*disclaimer* I own none of these characters; they all belong to the great
Baz Lurhman!! Please don't sue, I've got no cash :(
I also don't own the song Come What May, which is used in here.
*author's note* This deals with mature subject matter, such as rape and abuse (so if this offends, don't read!). It's a sort of alternate ending: during the gothic tower scene, Chocolat doesn't come and that's where the story picks up...
Out of the Darkness... Barely
Four months. Four agonizing months, she'd been taken away. Christian stared out the window, hoping, like so many times before, she'd simply appear on the streets. Like so many times before, he was greeted with nothing.
He sat at his typewriter and listened to the steady thud of the rain against the window. He needed to work, but without his muse, nothing came. There was nothing without her. He was nothing. Nothing, cold, dead.
"What if she's dead?" He physically shook the thought from his head. "Don't give up hope. They'll find her."
Not that they were trying. The officers didn't care for the creatures of the Underworld. They didn't care that the bastard Duke took his precious Diamond from him. They didn't care that she'd been kidnapped and probably hurt. They didn't care...
"Come what may..." he whispered into the night. Maybe, just maybe she could hear him and know everything would be alright. "I'll find you love, and I'll never let you out of my sight again."
The door burst open and pulled him from his reverie. Toulouse, wet and out of breath stood in the doorway. His hand clutched his chest in a vain attempt to control his heartbeat.
"Toulouse? What-" he stopped short in realization of what his friend was so agitated about. "Is it her?"
Toulouse could only nod. "Where is she?"
"Awt twe Mouwin but you shwouldn't-"
It was useless. Christian was already down the hall and headed for the Moulin Rouge. His mind was a jumble. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest. But he didn't care about any of it; all that mattered was her.
The Moulin Rouge's entrance grew nearer with every sprint. His legs screamed in protest; he ignored it. He burst through the door and entered the dark dance hall. "Where do I go? Where is she?"
Wherever she was, Christian knew Harold would be with her. "HAROLD! WHERE IS SHE? WHERE'S SATINE?"
The older man slid out of a dark corner. "You can't see her," he told the frantic poet, but he knew Christian wouldn't listen.
"Why not? Where is she?" Panic laced his voice. "Is she..." he managed to choke out, but couldn't bring himself to finish.
"Dead? No Christian. But she might as well be..." Harold spoke softly.
"I... I don't understand. I want to see Satine! Where is she? What's wrong with her?" Christian's eyes filled with tears. "Please..."
Harold was never known to be a compassionate man, but there was a bond between the two he couldn't explain. It would be easier to show him than to tell him.
He led Christian to Satine's old dressing room. The lights were dimmed and Christian could barely make out her sleeping form. Marie was sitting beside her and held her hand tightly. He could hear her muffled sobs. A doctor was on the opposite side of the bed, looking a little pale.
"Satine?" Christian whispered. He didn't dare step closer. "What has he done to you?"
"She's been hurt. There are serious cuts and bruises everywhere, she appears to have barely eaten for a few months and..." the doctor tried his best to tell the boy gently, "there is evidence of heavy abuse."
"What do you mean?" Christian asked fearfully, never taking his eyes off his beloved.
"She's been raped Christian. Repeatedly. She's been beaten and starved like an animal," Harold spat. His fists were clenched in anger, so hard that his knuckles were white. His little Sparrow... harmed like that...
They mutually decided it was best to leave Christian alone with Satine. He only approached her after the door shut. Her face was bruised and swollen; her red lips, cut and bleeding; her hair limp and dull. His breath caught in his throat. He didn't dare touch her, but it hurt how much he wanted to hold her in his arms and cry. But he couldn't, so he sat and sang to her.
"Never knew, I could feel like this.
Like I've never seen the sky before.
Want to vanish inside you kiss
Every day I love you more and more..."
Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. She was home, and everything would be alright.
Instead of the happy ending he'd hoped for, his brows knit together in confusion. She was searching his face for something she couldn't recognize. Her eyes were clouded. It was Satine, but she was... in some sort of dark place... "In withdrawal? Is that what they call it..."
Satine, the love of his life, didn't recognize him.
"Come what may..." he tried desperately.
Still, her face remained blank.
I also don't own the song Come What May, which is used in here.
*author's note* This deals with mature subject matter, such as rape and abuse (so if this offends, don't read!). It's a sort of alternate ending: during the gothic tower scene, Chocolat doesn't come and that's where the story picks up...
Out of the Darkness... Barely
Four months. Four agonizing months, she'd been taken away. Christian stared out the window, hoping, like so many times before, she'd simply appear on the streets. Like so many times before, he was greeted with nothing.
He sat at his typewriter and listened to the steady thud of the rain against the window. He needed to work, but without his muse, nothing came. There was nothing without her. He was nothing. Nothing, cold, dead.
"What if she's dead?" He physically shook the thought from his head. "Don't give up hope. They'll find her."
Not that they were trying. The officers didn't care for the creatures of the Underworld. They didn't care that the bastard Duke took his precious Diamond from him. They didn't care that she'd been kidnapped and probably hurt. They didn't care...
"Come what may..." he whispered into the night. Maybe, just maybe she could hear him and know everything would be alright. "I'll find you love, and I'll never let you out of my sight again."
The door burst open and pulled him from his reverie. Toulouse, wet and out of breath stood in the doorway. His hand clutched his chest in a vain attempt to control his heartbeat.
"Toulouse? What-" he stopped short in realization of what his friend was so agitated about. "Is it her?"
Toulouse could only nod. "Where is she?"
"Awt twe Mouwin but you shwouldn't-"
It was useless. Christian was already down the hall and headed for the Moulin Rouge. His mind was a jumble. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest. But he didn't care about any of it; all that mattered was her.
The Moulin Rouge's entrance grew nearer with every sprint. His legs screamed in protest; he ignored it. He burst through the door and entered the dark dance hall. "Where do I go? Where is she?"
Wherever she was, Christian knew Harold would be with her. "HAROLD! WHERE IS SHE? WHERE'S SATINE?"
The older man slid out of a dark corner. "You can't see her," he told the frantic poet, but he knew Christian wouldn't listen.
"Why not? Where is she?" Panic laced his voice. "Is she..." he managed to choke out, but couldn't bring himself to finish.
"Dead? No Christian. But she might as well be..." Harold spoke softly.
"I... I don't understand. I want to see Satine! Where is she? What's wrong with her?" Christian's eyes filled with tears. "Please..."
Harold was never known to be a compassionate man, but there was a bond between the two he couldn't explain. It would be easier to show him than to tell him.
He led Christian to Satine's old dressing room. The lights were dimmed and Christian could barely make out her sleeping form. Marie was sitting beside her and held her hand tightly. He could hear her muffled sobs. A doctor was on the opposite side of the bed, looking a little pale.
"Satine?" Christian whispered. He didn't dare step closer. "What has he done to you?"
"She's been hurt. There are serious cuts and bruises everywhere, she appears to have barely eaten for a few months and..." the doctor tried his best to tell the boy gently, "there is evidence of heavy abuse."
"What do you mean?" Christian asked fearfully, never taking his eyes off his beloved.
"She's been raped Christian. Repeatedly. She's been beaten and starved like an animal," Harold spat. His fists were clenched in anger, so hard that his knuckles were white. His little Sparrow... harmed like that...
They mutually decided it was best to leave Christian alone with Satine. He only approached her after the door shut. Her face was bruised and swollen; her red lips, cut and bleeding; her hair limp and dull. His breath caught in his throat. He didn't dare touch her, but it hurt how much he wanted to hold her in his arms and cry. But he couldn't, so he sat and sang to her.
"Never knew, I could feel like this.
Like I've never seen the sky before.
Want to vanish inside you kiss
Every day I love you more and more..."
Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. She was home, and everything would be alright.
Instead of the happy ending he'd hoped for, his brows knit together in confusion. She was searching his face for something she couldn't recognize. Her eyes were clouded. It was Satine, but she was... in some sort of dark place... "In withdrawal? Is that what they call it..."
Satine, the love of his life, didn't recognize him.
"Come what may..." he tried desperately.
Still, her face remained blank.