The Greatest Thing

A Moulin Rouge! Fanfic

Disclaimer: I own absolutely no part of Moulin Rouge! Although I wish I did :(

Author's Note: Yes, I know Satine died in the movie but in this story she LIVES. Yay! :) This is another of those cliché stories where everything is good and everyone lives… save for a few. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy! :)

Chapter One

How Wonderful Life Is...

He ran blindly up the stairs, up through the rafters of the former cabaret club and current theater.

There was no time for him to catch his breath, no time for him to worry about anyone trying to follow him; the young writer threw himself up the stairs, making his way to the dressing room belonging to the woman they called the 'Sparkling Diamond'. This had been where the doctor, Chocolat, Marie, and Harold had taken her. He nearly leapt up to the last step on the landing, almost crashing into the door before taking the time to stand up on his own two feet.

"Satine!" He whispered, but all that he heard was his own voice yelling.

He nearly stumbled toward the huddle of people in the middle of the room. Then he found himself falling face first to the cedar wooden floor that smelled of cigarette ash due to the fact that he had been running up multiple flights of stairs non-stop. He groaned, his vision growing blurry as he looked up to all the people surrounding the figure that was, more than likely, Satine who was slowly dying.

"Christian!" A familiar voice, a man's, called to him. "Oh, my goodness! Chocolat, fetch the boy and bring him here!"

"Yes, Monsieur Zidler."

Christian, panting heavily, felt the servant man pick him up and lay him on the same bed where they'd laid Satine. His vision was becoming increasingly clear and then he saw his love lying there, unconscious, not at all like he had ever seen her before; she'd always, at least to him, been full of life and had always been quite the entertainer. Her silky red hair that he'd loved so much was tied back behind her diamond-studded crown-like headpiece that she'd worn for Spectacular Spectacular as he began to stroke her head gently, wishing that she wasn't dying and that he had never had to see her this way.

Christian couldn't help but let tears fill his eyes and he rest his head next to Satine's limp arm.

There he collapsed, sobbing convulsively.

"Sattie…" He whispered.

He remembered distinctly dragging Satine down the stage and letting her fall.

"This woman is yours now."

Christian's words haunted him.

He'd looked to the 'Maharajah', Harold Zidler, in the middle of the performance and he dumped all of his money on Satine.

"I've paid my whore."

The audience had gasped.

Even Zidler was horrified.

Satine had sobbed as she had looked up to him.

Then he'd looked down at Satine, who lay sobbing and coughing on the stage, slowly dying unbeknownst to him.

"I owe you nothing… and you are nothing to me!"

Then he held back rampant sobs as he looked down at her one last time before walking off stage.

"Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love!"

This wasn't the way he felt.

Not anymore, at least.

Although he'd previously spoken those words, throwing money at poor Satine as she lay on the stage, coughing and wheezing, none of the things he'd said to her through spite, was true.

Not at all. How could he have said that to her?

Satine was everything to him.

Christian heard the people talking softly among themselves but he still grieved for his lover, knowing that their time together was limited. The young writer remained there, sobbing uncontrollably, when he felt a hand caress his head gently. He knew that it was probably Zidler trying to calm him down; he then noticed this hand was not that of a man's but of a woman's.

Sobbing, his face drenched in tears, he looked up and saw that it was Satine's hand that was gently touching his head; the young courtesan met her lover's eyes and she smiled weakly.

"Christian…" She said quietly.

"Satine!" Christian replied in surprise.

Christian nearly leapt to her, only to be held back by Zidler and Chocolat. He struggled against them, reaching out his hand to touch Satine even for only one time.

"Let me go- let me see her! Let me see Satine! Please!"

"No, Christian!" Zidler said. "Satine… she's sick. She's dying. I can't let you get sick— you're our greatest writer— and only one, after all."

"You're not going to have a writer if you keep me away from her much longer. I can't survive without her." Christian looked back to the older man. "Please."

Still, Christian struggled to get near Satine. Satine could only watch helplessly as her lover was dragged away by the Moulin Rouge's former owner and her servant.

"Harold…" Satine whispered. "How dare you!"

Even in her darkest hour, Satine never failed to raise her voice to the man who had practically raised her through her years at the Moulin Rouge.

Harold whipped around to face Satine.

"But— but, duckling, you're sick. You don't want him to get sick, now do you?"

"So be it." Christian whispered. "I don't care."

Satine whispered still.

"Please, let me see him. Before it's too late."

Zidler looked to Chocolat and nodded, allowing Christian to venture near poor Satine for the first time since they'd been together on the stage for the performance that night.

"Satine…" He whispered to her, stroking her head.

Satine grasped Christian's arm.

"I'm cold again. Hold me, Christian." She whispered to him.

"Darling-" Christian whispered back to her.

She met his eyes, allowing him to take her in his arms and hold her closely for she was still cold, as she had told him on the stage after their performance and just a few seconds before. Christian closed his eyes and continued sobbing, this time through happiness that she was still alive.

"Come... what... may..." Satine managed to say, however weakly.

Christian opened his eyes and looked into hers as she brushed his damp black bangs out of his eyes. The young writer held her even more tightly and slowly rocked back and forth with her, kissing her cheek. He weakly began humming 'Your Song' to her, hoping it would keep her calm in her state of weariness at this present moment. He didn't want to hum 'Come What May', a song mentioning death, because it would cause him to cry even more.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Zidler."

Everyone looked to the door, except for Satine who Christian still held in his arms.

It was the doctor, the same short, stocky man who'd told the master of the Moulin Rouge that Satine was dying of consumption; Christian sat there in horror, not wanting to hear any more from this man who'd diagnosed his lover to die.

"Yes, doctor?" Zidler answered.

"May I have a word with you…" He began, watching everyone in the room tense up; "… In private…?"

Zidler nodded and he turned back to all of the people in the room.

"All of you, except Christian and Satine, go back downstairs and wait for me."

Everyone, composed of random stage hands, Chocolat, and other people Christian didn't recognize, got up on the show master's command, doing as he said, filing out the door one by one.

Then the door closed.

Satine rested her head on Christian's chest, her coughing and wheezing having subsided through time; she wrapped her arms around his waist and they both waited in silence, awaiting more news from the doctor. The door opened once again and Zidler entered with a somber look on his face; Christian and Satine noticed this immediately and both watched as he sat on the bed next to them, speaking no words.

He didn't have to for they could see sadness in his eyes and this told them everything; Zidler reached for Satine's hand and stroked it, fearing that Christian would take the opportunity of snapping at him in his protectiveness of 'The Sparkling Diamond'.

"What… did the doctor say… Harold?" Satine asked.

Harold Zidler looked to his star with a small smile on his face and shaking his head with tears flooding his sky blue eyes.

"He said he was wrong about you, love." He said quietly. "He said your condition isn't nearly as bad as he thought."

For the first time in her life, Satine saw tears come to the eyes of the man who had practically raised her.

"Am I... going to... live?" The young courtesan whispered to him.

"Yes, my little sparrow. You're going to live. He also said that if they ever find a cure for your condition, he will let us know."

Christian held Satine in his arms and the two shared a passionate kiss; the young writer nearly died right there hearing that his beloved was going to live after all.

"Oh, thank God!" He said.

"But, cherub, he still doesn't know all of the details of this matter, so we'll be keeping him close." Zidler told her.

"I'm not dying..." Satine whispered. "Thank you for telling us, Harold."

Harold took Satine's hand in his own and kissed it gently.

"You're very welcome, my little star."

Satine and Harold very gently brought her hand back to rest where she had had it before. They both then watched as Zidler began walking toward the door, trying to look the most composed he could and he wiped tears from his eyes.

"I'll let you two squirrels have your privacy." Zidler said, stopping before the door.

"Christian." He said.

Christian faced the former owner of the Moulin Rouge.

"Yes, sir?

"I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Yes, Monsieur." He replied.

"Take care of my little gosling." Zidler smiled.

Zidler closed the door and Christian faced Satine once again with a wide smile on his face. His greenish-blue eyes were flooded with tears of happiness, knowing that she was going to live beyond this day. Satine looked up to him, her face flushed of its usual color. The young courtesan smiled, weakly taking his hand in her own. Christian leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

Satine lay her head against his chest and she closed her eyes. For a few moments, she and Christian sat there in the silence, trying to take in the intensity of the news that she hadn't been dying after all.

The young poet-playwright replied, letting her lean back in his arms so that she could see his face.

"My poor darling." He said to her quietly. "You must be so exhausted."

Satine touched Christian's face gently, slowly shaking her weak head.

"Nothing I said was true, Christian. I mean... I would never have really chosen the Duke over you, my oh-so talented, charmingly bohemian, tragically impoverished writer."

She smiled and so did Christian as she took her hand an gently wiped a tear away from his face.

"No, Sattie..." The young writer said, trying to choke back sobs. "I should never have said all of those things to you. I was angry. Please... please forgive me... I shouldn't have put you through all of that just because I was angry. I am so sorry."

"It doesn't matter anymore..." Satine said, breathing softly now. "Like you said, we have each other... and that's all that matters."

Then she held him to her, causing the young writer to cry on the spot, so relieved at the news that she wasn't going to die today.

Christian sobbed, collapsing next to her, causing Satine to take his head in her arms and begin stroking his head gently, trying to calm him down.

"Christian, I love you." She said.

Christian raised his head, allowing Satine to gently wipe the tears away from his face.

"I love you, too, Satine." He told her.

Satine leaned up to kiss Christian gently. She smiled, gently touching his face.

Author's note:

Thanks to a helpful reviewer, I've made slight changes. But as they say 'The Show Must Go On'! I've kind of taken to calling Satine "Sattie" because I think it's cute for Christian to call her. And, yes, I am well aware that that bohemian dude's name is 'Satie' which is similar. Now I just need a cute name for her to call Christian. Any suggestions? Any and all would be appreciated very much. :) Thank you to those who review! Those also are appreciated!