Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Lucky Baz Luhrmann thought them up.
Notes: This is a much darker fic than I normally write. I don't ever give the name of the person whose p-o-v this is in, but I think it's fairly obvious. See if you can figure it out an if not, no worries. This is a sister fic to another one I'm currently writing, which will reveal all. :)
I watch over him every day, praying and waiting for the day when he will recover. I will wait, we all will wait, patiently until the day he stops crying and raises his head proudly once more. How long will this take? Weeks? Months? I suspect years. He is broken, shattered in a million pieces. I have never seen a heart so broken before and I have seen my share. So we wait until he comes back to us. I sit with my door against his back every day, Toulouse bringing meals to me. I will sit here until he opens the door and comes out on his own free will.
He does not know that I watch over him the way I do. He will never know, because I will never let him. I imagine he would kill me if he knew, the rage inside him is so great at this point. He wants to shatter someone the way the Duke shattered him, yet he does not have the heart of a killer. He would love to tear the awful man apart, but he will not.
He will never search for revenge on the man that destroyed his life and his love. His heart is good and pure, his innocence evident in the way he mourns for his lost love. Christian will never return to break the Duke. He is too good for that.
I, on the other hand, am not too good for that. I would feel no regret if I were to snap the Duke's neck. My hands are strong, my fists would be like steel around his throat. I trained many days to build the physique of a strong dancer and soon I will reap the benefits of being this way. I have imagined it every day since her death. He took them both from us and he will pay for it. He deserves so much more pain than he delivered upon the beautiful lovers. He is truly the devil and as I sit here, I begin to think more that I should take it upon myself to end his wrath.
Christian is still sobbing in his room, his face buried in his arms and his sorrows drowned in a bottle of absinthe. He is seeing the Green Fairy, I am sure of it, but instead of pleasuring him like she can with so many men, she devastates him. He screams something unintelligible from behind the door and I close my eyes, trying to block out the horrible noise. He stops, chokes on something, then screams again.
The sound rips at my ears, the name of his lover hoarse on his ruined vocal chords. He had done nothing but cry and scream and now his throat is raw. I hear him gasp for breath and he murmurs her name once more.
I stand. My decision has been made for me. I can only wait here for so long, knowing that the man who has destroyed my friend is still free. I cannot stand knowing that the Duke lives while Christian has become only a shell of the man he once was. My eyes fall on the closed door of his garret and I sigh. I can watch over him, but that will not relieve his pain. When I find the Duke, I will do more than relieve Christian's pain. I will bring justice to him. I will find the man that destroyed Christian's belief in beauty and love and I will destroy him.
Rain is falling, soaking the empty streets of Montmarte. I am surprised to find the Moulin Rouge closed as I step onto the street. They are in mourning, their lights off and doors closed. They too have lost someone, a sister, a daughter, a friend. I pause for a moment, stare at the darkened windmill and murmur a prayer in Spanish. Satine may be gone from this world, but I believe her soul is now in a better place. If only Christian could join her.
I turn away from the brothel, the Gothic tower jumping out at me in the dark night. With only the moonlight to guide me, I walk toward the building. It is black and morbid, a perfect location for what I plan to do to the Duke. I pray silently that he is inside and alone. I pray that he will know the face of justice when it looms over him. I pray he will not fight the end that is so inevitably coming for him.
The stars are hiding from me, they fear the anger that I only now feel boiling inside my stomach. It rises, a burning liquid in my chest and throat. It spreads, curling trendils of hatred inside my fingers and into my brain. I have never realized until this very moment how much I truly loathe the Duke of Monroth. His very name brings shivers of repulsion to my spine and my muscles tense in anticipation as I open the door of the Gothic tower.
Climbing the stairs, I stretch my hands, clenching and releasing my fists. I have yet to see a single soul, the building dreary and empty. My footsteps echo loudly off the walls, but I am not trying to surprise him. I do not care what noises I make. I hope he hears me coming and fears me. I hope I put dread in his heart, I hope he fears death and cowers beneath me.
I push open the door to the tallest part of the tower and I find him there. He is eating alone, the table set for sixteen people and a feast spread out before him. He nibbles on a chicken leg like a bird and I feel my lip curl in disgust. He is a repulsive man.
I step into the room, then shut the door behind me with a bang. He turns, he is surprised and he drops the chicken leg on his plate. I watch him and see the fear in his eyes; it pleases me. I love knowing that I instill a feeling of terror within him, a man who was so domineering while he was hiding behind his manservant. Now though, he is alone, it is just he and I. He no longer has someone to hide behind and I will use that to my advantage.
We watch each other for a very long moment. I am testing my power over him and he is testing my anger. He does not seem to know yet what I intend to do. Our eyes meet and I stare at him calmly. He reacts, his eye twitching. It is a slight gesture, a movement another man may not have noticed, but I saw it. My composed state frightens him. It frightens me as well, but I do not let this show.
I walk into the room slowly, nearing the table. He does not move from his chair at the head of the table, but I can see him tensing in preparation. He will run if he has to. I stop, pick up an apple off a plate and begin to eat. This shocks him and he relaxes very slightly. I ignore him, continuing with the fruit until nothing is left but the core. My behaviour intrigues him and he leans forward, watching me.
I turn and toss the apple core in his direction. It startles him and he jumps, throwing the core to the ground. I smile at this; he is so much more scared than I would have ever thought possible and I enjoy his fear.
He sees my smile and is confused even more. He is standing now, but there is no where for him to run, not unless he wants to throw himself from the window. I am standing between him and the door. I tap the table with my fingers, drumming the surface gently, staring at him all the while. He tenses once more and stands from his chair.
The second I move toward him, he moves toward me, trying desperately to reach the door. My hand slams down on his arm and I throw him backward, slamming him against the table. He would have never made it to the door, he and I both know that, but I have to give him credit. He tried to save himself.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the back of my hand slams across his face, breaking the skin over his cheekbone. He looks startled and presses his hand to the place where he is bleeding. My eyes stormy, I bend over him, glaring at him. I do not want him to ruin this by speaking. I do not want to hear his awful voice. It destroys me inside and I pray, for his sake, that he does not beg.
I watch him, carefully, waiting for another sign that he will try to escape. When I see nothing I grasp him by the shoulder and lead him to the balcony. To my surprise, Christian is stumbling around the streets below. I will have to find him once I am finished here and take him home. My grip on the Duke softens as my heart breaks for my friend and suddenly he understands.
He tries to fight, thrashing against me, slapping my chest with both hands. He makes an awful, gasping noise as he tries to run. I merely drag him back into the building and close the doors to the balcony.
His eyes are huge with fear and anger, emotions mixing together in a tangled mess. I find myself once more enjoying the way he looks like a scared child and I relish in the feeling a moment longer before I close my hands around his throat.
He tries to beg and it angers me. I want to strangle him to death, but his whispered words fall upon my ears and I burn again inside. He promises me a life of luxury, a life spent with beautiful women. He promises to let Christian live peacefully, to give us all enough moeny to move far away from Montmarte.
I stare upon him sadly, for even now, he does not understand.
He whispers a promise of another woman for Christian and my anger returns. He has no heart and in turn, I will abandon mine for a single moment.
With one hand on each side of his head, I twist violently and his neck breaks. The Duke's body slumps against me and I move away, letting it fall to the floor with a sickening noise. I stare at the corpse, knowing if I am caught I will be killed for what I have done. But for now, I do not care. I have served justice to a man who would have destroyed many more lives, lives beyond what he has already ravaged.
I fear also for my heart and soul. I enjoyed killing him, I feel good now that he is dead. Have I ruined myself in finding the justice we all sought?
"Oh no."
I hear the whispered words from the doorway and I turn. I did not know someone had been there, someone who had seen the entire thing. I fear now for myself more than anything else, but I relax when I see who it is.
Christian is standing there, his hand over his mouth, his eyes staring at the body of the Duke. He trembles with anger, then fear. He worries for me, I see it when he meets me eyes.
"Oh no." He whispers again. "What have you done?"
I know the answer but I do not speak. I have made the world a slightly better place to live. But in the process I have also blackened my heart and soul.
Notes: This is a much darker fic than I normally write. I don't ever give the name of the person whose p-o-v this is in, but I think it's fairly obvious. See if you can figure it out an if not, no worries. This is a sister fic to another one I'm currently writing, which will reveal all. :)
I watch over him every day, praying and waiting for the day when he will recover. I will wait, we all will wait, patiently until the day he stops crying and raises his head proudly once more. How long will this take? Weeks? Months? I suspect years. He is broken, shattered in a million pieces. I have never seen a heart so broken before and I have seen my share. So we wait until he comes back to us. I sit with my door against his back every day, Toulouse bringing meals to me. I will sit here until he opens the door and comes out on his own free will.
He does not know that I watch over him the way I do. He will never know, because I will never let him. I imagine he would kill me if he knew, the rage inside him is so great at this point. He wants to shatter someone the way the Duke shattered him, yet he does not have the heart of a killer. He would love to tear the awful man apart, but he will not.
He will never search for revenge on the man that destroyed his life and his love. His heart is good and pure, his innocence evident in the way he mourns for his lost love. Christian will never return to break the Duke. He is too good for that.
I, on the other hand, am not too good for that. I would feel no regret if I were to snap the Duke's neck. My hands are strong, my fists would be like steel around his throat. I trained many days to build the physique of a strong dancer and soon I will reap the benefits of being this way. I have imagined it every day since her death. He took them both from us and he will pay for it. He deserves so much more pain than he delivered upon the beautiful lovers. He is truly the devil and as I sit here, I begin to think more that I should take it upon myself to end his wrath.
Christian is still sobbing in his room, his face buried in his arms and his sorrows drowned in a bottle of absinthe. He is seeing the Green Fairy, I am sure of it, but instead of pleasuring him like she can with so many men, she devastates him. He screams something unintelligible from behind the door and I close my eyes, trying to block out the horrible noise. He stops, chokes on something, then screams again.
The sound rips at my ears, the name of his lover hoarse on his ruined vocal chords. He had done nothing but cry and scream and now his throat is raw. I hear him gasp for breath and he murmurs her name once more.
I stand. My decision has been made for me. I can only wait here for so long, knowing that the man who has destroyed my friend is still free. I cannot stand knowing that the Duke lives while Christian has become only a shell of the man he once was. My eyes fall on the closed door of his garret and I sigh. I can watch over him, but that will not relieve his pain. When I find the Duke, I will do more than relieve Christian's pain. I will bring justice to him. I will find the man that destroyed Christian's belief in beauty and love and I will destroy him.
Rain is falling, soaking the empty streets of Montmarte. I am surprised to find the Moulin Rouge closed as I step onto the street. They are in mourning, their lights off and doors closed. They too have lost someone, a sister, a daughter, a friend. I pause for a moment, stare at the darkened windmill and murmur a prayer in Spanish. Satine may be gone from this world, but I believe her soul is now in a better place. If only Christian could join her.
I turn away from the brothel, the Gothic tower jumping out at me in the dark night. With only the moonlight to guide me, I walk toward the building. It is black and morbid, a perfect location for what I plan to do to the Duke. I pray silently that he is inside and alone. I pray that he will know the face of justice when it looms over him. I pray he will not fight the end that is so inevitably coming for him.
The stars are hiding from me, they fear the anger that I only now feel boiling inside my stomach. It rises, a burning liquid in my chest and throat. It spreads, curling trendils of hatred inside my fingers and into my brain. I have never realized until this very moment how much I truly loathe the Duke of Monroth. His very name brings shivers of repulsion to my spine and my muscles tense in anticipation as I open the door of the Gothic tower.
Climbing the stairs, I stretch my hands, clenching and releasing my fists. I have yet to see a single soul, the building dreary and empty. My footsteps echo loudly off the walls, but I am not trying to surprise him. I do not care what noises I make. I hope he hears me coming and fears me. I hope I put dread in his heart, I hope he fears death and cowers beneath me.
I push open the door to the tallest part of the tower and I find him there. He is eating alone, the table set for sixteen people and a feast spread out before him. He nibbles on a chicken leg like a bird and I feel my lip curl in disgust. He is a repulsive man.
I step into the room, then shut the door behind me with a bang. He turns, he is surprised and he drops the chicken leg on his plate. I watch him and see the fear in his eyes; it pleases me. I love knowing that I instill a feeling of terror within him, a man who was so domineering while he was hiding behind his manservant. Now though, he is alone, it is just he and I. He no longer has someone to hide behind and I will use that to my advantage.
We watch each other for a very long moment. I am testing my power over him and he is testing my anger. He does not seem to know yet what I intend to do. Our eyes meet and I stare at him calmly. He reacts, his eye twitching. It is a slight gesture, a movement another man may not have noticed, but I saw it. My composed state frightens him. It frightens me as well, but I do not let this show.
I walk into the room slowly, nearing the table. He does not move from his chair at the head of the table, but I can see him tensing in preparation. He will run if he has to. I stop, pick up an apple off a plate and begin to eat. This shocks him and he relaxes very slightly. I ignore him, continuing with the fruit until nothing is left but the core. My behaviour intrigues him and he leans forward, watching me.
I turn and toss the apple core in his direction. It startles him and he jumps, throwing the core to the ground. I smile at this; he is so much more scared than I would have ever thought possible and I enjoy his fear.
He sees my smile and is confused even more. He is standing now, but there is no where for him to run, not unless he wants to throw himself from the window. I am standing between him and the door. I tap the table with my fingers, drumming the surface gently, staring at him all the while. He tenses once more and stands from his chair.
The second I move toward him, he moves toward me, trying desperately to reach the door. My hand slams down on his arm and I throw him backward, slamming him against the table. He would have never made it to the door, he and I both know that, but I have to give him credit. He tried to save himself.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the back of my hand slams across his face, breaking the skin over his cheekbone. He looks startled and presses his hand to the place where he is bleeding. My eyes stormy, I bend over him, glaring at him. I do not want him to ruin this by speaking. I do not want to hear his awful voice. It destroys me inside and I pray, for his sake, that he does not beg.
I watch him, carefully, waiting for another sign that he will try to escape. When I see nothing I grasp him by the shoulder and lead him to the balcony. To my surprise, Christian is stumbling around the streets below. I will have to find him once I am finished here and take him home. My grip on the Duke softens as my heart breaks for my friend and suddenly he understands.
He tries to fight, thrashing against me, slapping my chest with both hands. He makes an awful, gasping noise as he tries to run. I merely drag him back into the building and close the doors to the balcony.
His eyes are huge with fear and anger, emotions mixing together in a tangled mess. I find myself once more enjoying the way he looks like a scared child and I relish in the feeling a moment longer before I close my hands around his throat.
He tries to beg and it angers me. I want to strangle him to death, but his whispered words fall upon my ears and I burn again inside. He promises me a life of luxury, a life spent with beautiful women. He promises to let Christian live peacefully, to give us all enough moeny to move far away from Montmarte.
I stare upon him sadly, for even now, he does not understand.
He whispers a promise of another woman for Christian and my anger returns. He has no heart and in turn, I will abandon mine for a single moment.
With one hand on each side of his head, I twist violently and his neck breaks. The Duke's body slumps against me and I move away, letting it fall to the floor with a sickening noise. I stare at the corpse, knowing if I am caught I will be killed for what I have done. But for now, I do not care. I have served justice to a man who would have destroyed many more lives, lives beyond what he has already ravaged.
I fear also for my heart and soul. I enjoyed killing him, I feel good now that he is dead. Have I ruined myself in finding the justice we all sought?
"Oh no."
I hear the whispered words from the doorway and I turn. I did not know someone had been there, someone who had seen the entire thing. I fear now for myself more than anything else, but I relax when I see who it is.
Christian is standing there, his hand over his mouth, his eyes staring at the body of the Duke. He trembles with anger, then fear. He worries for me, I see it when he meets me eyes.
"Oh no." He whispers again. "What have you done?"
I know the answer but I do not speak. I have made the world a slightly better place to live. But in the process I have also blackened my heart and soul.