help her up from the floor, which she gratefully accepted. "It'll be brilliant."

She nodded, and didn't let him pull his hand away immediately. The touch felt reassuring, grounding, even. "You're sure?"

"Completely positive."

One of the four handed guards stuck his head into the tent. "Zarlon Zacy Zaren Zorp," he said, which sounded like nonsense to Molly but one of the other dancers stood and headed out of the tent.

She was next, which of course was when she realized a problem. "Doctor. Problem."

"Yes?"

"Music?"

"Not a problem," he said. "I gave them a copy of the song to play over the speakers."

"Okay, thank goodness," she sighed. She felt her stomach twist with nerves again, and squeezed the Doctor's hand. "I'm so not used to being nervous." So much for not mentioning it.

He squeezed her hand back. "Once it starts, you'll feel fine. I promise."

She smiled. "You better be right or I'm going back to the Pine Barrens and finding a bear to send after you."

"Violent," he commented. Then he kissed her on the top of her head. "I'll go stand near the front of the stage, where you can see me."

She nodded, and finally let go of his hand. "Thanks."

He left the tent, and Molly closed her eyes and tried to remember the calming techniques some of the other dancers had used when they had stage fright. But she didn't have lavender oil on her, or really much time to meditate, so instead she pictured the dance in her head, imagined herself on the stage, and everything going flawlessly.

"Molly Quinn," came the voice of the guard. She took a deep breath, then turned and followed him out of the tent. They went around the back of the crowd and the platform the Emperor sat on, and up the stairs at the side of the stage, while the previous performer finished his dance. She liked what she saw of it, and sort of wished she'd been able to stand in the crowd and watch everyone.

Finally, she was standing in the wings. She was announced, "MOLLY QUINN OF EARTH, GUEST OF THE DOCTOR'S, PERFORMING AN ANCIENT FORM OF EARTH DANCE, BALLET." She wondered where in time they were. It was strange she'd reached the point where she forgot to ask.

She set a smile on her face, and closed her eyes, waiting for the music.

When she heard the building tempo, she ran onto the stage. With no one to act against, she ran to the center, gestured to the Emperor on his dais with both hands, and then spread her hands out to the crowd. After a small bow of her head, she ran back to her starting position, and spread her sparkling skirt out, and gestured again, to the imaginary mother, then back to the imaginary lover. It was then she caught the Doctor's eye, who had invertedly stood in the audience near where Albrecht was meant to be standing. He smiled, and she turned away.

It was time, and she'd thought the nerves would disappear, but since seeing the Doctor, they'd increased. Her mind was stuck in the technical, rather than the emotion: A Piqueé Arabesque to Penché. Jeté, reach down. A quick slip was turned into a Plié. Renversé. She hadn't even heard the gasps when she'd first gone en pointe.

But she found, as she set herself to repeat the motions, the nerves really had disappeared as the Doctor had promised, and the thrill of being on a stage returned, and she felt her smile grow brighter as she began the steps again. En pointe, she lifted her leg behind her as she moved her arms out as though floating, and then dropped down to flat foot as she leaned down and extended her leg further up. This hop was higher. Her reach went lower. She practically skipped across the stage into the next Arabesque.

Molly found herself lost in the dance she was floating through. The double Attitude Pirouettes were beautiful, though the moments between full of mistakes. The mistakes were easy to cover, though - the Plié for slips to catch herself by lowering her body, the Dégagé for times her balance was imperfect, to put a foot out to regain the balance. She barely even noticed them, as she spun then curtseyed, again towards the throne, spun and curtseyed towards the throne.

Then it was time to walk slowly towards where Albrecht was supposed to be, and instead she locked her gaze on the Doctor. She could almost feel Giselle's euphoric infatuation, and now, on a stage, she wasn't afraid of it. It wasn't hers, after all, so there was nothing wrong with looking shyly at the Doctor, placing a hand over her heart, and then reaching towards him with longing. She felt time stand still for a few seconds. And then she turned and ran to her next position.

Now, instead of thinking Assemblé Battu, she thought of her feet fluttering together in the air the way her heart fluttered when she reached for the Doctor. A deep breath, and it was time for what was the most difficult part for her: the hops.

En pointe on one foot, she lifted another leg to her side to extend and bend, extend and bend, as she began to hop across the stage. She spread her skirt out slowly as she counted three, four, five, six, and then she reached back towards the Doctor, and his smile and the softness she could see in his eyes even from the stage made her heart flutter again. She turned her head and raised her arms, her fingertips almost brushing each other as she realized she'd almost reached the end of the hops, without even noticing. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. A little spin, and she leaned back and gave an overjoyed smile, as though this was the best day of her life – and really felt that it was.

A run to the center, and one last reach to the Doctor – and then she turned and began the Piqué turns, flying in a circle around the stage, spinning faster than she felt she'd ever managed to spin, though perhaps it was because it had been so long since she'd been on a real stage.

She came to the center of the stage, went down on one knee, and bowed, and it was over much too soon.

Molly held the position as the music faded, then stood and took a few graceful steps to the front of the stage, and took her proper bow, crossing a leg behind the other and lowering herself near to the ground, bowing her head. She held it for a second, and in that second the applause began.

The rush of emotions was sudden and uncontrollable. As she stood, she looked out across the audience, two hundred or so people, and the Emperor on his platform with his crown on his head, she felt breathless. Every single person was applauding wildly, and it sounded so much like the last time she'd been on stage, so very many years ago. There were even a few shouts, like there had been in the old auditorium. And the memories of that moment, the nostalgia and bit of sadness that those days were gone mixed with the elation of having this moment she never thought she'd have again. To hear the cheers of an audience she'd at least entertained, at most moved and made to see the beauty of ballet. When the Emperor stood from his throne to continue the applause, she felt so dizzy she wondered if she'd fall.

But she looked back at the Doctor, who was applauding too, a look that spoke of a deep admiration for her skill and a sense of pride and something like a warm surprise she couldn't identify on his face. It made her feel steady. And all she wanted was to know what he was thinking.

She always had her emotions confused. She hadn't been nervous of the Emperor at all. It had been him, the Doctor, she'd wanted to impress. He'd never seen her dance before, not in reality. And this was a special thing for her, something that felt like a secret part of her soul, the vulnerability she tried to hide, and showing that to the Doctor had been what made her nervous. And now she realized there had been no reason to be scared at all.

Without even thinking about it, with a smile across her face yet happy tears in her eyes, she ran to the edge of the stage and jumped off at the front, nearly directly into the Doctor's arms. But it was only a millisecond later she hopped up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders while he wrapped his around her waist to keep her up.

"Thank you, thank you," she said, not quite fully aware of forming the words, and unable to stop. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"I told you you'd do wonderfully," he said softly into her ear, though she could only just hear him over the continuing applause. "That was beautiful. I am so proud of you."

She could have melted at the words. The Doctor was proud of her. The Doctor. And it didn't matter that the light was gathering around him again. The Doctor, her friend, and the Doctor, her favorite character, and the Doctor, the Time Lord and literal legend – all these versions were the same Doctor, and he was proud of her.

"This was my dream. My lifelong dream, ever since I was a child, and you made it come true," she said, her voice as soft as his. She was, of course, starting to feel the tears in her eyes slip down her cheeks, but if ever there'd been a time to happy cry, it was now. "I don't know how to thank you enough."

"No thanks needed," he replied. "I'm overjoyed to help."

Molly still wished there was some way to thank him, or repay him, but nothing could ever be enough to repay granting a lifelong wish. Still, she wanted to do some sort of gesture, so she pressed her lips to his cheek and lingered there a few seconds longer than she'd ever had before, feeling the cool of his skin beneath them. Then she released her arms from around his neck and dropped back down. He held his arms around her waist another second before letting her go.

She'd left a red mark on his cheek. "Do you have a handkerchief or something?"

The Doctor reached into his pocket and offered it. Then, with a grin, she hopped up on the box of her shoes again. "I can actually look you straight in the eye now," she said, then wiped away the lipstick from his cheek the best she could. There was still a hint of rose, but he seemed a little flushed from the crowd, anyway. It felt a little warm to her, too.

"I'm not used to not having to look down to look someone in the eye anymore," he said. "Not since Amy."

Molly couldn't help but stare into his eyes for a moment. They looked exactly the same, of course, but now that she was level with him, and so close, she thought she noted more golden specks to them than she'd noticed before. There was a depth she hadn't really paid much attention to, like some sort of deep cavern from which so many different emotions and so many different Doctors echoed out. The Doctors were all sides of him, the Ancient Doctor, the Dark Doctor, the Eccentric Professor, but also a hint of each regeneration. She could almost clearly see Eight, her first Doctor, the one who had gotten her through the darkest days.

When he reached up to wipe one of the tears off her cheek with the back of a finger, it was like she was seeing some secret part of his soul, too. She just wasn't sure what the secret was.

She fell back onto her feet again, and folded the handkerchief up, and handed it back to him. He stuffed it into his pocket. "A few more dancers left," he said. "Then it's time for the after party."

"…the what?"

Author's Note: Three hours. It was three hours of studying general ballet terms, and then two different step by step videos for that specific variation, to write three paragraphs of a scene. Shoutout to Dance Masterclass and Ballet for All on YouTube for their step-by-step instructions.

I also may or may not have taken creative liberties with this scene of Giselle. I honestly don't know. I distinctly remember Albrecht standing on the side in the version I watched online (which I now cannot find to verify), but a few months ago I got to see it live and he wasn't there. It may be different based on the company. Let's just say I did it on purpose so she could have those little Doctor moments.

If you'd like to see this variation, search 'Giselle First Act variation' on YouTube. You can add 'Miko Fogarty' or 'Ava Arbuckle' to see my favorite performances and the ones I watched on repeat during the period of my life when I wrote this chapter. If you're new to ballet and want more, my other favorite variations are the La Esmeralda variation, and the Awakening of Flora (especially with Ava Arbuckle). If you want to see a whole ballet, I obviously recommend Giselle, but I've also seen Sleeping Beauty and Romeo and Juliet and they were both masterpieces. You can find full performances on YouTube.