The cemetery was flooded with moonlight. Every gravestone told a story of the person who had died and who lay under it. Perhaps the saddest one was the gravestone that Christian stood beside. Satine's gravestone. The gravestone that brought sadness upon him every day since she had died. Every day after that, a tear had fallen down his face.

A shovel layed at his feet. He hadn't come to visit Satine tonight, no, he had come to take her home with him. He didn't feel like she'd been buried properly. He felt like she should've gotten more then just your average, every day, sad funeral. His plan was to bury her in the garden at the Moulin Rouge. The Moulin Rouge that was once so alive with cancan dancers and music. The Moulin Rouge where everything happy and sad had happened.

He sat down, with his back leaning against her gravestone. He thought about how life could have been if she hadn't died. He would've asked her to marry him. They might've even had a baby by now. And she would wake up in the morning, brush her beautiful red hair, and they would love each other more and more every day.

His mouth twitched a little, revealing a small smile, but it quickly faded away and was replaced by a tear from the corner of his eye. He wiped it away and looked at the shovel. He took it, heaved himself up, and furiously began shoveling the dirt beside Satine's gravestone away. Each time he dug up another pile, his mind couldn't help but think about worms and bugs eating away at Satine's corpse. He dug faster every time the thought entered his mind. He would save her. He wouldn't let such a terrible thing happen to her. Even if she was dead.

Time passed by, and when he finally dug the last bit of dirt covering Satine's coffin, he held his breath and opened it. A small gasp escaped his lips. He had expected Satine to be rotting away, but he did not expect to see that she was still intact, looking as beautiful as she did when she was alive. He threw down the shovel, sat on the edge of the opened coffin, and brushed his hand along her face. Her skin was still smooth and elegant. Her make-up had long gone away, but she was still his darling, beautiful, loving Satine.

Another tear fell from his eye. Then another. And another. Soon he was sobbing, and laying his face on Satine's. He looked up at her and leaned down against her ear. "I love you," he said softly. He thought he saw her ear twitch, but he knew he was mistaken. Satine couldn't move. She was dead. He wiped his tears away and stood up. He wrapped his arms around Satine's lifeless body, closed the coffin, stood upon it, and stepped up onto the ground, which was still piled with dirt.

He felt terrible having to lay Satine down on the dirty ground, but he had no choice, he couldn't just leave her grave open like that. It would make him look like a grave robber. Which, he technically was, but he had reasons. He wasn't stealing jewelry or anything. He was simply moving her. So he shoveled all the dirt back on top of her coffin, patted it so it was as flat as before, and picked up Satine. And so he carried her home. He was lucky that the streets were more deserted since the Moulin Rouge had been shut down. He would look like a creep, carrying a dead body back to his garret.

When he got to his door, he reached a hand down and turned the doorknob. He walked quietly into the room and lay Satine down on his bed. She looked like she was just sleeping. If only that were true. He sighed and choked back his sobs as he walked into the bathroom and and started a bath. He would bathe Satine before anything else. She needed to be clean before he buried her. The water filled the tub before long, and he put his hand in it to make sure it was warm. It was.

He walked back into the main room and carefully removed Satine's dress. He carried her into the bathroom and lay her in the tub. He softly cried as he scrubbed her clean, washed her hair, and dried her off with his own towel. He carried her back in the main room and put her on the bed. He went to get his own robe and then came back and put it on her, and then he covered her up with a blanket. Now she REALLY looked like she was sleeping. Like she used to, when she'd come to his garret, read his poetry and then sleep with him overnight.

He sighed deeply. Now he had to go buy her a dress. He took his typewriter, the very same typewriter he'd once sold and then bought back to write their story, and he left with it. He would sell it, that way he'd have enough money to buy her a decent Satine-like dress. He looked at her one last time before shutting the door to his garret, and he walked to a small store not far away. Little did he know that what he'd find when he came back was something both wonderful and terribly frightening.

The wind swept throughout the room, making all the candles flicker. Satine lay on the bed, her hand twitching. She'd heard Christian talking to her. At least, she thought she did. She felt the wind brush against her face, and she tried to open her eyes. It was hard, her eyelids felt heavy, but she managed to open them enough to squint around the room. She felt lifeless, clammy, and sick. She didn't know why, her heart was beating, she had a pulse, and most of all, she could think. She still felt the energy of love helping her stay awake. She couldn't be dead.

She tried to get up, but being unsuccessful, decided to try and crawl out from the bed she was laying on. Her hair was damp, and she wondered why. She was also wearing a robe. Had she taken a bath and then fallen asleep? She didn't recall taking a bath. She didn't even remember laying down or walking or anything. She only remembered Christian whispering into her ear. "I love you" was what he had said. He sounded so melancholy and depressed, but why?

She sighed deeply, and the air she breathed in felt wonderful. Like she'd never breathed before. She forced herself to move her legs over the edge of the bed, and when she tried to stand up, she fell off of it. She was weak. All she could do was pull herself along the floor and try to make it to the small chair sitting beside the table she recognized as the one that Christian had once typed on. Where was he, anyway?

She looked around the room as she struggled to crawl to the chair. She grabbed the arm of it and pulled herself up onto it. She'd gotten to it. She was sitting on it. At least that was a start. She could feel her strength coming back to her. She looked around the room once again, and noticed, for the first time, a thick pile of papers. She saw that they had words written on them, and so she reached for the topmost one. It seemed to be a story. She gasped as she saw her name written on it. She gasped furthermore when she read the rest of the sentence. "Satine was dead. And I was in such painful agony that all I could do was hold her and sob. It seemed like forever that I sat there and looked into her lifeless face."

She had died. She remembered now. Sudden flashbacks entered her mind.

Tears were forming in his eyes. "You're okay," he said. "I love you"
Satine smiled at Christian and took a deep breathe, trying to hang on, so she could speak her last words. "You've got to go on, Christian."

Christian had put on a painful smile. "Can't go on without you though," he said.

Satine struggled not to cry. Even though she could feel her eyes watering already. "You've got so much to give. Tell-- Tell our story, Christian."

He sobbed. "No."

"Yes. Promise me. Promise me," she told him.

"Yes," he said just below a whisper. It was hard for him to take in that Satine was dying.

She felt a tear escape the corner of her eye. "That way I'll-- I'll always be with you," she said, smiling one last time for him. Then she felt her life being ripped away from her, and she felt herself being lifted above Christian, who was rocking back and forth with her body in his arms, sobbing.

Satine felt like she'd been stabbed. Christian. Her wonderful, loving Christian had been in so much pain. "I die-- I'm dea-- I died," she stammered, unable to believe it. Was she dead? Was she a ghost? Surely not. She was as solid as a rock and she had been weak. Would she be weak if she was a ghost? She put the paper back on the table and easily stood up. Her strength was back now. She had forced it back in. She wouldn't be weak when Christian came for her.

She walked into the bathroom that she had once visited so many times before now so she could do her hair and go back to the Moulin Rouge.

She stopped. "The Moulin Rouge.." she whispered to herself. What had happened to it? Surely the Duke would have shut it down?

She walked quickly over to Christian's window and looked down at the building she recognized. The Moulin Rouge. Everything was old and broken down. It wasn't the bright, lit up place she had spent her life in. The Moulin Rouge was shut down. She looked down in sadness and walked back into the bathroom to look in the mirror. She was pale, but it didn't make too much of a difference, since she already had naturally light skin. She picked up a brush and combed her hair a little neater. She jumped when she heard the door to the garret being opened. She didn't know whether or not to go out and see who it was or to stay hidden somewhere. She decided to go see who it was.

Christian entered the room, carrying a bag that held the dress he would put on Satine. He set it down on a chair and looked sadly up at his bed, where he had layed her. There was only one problem. She wasn't there. His eyes widened and his head was filled with worry. Where was she? Had someone come in and seen her here and taken her away? He walked around the house frantically looking for any intruders, but found nothing. He stopped searching when he reached the small kitchen. What had happened to her? He thought of all the possible things that could have happened as he walked into the main room. He stopped short. There she was. Standing in front of him. Standing. Alive. Awake.

She stared back at him. Her eyes were wide, but she didn't care what he was thinking. She'd been gone from him for too long. She ran up to him and hugged him and kissed him violently. "Christian," she whispered.

Christian didn't know what to think. Was he insane? How could she die and then come back? Was she just a figment of his imagination? "Satine," he started. She held her finger to his lips.

"I don't know, I can't explain. But I'm alive, Christian. I'm alive. I was dead, and now I'm not."

Christian stayed quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I want to believe this. But I think I've gone insane."

Satine sighed. "You haven't gone insane, Christian. I've been awake for a while now. I read the last page of your-- our story. It said I died. And then memories came flooding back in.. the Duke.. the Moulin Rouge.. my death.."

"How do I know I haven't died? How do I know that this isn't heaven?" said Christian.

Satine looked down. "I don't think it is, Christian. I've seen heaven. I know I'm alive, I know it. And there's only one way to make sure, and that's to see if anyone who's still alive can see me. And you. I was dead.. dead.. I was really dead.."

Christian felt tears in his eyes. Not tears of sadness, tears of joy. "But your back, and that's all that matters. No more Duke, no more problems. Everyone know-- thinks you're dead. Zidler.. Toulouse.. the Argentinean.. Satie.. everyone."

Satine sighed and stayed wrapped in his arms. "I know. I know. How are we going to live, now? Everyone thinks I'm dead. Should we tell them I'm back and that we can't explain it, or should I hide and pretend to be dead still?"

Christian wiped his tears and kissed her. "We'll do whatever you want to do. I want you to see a doctor first thing in the morning. Right now you need sleep."

Satine smiled up at him. "I've been dead how long?"

Christian looked down. "One year to this day."

Satine raised her eyebrows. "A year. An entire year. Oh, Christian. It's unbelievable."

"While that's unbelievable to you, it's unbelievable to me that you're even standing here right now."

Satine got a sudden thought. "You said I've been dead a year. What was I doing here? Have you kept me here all along?"

Christian turned away from her. "No. I only just unburied you. I was going to take you someplace more personal, so I could be happier. I bathed you and I bought you a dress. And I came back.. and there you were.. standing there.. looking at me.. alive."

Satine started crying. "I'm so sorry Christian, I should've tried harder to hang on. I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready. And to see you looking at me, sobbing, it just broke my heart. I had to let go. I had to let the pain go. But it didn't.. I saw you below me, and I saw you holding me, and I still felt pain. I wished that I had stayed with you for a little bit longer. Or forever."

Christian turned around and held Satine in his arms. "It's okay. It's okay. You couldn't help it. But you're back now. That's all I care about, all right? You're back."

Satine smiled and kissed him. "I think I should like some sleep. I still feel a bit weak."

Christian nodded. "Thats a good idea. You need it."

"Yes. And so do you. Come with me, hold me while I sleep. And I promise I'll wake up. I'll hold on, no matter what."

Christian nodded again. "Yes."

And so they got in Christian's bed, and he held her, and sang in her ear.
"Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, suddenly it's filled with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste, it all revolves around you. And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide. Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side. I love you, until the end of time."

Satine smiled to herself and continued the song. "Come what may, come what may, I will love you, till my dying day."

Christian held her tight. "And even after that."

Satine nodded. "Yes. Until the end of time."

And together they fell asleep, and Christian, for the first time in one year, felt happy and no longer heartbroken.