Inspired by the wonderful littleladyfaberry, I've decided to try my own hand at writing a fic from Sasha's POV. Set before the events of 1x08. Feedback greatly appreciated. Without further ado, may I present: Cowardice.


Two men standing in front of a small ballet shop embraced, a careless kiss, stolen in a few seconds of the distracted gazes of nearby prying eyes. The simple peck on the lips went unnoticed by all but a few. In those brief seconds the middle aged couple, ignored their surroundings and let the world slip away, the significance of the moment was not lost on either man and they smiled at each other tenderly. In a town as small as this, almost anyone could have happened by; ending the fragile illusion with a few carefully placed words, fueling endless rumors that could tear their lives apart. A twinge of regret flashed across one man's face, his momentary cowardice carefully hidden under a tense smile.

As the couple embraced, a woman across the street grabs her daughter's arm, digging her manicured nails into soft flesh. The woman ignores the pain present in her daughter's eyes, as she drags her towards the couple. With uneven steps, the mother walks fast reaching the men as they finally separate. Four expressions change into varying looks of shock and anger, as the situation takes a turn for the worse. The woman's simmering rage explodes, as she advances upon the couple. The quiet drone of activity surrounding the area is shattered, as the sound of angry shouts begin to fill the air.

Paradise, California, a small town with a knack for generating nasty gossip, a fact Sasha knew all to well she thought sadly, listening to the hushed murmurs of nearby bystanders. Sasha stood silently, her feet glued to the sidewalk, eyes wandering off into the distance, avoiding the scene in front of her, desperately trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She dropped her gaze to the wide store window. Sasha stared hatefully at the pink shoes perched in the display case; the pointe shoes, she had urged her mother to buy.

That day, Sasha had hoped to convince her mother to finally attend one of her upcoming performances as Clara, the lead role in The Nutcracker. In all of Sasha's many years of taking ballet, her mother had yet to attend a single performance. With sinking certainty, Sasha thought, now I can't count on either of them. Newfound guilt blossomed within her as she stared straight ahead, unblinking while her eyes burned with unshed tears. Her mother screamed at her father, jabbing her finger angrily into his chest, her pale face turning red from exertion.

Even as her eyes stayed focused on the pink and white sign adorning Sal's shop, Sasha could feel people beginning to stare. She was conscious of their cold scrutinizing glares, as the volume of her mother's shouts grew louder. "How could you do this to me? What about your daughter?" She said gesturing wildly in Sasha's direction. "Parading around in public with your"- Sasha's mother began to back away, her face twisted in disgust. Her father stood motionless, his head down in shame as Timothy gripped his arm.

Timothy spoke in a shaking voice "Look I don't think this is the time or place for this, his eyes flickered to Sasha before he looked back at her father. Her father, barely standing on weak knees leaned against Timothy for support, crumbling under her mother's stony glare. Sasha's mother silently stared back at them. Her father looked up suddenly, fixing Sasha with a pleading gaze. "Honey please I'm sorry, he sobbed. I'm so sorry." Shame bubbled in her chest as she avoided his gaze, her throat tightened and she felt her eyes begin to well with tears.

Sasha's mother stepped closer to them, fixing Sasha's father with an icy glare, "I want your things out of my house, she said voice dripping with venom. "I refuse to be further humiliated by your- her voice faltered slightly, indiscretions. She glanced towards the shop; Sal was standing in the display window a disapproving expression clouding his normally cheerful face. Shooting the couple one final dark look her mother grabbed Sasha's arm and pulled her away.

She heard the faint sound of Timothy's hushed voice as he comforted her weeping father. Sasha looked back over her shoulder, the image of father broken, with sad pleading eyes, blurred her vision as she held down a choked sob. She focused on matching her mother's brisk pace. After all, Sasha could not afford to look pathetic, especially in her mother's eyes. She increased her pace even as she stumbled, resisting the urge to look back.