Title: Honestly
Author: Contagious Sunshine
Pairings: China Doll/Christian
Rating: PG (maybe PG-13 later on)
Summary: 'This is hardly a love story.' China Doll takes an interest in the writer.
A/N: Second Moulin Rouge fic. This is an actual story thoguh and will have (I think) three chapters. This a continuation of my other story 'Happenstance' but you do not need to read that one to understand this fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Really. I don't.

This is hardly a love story.

She had never really been fascinated with something (someone) before. Sure, there was the dancing but that was just something she did for the Moulin Rouge. It was her job, not an interest. And there had been times when she was younger where she would take interest in something (writing, painting) but she would either lose that interest or find out that she was terribly horrible at it. Nothing ever jumped out at her, nothing ever caught her eye. And the girls noticed.

"So hard to please that, China Doll," they would whisper behind her back in the dressing rooms when they thought she couldn't hear. "No wonder no man comes back twice!" And they were right.

They were almost always right.

It aggravated her too, drove her crazy sometimes. She didn't understand it. Why could she just find something interesting for a change? It wasn't like she wanted to be this way, she just was. It was a part of her, she figured, like a habit she couldn't get rid of. She began to believe it. Began to believe that she would never, ever find something.

That was, until he came along.

She had seen him the night he first stepped in the Mouln Rouge. He had been nervous and she had approached him in hopes of getting an offer. In the end, all she got was a compliment ("You are very beautiful") and a funny feeling in her stomach. She didn't know she would see him again. Hell, she didn't even know his name.

When Zidler had introduced him to the entire company, she couldn't believe it. He was to be the writer of 'Spectacular Spectacular', the man that Zidler guaranteed to make this show a hit. She had watched him the entire time Zidler rambled on, examining himmore closely. He was handsome, yes, but he was young. Short dark hair, nice eyes. He had a sort of child-like innocence that showed when he smiled. And he had a charming smile. She couldn't help herself really.

He had a natural ability with writing too. He would be explaining a scene to them to make sure everyone understood, and she could practically imagine herself there. The words flowed with such ease that she couldn't believe that they came from him. He was too young to understand half the things he wrote about (the jealousy, the betrayal, the love) but here they were, making perfect sense on paper as well on stage. She wished she had a talent like that.

She had become fascinated.

Many couldn't believe her.

"Honestly, China Doll, this whole story he's written up is a load of nonsense," Arabia told her one day when she was lacing her up, "I can't believe you can stand it."

"I think it's rather nice," stated Tarot from her spot by a mirror.

"Oh, shut it. You think everything's 'rather nice'," Nini told her, mimicking Tarot's voice in a sickly sweet drawl.

Most of the girls laughed, a few just smiled at the imitation.Tarot looked angry but didn't say anything and continued to fiddle with her hair.

Arabia turned back to her and began to tighten the corset again.

"All the stuff he's going on about is a bunch of silly rhymes and dreams. Do you think that can happen in real life? In our lives?" Arabia asked.

She fell silent, not replying, and when Arabia had finished with her corset she stomped off, claiming to have a bad headache from all their chattering (though everyone knew otherwise). It was better then facing the truth.

The following day, she showed up early for rehearsal to practice for one of the recent numbers that they had just learned. It was way to early for anyone to really be up. She already had nearly tripped due to the fact that she was still practically half asleep and she had yawned at least five times already. But she had to practice.

As she entered the large hall, her eyes caught sight of him, sitting not too far from the stage. He was shuffling through some papers and occasionally he would mutter to himself about something. She stopped, not sure whether to disturb him or not (though she very much wanted to) but then her confidence kicked in and she strode towards the stage, not once taking her eyes off of him. He didn't seem to notice her though since he didn't even look up when she brushed past him. He was too busy, too caught up in his work. It didn't bother her (just a little) and she sat on the stage, wrapping her shawl tighter around her.

He still hadn't noticed her and he let out a large yawn.

"A bit tired, are we?" she asked, finally finding her voice.

He looked up, surprised to see her there. He stared. She simply rested her chin in her hand, waiting for an answer.

"I had a long night. I was busy with Sa-," He stopped mid-sentence and let out a small cough. "I w-was busy with the show."

She eyed him curiously but didn't push the matter.

"You know," she started, "Many of the girls think this entire show you're writingis nonsense."

"Oh." His shoulders slumped and his face fell a little. She noticed.

"I think it's brillant," she told him, hoping to boost his spirits.

He smiled. "Thanks."

She shrugged but couldn't helpbut smile back.

Just then a couple of the girls walked in (Harlequin, Baby Doll, and Tarot) laughing about something and the moment between them was lost. She looked at them, then him, before standing up and making her way towards her fellow dancers.

She didn't look back at him.

tbc.