TITLE: Pink Tutu AUTHOR: Myriss EMAIL ADDRESS: My email has changed. It's now myriss@mail.com DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral: Ok. I will forward to Gossamer myself. Others may archive as long as they keep my header and email attached. Please let me know, though :) Any revisions of this story can be found at my site. http://www.envy.nu/myriss/index.html RATINGS WARNING: PG-13 CLASSIFICATION: V KEYWORDS: 3POV, (Implied) MSR SPOILERS: Nothing really. SUMMARY: Practice, practice THE DISCLAIMER: Any character you recognized from the t.v. series belongs to 1013 and Fox (except for Mulder and Scully who belongs to each other). I am just borrowing them. *AUTHOR NOTES - at the end. Pink Tutu by Myriss (myriss@mail.com) Practice. Practice. Practice. I am ashamed to say the dancers these days just lack discipline. Mother always said that you can't perfect what you don't practice. Mother would have been the greatest ballerina the world have ever seen--or at least she would have if she hadn't had me. Or at least that's what Mother said. Even now, I practice every day. And I only seek to teach what she taught me. My first student. Why he was such a difficult one! He insisted that he didn't even like ballet. Didn't like ballet! My third student...He just laid on the floor and whimpered and cry. I had to rain blows on his arms and legs--just like Mother used to do--to make him do his moves. The last one. Oh, the sacrifices I made for him. I ate ramen noodles for days so that I could afford to buy the material for his costume. He even cried when I made him put the pink tutu on. It fitted him so perfectly. He had the perfect ballet dancer body. I so envied him. But all for naught! He would not dance! He would not even pick up his feet! My heart just broke. ...practice, practice, practice, Mother always said. My students have been such disappointments. Rather be dead than disappoint, Mother used to say. I will teach them to dance and make Mother proud. ***** I saw him sitting at the table at one of the places that tried to be an English pub. Every once a while, he would look at the door, then down at his watch. Finally, he pulled a cell phone from his leather jacket and made a call. I heard him say, "Where are you at?" There was a pause as he listened to what the other person on the line was saying. "Where am I? Here...waiting for you. Aren't you almost finished?" A long pause. He snorted. "Well, he owes us big for dragging you off on our weekend off to do an emergency au--" His voice trailed off as he began to laugh. "Yeah, right. You tell him that--tell Skinman that your one and only truly is waiting for you...Yeah, right--" His voice dipped softly. "Love you, too." Then he hung up. He got up to go the bathroom and left his drink on the table. No one noticed when I dropped the pills into his drink. It made him sick. It always made them sick. When he stumbled into the bathroom, I followed. The rest was easy. I had him out of the back door and stuffed into my car trunk before anyone noticed. Then I went back in and finished my drink. I was leaving when I thought I saw her walking across the parking lot. Mother's red hair. Mother? I shook my head. It could not be. ***** I took so much care. I stripped off the his clothes. No more black jeans and black T-shirts for him. I dressed him with infinite care. First the pink tights with not a single ladder in it. I carefully laced the pink ballet shoes so they would not untie. The pink leotard with the shimmery silver star that I had so lovingly sewn on the right breast. Finally, the crowning glory...the pink tutu. Mother never let me wear the tutu. She said I had to earned it. Mother would say I was soft, because I let my students wear theirs. He woke up, rolled to his side and vomited. Then he tried to stand up, looking rather dazed. My heart swell with pride. They always do that. My students. They are always surprised to hear they could be the next greatest ballet star the world have ever seen. He grabbed the barre to steady himself. He didn't noticed me until then. Then he shook his head and ran toward toward me to try to knock me down. Most of them tried to do that at first. But I showed them who was the teacher. They are merely students. I just pushed him down. He went down hard. He was a lot smaller than I was. ***** *smack!* *smack!* I tried to teach him the way Mother taught me. "This way," I said and showed him the premiere position in Ballet. So simple, but he didn't even try. Just shuffled around, shaking his head, and holding onto the barre. *smack!* The welts made a pretty, pretty designs on his skin. I licked my lips. Nononono! Badbadbadbad! I closed my eyes tight. Must not have nasty thoughts. Must not! Mother once caught me touching myself down there. She had screamed and screamed at me, "Nothing good ever comes from that! Your father destroyed my dreams with his!" She had smacked my hands with the dancing stick. She smacked me down there. Over and over. It had hurted... Nonononononono. Mother said bad, bad, bad "Dance!" I ordered him, I was furious that he made me think of nasty thoughts. I whipped his arms and legs so fiercely that I began to pant. He will dance. "Dance!" I cried. The door burst open wide. Mother marched in. She looked so beautiful with her red hair flowing after her. But she looked--oh--so very angry! I whimpered. I will not disappoint! I will not disappoint! Mother! She barked, "Freeze! Put your hands up!" My hands shot up. I trembled as I waited for her to tell me to get into the next position. "Put your hands behind your back." Was that a different movement? But I did what I was told. Who was the man with no hair that was with her? Have I disappoint her so much that she found herself a new student? I began to sob. Mother--! The bald headed man came up from behind me. He grabbed my wrists and I felt something cold go around them. Why was I being handcuff? What did I do wrong? I just wanted to teach them to dance. And he began muttering something about rights, but I was paying attention to Mother. She knelt by the man lying on the floor and stroked his hair. She whispered, "Mulder--?" The man groaned and rolled his head toward her. His eyes opened and he stared up blearily up at her. "Scu--?" he croaked. "I feel...sick..." "Shhhh--" she murmured, her hand stroking his face. "It's okay...it's okay...I'm here..." "Scully--s'okay?" "I'm fine, I 'm fine," she whispered. She bent her head and kissed him. Tears welled up in my eyes. I knew this could happened! I don't know why I am surprised. Mother always said that I never amount to be any type of dancer. I tried so hard to find a student worthy for her teaching...even though, she may love him more than me. Mother never loved me no matter how hard I tried. I could never dance... Fini *Author's Notes-- Another weird one. And please forgive me for my lack of ballet knowledge. Constructive feedback is always welcome. Myriss myriss@mail.com The X-Cafe: Recommendations & Fanfic by Myriss http://www.envy.nu/myriss/index.html