What if Claire Beauchamp was a ballet dancer and Jamie, a doctor?
The Ardent Dance Of Swans
chapter 1: Hearts Of Swan
Prospero: “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”
– William Skakespeare.
ATO I – Pas De Deux
Jamie Fraser could not say he was a fan of Classical Ballet. In fact, he was unable to understand even the smallest thing about it or the intricate and elegant movements of the dancers. But he was a fan of classical music since he was a child in Lallybroch, running away from his sister’s shoes and listening Ellen Fraser, his mother, playing the piano with undrilled passion and full heart. It was the sweetest parts of his childhood, seeing his mon safe and healthy before the gloomy claws of cancer came and took her away, far from him and his two brothers. Then, of course after that, the music stopped. Ellen was the shape of music, melody and happiness, the heart of the house, without her there was no reason to keep playing and living their best life. Until his middle sister kick their ass out of self-pity.
“Mama would be ashamed of us.” – Jenny said in her firm voice but betrayed by her shaking hands. “We have to keep walking. Head up and keep walking. That’s what she always said. Head up and keep walking, William and Jamie.” – So did they.
Head up and keep walking, he made up his way on the med-school. He built a solid career as a Trauma Surgeon, after came back from the army, and a home in Edinburgh. William was an administrator, married and almost a father and Jenny was an architect, with three little children and married with Ian, a good man, friend and lawyer.
He, working as a doctor in full time, didn’t spend time looking for real bonds or marriages like his brothers did. As a man not adept to the casual sex, he only had short relationships in almost ten years. Leogharie, who scared the hell out of him at the end – she was a stalker and very jealous, toxic, if he could say – and Genebra, a doctor too, but immature and selfish.
None of them was the one that his mother always talked about, so he got over easily. But, anyway, he was not looking for it —the one—, like his brothers did, because Jamie really knew it would be difficult find one love like his parents had and after all he went through, difficult was not so attractive anymore.
So, now, he was on a theatre alone after he refused the company of a girl that Angus and Rupert, two orthopedists, invited for him, watching the First Act of Swans Lakes.
Jamie, of course, knew that the libretto is based on a story by the German author, Johann Karl August Musäus, The Stolen Veil, that tells about Odette, a beautiful girl, that was cursed to spend her entire day as a swan, returning to the shape of a woman only at night. The curse said that the spell can only be broken if one who has never loved before swears to love Odette forever. So, one day, at night, Prince Siegfried was hunting at a lakeside when he found her and fell in love.
But nothing would be so easily, even in the fairytales… On the other side from story, there was Von Rothbarth, an evil sorcerer, that disguised his daughter, Odile, to look exactly like Odette and deceive the Prince.
He watched the acts without really paying attention, just absorbing the Tchaikovsky’s melodies played by the intrumentalists when the act changed again and a new character entered in scene.
She was… Breathtaking. And he was speechless.
All dressed in black, stormy eyes and graceful intricate movements, she was the shape of hurricane and captvated Jamie completly… it was as if he was watching a whirlwind though the windows of his house, anxiously waiting for the moment when he would be dragged by her overpowering wind.
But in the meantime, he watched she dances…
Her movements were passionate and full of emotion… it was like seeing fairys dancing, slow and softly as the melody went down a few tones and chaotic as the melody rose. She never stopped, she never hesitated. She kept going and going, in ups and downs: passionate and enchanting.
He felt her angry, her love, her ambition every time she stretched her body, raised her thin but strong arms above her head or just around her; every time she raised her long legs on a elaborate movement and every time she changed her facial expression.
She was brilliant and ethereal, like something between the orphic and the magical.
She stole the scene, and being mushy, he could say that she stole a part of his heart too, (without any protest).
The Black Swan… She had already overwhelmed him.
ATO II — Dance Of Swans
Even when he left the stage, he kept in a chaotic silence inside himself. He tried, but he could not recognize the feelings he felt when he saw her leaving. He supposed to be watching the new act that was happening, but his mind was a mess.
Jamie was not a man who believed in love at first sight. He was a romantic, but not so daring. However, it was ironic that nothing could explain exactly what he felt beyond the words “love at first sight.”
He never had a experience like that in his life.
Jamie sighed, feeling the need of took a deep breath far from the audience, where her energy still hovered in the atmosphere. He left his place, calmly, and walked through the halls of the theater when he heard some loud voices.
Approaching himself from where he heard the noise, he could not help but heard the conversation of some dancers.
“I think she will not come back to the stage.” — then, the fiery hair woman sigh. — “She wants to be strong and she will not say that she’s tired, but if she keep dancing today, her feet…” — another sigh and a man near the woman took a deep breath too.
“Do you think it’s broken or just…?” — he asks.
“Not broken, yet.” — he heard the woman emphasizes the ‘yet’. — “But will be if she not leave someone take a look at it.”
“She still has two acts, what we gonna do without the ‘Black Swan’?” — Jamie’s heart sank. She was hurt and he could not just be here, listening to this and not trying help.
Using his 20 seconds of courage, he left the shadows and scared the both dancers, who looked at him with doubt eyes.
“Good-night, I-’’ — he cursed himself, what the hell was happening with him today? — “I could nae help, but I heard ye two sayin’ that someone is hurt. I’m a doctor. There is somethin’ I can help?” — he finished his introduction. The woman and the man took a moment to staring at him, looked over if he is confident, what apparently they decided he was.
“We don’t have time… He will fit.” — the man said to his company. — “Our friend hurt her feet. It looks like it will swell…” — Jamie nodded, already in his doctor-mood while the dancers and him were walking through the hall to the backstage.
Jamie was the last to enter the room and when he saw her, the unknown feelings dragged him again.
She was just sitting in a chair clenching her feet, but he felt like she was tap-dancing on his heart.
“Claire, we found a doctor and he will look at your feet, so maybe you can come back and keep performing.” — the woman said. Then, Claire raised her face and looked at him.
Her stormy eyes (between blue and green as an ocean) met his eyes (just grains of sand) and Jamie prayed to the heaven.
Oh, Lord, if Ye are puttin’ this rare woman in front of me… I hope she can be mine.
He approached of her and kneeled by her side without his eyes leaves hers.
“You do not need to do it, Sir.” — her english accent appeared and again, she choked his words. Furthermore, he already knew that the way she drawled the words, her hoarse and melodic voice would chase him in his dreams.
“Och, dinna fash, Sassenach.” — he tryed to wink, and saw her help a laugh. He helped frowned his head, confused. He already did something wrong? — “It’s a pleasure to help. ‘Dancers are the athletes of God’.”
“Uuh, Einsten…” — She recognises and so frowned her forehead. — “Had I thought Sassenach was an insult?”
Jamie wanted kill himself. Please, 5 minutes in her presence and he already had embarrassed himself.
“Och, lass, I dinna want tae insult you. It’s just meaning ye are an English.”
She giggles.
“Yeah, somethings you can not change.” — he smiled and so, with a look, asked for her permission to touch her right feet. She smiled and with a Herculeos Effort, he helped himself to look at her with heart-stupid-eyes and started to squeezing it.
Realizing that the two dancers had left the room, Jamie felt the sweat run down his forehead and his hands freeze. Oh, please. Give me a chance, Lord.
He started his analyse of her feet, and Claire started analyzing him. His eyes his jaw, his hands squeezing calmly her bones. He was a beautiful man, probably at the 28 age, married and with one or two beautiful redhead child.
“My friends said you are a doctor.” — she starts a talk. Jamie nods.
“Aye, I’m a Trauma Surgeon.” — she sigh.
“Wow. This is amazing. They don’t know, but I’m a doctor too, a neurosurgeon … if you can call ‘I have med-school certificate’ like that…”
Jamie stops for a moment and looks ate her. Amazed. Dragged by her, again. Claire keeps winning it.
“Now, I have tae say ‘WOW’, Sassenach.” — he jokes and she smiles.
“None questions about how fool I’m for spend my time dancing when I have a doctor certificate in my safe box?” — she mocks herself.
“What ye feel when ye dance?” — he asks, instead. And she did not need time to think about it.
“I’m feel free.” — she says.
“So, there is my answer.” — he wink again and she smile, pure and enchanted.
She, despite the fact that he was a stranger, feel safe to share her stuffs with him. By the way, they probably will not meet again.
“I was tired. Tired to be a surgeon. I always loved to do my work,. it was what I always wanted to be. A doctor. A neurosurgeon. When I was in an O.R, I felt like I was on top of the the world. I felt I could do anything. But… with the love comes the responsabilities and the pressure, the oppression… I almost got depressed. So I stoped and came back to dance.” — she smiles. — “And I do not tell it to anyone, because… probably, I don’t like the questions that came after.” — she slipped out with a sigh, at the the end. — “Do you can understand?”
He had stoped his analyses to listen to her, squeezing her hand in his, trying to comfort Claire a little bit. And a bubble seemed to catch they two, leaving they stuck in their own atmosphere.
“Aye, I get it. I was in the army.” — he tells. — “And when I came back, I thought I could not scrub in an O.R again. I loved surgery, bein’ a doctor, but it was like I was not in love anymore. I think it happens because we feel as a fraud. We supposed tae be healers, and we believe we are at the first moment, but then, we can not save all lives. Deaths are many than lifes saved and it destroys ye.”
Claire squeezed his hands, smiling at him. “Yes, it is exactly it. That’s why I left my job and started in a Ballet Company, travelling around the world with them.”
Jamie smiles. And, without realises, wrap his her hair around one of his ffingers stroking the black crows’s curls.
“Ye are a wee brave thing, aren’t you?” — he asks, rhetorically, and the atmosphere changes completely. The friendly air turned out in a heated bubble. Just popped when Claire took her eyes off of him. Suddenly, very conscious that she did not even know his name yet.
He seemed steady as he kept talking.
“Well, Tchaikovisky did the same, ye ken. It’s incredible, aye, after all “a man who does not feed his dreams, grows old soon.” – he quotes Skakespeare, while kept analyzing her ballerina foot, squeezing in all the right places and, inevitably, pulling little noises from Claire, now. Jamie heard and almost interrupted his work, but with a Herculeous Effort, he kept doing his analysis.
“Oh, a trauma surgeon and a Skakespeare reader… You really are a MacDreamy.” — she drawled her words exactly as he found the hurt bone, letting a really loud noise came out of her mouth.
He tried, really really tried, but he could not help the feelings grownt in his veins, driving him near to edge of madness. It’s not right, in many ways. He could not rocognize himself, jamie thinks, but he never felt like that way before. He never felt this “longing alive”, this fever that he feels when he touches her. It makes him wants to build bridges between his aorta and core, just to see her spend dancing with her soft ballet shoes.
He took a deep breath, mentally. And play on doctor-mood again.
“It’s not broken as ye ken, but my advice is keep it quiet for a moment, letting it rest.” — she nodded.
“But I have to go back to the stage soon…”
“Look, Claire,” — her name slipped out of his mouth, subtlety in his hoarse voice and accent, as if he had did it many time before.
He chokes her words, now. His voice saying her name was like a melodic song. Or a whisper in a silence night.
“I ken ye have to do it, but I bet for The Cross Of My Lord Jesus Christ, that this foot is hurtin’ as hell. So, ye can stay here. Resting. Or tryin’ go back and have me in that stage huntin’ ye and catchin’ ye.” — he said, firmly but still softly. — Ye does not seem so heavy…” — she stared at him, hiding her surprise.
“Och, ye..” — she imitates, badly but reallly funny tentative, mooching. — “… will catch me?” — he nod, with a guttural noise from his throat and a wild look. She knew he was playing a character in that little scene she was building but she could not help the healed wave increasing in her core. “I would like to see you try it.” — she smiles, malicious, leaning foward in the chair to be closer to him.
“Och, Sassenach, dae not test me…” — he leans his head to her while she decided to touch his face, stroking his facial redhair.
“Why not?” — she asks, closer to his face. Her nose touching his. Her eyes just few cents to his.
“Ye ken what people say… play with fire and ye will get burned.” — he squeezed their noses a little bit until she leaned back, running, just to come closer again, back to the same position, giggling.
“‘One fire burns out another’s burning.’”— she smiles, sassy, as he dragged his nose across her face. — “And I never give a damn for other’s people opinion.”
“Good tae hear that.” — he says, looking at her in the eyes. So close that he could feel her breathing against his own mouth. He approached his lips of hers and she leaned back again.
“Cheeky.” — he winks.
She smiled and, holding his face between her two hands, looking at him in his blue eyes with undrilled burning fire in her pupil.
“I don’t even know your name, MacDreamy.” — he laughed.
“Och, lass…” — he does a little reverence, still on his knees. — “James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, at your service, ma’am.” — she nodded.
“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.” — she introduces herself, properly now.
“Fits well, mo chride… Claire Elizabeth.” — he touchs his lips in his chin. — “Now, ye will have me?” — he whispers in Claire’s lips.
“Yeah, I will have you.”
And then, without any word, they shocked their lips.
And the world tumbled down.
The overpowering wind he was waiting to dragged him at his windows finally came and was overwhelming.
Her lips is his, her hands in his face… but could be in his shoulders, arms, chest or neck… he could not say rightly because she was in everywhere. He felt her in all the places of his body, like she had absorbed him, entirely, just to burn Jamie with her fiery waves.
He was tightening up her neck to bring her closer to him, as if it was possible… and her hair… it already was a completely mess. But they kept kissing. Claire’s lips were meant to be his. And Jamie’s tongue was created to fit inside her mouth. They were puzzles, made for each other.
They kissed like there was no tomorrow, because maybe, really would not have it. But they took their moment and took advantage of their time together. Kissing and kissing until the air is needed.
At the end, it was a kiss of swans. Elegant, but ardent. And the premise of an unknown “forever”.
“Wow.” — she said, first. Her forehead in his, both nears to edge of the unexplored passion.
“Yes, wow.” — he can say, between his hard breaths.
“Just-” — she strokes his face. “Wow.” — Claire says again.
“Shaoil mi gum biodh mo chridhe a ’spreadhadh, mo nighean dhonn.”
She lay her head on his shoulders for a moment.
“What did you say?”
“I just though my heart was going to burst.” — he explains. She giggles, stroking her nose against his chin and cheek.
“Don’t you want to escape?” — she whispers in his ears.
“And the ballet…?” — he asks, dizzy.
“My doctor said to rest my foot very well… and I have a surrogate.” — he laughed.
“Now, I’m yeur doctor?” — Jamie provokes.
“Yeaahh.” — she drawled it. — “And I’m going put this foot on the floor now…” — she provokes, her voice going down a few tones. — “And I will start running away from here. Will you join me or-“ — she bites his ear lobe. — “-will you stay here, all alone in this sad room?”
He roared, softly.
“You are such a vixen.”
She gets up from the chair and starts to run to the exit door.
Tori