I'm With You
by She's a Star
Disclaimer:
Moulin is mine. Yup. Allllll mine. I thought it up, and then that darn Baz came along and stole all my ideas!...Just kidding.
I'm With You is Avril Lavigne's.
Author's Note:
I've been wanting to do a fic with this song for the longest time, and I finally got around to it. Originally, I was going to use it from Christian's POV, but decided that it didn't exactly work. Whoohoo. :) Anyway, this is before Satine and Christian met. Yup. Enjoy.* * *
She couldn't remember when he'd first entered her dreams.
He'd just appeared one night when she'd sobbed herself to sleep, a beacon of hope amongst all the sin and tragedy she was forced to face each day. Each evening as she drifted off to her beloved land of dreams, she would find solace in his arms and happiness in his smiles. It was in those dreams that she knew she was meant to be alive.
He would find her one day.
After waking, she could never remember what he looked like. Not his hair, his eyes, his smile. All she could remember was his voice. A voice unlike any other; a voice that could serenade the stars and sing bad dreams away.
Satine loved him.
On the nights when she wasn't performing at the Moulin, she wrapped up her slender form in a dark cloak and scanned the streets of Montmartre, desperate for a glimpse of her beloved. He was out there somewhere, she knew it. And yet she never spotted him. How she would identify him, she didn't quite know. After all, she couldn't remember his face.
But she would know.
Something told her she would know.
If he would only come to her.
If he would only save her.
* * *
The night was cold, and rain poured from the sky mingling with the tears that ran down ivory cheeks.
You're such a fool, Satine, she thought, pulling the cloak closer around her shivering form. Desperately searching the city for a man you've only known in dreams. He's not real, Satine. He's only that; only a dream.
And yet somehow, she knew he wasn't.
Passersby studied her curiously from under their umbrellas before hurrying towards their destinations, eager to be free of the rain.
Satine had grown to love the rain.
It was the only thing that could truly hide her tears.
A desperate melody danced through her aching soul, and as she continued walking forward, drenched in the dim light of the street lamps, she quietly began to sing.
"I'm standing on a bridge...I'm waiting in the dark."
Ah, but wasn't it always dark? Warmth had drained from her soul as soon as she'd stepped into the damned Moulin Rouge, replaced by a bittersweet yearning that had only grown over the years. She tried not to pity herself as her soul slowly slipped out of her grasp, water cupped in her hands. After all, she'd done this.
She'd sold her soul to hell.
There was no turning back now.
"I thought that you'd be here by now," she continued weakly, azure eyes desperately searching. Few figures passed her, and she was certain that none were the wonderful mystery man that she was looking for.
The wind howled forlornly, and she fought for a few moments to keep her hood up before surrendering. Her ruby curls whipped across her face, soaked within seconds. With makeup running down her pale face and her hair hanging in limp clumps of dark red, she doubted that anyone would find her beautiful at this moment.
And really, this was all she was. Broken and destroyed, a faint picture of beauty that had once been pure radiance and was now reduced to a dim memory.
"There's nothing but the rain," she sighed, eyes still searching. "No footsteps on the ground...I'm listening but there's no sound."
If only she could hear his voice; one soft note, and she'd know it was him. She yearned for his song.
"Isn't anyone trying to find me?" she asked, voice growing louder and more forceful as she stared up into the cloudy sky. "Won't somebody come take me home?"
Of course not, Satine, the bitter voice in the back of her head snarled. No one wants you. You're only a whore, don't you remember? No one could love you. How could they, if you can't even love yourself?
There's nothing to love, sweetheart.
She knew her own mind's cruel accusations were true.
"It's a damn cold night!" she sang out at the top of her lungs, her own voice echoing through the dark streets. Gone was the breathy siren's song of the Sparkling Diamond, replaced by raw pain and agony dancing from her soul. "Trying to figure out this life..."
Satine had often wondered why she'd been put on the Earth in the first place. If her only purpose in life was to seduce and tarnish the goodness of her customers, why had God put her here? To teach men to resist temptation?
Well, they sure as hell didn't resist.
Goodness and purity were such alien things to Satine that she found herself often wondering if they even existed. It didn't seem as though they did. She'd seen so many awful things; prostitutes going mad and taking their own lives, wasting away from consumption and syphilis...
And yet she'd always dreamt of something more for herself, never considering if she was even worthy of anything beyond the sin, lies, and blood that surrounded her.
But if he was out there, she knew he could save her. He could take her away from all this.
"Won't you take me by the hand?" she asked him, singing as loud as she possibly could in foolish hopes that he could somehow hear her. "Take me somewhere new."
When she'd first come to the Moulin Rouge it had seemed so beautiful, so enchanting; a strange sort of exotic paradise unlike anything she'd ever seen before. The idea of diamonds and fine clothes had lured her there, hiding the pain and emptiness she'd be forced to drown in.
She, like the naive idiot she'd been, hadn't even considered that she'd be selling pieces of her soul each night.
Now she knew.
Oh, how she knew.
"I don't know who you are," she whispered to her gallant knight in shining armor. "But I...I'm with you."
With a hopeless sigh, her yearning gaze swept the dark alley one last time before she wrapped her cloak around her and made her way back to the glittering prison which held her soul in its hands.
* * *
He couldn't remember when she'd first entered his dreams.
All his life he'd longed to fall in love, and then one night, she'd appeared before him, an angel with porcelain skin and fiery curls. She was the epitome of perfection, and yet a jaded sort of sadness lurked in her clear blue eyes.
He knew that he had to save her.
In his dreams they sang together, a beautiful song of eternal love that not even death itself could destroy. Her voice was the most beautiful sound that anyone could even begin to imagine, containing a sort of sweetness so intoxicating that he found himself looking forward to going to sleep each night.
One day he knew that fate would bring them together.
And then Christian's dreams would come true.
FIN
