Fandom: Moulin Rouge
Archive: At The Odyssey, the Jack Lives paradise for Titanic-change-lovers.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Part: Last part and the most important one, not sure if it's the one that turned out the best, but oh well.
Genre: Love, hopeless love.
Song Credit: Come What May, Nature Boy...all songs from MR.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, this is fanfiction.
Summary: More in the style of my story Beauty than the others. Just another false-hope, illusion story.
A very strange, enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he...
And then one day
One magic day
He passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me...
'The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love...and be loved in return.'
The boy sat in his humble abode, writing about truth, beauty, freedom and that which he believed in above all things…love. He looked at the blank piece of paper in the typewriter, wondering when the words would come flowing. He had the ideas, but the inspiration was just not there. To write about love. His father had never approved of it. He thought love was something you had made up, not a reason to get married, a reason for living.
Christian knew that love had to be the reason. He had never been in love in his life, but he knew that there had to be a reason to being on earth and love was the only one he could think of that made sense. Not going off to war, not making money, not being the richest man in England, not marrying someone to reach a higher position in society. But love. Truth, beauty, freedom and love.
A visit to the Moulin Rouge, a quick glimpse at a beautiful woman, a dance…her eyes sparkling at him, laughing into his face. She took his heart with her from the first moment he saw her. He had never written a song that was as beautiful as the one he called hers. No song could ever compare.
Maybe being in love gave you the inspiration? Maybe he had never been inspired before in his life? He looked at his older poems, at his feeble attempts at writing a bohemian masterpiece, the masterpiece of the penniless poet. They felt like a joke to him now. He had needed to fall in love. She was his muse, his reason for living, for was she not a symbol of all the love in the world?
Love? Love. Above all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love.
A knock on the door lifted him from his ponderings and he opened the door to see her standing there, laughing, pulling him close for a kiss. Toulouse smiled next to her and he waved them inside. Food was prepared and they sat down to work. Christian got into character, both of the Maharaja and the sitar player, making the words he had seen in his mind come to life.
"'Tell me you don't love me!' Mad with jealousy, the evil Maharaja forces the courtesan to make the penniless sitar player believe she doesn't love him."
"Oh yes…" Toulouse lit up, his eyes following Christian around the room and he waved his hands in excitement. Satine was just watching, the proud expression on her face softening into pure joy. Not the kind she had produced for him when she had thought he was the Duke. But the kind that was real. He wondered how many times she looked happy like that, truly happy.
He flew through the room, jumping up on the balcony, adopting a funny accent for the part. "'Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love!'" his eyes were laughing as he gestured wildly, looking back at Satine. "Says the penniless sitar player, throwing money at her feet and leaving the kingdom forever!"
For effect, he raised his hands, motioning that he was letting go. Her cry of the word no between the happy giggles made his smile widen and he jumped down, outwardly not missing a beat, but inwardly, he was spinning.
"Brilliant. Brilliant!" Toulouse murmured. Christian smiled at him absently, already moving back to Satine, her words so sweetly ringing in his ear. Yes, you're right, Satine, a life without love, that's terrible.
No, being on the streets, that's terrible.
Satine lay down in her bed, watching the dirty windows quietly. She hadn't known him that long. How could she be in love with him? She had loved so many men. First on the streets, as a simple prostitute, after the death of her mother and then, under Harold's wings, loving dukes and royalty, rich bankers and lawyers. None of them had asked for love, only lust, only a night with her, the sparkling diamond.
Christian saw her as Satine, the woman, the actress, the person she wanted to be. He knew her true smile and she knew his talent, his wonderful obsession with love, with love for loving and love for her.
Satine sighed lightly, pressing her hand to her chest in an effort to keep those dry coughs at bay. Was this life so free? She couldn't fall in love with whom she pleased. She had never even believed you could fall in love. She had thought it was just something you sang about, but not something that ever happened. She had thought that it was all make-believe.
"And then you come along, you beautiful man, not a duke, but a poet, a poet of all people, Toulouse's friend…" Satine moved her hand over her forehead, wanting the thoughts to die down, she wanted to go to sleep. She was seeing Christian tomorrow, before rehearsals…they were going to go over some scenes together. "Toulouse's friends always, always they come to me, to put in a good word with Harold. I never thought I'd fall in love with one of them." She sighed, thinking again of tomorrow, of rehearsal and of singing their song together.
Jealousy, that had to be the only thing standing in their way. Satine frowned. She had to sleep with the Duke soon, on opening night, there weren't many nights left now. A few weeks maybe.
Come what may. I will love you until my dying day…
Maybe Christian was right? Maybe we can think of the song and then, everything will magically be all right? Love conquers all, was that the cliché? Satine smiled inwardly. She hadn't believed in love before Christian, why wouldn't that be true? They could love and they would survive. Forever.
She drew a small heart on her pillow and then blushed, wondering what had possessed her to be so…childish and gullible. Love didn't help. But maybe, after the play is over, I'll be a real actress and I won't have to sleep with the Duke and Christian and I can go away and I can act somewhere else and we could…Satine squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, we can do all that in fairytale-land. In real life, I have to sleep with the Duke and Christian will be driven mad with jealousy.
She still had a semi-smile on her face when she fell asleep. She was remembering Christian's adamant way of convincing her that it would be all right, of twisting her head with poetry and love and dreams. His kisses, his hands on her, so soft and so forceful at the same time. He wasn't one of those young men who had never had love, who came to a courtesan for their first time, naïve and uncertain. He wasn't one of those pompous older men either, he cared for her, looked out for her, kissed her, warmed her in the night.
Satine sat up. She had been half-asleep already, but now she knew that it was useless. She looked up at the window, smiled, and left, hurrying to Christian's room.
Christian looked like he had been up all night when she knocked on the door. He smiled widely at her, clasping her to his chest without a word. She breathed him in, scarcely noticing the door being closed, scarcely noticing how they ended up on the bed.
"I couldn't sleep and I had to…I had to see you…"
Christian's kisses didn't stop, but his eyes told her that he hadn't been able to sleep either. His hands moved quickly over her dress, the one she had just barely buttoned in her hurry to get to him. He unbuttoned the rest, kissing her deeply as his hands moved down over her stomach, pulling a bit at the dress, making it fall to the ground with soundlessly.
Satine wrapped her legs around him. She was floating as he lifted her up, didn't even know if he needed muscles for this. She felt so light, so dizzy and so much in love. The Duke could be forgotten for one night, he could be forgotten forever for all Satine cared. The early stubble on Christian's cheek rubbed against her and she giggled, falling back against the bed, kissing him in a frenzied motion, eager not to let it end.
She was standing there, wearing a strange dress, her hair was tousled, and she was smiling widely. Satine, come here, I've missed you, has it been since this afternoon only, you had to see the Duke and I couldn't object…but here you are…oh that red hair, it tickles…he kissed her deeply. Everything else seemed pointless. The play, the Duke, Zidler, everything…all that he knew was that he loved her, he loved her more than life and she was here with him.
She spoke, saying something about not being able to sleep. The dress, of course, she just hurried over here, I'm so glad you did. He let his hands move over it and his breath left his body sharply when he saw her body again. It always did that to him. She was the most beautiful courtesan in the entire world and she was his. Not bought, but his, to body, soul and mind…and he loved her deeply.
Curing him of his ridiculous obsession with love, no, Satine, no, this courtesan was filling him with even more obsession with love. How could love be this delightful, this wonderful, beautiful and at the same time so painful. Ridiculous obsession with love…her eyes looked into his, so full of trusting and unconditional love.
No, they weren't. They were cold and empty. Her mouth wasn't saying beautiful words of love anymore. Lies were escaping her lips. Staying with the Duke? We had planned to leave together, Satine, you can't do this, you can't. I love you, I will always love you, you know that, you love me just as much, why are you doing this?
You don't expect me to understand? No, of course, I don't understand, you're not making any sense. Months of bliss, of love and of your eyes lighting up whenever I enter a room, of singing songs…of falling in love, inspiring me to finally write about it, write about what it's really like. I could never have known before I knew you, Satine. These words that you speak, they can't be yours.
Her face turned from me. Is she shaking? Satine, please tell what's wrong, I'll do anything, we'll work it out together, nothing can ever keep us apart. I swear to you. The Duke, he'll give up soon and you'll tell me what's really wrong…and we can fight it together. There is nothing our love can't defeat.
Truth. That will save the day. Christian looked at her hopefully, anger and incomprehension glimmering in his eyes.
"The truth? The truth is I am the Hindi courtesan. And I choose... the Maharaja. That's how the story really ends."
Satine turned around, walking away, leaving Christian with his heart broken, staring after her in disbelief. Thunder filled the sky, bringing rain and darkness over the Moulin Rouge, over Christian's trusting eyes, over Satine's tears.
The jealousy has driven him mad!
I love you, Christian. Satine swallowed her tears as she walked back to the Moulin Rouge, her eyes forever seeing Christian's when she had said the last words. She had to say it. She loved him too much to let him the Duke kill him, because of her. A gloved hand came up to cover her mouth as she coughed violently. Blood dripped into the fabric and she felt tears mingling with the tiny drops around her mouth, mingling with her lipstick, with the lies she had had to tell him.
His arms around her, carrying her through the wilderness, bringing her to a life where she could love, where she could be free, where she could speak the truth, and where everything was beautiful. No more drunken customers, no more Toulouse making her listen to yet another impoverished poet, listening to poems after poems, each sounding more like hokum than the next. No more coughing, no more blood.
Satine swallowed hard, looking out the window, seeing Christian's friends as they helped him inside. She had to sit down on the bed, had to look somewhere else. Otherwise, she would hurry down there and help them. What was he thinking, running through the streets in this weather? He could have died. Christian, you have to stay away, or else they will kill you, Harold said they would. Maybe our love could have defeated the Duke, Christian, but it can't defeat the blood that is drowning me from within.
Christian, you may see me only as a drunken, lice-ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels. But I know about art and love – if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being. She loves you. I know it – I know she loves you.
Christian went back to the Moulin Rouge one last time. Out of love or jealousy, he did not know. He just knew he had to face her again, to look her in the eye and see if she was speaking the truth. She loved him, she had to love him, why was she lying?
"You made me believe that you loved me! Why shouldn't I pay you?" The words pained him to say, but what she had told him pained him more. He wanted to see the look in her eyes, he wanted to smash her love, if she had ever had any for him, into a million pieces, just like had done with his.
He can't be here, why is he here? Christian, please go…please. They'll kill you if you don't go and I can't bear that thought. She spoke to him, she didn't know what she said anymore. She was feeling so tired, so hot and very light-headed. The play seemed to matter so little now. Marie was saying something, she had to be on stage. Satine fought the overwhelming urge to pass out, to sink into Christian's safe arms, and just go to sleep. No. He can't be here. I have to make sure he…leaves.
Satine saw the gun in Warren's hands and she panicked, begging Christian with her eyes, with her dying voice to go, please go.
"Tell me you don't love me! Tell me you don't love me!" Eerily echoing from their rehearsal, from their writing together, from the magic of seeing his words come to life as lines in a play, to the magic of seeing them appear in real life.
Satine just crumbled in front of him, not finding her voice. She couldn't lie to him again, she didn't have the strengths and everything was so bright, everything was fading into blackness. Christian, just go…I can't stand the thought of you dying.
The audience was alarmingly silent. The light was on the two caught lovers. Christian didn't look like he cared. He looked mad with rage and he was gripping to her hand in an iron grip, forcing her to stay up. Then, dragging her along the stage, letting her fall, just as he let the money fall down on the stage, right in front of her eyes. There was so much pain in that gesture that she could do nothing else but crumble into the floor, looking up at him, her eyes drowning in tears. It was harder to breathe.
"This woman is yours now. I've paid my whore. I owe you nothing. And you are nothing to me. Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love."
Another echo. Satine closed her eyes, feeling tears coursing down her face. She wanted nothing more than to stand up and hold him in her arms, tell him that she had lied, but she couldn't. They would kill him.
Christian left the stage. At some level, his mind was telling him to go back, to help her up, to kiss away the pain. He had never stopped loving her. Tears were pounding inside him as he heard the last sentence he had spoken to her, that she had cured him of believing in love…when it was the other way around. He loved her so much that it felt like his heart was about to burst.
He was still walking when Toulouse finally remembered his line, when the world of the bohemians entered the stage despite the Duke's wishes, when Satine was once again reminded that Christian had shown her that love was real, that love really did exist in the world. Did it help? No, maybe not.
Her sweet voice made him slow down. She was singing their song. Christian tightened his jaw continued walking, walking away from the woman that had twisted his mind into believing that she loved him.
I could feel like this
Like I've never seen the sky before
Want to vanish inside your kiss
Every day I'm loving you more and more
Her words were his and little by little, he slowed down.
Listen to my heart
Can you hear it sing
He couldn't take it any longer. He had to look at her, look into her beautiful eyes and see that she wasn't lying this time.
Come back to me
And forgive everything
She stopped abruptly, gasping for air. He was too entranced by her to notice. He was too entranced to worry about her.
Seasons may change, winter to spring
Her words came in a whisper now, a whisper meant for him.
But I love you
til the end of time
Love was singing inside him again and it broke free, tore loose, melted his anger and his jealousy, his confusion. He couldn't be confused anymore. The words she sang only meant one thing, that she loved him and that their love would conquer anything.
The audience sat rapt with fascination as the stage exploded in colors, songs and most noticeably, the reunion of the two lovers. Everyone was singing together, their own verses, together, alone, they were screaming out their love for life, their will to survive, to conquer the dark forces that were represented in the strange little man who was the evil Maharaja.
Christian could barely breathe between the words, he was so busy looking into her happy eyes. They were shining with happiness, not tears now, no more tears. Satine, Satine, whatever made you say those things, it's going to be all right now. We love each other and nothing can stand in our way. I'm so sorry I made you cry, I'm sorry. He held her light body close to his own, feeling ready to fly with her, to take off, with the bohemian storm beneath their wings.
He laughed as the curtains went down. Satine smiled at him, her eyes still happy. A change ran through her as they walked together on the stage. He thought he heard a faint bang, the kind a clock makes when time is up. But how could time be up, it was only just beginning for them, everything was just starting…
Satine fell backwards. He looked at her in slow-motion. The music was gone and all he heard were her struggles to get the breath to stay alive. Satine, oh God, what's wrong, what's wrong with you, please, don't die, please stay with me.
Her breaths were difficult to take and she looked into his frightened eyes. I'm so cold, I'm tired, Christian, just hold me. I'm not going to make it. Don't cry, oh please don't cry. She moved her hand over his face as he pulled her to him. Suddenly, the love scene, the love they had shared had crumbled into little pieces. Had crumbled into nothing.
She spoke to him, made him promise to go on. He had to go on. She loved him too much to let him die, too. Christian, you're so talented, please, you have to show the world, you have to show the world what love means. It's not a ridiculous obsession…freedom, beauty, truth and love, that's what it's all about. He kept rocking her in his arms, sobbing out his pain, long after she had said what she needed to say.
The stage was dark now and all that remained was the penniless poet hugging his courtesan, refusing to believe that the image of love he had felt, the beauty, the intense feeling of belonging, that it was all gone. Wasn't love supposed to conquer all?