Yet another Rouge fic… This was originally part of a longer fic, but I thought it worked better as a stand-alone. I got the idea Travesty being Nini's protégée from the cancan solo the two share in- wait for it- the cancan.

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

When Dreaming Ends This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends,

Not with a bang but a whimper.

"The Hollow Men", by TS Eliot

When the Moulin Rouge closed it's doors after Satine's death and the remaining Diamond Dogs were turfed out into the cold, Nini had declared that part of her life to be over. She quickly drifted away from her fellow cancan dancers and made a living at a slightly lower class brothel, trying not to think about the time when she had been one of the most requested women in Paris.

At first she heard snatches of gossip from Arabia or China Doll, who lived on the same street as Nini and whom she occasionally talked to. Despite claiming to have severed her ties with the Moulin Rouge, Nini found herself unexpectedly interested in the fact that Liberty and Harlequin were working at a brothel some kilometres away, that Tattoo had returned to the docks of her native Calais and that Schoolgirl had been spotted working the streets. She even experienced a stab of grief when she heard that Juno had died a spectacularly grisly death at the hands of a client and Tarot had hanged herself in her room. Still, Nini always shrugged and thought that life did go on, with or without the stunning red windmill.

As the months went by Nini's connection with Arabia and China Doll faded until the three women merely exchanged a nod if they saw each other. The only Rouge girl Nini still had any closeness to was Travesty, as Nini had found her a job at the same brothel. Nini had taken Travesty under her wing when the young woman arrived at the stage door of the Moulin Rouge five years earlier, and though Travesty wasn't nearly as dependant on Nini as she once had been, Nini still looked out for her. If asked, she could have given no explanation for it except for the fact that she saw a lot of herself in Travesty, the same sense of humour, cynical attitude and love of dance.

As it turned out, Travesty, like many women of their profession, had harboured a secret dream to one day be able to leave Monmartre and earn a living in an occupation that didn't include being beaten on rough sheets every night. While the Moulin Rouge was still in operation the dream had remained heavily concealed, hidden beneath Travesty's protective layer of cynicism. But now that she no longer had dancing as a release, the dream quickly became a desire and Travesty began making plans for her escape, plans that she detailed to Nini in the early hours of the morning when customers had slowed to a trickle and the absinthe was flowing freely, in an increasingly hoarse voice.

At Travesty's request Nini accompanied the younger woman to a clothing store where Travesty bought a dark charcoal suit and matching top hat. How Travesty had dug up the money to pay for it all was beyond Nini's comprehension, but when she spotted Travesty's emaciated rib cage in the dressing room it became clear to her: food had been taking a smaller priority.

"How do I look?" Travesty gasped happily as she modelled her new clothes in Nini's garret that evening.

Nini didn't know what to say. Travesty's dark curls littered the floor where Nini had helped her cut it, and without makeup the suit helped Travesty look decidedly masculine. However, Nini couldn't help being reminded of the young boys who had come to the Moulin Rouge on Daddy's money to pay their way to manhood. "You look… fabulous," she said carefully, fighting to keep a straight face.

Travesty strode demonstratively up and down the cracked floorboards, examining her reflection in the dirty mirror. "Manly?" she inquired further, deepening her voice.

Nini nodded sagely. "Very manly."

"Good." Travesty sat down on the tattered bed next to Nini. "I mean, if this act doesn't work out, I can always get a job as a dancer somewhere." She drew up her long legs and leant her head on her knees, gazing out the window onto the rooftops of Paris.

"Do that, and you'll be back here before you know it," Nini said warningly. "I spotted Antoinette working the street the other day. Remember how she went to audition for the ballet? Mustn't have worked out."

"But I'm a better dancer than she was," Travesty said softly, still staring out the window. "You can see the Moulin from here," she commented lightly, tilting her head to one side.

Nini nodded, following Travesty's gaze to the faded windmill wings down the street. "I know. Funny how everything changes so quickly."

"Hmm." Travesty ran her hand over the stiff cloth of her pants. "I would miss it if I still worked there," she said casually.

"You wouldn't have left if you still worked there," Nini contradicted. "Meanwhile, now that we've been kicked out of the Rouge, is there anything left for you to miss?"

Travesty smiled gently, drawing her eyes away from her former workplace. She still looked like a woman when she smiled. "Not really," she admitted. "I might miss you."

"I might miss you too," Nini replied, surprising herself.

Travesty didn't react, choosing instead to light a cigarette and inhale sharply, which nearly caused her to choke. " I'm a bit scared, Nini," she croaked. Nini raised an eyebrow. Neither of the two women were very emotionally inclined, and it was unusual that Travesty admitted any sort of discomfort. "Why don't you come with me?" Travesty asked, finally turning her head towards Nini. Her voice was tiny compared to her usual throaty drawl, so that her request sounded almost like a plea. "There's nothing for you here either."

Nini frowned and reached across the small bedside table for her lighter. "I've been here too long," she said gruffly, sitting back up. "You go ahead and make all your dreams come true, you deserve that much. Me, I know where I belong."

"Oh, Nini!" Travesty burst out suddenly, throwing her arms around the other woman. Nini instinctively raised her hands to push her off, but something made her stay still. What little motherly instincts Nini possessed had always come to the fore where Travesty was concerned, though Travesty rarely needed them. Somehow, Nini sensed that this was a time when she did.

"It's not going to work, I know it, it's all going to fuck up and I'll end up back down here with no job and no money…" Travesty sobbed into Nini's chemise, tears falling from eyes for the first time since her father had thrown her onto the street.

"Easy, Christine," Nini said steadily, using Travesty's true name for the first time since the other woman had earned her place in the cancan line. "No use facing the world with red eyes."

Travesty pulled back, still sniffing slightly. Quickly she pulled a tattered handkerchief from her coat pocket and used it to wipe her eyes, staring out the window once more. "Christophe," she said thoughtfully, placing her hand back on the bed "I'll call myself Christophe. Not too different from Christine, after all." She turned to Nini, her hollow cheeks starkly accentuated due to her lack of makeup. "You can call me Christine, though," she murmured hoarsely. "I'd like that…"

The rest of Travesty's words were cut off as she descended into a fit of coughing. Nini started in surprise as Travesty's chest heaved and the darkhaired cross dresser raised her handkerchief to her lips. "Travesty…" Nini began gently, but Travesty just kept coughing until eventually the coughs subsided, leaving Travesty to take long, shuddering breaths of air. Nini visually examined the handkerchief clamped in Travesty's fist, but it only confirmed what she had already realised. Blood. A small amount, but blood all the same.

Suddenly Travesty's emaciated body, increasingly husky voice and pale, drawn skin made sense to Nini. Travesty was dying, in the same way Satine had. Nini could kick herself for not having noticed before.

"Travesty," she said again. "Look at me." Travesty turned her face towards Nini, her eyes suspiciously bright. "How long, Travesty?" Nini asked, not needing to name what she was referring to.

"Only a few weeks," Travesty said softly. "That's why I want to leave Monmartre… I don't want to die as just some other whore… You won't tell anyone, will you?" Travesty's eyelids fluttered, it was almost as if she was about to fall unconscious.

Nini got up, letting Travesty stretch out on the bed. "No, I won't tell anyone," she reassured the former dancer while she wrapped her embroidered black scarf around her shoulders. "You sleep here tonight, Travesty. I won't be back till morning anyway." Nini stepped over to her bed again and pulled her woollen blanket over Travesty's bony body, suit and all, then pulled her curtains closed.

"Thankyou…" Travesty murmured, her eyes closed and her voice barely audible. "Tell Zidler I'm sorry I won't be in tonight… And if you see Pearly Queen, tell her I want those boots back she borrowed… And say good luck to Babydoll… she's got a new act…"

Nini turned back in the doorway, smiling sadly at the girl curled up on the dirty mattress, lost in her past.

"Sweet dreams, Christine."