From Russia With Love

They pulled into the lot of the Ballet Company and Dominika was confused when Gerard parked the car in one of the allotted spaces instead of dropping her off at the steps as John would have done.

"How come you're parking?" she queried, turning to look at him as he steered the car smoothly into a marked space apart from the sporadic spread of vehicles throughout the lot, close to the entrance.

"I'm gonna walk you in. Why? What does John do?" Gerard replied, cutting the engine and pulling the keys from the ignition before focusing his attention on her.

"He drops me at the steps and waits for me to go in"

Gerard raised his eyebrow quizzically, looking past her in the passenger seat to the lot outside, scanning the area around them as though he expected an ambush at any moment.

"He should know better" Gerard said darkly, concentrating on her again, seemingly satisfied with his assessment of the safety of their surrounds. Dominika rolled her eyes and hoisted her bag from the floor to her lap, fingers curled around the handles.

"I'm sure I can walk ten feet into a dance school without being killed" she griped. It was Gerard's turn to roll his eyes, scrutinizing her as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"Domi" he said sternly, using her nickname instead of an affectionate pet name this time, clearly in an attempt to emphasize his point "I know life here has been pleasant and cushy so far in comparison to your recent...experiences back home, but that doesn't mean you should allow yourself to become careless. It's always wisest to err on the side of caution, trust me"

He leaned over to touch the side of her face gently, his eyes softening.

"I don't want you to be scared, but I do want you to look after yourself"

Dominika nodded in his hand, absorbing his words carefully. Perhaps she had been a little too lax when it came to security, especially when she considered the party she had attended only a few months ago unbeknownst to her adopted family, when they thought she was safe and sound behind the walls of Mr. Rush's ballet company. Guilt rippled through her for a moment and she kissed Gerard quickly, quashing the feeling before it had a chance to implant itself in the current never-ending list of things she had to feel bad about.

When Gerard stepped out of the car, striding around the trunk to the passenger side in order to open her door, she shook her head from side to side for a moment, attempting to physically shake the dark clouds out of her head before they threatened to overtake the sunny day Gerard had promised. By the time he opened her door and offered his hand, she was smiling again, pushing the blackness to the back of her consciousness for the time being.

In silence he led her across the lot, peppered with patches of melting, slushy snow across the asphalt, and up the marbled steps to the doors that opened into the foyer, the large room surprisingly toasty and warm for its size. Dominika felt the eyes of the receptionist, along with the few students that occupied the room burn into her back as Gerard embraced her once more, holding her body against his with both hands.

"Call me when you know what time you finish and I'll be there" he promised, leaning down to kiss her lips, red and slightly swollen from the bite of the wind outside. Ignoring the stares of those behind them, she kissed him back eagerly, her hand reaching up to slide around the base of his neck.

"I will" she promised.

"Love you" he whispered, kissing her one last time briefly before he was gone, a gust of gelid wind swirling into the room after him as he disappeared through the front doors.

Glancing around nervously, her confidence a little weaker, she gathered her bag higher up over her shoulder and slipped away down the back corridor towards the assigned dressing room she shared with a small set of other ballerinas in her piece.

The vaguely familiar door towards the end of the hall was slightly ajar as she approached, bright light from the interior spilling out onto the grey industrial-grade carpet. She knocked on the doorframe lightly, hesitant to barge in unannounced after such a long vacancy. Would she still be one of them now? One of the pack? Dominika had never before possessed such a desire to fit in, at least not in her pre-invasion life. She had been raised to value and be grateful for her privileged upbringing, but the pretense of humbling her perspective on life was lost on a childhood that offered her almost everything she had ever desired and more. Sheltered from the world, Dominika had grown up with a distorted, rosy view of life that of which had been shattered the day it had been torn apart by the invasion of her homeland and the murder of her beloved family, fracturing the very basis of everything she believed to the core.

"Come in" called a soft feminine voice from inside, through the soft bar music that spilled through the crack in the door.

Dominika hesitantly pushed the door open most of the way, trying her hardest to plaster a confident smile on her face as she took in the scene before her, girls she barely knew scantily dressed and spread across the room in little groups and pairs, adjusting each other’s hair, chatting and stretching, limbs arranged in awkward positions across the floor with a strange sense of unison and order.

"Hey" she said quietly, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as every pair of eyes in the room turned to her. A garbled reply greeted her in response, murmurs of what she assumed and hoped to be approval as she stepped into the light, pushing the door closed behind her. She dropped her bag on one of the few clear spaces on the benches remaining, stripping her soft cotton jacket off as she did so and draping it through the handles. Dominika plucked her full water bottle from the bag and placed it next to her as she located a vacant spot on the floor among a small trio of girls she recognized from her stretch classes in the days before Gerard was injured.

She began her warm-up routine in silence, trying her hardest to remain inconspicuous among the group that surrounded her. The last thing Dominika wanted to do was attract further attention to herself. Her legs straddled wide beneath her, she hardly registered the quiet hiss of the brunette girl next to her, leaning over the space between them to attract her attention.

"Hey" whispered the girl "I know you, you're playing the Lilac Fairy, right?"

Dominika nodded keenly, reaching her arms all the way over her head to press her cheek against her knee and grip her feet with her hands.

"You were here before, weren't you? Where did you go?"

Dominika paused for a moment, unsure what to say as she looked awkwardly back to the brunette girl, deciding how much to tell her.

"I had some time off. Family issues, I guess...I've been learning my part at home"

The brunette girl blushed furiously then, obviously regretting her barrage of questions, though it was too late to take it back now.

"Sorry" she murmured, her eyes suddenly fixed on a spot on the floor between her legs.

"Its fine" Dominika replied, attempting to muster an unaffected smile "I'm here now, anyway. Only four weeks till the big day, huh?"

"Yeah" the brunette giggled nervously, clearly afraid to push the envelope any further “you’re lucky you skipped out on the last couple of weeks, Rush has been pushing us to the limit, six-hour rehearsals, fourteen-hour days. I’d heard he was a bit of a slave driver but I never expected this” she said, her words tumbling out so fast she seemed overwhelmed by her own train of thought. She shook her head and the warm hue returned to her cheeks as she looked up at Dominika sheepishly from beneath her brows.

Dominika felt guilty then, holding one of the most sought-after roles of the Ballet from the comfort of her own home while her peers slugged it out at the company through grueling hours and endless repetition of rehearsals. The guilt pulsed through her as she looked away, her eyes fixed on the wooden boards below her again as she lowered her chest to the floor slowly between her straddled legs. Would the other girls despise her for it? Perhaps the quiet that had greeted her upon arriving at the warm-up room was not so much caused by a veil of collective focus and concentration across the group but rather a pack response to her notable and long absence at the company. Surely someone had told them, she thought desperately as her eyes darted around the room, careful to avoid eye contact. Daphne and Harriet at the very least knew she was caring for a loved one injured in the conflict in Russia, had word not got around? Dominika knew very little about the social side of the company, and what few references she had from pop culture weren’t much to go on, but she was sure that fact itself should at least grant her some leeway.

When they were called to their assigned studio by an older-looking female teacher Dominika had never seen before, she lingered at the tail end of the group that shuffled through the corridors, dragging her feet. Anxiety had begun to pool in the base of her stomach, making her palms sweat as she clenched her hands into tight balls at her sides. She had never considered how hard it would be to work on a group piece as a soloist for weeks, only to have to incorporate yourself back into a group that had been dancing together for months at nearly the last minute. Opening night was four weeks away, and the thought made bile rise to the back of the throat.

They were ushered through a narrow gap in the corridor and up the same set of stairs Dominika had nervously climbed on her first day at the Company, feeling considerably worse than she had that day. Bright lights burned overhead onto a matching pair of movable bars on wheels in the center of the stage, the luscious glossy wood gleaming invitingly. Clearly a normal part of their routine, the other girls filed along the edges of the stage to find a place spread evenly out along the barre, fingers curled around the smooth, freshly polished wood. Dominika followed suit, slinking away to a corner position in the back where she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. Her pink satin pointe slippers groaned in protest as she flexed her feet back and forth, holding onto the bar as went. The ribbons around her ankles were shiny and new, soft against her skin and supported her feet in a way only new shoes could. The shank stiff and strong, she stepped into first position and rolled her ankles slowly up en pointe, the flat toes of her shoes perfectly parallel to the even surface of the floor, her foot pulled over into a perfect arch formation. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling for a moment and utilizing it to remind herself why she was here. Dance was her passion, her life, and a welcome distraction to the traumatizing events that had brought her to this very place in a way she recognized as morbidly ironic.

The single note of a classical piano was enough to hone her concentration, watching as the plump, balding pianist shuffled his sheet music in front of him. Mr. Rush appeared from back stage, enticing instant silence as his presence was realized. A wide smile across his face, his eyes bright, his voice boomed loudly across the huge space as he addressed the group as a whole, briefing them on the blocking procedure for the day. Dominika listened carefully, trying to absorb every word as he spoke, but before she had time to process his speech, he was barking directions, pacing up and down the rows of dancers as each note of the piano floated softly around them.

Closing her eyes, Dominika forced herself to focus on the music, trying her best to ignore her inhibitions and listen only to the relevant sounds around her, blocking out the rest. Mr. Rush’s deep voice rang out, filling her ears and clarifying her mind.

“Grande plie to third position, lets go girls, and one, and two, and three and four and echappe!”

It was after lunchtime by the time Dominika wandered into the lobby, her bag slung over her shoulder and her broken down pointe shoes threaded in her hands, dangling by her side as she walked across the marbled floor. She looked up as she passed the reception desk, her attention on the double doors that led out of the building to the freezing lot outside. To her surprise, Gerard leaned casually against the front wall, the picture of ease as he flicked through his cell phone without a care in the world. Dominika was happy to see him, her face lightening as she strode towards him, her hair still secured tightly in a bun at the crown of her head.

He looked up as she approached, that familiar smile he seemed to reserve just for her breaking across his face as he spotted her, still dressed in her leotard and the tight, sheer little overskirt with only a jacket on top. She weaved her arms around him instantly, grateful to be back in his presence as he pulled her chin up gently, meeting her soft blue eyes with his own. Concern simmered beneath his expression.

“Are you okay, kid?”

“Yes” she gulped, fighting the urge to allow all her trepidations to spill out of her mouth in a single rush “Just one of those days, I guess. Mr. Rush worked us hard”

Gerard frowned and took her bag gently, looping it over one arm before he wrapped the other around her shoulders, guiding her through the doors into the cold wind outside.

“Time to go home”

Notes