The One I've Waited For
Christian buried his face in his hands as the familiar tears streamed out of his eyes. He sat on the floor, surrounded by broken bottles and shattered dreams. He would have thought that the agony would dull day by day. But it didn't. The knife of pain sharpened by the hour. He woke up in the cold, solitary nights, crying out to her, begging her to come back to him.
He shook his head angrily, his hand flailing out for the nearest intoxicant. He spent so much of his time wandering among drunkenness, somewhere between life and death. He felt safer there, like he was waiting at the door for Satine to come and beckon him inside.
Sometimes he hated her. Hated her for dying and for taking his heart with her. He was an empty shell of a man now, like the abandoned nightclub that he stared out upon daily. His mouth formed her name silently, lips and tongue and teeth pushing breath to form the word.
Most of the time he just was borne away on wave after wave of pain. He cried until his body collapsed, exhausted onto the floor. Grief was tiring, and took away whatever drive he had to work.
Tell our story, Christian.
Dear God in heaven, why had she begged him to do that? Why couldn't she just let him be? Leave him in peace?
Satine's voice sounded inside his head again. What was it she had said to him that one night?
If I should die this very moment. . . I wouldn't fear.
Christian cast an anguished look around the room. Once so full of life, it was beaten and tired. Like him. Dust softened the edges of his possessions, keeping company with the delicate spiderwebs. Only one area was kept clean. The shelf on which he kept Satine's photographs was free of any dirt and graced by the presence of pink roses. She had loved pink roses, Christian remembered dimly. The flowers looked tired and oppressed. He rose and found the knife to cut them with. The knife. . .
The blade gleamed a dull silver in the darkened room. The sunlight that filtered through the windows was dirty. And the bed-- their bed, where they used to make love, sleep side by side, talk, and dream. . . had been stripped of the sheets. He slept on the floor now. He cried too much if he slept there without her.
He touched the tip of the knife hesitantly. Still sharp. And mostly unused, too. Just to cut the roses. . . to make them bleed.
If I should die, he said aloud. His voice sounded rusty and disused even to him, and he ran a hand over his unshaven face. His brow creased. Why had she said that?
His mind drifted back in spite of himself, back to when the room was clean and filled with reminders of the hopeful future. . .
If I should die this very moment,
I wouldn't fear,
For I've never known completeness
Like being here.
Satine's eyes slowly fluttered open. The world blurred for a moment, and then everything focused. She was lying in Christian's arms, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her. Golden light poured in from the window that looked out upon the Moulin Rouge-- but Satine didn't think of that place now. She had shed her concern for the nightclub with her courtesan's makeup and clothes. Here she was just who she was. Simply Satine.
She shifted a little, enough to arrange it so that her elbow wouldn't dig into Christian's side. She loved this moment, the sacred minute at dawn before Christian awoke. It was a time for prayer and silent vigils, although Satine had never bothered much about God. Now the old, sacred, Latin words that she vaguely remembered from her childhood came to her lips. They flowed through her, like the gentle sway of a river towards its end.
Wrapped in the warmth of you,
Loving every breath of you
Still my heart this moment,
Or it might burst . . .
Christian felt the change in her breathing and allowed himself to fully awake. He had been hovering on the edge of consciousness for some time now, floating in that half-lit area that was filled with gentle whispers and reminders. Like living dreams, the same sense of unreality combined with some kind of piercing emotion.
He traced the contours of her hand, and Satine looked up at him. He didn't have to look to see the soft smile that would grace her lips, but he watched for it anyway. Truth was in that smile, rather than the show and glitter that everyone else saw. Truth and beauty, and he had the freedom to love it. To love her, his beloved Satine. At least today, in the silence of this Sunday dawn.
Could we stay right here
Until the end of time,
Until the earth stops turning?
Wanna love you until the seas run dry,
I found the one I've waited for.
She hadn't known she wanted to love. She had feared it, even, dreading the moment when a silly infatuation would take control of her. She'd seen it happen so many times before. To so many girls who were ripped apart by the pain.
My gift is my song. And with that beautiful, tender voice, she'd been awakened to feelings she didn't know existed in the world. The simple sweetness of holding your hands in sunbaked earth, seeing the patterns of light through trees, or watching grass dance in the wind. He'd lifted the veil blinding her eyes from the wonder the world could hold-- even for someone like her.
Especially for someone like her, Christian had added when she'd said that to him.
All this time I've loved you,
And never known your face.
All this time I've missed you,
And searched this human race.
He'd been dreaming of love all his life. Love lifted them up where they belonged. But no matter how hard he tried to fall in love with one pretty face after another, he'd stayed firmly on the ground. Until Satine.
It wasn't just her beauty, though. The artist in him delighted in the pale skin and the rippling hair, but it didn't touch his heart. It was the woman she was, the woman she could be. In some vulnerable moment, she'd dropped the shields. And he'd been watching for it, waiting. The bonding that had happened then, the almost perfect melding of two souls had stunned him with its certainty. He knew her, mind, soul, and body. He could almost predict her words before she voiced them, could feel for her. And he'd opened himself to her in return, letting himself live the poetry he'd been dreaming of for so long.
Here is true peace,
Here my heart knows calm.
Safe in your soul,
Bathed in your sighs.
Satine refused to move. Her body sank deeper into the bed, painting soft lines against the sharp ivory sheets. The soft summer breeze passed over her like a faint perfume and she drew in a slow, steady breath, tasting the sweetness of it. The coughs, the choking-- they wouldn't trouble her here in this magic room, in the arms of her poet. It was in the cold darkness of the Moulin Rouge that she spent agonizing minutes just trying to breathe.
Joy had never come to her before. She'd snatched enjoyment and pleasure in between numbers and customers, but never this. And now, in the moment when she'd least wanted and expected it, life had granted her an hour of happiness to spend however she wished. She was flying high on the wine love had given her, feeling real purpose for the first time in her life. Not ambition, but a sense of worth.
Wanna stay right here
Until the end of time,
Until the earth stops turning,
Gonna love you until the seas run dry.
I've found the one I've waited for,
The one I've waited for.
This was going to last forever. It just had to. Christian knew it. They would dupe the Duke and leave together. . . be together for all of their lives. . . draw their last breaths together. He had already imagined proposing to Satine, bringing out a beautiful diamond ring for the sparkling diamond that she was. . .
The ring goes on that finger because it's the vein that leads to the heart, his mother had told him as a child.
To her heart. . . that was the only place Christian wanted to visit anymore. Once he had dreamed of touring Europe, of landing on the mystery-laden shores of Africa. . . now, he would gladly stay in this room for the rest of his life, as long as she was there.
All I've known,
All I've done,
All I've felt,
Was leading to this.
A poet and his mistress. How often had she heard those words spoken with derision in the garden at the Moulin Rouge. Pretty rhymes in exchange for a pretty face, Nini had once said viciously to a young dancer. And Satine, fool that she had been, had agreed wholeheartedly with every statement.
But now, she knew. Knew with a passion that she'd never known about anything before. And as she looked back on her entire life, she saw how her twisted, rocky path had brought her here. The years of shutting out longing, of denying herself the luxury of loneliness. It had culminated in taking a chance on a boy with an eternal wisdom lurking in his wonderful eyes.
She had found him. Found love. Found happiness. In his arms, she flew away. Every time, though, she had to return to the life she knew. But deep in her heart, she hoped that there would come a time when she didn't have to come back. . .
Wanna stay right here
Until the end of time,
Until the earth stops turning,
Gonna love you until the seas run dry.
I've found the one I've waited for.
The one I've waited for.
Satine twisted in Christian's arms and looked up. He kissed her hand tenderly.
What is it? he asked, his cheek resting on her head. Satine felt a chill run through her. He was so beautiful, and he was hers to love, here in this haven they had created in the midst of the underworld.
If I should die this very moment, she whispered to him. I wouldn't fear. For I've never known completeness. . . she was wrapped in his arms again, and she took a deep, softly shuddering breath. Like being here.
Their lips met, and all she knew then was him. . .
Wanna stay right here
Until the end of time,
Until the earth stops turning,
Gonna love you until the seas run dry.
I've found the one I've waited for.
The one I've waited for.
Oh, Satine, Christian said, crying against his hands. The memory had faded, and he was left alone again. Oh, Satine. . .
With pure rage flooding through him-- anger at the world, the Duke, Zidler, the Moulin Rouge, anyone and everyone responsible for her death-- Christian hurled the knife across the room. He couldn't do it. He couldn't look her in the eye and explain why he hadn't kept his last promise. And he would meet her when the time came to cross the barrier that kept them apart. He'd doubted every other thing about this life, but he'd never questioned that.
I won't, he whispered hoarsely. I'll wait.
And somewhere in those untold dreams that lie beyond death, Satine smiled.
The one . . .
I've waited for. . .
~-~-
Author's Note: All characters are property of Baz, genius that he is. This fic (in case you didn't guess) is written around which is owned by Lamb. I hope you enjoyed it-- it was a bit of an experiment in writing styles, so please tell me what you thought! Thanks!