Swan!AU - Chapter 1: The Gathering
Story: Swan Lake: Chapter 1 - The Gathering
Author: robinless
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Genre: AU/Romance/Angst
Words: 2700~
Rating: PG-13 (Not sure about it, it may change in the future.)
Summary: Based on MGNemesis’ images of Bourne’s Swan Lake. Jason Todd was raised by a poor travelling theater company and finally gets the chance to work in a big production. There he meets famous young dancer Timothy Drake.
Notes: First time writing fic after a couple of years of not publishing anything, still trying to get into the habit again. Criticism is appreciated.
He was lucky, he knew he was. Despite that fact, there were days that the feelings of desperation that had overflowed him while he was a kid living in the streets of Gotham still came back as strong as ever. He was always going to be the ratty kid the members of a little theater company had found sleeping between their belongings in one of the city’s old theaters.
They had taken him away from Gotham and its smelly streets, away from the cold winters and the constant hunger. They had showed him how to fly. They had given him dance. A way to soothe the bitterness.
He knew dancing, he understood movement and flow and hiding and sliding, showing and vanishing. In the stage, he could live the lifes he would never have, live as if he was as worthy as the people in the public, move as if he wasn’t broken, talk without his angry words being in the way. He was free, if only while it lasted.
But days like this, while he was waiting in a little room to know if he would have a job for the next season, surrounded by other actors better than him -better dancers, better-looking, with better technique-, he felt just as he did when as a kid he had visited the park by himself and had stood near the slides waiting for the kids in warm clothes with loving parents to let him play. He felt misplaced.
The door next to him cracked open and a young woman dressed in casual clothes came into the room, heads snapping in her direction and anxious faces all around her. She took a look around and then checked the papers she was holding as if to reassure herself.
“Thank you all for auditioning, you did a wonderful job. Bests of lucks next time from all the company.” As they were all standing up, she quickly added “Please, could Todd wait here for a minute?”
He halted halfway to the exit and turned to face her. That could not be happening. When she saw him standing there, she smiled knowingly. “The director wants to talk with you for a second.”
He definitely was lucky.
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
The first day passed in a blurry mess. He wasn’t used to big productions and to work with so many people. He got his instructions and spent the afternoon reading and listening to the music for the different scenes. The Swan Lake was a sad story, but it had something that appealed to him. The director and the choreographer had told him that he was going to be part of the corps of swans, the backdrop for the Swan Leader character, because he was big and his movements conveyed strength. He still didn’t know his position amongst them. This version of the romantic ballet was known for having male dancers as the swans. The auditions for the main roles weren’t closed yet and the choreographer wanted to work with the leading actors first.
Rumors around the theater were that a big name was going to get one of the main roles and that it had been decided for months, but the director and his team were still preparing the details of his contract. The real work would start the following week when everyone was gathered together.
Jason couldn’t help but feel kind of bitter while thinking about the main actors. It was an annoying feeling in the back of his mind, like a sore spot. He rubbed it almost unconsciously. The auditions for the big characters had been closed for everyone but the few actors that had been specifically asked to apply for them by the director. No one stood a chance to have anything bigger than a crew dancer position if they weren’t already well-known. It was unfair.
Not that life was supposed to be anything else. He had learned that lesson a long time ago.
In the little company that he almost considered his family, they helped each other, no one was better than anybody. It was hard for them to draw people into the little theaters where they played, each month was a struggle, but that made each applause feel special. He almost blended in. He grew up with them, and as terrifying as it was to even think about it, he cared about them. It made him feel uneasy, all these ties, because it wasn’t in his hands to keep the strings from falling apart, it was in the other’s hands too. When he saw them count the takings of the last few months’ work because he had crushed his arm carrying some equipment and needed to have proper medical care, he felt a knot in his chest that had nothing to do with how much his hand was hurting. He felt scared.
No one liked when obligations got in the way. Everyone had plans in their lifes. Sure, it was nice to have company, but it wasn’t anymore when the people around you dragged you down. When they had taken him in as a kid, he had felt guilty. They had given him so many things, food, clothes, and he was giving back nothing. Each nice gesture, each present, put on a little more weight in his chest. He had tamed the feeling thinking that if he learned and was good enough he could maybe help them. Perhaps he could learn to move well enough, to be smooth enough to dance, to be a significant part of their family. And he had tried. He had tried as hard as he had never tried before in his life. To be a good kid, to help them, to be better, to be nice, to pay back for each time they had gone out of their way because of him. Because they didn’t have to, but they did it anyway.
But when he had seen them gathered around that little metal box where they saved the money, it hit him like a bullet to the chest and he had crumbled. He had not succeeded. He had failed. They just felt obliged. He was being a burden. And he could barely breathe around that oppressing knot of guilt in his chest that felt like it was going to rip him apart.
And so he left.
Reassuring them that he wanted to try and get a new job in the city, try for something bigger, had been easier than expected. How could they think he really stood a chance of progressing in life was beyond his understanding, but he wasn’t going to just tell them so. He didn’t want to hurt them, adding more guilt to his mind, and he knew that would.
These famous actors and dancers lived in a different world.
“Todd, what are you doing here? Everyone is leaving.” The woman that had been in the auditions was the director’s team assistant. Mrs. Mills. She had been fussing around everyone making sure things worked since that morning. “Next few days you are all free to come here and practice by yourselves if you want, we will open the back door of the theater at seven in the morning or so, but rehearsals and practice won’t start until next Monday, so take it easy. Did I make that clear?”
“Clear as crystal, ma’am.” She smiled that sharp little smile of hers and winked at him before leaving.
“I hope so, Todd.”
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Monday morning there was an electric buzz in the air. Everyone was tense and no one was paying that much attention to stretching and practicing. Rehearsals were scheduled to start that afternoon, but even the staff was anxious waiting for the leading actors to arrive. When the low voice of the director came from just outside the big doors, it was like watching a wake of vultures prepare themselves for a feast. Everyone tried to subtly approach the doors, stretch that pose a bit more so they could show off all the while trying to transmit a feeling of concentration and hard work. It was a sad sight if just because of how obvious their intentions were.
He tried to keep to the back of the room and continue with his routine. Who came had nothing to do with him. Fame was just your name being sold around, it had nothing to do with the things that really mattered. And being the goods in a trade was nothing to be proud of.
He wasn’t going to flutter around whoever arrived trying to get something out of it. It was humiliating to be that pleasant to someone just because of them being considered important. It was selfish to try to get personal gain out of being close to them, too. In fact, it was making him irritated to see all the people in the room trying to do just so. It was a stinging under his skin that made him grunt while he tried to bend his leg just a little more, just a couple of inches higher, just a bit more like it was supposed to. Getting things shouldn’t be based on who you talked to or where you came from, it should be about how much you worked for them.
He kept pushing and stretching. One, two, three times. Then the other leg. One, two, three. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. He was so deep down into it, feeling each muscle scream to relax, that when someone approached him he wasn’t even listening and just grunted in response from his crouch on the ground.
“Todd.” The tone made his head snap. Those were Mrs. Mills’ high heels just a few inches away from his right calf. “Now that you so kindly are paying me some attention I’ll repeat myself. Which is not going to happen twice.” She paused barely giving him time to nod. “This room needs to be vacated. Mr. Harris needs to work with the lead actors.”
“We’re a lot of dancers. We can’t practice in the smaller rooms.” Maybe it wasn’t his place to complain, but it escaped his mouth before he could think about it. She gave him a half-hearted glare.
“We are all aware of that fact, Todd. But as you can see, everyone is leaving the room regardless.” She sighed and turned her back to him. “You can probably use some time to cool down before this afternoon’s rehearsal. Mr. Harris is going to wear you all down once he’s finished with the main dancers.”
He still took his time doing some cool-down stretching before grabbing his bottle of water and his pack, surveying the room while doing so. People were slowly leaving, and there was a small group of people gathered around the choreographer, Mr. Harris. One of the faces in the little crowd was familiar. Very familiar, in fact.
It was that guy. He had heard about him from the other members of his old company. He was being a success, though he hadn’t been on the stage for more than a year. Everyone wanted to have him in their productions. Directors, choreographers and musicians got their mouths full of Drake. His dancing technique was immaculate.
He had seen him on television a few times, his leaps always had smooth landings, his feet moved as if he floated. No miscalculations, no overcompensating movements, no trembling, no unnecessary quirks. He danced the way everyone tried to dance. It was the level everyone tried to reach when they practiced. And he was young, with still years to develop and improve. To be better, if that was even possible.
Jason felt a sharp sting in his chest and swiftly left the room with long strides. He didn’t so much as look back.
It had nothing to do with him.
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
“So… Have you seen him?”
He was eating his lunch with a bunch of the other crew dancers. They were all part of the swan corps, so it was probably for the better to know each other. Not that he was feeling particularly social.
“If I have seen who?” He tried to keep the snarling to a minimum but some of it crippled out of him so he kept his eyes to his plate. He could still see the looks in the other’s faces from the corner of his eye. He had sounded bitter.
“Come on, Todd. You know who we’re talking about. Short, pale, blue eyes… The director’s wet dream?” There was some laughing when he turned his face up to the others.
“Yeah. I saw him when I left the practice room. So what?”
“Oh God, Todd. You’re no fun talking to, you know that, right?” He was smiling at him, but there was a patronizing edge to his words. “We just want to know your thoughts on him. You’ve kept to yourself since we came down here to have lunch.”
“He’s good. He’ll probably do a great job.” He really didn’t want to talk about it. The stinging feeling had faded a bit, but there was no way his quite weak feelings of self-worth would remain unscattered once he could see Drake dance with his own eyes. Watching him move on the screen was different, the denial was easier, but he knew he was going to be feeling even more lacking in technique having someone that good in the same room.
“Probably? You should have your eyes checked. Drake’s technique is perfect. I really want to see him play the Prince.” That was met with nods and approving noises from the others. “Though it’s a bit bothersome that we didn’t get someone that good to play our Swan Leader. I’m sure William will do fine, but he’s no big-name.” From there, the conversation drifted as to who should have been given that role.
He finished his meal and started to leave. He didn’t really want to be part of that discussion.
“Hey Todd, I don’t think they’re finished back there, you know.” He knew that.
“Just gonna go outside for a bit.”
“Don’t forget we’re given the first moves for the different scenes in an hour. You’re gonna want to memorize them, Mr. Harris’ kinda edgy today.” Tom was always the one doing the talking in that little group of his. And as always, his comments were received with laughter.
“I know.”
He just needed to clear his mind before practice.
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
There was music coming from down the corridor. He was walking aimlessly trough the backstage, trying to keep out of the way of the many technicians and people moving things up and down the place. It was a soft melody, part of the first act. Voices mingled with it, one of them Mr. Harris’ sharp commands, somehow gentle in comparison to the way they usually sounded.
He followed the sound until he found himself standing right in front of the doors to the big practice room. He knew he should probably leave, find a quiet place and try to pull all the feelings that were crippling him away. He needed to do well that afternoon, he had to prove he was at least as good as the others. The knot in his stomach wouldn’t disappear until then. He was still on trial, if not on the papers then in his mind. But his feet wouldn’t move. He was rooted to that spot, and as much as he didn’t want to, he took a look at what was going on inside trough the narrow glass panel that crossed to wood door.
He wanted to run. Close his eyes. Stop staring. Anything but keep looking. But it was as if he were the deer caught by the headlights, he was helpless to do anything that wasn’t waiting for the hit and pain to come. And the hit was called Timothy Drake. The pain an old friend.
He moved as if he could make sound out of touching the air that surrounded him. Fast without being rushed, he leaped and graciously followed that with fluid movements that brought him to the center of the room. He stretched, his back arching and then he fell. He just fell to the ground like he was one of those ballerinas inside a music box, their steady movements cut sharp when the music ended. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until Drake’s legs stretched again up towards the ceiling, tense and still gracious while the last movements of the song played.
When Drake relaxed after the last move, face tilted, their eyes met.
It felt like being slapped.
And he ran.
Author: robinless
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Genre: AU/Romance/Angst
Words: 2700~
Rating: PG-13 (Not sure about it, it may change in the future.)
Summary: Based on MGNemesis’ images of Bourne’s Swan Lake. Jason Todd was raised by a poor travelling theater company and finally gets the chance to work in a big production. There he meets famous young dancer Timothy Drake.
Notes: First time writing fic after a couple of years of not publishing anything, still trying to get into the habit again. Criticism is appreciated.
He was lucky, he knew he was. Despite that fact, there were days that the feelings of desperation that had overflowed him while he was a kid living in the streets of Gotham still came back as strong as ever. He was always going to be the ratty kid the members of a little theater company had found sleeping between their belongings in one of the city’s old theaters.
They had taken him away from Gotham and its smelly streets, away from the cold winters and the constant hunger. They had showed him how to fly. They had given him dance. A way to soothe the bitterness.
He knew dancing, he understood movement and flow and hiding and sliding, showing and vanishing. In the stage, he could live the lifes he would never have, live as if he was as worthy as the people in the public, move as if he wasn’t broken, talk without his angry words being in the way. He was free, if only while it lasted.
But days like this, while he was waiting in a little room to know if he would have a job for the next season, surrounded by other actors better than him -better dancers, better-looking, with better technique-, he felt just as he did when as a kid he had visited the park by himself and had stood near the slides waiting for the kids in warm clothes with loving parents to let him play. He felt misplaced.
The door next to him cracked open and a young woman dressed in casual clothes came into the room, heads snapping in her direction and anxious faces all around her. She took a look around and then checked the papers she was holding as if to reassure herself.
“Thank you all for auditioning, you did a wonderful job. Bests of lucks next time from all the company.” As they were all standing up, she quickly added “Please, could Todd wait here for a minute?”
He halted halfway to the exit and turned to face her. That could not be happening. When she saw him standing there, she smiled knowingly. “The director wants to talk with you for a second.”
He definitely was lucky.
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
The first day passed in a blurry mess. He wasn’t used to big productions and to work with so many people. He got his instructions and spent the afternoon reading and listening to the music for the different scenes. The Swan Lake was a sad story, but it had something that appealed to him. The director and the choreographer had told him that he was going to be part of the corps of swans, the backdrop for the Swan Leader character, because he was big and his movements conveyed strength. He still didn’t know his position amongst them. This version of the romantic ballet was known for having male dancers as the swans. The auditions for the main roles weren’t closed yet and the choreographer wanted to work with the leading actors first.
Rumors around the theater were that a big name was going to get one of the main roles and that it had been decided for months, but the director and his team were still preparing the details of his contract. The real work would start the following week when everyone was gathered together.
Jason couldn’t help but feel kind of bitter while thinking about the main actors. It was an annoying feeling in the back of his mind, like a sore spot. He rubbed it almost unconsciously. The auditions for the big characters had been closed for everyone but the few actors that had been specifically asked to apply for them by the director. No one stood a chance to have anything bigger than a crew dancer position if they weren’t already well-known. It was unfair.
Not that life was supposed to be anything else. He had learned that lesson a long time ago.
In the little company that he almost considered his family, they helped each other, no one was better than anybody. It was hard for them to draw people into the little theaters where they played, each month was a struggle, but that made each applause feel special. He almost blended in. He grew up with them, and as terrifying as it was to even think about it, he cared about them. It made him feel uneasy, all these ties, because it wasn’t in his hands to keep the strings from falling apart, it was in the other’s hands too. When he saw them count the takings of the last few months’ work because he had crushed his arm carrying some equipment and needed to have proper medical care, he felt a knot in his chest that had nothing to do with how much his hand was hurting. He felt scared.
No one liked when obligations got in the way. Everyone had plans in their lifes. Sure, it was nice to have company, but it wasn’t anymore when the people around you dragged you down. When they had taken him in as a kid, he had felt guilty. They had given him so many things, food, clothes, and he was giving back nothing. Each nice gesture, each present, put on a little more weight in his chest. He had tamed the feeling thinking that if he learned and was good enough he could maybe help them. Perhaps he could learn to move well enough, to be smooth enough to dance, to be a significant part of their family. And he had tried. He had tried as hard as he had never tried before in his life. To be a good kid, to help them, to be better, to be nice, to pay back for each time they had gone out of their way because of him. Because they didn’t have to, but they did it anyway.
But when he had seen them gathered around that little metal box where they saved the money, it hit him like a bullet to the chest and he had crumbled. He had not succeeded. He had failed. They just felt obliged. He was being a burden. And he could barely breathe around that oppressing knot of guilt in his chest that felt like it was going to rip him apart.
And so he left.
Reassuring them that he wanted to try and get a new job in the city, try for something bigger, had been easier than expected. How could they think he really stood a chance of progressing in life was beyond his understanding, but he wasn’t going to just tell them so. He didn’t want to hurt them, adding more guilt to his mind, and he knew that would.
These famous actors and dancers lived in a different world.
“Todd, what are you doing here? Everyone is leaving.” The woman that had been in the auditions was the director’s team assistant. Mrs. Mills. She had been fussing around everyone making sure things worked since that morning. “Next few days you are all free to come here and practice by yourselves if you want, we will open the back door of the theater at seven in the morning or so, but rehearsals and practice won’t start until next Monday, so take it easy. Did I make that clear?”
“Clear as crystal, ma’am.” She smiled that sharp little smile of hers and winked at him before leaving.
“I hope so, Todd.”
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
Monday morning there was an electric buzz in the air. Everyone was tense and no one was paying that much attention to stretching and practicing. Rehearsals were scheduled to start that afternoon, but even the staff was anxious waiting for the leading actors to arrive. When the low voice of the director came from just outside the big doors, it was like watching a wake of vultures prepare themselves for a feast. Everyone tried to subtly approach the doors, stretch that pose a bit more so they could show off all the while trying to transmit a feeling of concentration and hard work. It was a sad sight if just because of how obvious their intentions were.
He tried to keep to the back of the room and continue with his routine. Who came had nothing to do with him. Fame was just your name being sold around, it had nothing to do with the things that really mattered. And being the goods in a trade was nothing to be proud of.
He wasn’t going to flutter around whoever arrived trying to get something out of it. It was humiliating to be that pleasant to someone just because of them being considered important. It was selfish to try to get personal gain out of being close to them, too. In fact, it was making him irritated to see all the people in the room trying to do just so. It was a stinging under his skin that made him grunt while he tried to bend his leg just a little more, just a couple of inches higher, just a bit more like it was supposed to. Getting things shouldn’t be based on who you talked to or where you came from, it should be about how much you worked for them.
He kept pushing and stretching. One, two, three times. Then the other leg. One, two, three. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. He was so deep down into it, feeling each muscle scream to relax, that when someone approached him he wasn’t even listening and just grunted in response from his crouch on the ground.
“Todd.” The tone made his head snap. Those were Mrs. Mills’ high heels just a few inches away from his right calf. “Now that you so kindly are paying me some attention I’ll repeat myself. Which is not going to happen twice.” She paused barely giving him time to nod. “This room needs to be vacated. Mr. Harris needs to work with the lead actors.”
“We’re a lot of dancers. We can’t practice in the smaller rooms.” Maybe it wasn’t his place to complain, but it escaped his mouth before he could think about it. She gave him a half-hearted glare.
“We are all aware of that fact, Todd. But as you can see, everyone is leaving the room regardless.” She sighed and turned her back to him. “You can probably use some time to cool down before this afternoon’s rehearsal. Mr. Harris is going to wear you all down once he’s finished with the main dancers.”
He still took his time doing some cool-down stretching before grabbing his bottle of water and his pack, surveying the room while doing so. People were slowly leaving, and there was a small group of people gathered around the choreographer, Mr. Harris. One of the faces in the little crowd was familiar. Very familiar, in fact.
It was that guy. He had heard about him from the other members of his old company. He was being a success, though he hadn’t been on the stage for more than a year. Everyone wanted to have him in their productions. Directors, choreographers and musicians got their mouths full of Drake. His dancing technique was immaculate.
He had seen him on television a few times, his leaps always had smooth landings, his feet moved as if he floated. No miscalculations, no overcompensating movements, no trembling, no unnecessary quirks. He danced the way everyone tried to dance. It was the level everyone tried to reach when they practiced. And he was young, with still years to develop and improve. To be better, if that was even possible.
Jason felt a sharp sting in his chest and swiftly left the room with long strides. He didn’t so much as look back.
It had nothing to do with him.
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
“So… Have you seen him?”
He was eating his lunch with a bunch of the other crew dancers. They were all part of the swan corps, so it was probably for the better to know each other. Not that he was feeling particularly social.
“If I have seen who?” He tried to keep the snarling to a minimum but some of it crippled out of him so he kept his eyes to his plate. He could still see the looks in the other’s faces from the corner of his eye. He had sounded bitter.
“Come on, Todd. You know who we’re talking about. Short, pale, blue eyes… The director’s wet dream?” There was some laughing when he turned his face up to the others.
“Yeah. I saw him when I left the practice room. So what?”
“Oh God, Todd. You’re no fun talking to, you know that, right?” He was smiling at him, but there was a patronizing edge to his words. “We just want to know your thoughts on him. You’ve kept to yourself since we came down here to have lunch.”
“He’s good. He’ll probably do a great job.” He really didn’t want to talk about it. The stinging feeling had faded a bit, but there was no way his quite weak feelings of self-worth would remain unscattered once he could see Drake dance with his own eyes. Watching him move on the screen was different, the denial was easier, but he knew he was going to be feeling even more lacking in technique having someone that good in the same room.
“Probably? You should have your eyes checked. Drake’s technique is perfect. I really want to see him play the Prince.” That was met with nods and approving noises from the others. “Though it’s a bit bothersome that we didn’t get someone that good to play our Swan Leader. I’m sure William will do fine, but he’s no big-name.” From there, the conversation drifted as to who should have been given that role.
He finished his meal and started to leave. He didn’t really want to be part of that discussion.
“Hey Todd, I don’t think they’re finished back there, you know.” He knew that.
“Just gonna go outside for a bit.”
“Don’t forget we’re given the first moves for the different scenes in an hour. You’re gonna want to memorize them, Mr. Harris’ kinda edgy today.” Tom was always the one doing the talking in that little group of his. And as always, his comments were received with laughter.
“I know.”
He just needed to clear his mind before practice.
.·.·.·.·.·.·.
There was music coming from down the corridor. He was walking aimlessly trough the backstage, trying to keep out of the way of the many technicians and people moving things up and down the place. It was a soft melody, part of the first act. Voices mingled with it, one of them Mr. Harris’ sharp commands, somehow gentle in comparison to the way they usually sounded.
He followed the sound until he found himself standing right in front of the doors to the big practice room. He knew he should probably leave, find a quiet place and try to pull all the feelings that were crippling him away. He needed to do well that afternoon, he had to prove he was at least as good as the others. The knot in his stomach wouldn’t disappear until then. He was still on trial, if not on the papers then in his mind. But his feet wouldn’t move. He was rooted to that spot, and as much as he didn’t want to, he took a look at what was going on inside trough the narrow glass panel that crossed to wood door.
He wanted to run. Close his eyes. Stop staring. Anything but keep looking. But it was as if he were the deer caught by the headlights, he was helpless to do anything that wasn’t waiting for the hit and pain to come. And the hit was called Timothy Drake. The pain an old friend.
He moved as if he could make sound out of touching the air that surrounded him. Fast without being rushed, he leaped and graciously followed that with fluid movements that brought him to the center of the room. He stretched, his back arching and then he fell. He just fell to the ground like he was one of those ballerinas inside a music box, their steady movements cut sharp when the music ended. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until Drake’s legs stretched again up towards the ceiling, tense and still gracious while the last movements of the song played.
When Drake relaxed after the last move, face tilted, their eyes met.
It felt like being slapped.
And he ran.