Let Me Die in Your Arms
A/N: The lyrics used are from "Annie's Song" by John Denver.
April, 1901
The young man in the street with the books under his arm was suddenly taken by a bout of terrible coughing. It weakened his body and he had to lean on a table to support himself. Christian held a handkerchief up to his mouth to absorb the blood he knew would come up and sat for a few moments to recover his strength before he continued on his way home.
Montmartre's citizens didn't seem to take too much notice in his consumptive cough. It was commonplace in the city of whores, artists, and vagrants. A cough inherited from Satine; through the kiss he'd loved so much. The kiss of death. Oh, it was inevitable. He was going to die, and very soon.
He lusted for death like a Diamond Dog lusted for men.
The key in the lock seemed to echo through the sparsely decorated apartment. Christian let himself in, set down his stack of books, and opened the window to let in the fresh spring air inside his dusty garret. Nostalgically he fingered one of the only photographs he had of his beloved. Satine stared back at him, skin a warm glowing shade of pale and eyes glittering through the sepia tint of the photograph.
"I'm coming to join you very soon, my love," he said. "You see my coughing, don't you? No, don't blame yourself, darling. You didn't do it. It's not your fault, Satine."
Christian turned to the window. Evening descended on Paris; the sky was light lavender in which pale cerulean blue was weaved through like an exquisite tapestry. The moon was overtaking the fiery blaze of sun, bathing Paris in fair light. He was suddenly taken with a desire to slide down the drainpipe to the elephant, which sat in the ruin of the Moulin Rouge, dilapidated and uncared for. He'd done before, when, a lovelorn young boy, he'd heard Satine's siren's song and followed it. A curse and a blessing.
The only light shed upon the Moulin was the light from the moon. Zidler's precious electricity had burnt out after constant use and failure to pay the bills. Christian's steps echoed through the ghostly dance hall and theater; to him, it was the temple of Satine. He climbed up the stairs to the stage, which was coated in layers and layers of dust. Looking down at the vacated seats below, Christian struggled not to cry. He bent to pick up a rose petal, now as fragile as his health. Another bout of coughing struck him and left him struggling for breath. He fell to his knees after their strength gave out.
He couldn't recall how long he lay there, shrouded in dust, breathing wheezy and difficult to force through his failing lungs. "Satine…come what may…one day I'll fly away…Satine…Duke…" In his stream of consciousness, words escaped Christian's lips. "Come…come…come what may…"
His whispers reverberated throughout the building.
And then, miraculously, Christian found the strength to stand. "Satine! Come for me! I'm ready," he yelled to the night. "Satine! Come for me! Let me die. Let me join you in death. Please, Satine."
Christian could hear her voice. "You've got to go on, Christian," she had forced the words between her gasping and her sobbing.
"I can't go on when I'm dying!" He screamed. "I'm dying! Satine! Come for me. I need you!"
More and more coughing followed, these rounds even fiercer. The blood spurted forth and spilled onto the stage. "There, Zidler! My blood and hers mar your precious theater! The show must go on, Zidler! You didn't care! You let her die. We could have saved her! The show went on, but Satine did not! It's YOUR fault! Yours and his," Christian hissed, not wanting to speak the name of the Duke. "She's dead and I'm dying all because of you. You exploited your little strawberry because of your greed. And what happened? She died! The Duke closed the Moulin Rouge! And you, Zidler? I don't know what happened to you! I hope you die of starvation and I hope the rats aren't merciful with your body."
He was overcome with grief. Falling to his knees again, Christian sobbed for a long moment, letting his tears mix with his blood and with the stain of hers.
Light. There was light. In the pitch black of the Moulin Rouge, a light was moving towards him. Blinded by his tears, Christian's bleary eyes tried to focus on it. "Go away!" He cried. "Leave me here to die!"
"Christian…" It was her voice. "Christian."
"Satine! Have I died yet, Satine? Are you coming to take me? Oh, thank God!" Christian ran towards the light that was his dead beloved and threw his fevered arms around her. She was chilled.
"No. It is not yet time. Oh, Christian, I'm sorry." Satine kissed his sweating forehead continuously. "I…I…"
"It isn't your fault." He whispered. "Let me die, Satine. I don't want to go on anymore."
Satine's sweet voice was singing in his ear. Her hands were holding his tightly, her hands that were so cold. She made him look into the deep sapphire of her eyes and she sang softly.
"You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
like the mountains in springtime,
like a walk in the rain. Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses; come, fill me again."
Oh, God, he loved her so much. He wanted to die right now so he could spend all eternity with her. In his delirious state, Christian could only hold her hands and sing back to her with all of his heart.
"Come, let me love you. Let me give my life to you.
Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms," he pleaded.
"Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you.
Come, let me love you. Come love me again."
Life was slowly slipping from his grasp. The searing copper taste of the blood was ever-present in his mouth. He was trembling and shivering though his body was hot to the touch. "Is it time yet?" He asked Satine.
"Soon, darling." She said, helping him to lay down on the stage, his head in her lap. Satine ran her fingers through his hair and soothed him like a mother with her sick child. "I love you, Christian," came her mangled whisper.
"You fill up my senses like a night in a forest,
like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain.
Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses. Come, fill me again."
She could feel the breath slowly leaving his body. It was time now. Leaning over so her face was over his, Satine kissed Christian, taking the rest of his breath. There was a moment of eerie silence through the Moulin Rouge. Christian's eyes were closed in death.
Finally! No more heartache, no more coughing, no more pain. The release from life was sweet. Christian was in blackness for a moment, but soon the blistering light that was Satine was in his vision. She smiled her soft smile and held out her hands to him. He ran towards her like a little child and put his arms around her.
"Come, let me love you. Come love me again," they sang in unison, looking towards the stars.
A/N: The lyrics used are from "Annie's Song" by John Denver.
April, 1901
The young man in the street with the books under his arm was suddenly taken by a bout of terrible coughing. It weakened his body and he had to lean on a table to support himself. Christian held a handkerchief up to his mouth to absorb the blood he knew would come up and sat for a few moments to recover his strength before he continued on his way home.
Montmartre's citizens didn't seem to take too much notice in his consumptive cough. It was commonplace in the city of whores, artists, and vagrants. A cough inherited from Satine; through the kiss he'd loved so much. The kiss of death. Oh, it was inevitable. He was going to die, and very soon.
He lusted for death like a Diamond Dog lusted for men.
The key in the lock seemed to echo through the sparsely decorated apartment. Christian let himself in, set down his stack of books, and opened the window to let in the fresh spring air inside his dusty garret. Nostalgically he fingered one of the only photographs he had of his beloved. Satine stared back at him, skin a warm glowing shade of pale and eyes glittering through the sepia tint of the photograph.
"I'm coming to join you very soon, my love," he said. "You see my coughing, don't you? No, don't blame yourself, darling. You didn't do it. It's not your fault, Satine."
Christian turned to the window. Evening descended on Paris; the sky was light lavender in which pale cerulean blue was weaved through like an exquisite tapestry. The moon was overtaking the fiery blaze of sun, bathing Paris in fair light. He was suddenly taken with a desire to slide down the drainpipe to the elephant, which sat in the ruin of the Moulin Rouge, dilapidated and uncared for. He'd done before, when, a lovelorn young boy, he'd heard Satine's siren's song and followed it. A curse and a blessing.
The only light shed upon the Moulin was the light from the moon. Zidler's precious electricity had burnt out after constant use and failure to pay the bills. Christian's steps echoed through the ghostly dance hall and theater; to him, it was the temple of Satine. He climbed up the stairs to the stage, which was coated in layers and layers of dust. Looking down at the vacated seats below, Christian struggled not to cry. He bent to pick up a rose petal, now as fragile as his health. Another bout of coughing struck him and left him struggling for breath. He fell to his knees after their strength gave out.
He couldn't recall how long he lay there, shrouded in dust, breathing wheezy and difficult to force through his failing lungs. "Satine…come what may…one day I'll fly away…Satine…Duke…" In his stream of consciousness, words escaped Christian's lips. "Come…come…come what may…"
His whispers reverberated throughout the building.
And then, miraculously, Christian found the strength to stand. "Satine! Come for me! I'm ready," he yelled to the night. "Satine! Come for me! Let me die. Let me join you in death. Please, Satine."
Christian could hear her voice. "You've got to go on, Christian," she had forced the words between her gasping and her sobbing.
"I can't go on when I'm dying!" He screamed. "I'm dying! Satine! Come for me. I need you!"
More and more coughing followed, these rounds even fiercer. The blood spurted forth and spilled onto the stage. "There, Zidler! My blood and hers mar your precious theater! The show must go on, Zidler! You didn't care! You let her die. We could have saved her! The show went on, but Satine did not! It's YOUR fault! Yours and his," Christian hissed, not wanting to speak the name of the Duke. "She's dead and I'm dying all because of you. You exploited your little strawberry because of your greed. And what happened? She died! The Duke closed the Moulin Rouge! And you, Zidler? I don't know what happened to you! I hope you die of starvation and I hope the rats aren't merciful with your body."
He was overcome with grief. Falling to his knees again, Christian sobbed for a long moment, letting his tears mix with his blood and with the stain of hers.
Light. There was light. In the pitch black of the Moulin Rouge, a light was moving towards him. Blinded by his tears, Christian's bleary eyes tried to focus on it. "Go away!" He cried. "Leave me here to die!"
"Christian…" It was her voice. "Christian."
"Satine! Have I died yet, Satine? Are you coming to take me? Oh, thank God!" Christian ran towards the light that was his dead beloved and threw his fevered arms around her. She was chilled.
"No. It is not yet time. Oh, Christian, I'm sorry." Satine kissed his sweating forehead continuously. "I…I…"
"It isn't your fault." He whispered. "Let me die, Satine. I don't want to go on anymore."
Satine's sweet voice was singing in his ear. Her hands were holding his tightly, her hands that were so cold. She made him look into the deep sapphire of her eyes and she sang softly.
"You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
like the mountains in springtime,
like a walk in the rain. Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses; come, fill me again."
Oh, God, he loved her so much. He wanted to die right now so he could spend all eternity with her. In his delirious state, Christian could only hold her hands and sing back to her with all of his heart.
"Come, let me love you. Let me give my life to you.
Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms," he pleaded.
"Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you.
Come, let me love you. Come love me again."
Life was slowly slipping from his grasp. The searing copper taste of the blood was ever-present in his mouth. He was trembling and shivering though his body was hot to the touch. "Is it time yet?" He asked Satine.
"Soon, darling." She said, helping him to lay down on the stage, his head in her lap. Satine ran her fingers through his hair and soothed him like a mother with her sick child. "I love you, Christian," came her mangled whisper.
"You fill up my senses like a night in a forest,
like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain.
Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses. Come, fill me again."
She could feel the breath slowly leaving his body. It was time now. Leaning over so her face was over his, Satine kissed Christian, taking the rest of his breath. There was a moment of eerie silence through the Moulin Rouge. Christian's eyes were closed in death.
Finally! No more heartache, no more coughing, no more pain. The release from life was sweet. Christian was in blackness for a moment, but soon the blistering light that was Satine was in his vision. She smiled her soft smile and held out her hands to him. He ran towards her like a little child and put his arms around her.
"Come, let me love you. Come love me again," they sang in unison, looking towards the stars.