p.s. I don't own any of the characters from Moulin Rouge. Just my own plot.

Prologue

What if Christian had never believed Toulouse's words? What if Christian had simply left? The way he was supposed to?

Set just after Satine tells him that she no longer loved him, we venture into the possibility of the alternative. The alternative where Christian was faced with the decision of going back and where Satine was still alive, clinging to the last of her life.

The alternative with a little twist.

Chapter 1

Christian stared at the ticket in his hand. Britain. To go back, the mere thought of it was unappealing. To return to his father's home was like a death wish for his chosen Bohemian lifestyle. But what was left for him here in Paris?

The woman he loved had left him for riches. But he could never blame her, who could? Satine always left men at a disadvantage, for being close to her was like breathing in intoxicating gas that made you faint. But truly, who can blame her? The Duke was a financially stable man who had more to offer than he, a poor struggling Bohemian writer had to offer.

What about love? What about "the best thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return"? Perhaps if she was living in his world, she could do that. But Satine wasn't. Her life was a difficult life of struggle for success. Not the frivolous free life of the Bohemians who could just live by their philosophy and nothing else. Christian told himself repeatedly, if he loved her, he would let her go, let her fulfil her dreams and sought the life that he could never offer. And so he would. No matter how much it hurt him, he would let her go.

- - -

Satine stared at the blood-stained handkerchief in her palm. She did not have long to live. So why did she turn away the one man that she'll ever love? If she did not even have time left to enjoy the success, glory and wealth that the Duke had to offer, then why did she even turn Christian away?

The answer to that was simple. Clear especially to those who had ever been in love and loved in return. She had turned him away because she could not bear the thought of him hurting. She would rather that he lived with the thought that somewhere here in Paris, she was still alive, living her life to the fullest, than him thinking that she was dead, gone from the world. She knew just how much he loved her and letting him know that she was dying was a blow that she knew he would never be able to recover from. So, she would rather he thought that she chose riches over love. She would rather him hurting than him giving up on life. Let him think of her as superficial, for who cares? She was dying and her last dying wish was that the man that she loves continued on living his life, the way he was suppose to.

- - -

"Satine!"

Christian sat up from his bed, sweat dripping from his forehead. He swallowed and closed his eyes. 'It was just a dream,' he told himself. It was a ridiculous dream. Satine was far away back in Paris, living a wonderful life, and not in the arms of a...creature. He shuddered at the memory of it. The vividness of the dream made it seem almost real. She was in its arms and there was a lifeless sheen in her blue eyes. The thing, it was a man. But there was something just not right about the scene. The thing was a man, a handsome one, with a trickle of her blood trickling down from his blood-stained lips.

'Vampire,' his sub-conscious mind whispered.

He dismissed the thought immediately. There was no such thing as vampires. They were simply creatures of human imagination, created, just as how he created the love story of the Courtesan, the Maharaja and the poor sitar player.

'But did you create that? Or was the play actually true?' Again, his sub-conscious mind urged.

Christian glared at the bottle of absinthe that was sitting on the writing table of his room.

"Stupid alcohol. Now I'm hearing idiotic reasonings about myths in my head," he muttered under his breath.

Christian sighed. What was he going to do now? He was stuck back in his father's home, with absolutely nothing to do but to take over his father's business. Unfortunately, he had no interest in taking over the business. Nonwhatsoever. His fingers were itching to put something down on paper. But ever since reaching London, Christian had given up his Bohemian dreams.

Now he was wondering if he had made the right choice of returning to his hometown. He had nothing left here either. So why had he come back? Simply to escape from the pain of seeing Satine happy with someone else?

But would she ever be happy with someone else? He had convinced himself that she loved him no more. That she had moved on.

But now, he was having doubts about it.

Christian sighed at the weight of his thoughts. He climbed out of his bed and walked towards his writing table. He picked up the folded piece of paper that he arrived for him a few days ago .He had neglected it, thinking it must be a letter from Satine.

He drew a deep breath,

" Dear Christian,

Spectacular Spectacular is receiving the best reviews one could ever hope for. It is a shame that the man we owe all our success to is not here to share it with us. All of us miss you, Christian. You are after all, our most gifted writer and our dearest friend.

It is true. All of us do miss you. Especially our dear star, Satine. Ah, how she pretends to be happy in front of the Duke. But she is a brilliant actress, Christian. I can tell that she misses you. There is always a sad gleam in her eyes whenever she sings your song, the final secret song.

Come back, Christian. We all miss you. More importantly, she misses you.

You may decide not to heed this drunkard fool's words but I think she still loves you.

Yours truly,

Toulouse"

He stared at his friend's messy scrawl. The last four words seem to be repeating itself in his mind.

She still loves you.

Could Toulouse possibly be right?

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