Authors Note --- I don't own this stuff. Baz does, the genius that he is. I
know, this isn't very good. . . But I wrote is at three A.M., while
watching Conan O'Brien reruns. . . What do you expect?
Forever
Christian stirs awake as he feels his beloved's arms encircle his waist. The two lovers lay entwined in Christian's bed, each wrapped in a sense of bliss.
"Good morning, Christian."
Satine's silky voice fills Christian's ears, and he smiles in response. "Mmm, good morning to you too, darling." His eyelids flutter open, to find himself gazing upon the most beautiful woman in the world. Even in the early morning - well, not so early in their case; it's almost noon - Satine managed to stun him with her beauty.
"Sleep well, I hope?"
Satine tenderly plants a kiss on each of Christian's cheeks, followed by his forehead, chin, and nose. Christian grins widely at her actions, before his mouth finds her own and he pulls her in for a deep kiss. "I slept wonderfully," he breathes into her mouth, his fingers running through her fiery hair.
"Mmm, Christian, no. . ." Satine reluctantly pushes away as his kisses get even steamier, and she frowns at his hurt look. She hates it when he does the puppy dog eyes. "Christian. . . It's late. . . Rehearsals start in. . ." Satine suddenly jumps out of bed, a look of horror on her face. "Oh my god, we're late!!!"
Satine darts around the room, grabbing the various articles of clothing from the night before, and hurriedly trying to get dressed.
Christian rises from the bed, pulling on the pants from the previous night. "Christ! How'd it get so late??"
"Christian! Where's my other shoe??"
The two lovers start darting around the garret, in search of Satine's missing shoe.
Less than ten minutes later, Satine's out the door, corset in hand (Christian may have a talent at undoing them in record time, but he surely has problems lacing them up!) heading towards the Moulin Rouge.
Five hours later, Christian comes strolling back into his garret, smiling to himself. Despite coming in late, Zidler and the rest of the group had easily accepted his excuse of not feeling well. He wasn't quite certain what excuse Satine had given, having been unable to speak with her yet, but he was positive it was a good one; he didn't receive the suspicious glances he'd expected. Well, none more than usual.
Glancing about his room, he hurriedly begins to clean it up a bit; Satine promised to come over as soon as she managed to sneak away from the Duke.
Tossing clothes into a pile in the corner, he goes rummaging through a chest, in search of the candles. Finally finding them, he places them strategically around the room, before lighting them. 'Okay,' Christian thinks. 'The room's tidy. We've got lighting. What else do we need?'
Realizing that he must look like a mess, he darts into the bathroom, to quickly brush his hair and teeth, and spritz himself with cologne.
"Christian?"
Christian grins to himself, and straightens his collar in the mirror.
Satine suddenly appears in the doorway, looking positively stunning in a simple red dress that clings to her figure. Her red hair cascading down her back only adds to her beauty, and Christian finds himself momentarily unable to breathe at the sight of her.
"Well there you are, my penniless poet. Hmmm, what's up with all the candles? You expecting a date? Having some romantic rendevouz with your secret lover?"
Christian grins, snapping out of it and grabbing her around the waist, pulling her in for a kiss. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing."
"Mmm, in that case. . ." Satine deepens the kiss, the electricity between them sparking into an uncontrollable fire of passion. She pulls Christian out towards the bed, before pushing him down upon it. "Let's make love," she says with a wicked grin, mimicking what she'd said the first night they'd met. Christian, all too eager to agree, was soon pulling her down on top of him, lustily. "Yes, lets."
Hours later, the lovers finally take a break, simply lying together in each other's arms. "I love you, Christian."
Christian smiles, running his fingers through her hair as she rests with her head on his chest. "And I love you, Satine. Come what may."
She smiles, tracing circular patterns on the bare flesh of his belly. "Come what may. . ." she sings softly. "I will love you. . . Until my dying day. . ."
Christian groans as he awakens, having slept so wonderfully the night before. He notices his beloved missing from his arms, and he reaches out towards the other side of the bed, to pull her back. As his arms meet air, he frowns, reluctantly opening one eye then the next. "Satine?"
He struggles to sit up, wiping his eyes so he can see. "Satine?"
Opening his eyes again, he gasps. Broken absinthe bottles litter the floor. Dirty clothes and dishes everywhere. 'No,' Christian thinks. 'This can't be. No.'
Quickly, he darts to the window, to see the Moulin Rouge. Broken down and boarded up.
Christian feels his heart crumble in his chest at the sight. "No. . . NO!" He breaks into sobs as he makes his way back to the bed. Why did the world insist on torturing him so? Taunting him with dreams. . . Dreams that made him forget reality, dreams that sent him into a wonderful world with Satine. . . And then he would awaken, feeling his heart get ripped out again and again as he finds himself alone.
Curling himself into a ball on his bed, he cries, just as he'd done nearly every day since Satine's death. Reaching under his pillow, he takes out the picture Toulouse had drawn of Satine for him. Staring down at it, he's careful not to allow his tears to fall upon it, not wanting to stain it. Tearing his gaze from the picture, he glances over towards the shrine he'd created, with several other pictures of her on it. 'Beautiful. . . So beautiful. . .'
He shakes his head. It was a dream. Only a dream.
Returning the portrait to its place underneath his pillow, he pulls the covers up to his chest, trying to force himself back to sleep. As long as he's asleep, he doesn't have to know that she's dead. He doesn't have to admit it to himself.
Finally, he manages to cry himself to sleep, as he'd done countless times before.
And, as she did every night, Satine appeared next to his bed, to fix his sheets around him. She smiles softly at him as he sleeps, leaning down to kiss away his tears. "One day, Christian. One day soon, we'll be together again." Gently, she moves some stray hairs from his eyes, as he twitches at her touch. His eyelids flutter, finally opening halfway to look at her. "S- Satine?" He asks sleepily, before a finger is pressed gently to his lips. "Shhhh. Sleep now, Christian. . ." Kissing his lips softly, he slips back into a light sleep, and she sighs. "Come what may. . . I will love you. . . Until the end of time. . ."
Rising, she gives him a last kiss on the cheek, before backing away. "Goodnight, Christian. Sleep well."
And with that, she disappears, into the night.
Forever
Christian stirs awake as he feels his beloved's arms encircle his waist. The two lovers lay entwined in Christian's bed, each wrapped in a sense of bliss.
"Good morning, Christian."
Satine's silky voice fills Christian's ears, and he smiles in response. "Mmm, good morning to you too, darling." His eyelids flutter open, to find himself gazing upon the most beautiful woman in the world. Even in the early morning - well, not so early in their case; it's almost noon - Satine managed to stun him with her beauty.
"Sleep well, I hope?"
Satine tenderly plants a kiss on each of Christian's cheeks, followed by his forehead, chin, and nose. Christian grins widely at her actions, before his mouth finds her own and he pulls her in for a deep kiss. "I slept wonderfully," he breathes into her mouth, his fingers running through her fiery hair.
"Mmm, Christian, no. . ." Satine reluctantly pushes away as his kisses get even steamier, and she frowns at his hurt look. She hates it when he does the puppy dog eyes. "Christian. . . It's late. . . Rehearsals start in. . ." Satine suddenly jumps out of bed, a look of horror on her face. "Oh my god, we're late!!!"
Satine darts around the room, grabbing the various articles of clothing from the night before, and hurriedly trying to get dressed.
Christian rises from the bed, pulling on the pants from the previous night. "Christ! How'd it get so late??"
"Christian! Where's my other shoe??"
The two lovers start darting around the garret, in search of Satine's missing shoe.
Less than ten minutes later, Satine's out the door, corset in hand (Christian may have a talent at undoing them in record time, but he surely has problems lacing them up!) heading towards the Moulin Rouge.
Five hours later, Christian comes strolling back into his garret, smiling to himself. Despite coming in late, Zidler and the rest of the group had easily accepted his excuse of not feeling well. He wasn't quite certain what excuse Satine had given, having been unable to speak with her yet, but he was positive it was a good one; he didn't receive the suspicious glances he'd expected. Well, none more than usual.
Glancing about his room, he hurriedly begins to clean it up a bit; Satine promised to come over as soon as she managed to sneak away from the Duke.
Tossing clothes into a pile in the corner, he goes rummaging through a chest, in search of the candles. Finally finding them, he places them strategically around the room, before lighting them. 'Okay,' Christian thinks. 'The room's tidy. We've got lighting. What else do we need?'
Realizing that he must look like a mess, he darts into the bathroom, to quickly brush his hair and teeth, and spritz himself with cologne.
"Christian?"
Christian grins to himself, and straightens his collar in the mirror.
Satine suddenly appears in the doorway, looking positively stunning in a simple red dress that clings to her figure. Her red hair cascading down her back only adds to her beauty, and Christian finds himself momentarily unable to breathe at the sight of her.
"Well there you are, my penniless poet. Hmmm, what's up with all the candles? You expecting a date? Having some romantic rendevouz with your secret lover?"
Christian grins, snapping out of it and grabbing her around the waist, pulling her in for a kiss. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing."
"Mmm, in that case. . ." Satine deepens the kiss, the electricity between them sparking into an uncontrollable fire of passion. She pulls Christian out towards the bed, before pushing him down upon it. "Let's make love," she says with a wicked grin, mimicking what she'd said the first night they'd met. Christian, all too eager to agree, was soon pulling her down on top of him, lustily. "Yes, lets."
Hours later, the lovers finally take a break, simply lying together in each other's arms. "I love you, Christian."
Christian smiles, running his fingers through her hair as she rests with her head on his chest. "And I love you, Satine. Come what may."
She smiles, tracing circular patterns on the bare flesh of his belly. "Come what may. . ." she sings softly. "I will love you. . . Until my dying day. . ."
Christian groans as he awakens, having slept so wonderfully the night before. He notices his beloved missing from his arms, and he reaches out towards the other side of the bed, to pull her back. As his arms meet air, he frowns, reluctantly opening one eye then the next. "Satine?"
He struggles to sit up, wiping his eyes so he can see. "Satine?"
Opening his eyes again, he gasps. Broken absinthe bottles litter the floor. Dirty clothes and dishes everywhere. 'No,' Christian thinks. 'This can't be. No.'
Quickly, he darts to the window, to see the Moulin Rouge. Broken down and boarded up.
Christian feels his heart crumble in his chest at the sight. "No. . . NO!" He breaks into sobs as he makes his way back to the bed. Why did the world insist on torturing him so? Taunting him with dreams. . . Dreams that made him forget reality, dreams that sent him into a wonderful world with Satine. . . And then he would awaken, feeling his heart get ripped out again and again as he finds himself alone.
Curling himself into a ball on his bed, he cries, just as he'd done nearly every day since Satine's death. Reaching under his pillow, he takes out the picture Toulouse had drawn of Satine for him. Staring down at it, he's careful not to allow his tears to fall upon it, not wanting to stain it. Tearing his gaze from the picture, he glances over towards the shrine he'd created, with several other pictures of her on it. 'Beautiful. . . So beautiful. . .'
He shakes his head. It was a dream. Only a dream.
Returning the portrait to its place underneath his pillow, he pulls the covers up to his chest, trying to force himself back to sleep. As long as he's asleep, he doesn't have to know that she's dead. He doesn't have to admit it to himself.
Finally, he manages to cry himself to sleep, as he'd done countless times before.
And, as she did every night, Satine appeared next to his bed, to fix his sheets around him. She smiles softly at him as he sleeps, leaning down to kiss away his tears. "One day, Christian. One day soon, we'll be together again." Gently, she moves some stray hairs from his eyes, as he twitches at her touch. His eyelids flutter, finally opening halfway to look at her. "S- Satine?" He asks sleepily, before a finger is pressed gently to his lips. "Shhhh. Sleep now, Christian. . ." Kissing his lips softly, he slips back into a light sleep, and she sighs. "Come what may. . . I will love you. . . Until the end of time. . ."
Rising, she gives him a last kiss on the cheek, before backing away. "Goodnight, Christian. Sleep well."
And with that, she disappears, into the night.