I smiled in the darkness of the stage wings. Could it be? Was it possible?
Was the Rouge's favorite courtesan. . . in love?
Zidler would certainly fire her, no matter how great she was in the sack with all the patrons. She broke the number one rule, and now. . . it would be me in the spotlight, as it should have been in the beginning.
I pull my head back behind the curtain as Zidler storms, his cheeks brighter then the makeup of his blush.
I look up, and I see her between the columns. "You're coming to an end," I whisper to myself. "It'll be all me."
I tried to smile from the pure satisfaction of it all, but for some reason her face, her eyes. . . her whole body makes me frown. Why would she be so upset?
Her mouth opens, and it looks like she's talking, and slowly I hear a voice - but it's not the same one that belts out 'Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend' during performances. No, this was something I've never heard before. It was a sad, soft voice, echoing around the walls of the ballroom.
"If I should die this very moment," she sang, "I wouldn't fear. For I've never known completeness like being here. Wrapped in the warmth of you. Loving. . . every breath of you."
I never thought it of her. Zidler took her in, bred her to sleep with men and bring the Moulin Rouge money. . . but this was beyond it all.
She looked off to the side, and for a moment I swear she looked at me and asked, "Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day. . ."
She held on for dear life to one of the columns as she gasped and coughed. I ran to her, screamed over the noise of her hacking that I was nearby and heard her, and supported her quivering body to Marie's room.
As I opened the door and laid her into the bed, I noticed her shaking, and blood was dripping slowly down the corners of her pale lips.
It was unreal. Except for her red hair, she looked exactly like my mother. Exactly like her before she. . .
I put a hand over my own mouth. "Oh, God," I whispered.
Marie came in then, followed by the stage manager, who soon left to fetch the doctor.
That night, I didn't sleep well. The song Satine had sung a few hours ago haunted me, especially the first line. "If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear." I kept thinking to myself: 'you won't be alive for many more moments'.
The next morning, I laughed at myself for caring the slightest bit for the young lovers. Why would I care if Satine should leave, or be in love, or even die?
The young lover himself came to rehearsal with a fresh piece of music in his hand and slapped it down upon the table. Nervously, he said, "Now this new scene is the scene where the, ugh. . .sitar player writes a secret song for the courtesan," he was grinning at Satine, that fool, "so that no matter what's happening. . .what-however bad things are that they-" he cleared his throat after glancing back at the duke's icy stare, "they remember their love and then... We can take it from your line, Satine. So let's take it."
She did it beautifully, just as if she'd done it a thousands times already. It seemed natural enough, but no coincidence.
The word of Satine and the writer's love affair had reached the ears of the entire production, after having whispered it to a few bunkmates. We all knew, of course. It was so obvious. Everyone knew from the start. . . except the duke.
"Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste!" I looked over at Satine, whose eyes were looking past the Argentinean and at Christian as she sang. "It all revolves around you."
How could the duke not see it? Did he choose not to, and insist after all his faults that a girl like the courtesan was truly in love with him?
"But, I love you," the Argentinean sang in his deep voice.
"I love you," Satine echoed.
Sooner or later, he's going to find out. And then with Satine kicked out, who's left to take her place at the side of our wealthy benefactor?
I slowly made my way to the chair of the Duke, raising my eyebrows as I looked at the stage. "Hello there," I said, over the roar of people's voice. I lifted up the hem of my skirt and flashed him a bit of leg.
The duke nodded, but wouldn't take his eyes off Satine.
"Hi!"
He did nothing this time, but I swear his eyes grew wider as he stared.
No man's ever ignored me before. . . Why would he want Satine over me? She's not the rightful star. . . I am! I am!
"This ending's silly!" I say, touching his shoulder. He jumped a little and looked back at me for a moment, disgusted, and turned back.
"Why would the courtesan go for the penniless sitar player?" I yelled again, and that really got his attention. I tried to hide my smile as he whipped around and stared me in the eyes.
"Whoops!" I said, covering my mouth with my hand. "I mean the SITAR player."
His face grew pale as he slowly turned back around and I shrank back into the darkness. I know he's put two and two together. He's not as dumb as we all thought, I suppose.
Later in the dressing room I heard from the girls that the Duke hated the ending of the only 'lustful' relationship with the sitar player and the courtesan and suggested the end she picked the Maharaja. And Christian exploded by practically telling everything but the color corset Satine wore last night.
I smiled with delight over my chaos. As I escaped away that night, I couldn't help by be proud.
"The name on everybody's lips is gonna be -," I struck a pose feeling the effects of stardom come over me, "Nini. The lady rakin' in the chips is gonna be - Nini."
"I don't want you to sleep with him." I heard the soft, desperate tone in Christian's voice around the corner and I froze in my tracks.
"He could destroy everything," Satine said, in the same tone, but more forceful. There was a pause, and then she said, "It's for us. You promised, you promised me you wouldn't be jealous. It will be all right."
"No. . ." he cried.
"Yes, it will." Her voice was so weak, so hopeless. "He's waiting for me." I heard her take a step, interrupted by Christian's plea of "No, no."
I heard the rustling of some material, and a quiet sob, and then, "Come. . . what. . . may."
"Come what may," he said after a pause, as if he was trying to believe it.
I held my breath as Satine trudged around the corner, her head down and her face pale.
They had sung the song from the play. . . and now I see.
But at the same time, I don't know anything.
We all waited in limbo while Satine entertained the Duke in the Tower that night. And for our part, we could do nothing but wait.
The whole night was a blur. I started up trouble with Christian. Why was he so blind to Satine and his ridiculous obsession with love? She was a courtesan. . . not a woman. She could never love him.
And before I knew it there was a dance that made Christian grey eyes blaze. The story of a prostitute. . . and a man who falls in love with her. First, desire. . . then passion. . . then suspicion. Jealousy, anger, betrayal! When love is for the highest bidder there can be no trust, and without trust there is no love.
He burst out of the doors in a fit of untamed jealousy, and we all knew it had ended. The writer and the courtesan would be no more.
It was only later that I found out she had ran to him, and planned to elope. . . and she was dying.
When I woke up this morning, I found out the news. Marie was standing by the wall, her head in her hands, crying. Zidler stood staring at nothing particular, the tears just bordering his eyes.
I knew it. . . it was just like a day of the week. . . I knew it was to come. I had always known of her disease. It was the same one my mother had, when she was a courtesan. I was supposed to receive the same position when she passed on, until Satine had came and stolen it from me.
But, I thought strangely, I'm glad she did. I could be lying in the same death and decay as she is now. . . all alone. At least she has someone to love.
And I realize for the first time the passion and hopelessness in their song. "Season's may change, winter to spring. . . but I love you, until the end of time"
And as I saw him creeping around backstage, and later, holding Satine in his arms as she died. . . I knew they'd both be true to each other forever, come what may.
-----------------------------------------
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz.
A/N: I got this idea, not sure when. just did. Hope you guy's like this. . . sorry I haven't put out anything out lately. . . durn homework(yes, I mean 'durn').
Songs used: 'Gorecki' by Lamb, 'Roxie'(a bit changed to fit) from Chicago, 'Come What May' written by David Baerwald
Zidler would certainly fire her, no matter how great she was in the sack with all the patrons. She broke the number one rule, and now. . . it would be me in the spotlight, as it should have been in the beginning.
I pull my head back behind the curtain as Zidler storms, his cheeks brighter then the makeup of his blush.
I look up, and I see her between the columns. "You're coming to an end," I whisper to myself. "It'll be all me."
I tried to smile from the pure satisfaction of it all, but for some reason her face, her eyes. . . her whole body makes me frown. Why would she be so upset?
Her mouth opens, and it looks like she's talking, and slowly I hear a voice - but it's not the same one that belts out 'Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend' during performances. No, this was something I've never heard before. It was a sad, soft voice, echoing around the walls of the ballroom.
"If I should die this very moment," she sang, "I wouldn't fear. For I've never known completeness like being here. Wrapped in the warmth of you. Loving. . . every breath of you."
I never thought it of her. Zidler took her in, bred her to sleep with men and bring the Moulin Rouge money. . . but this was beyond it all.
She looked off to the side, and for a moment I swear she looked at me and asked, "Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day. . ."
She held on for dear life to one of the columns as she gasped and coughed. I ran to her, screamed over the noise of her hacking that I was nearby and heard her, and supported her quivering body to Marie's room.
As I opened the door and laid her into the bed, I noticed her shaking, and blood was dripping slowly down the corners of her pale lips.
It was unreal. Except for her red hair, she looked exactly like my mother. Exactly like her before she. . .
I put a hand over my own mouth. "Oh, God," I whispered.
Marie came in then, followed by the stage manager, who soon left to fetch the doctor.
That night, I didn't sleep well. The song Satine had sung a few hours ago haunted me, especially the first line. "If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear." I kept thinking to myself: 'you won't be alive for many more moments'.
The next morning, I laughed at myself for caring the slightest bit for the young lovers. Why would I care if Satine should leave, or be in love, or even die?
The young lover himself came to rehearsal with a fresh piece of music in his hand and slapped it down upon the table. Nervously, he said, "Now this new scene is the scene where the, ugh. . .sitar player writes a secret song for the courtesan," he was grinning at Satine, that fool, "so that no matter what's happening. . .what-however bad things are that they-" he cleared his throat after glancing back at the duke's icy stare, "they remember their love and then... We can take it from your line, Satine. So let's take it."
She did it beautifully, just as if she'd done it a thousands times already. It seemed natural enough, but no coincidence.
The word of Satine and the writer's love affair had reached the ears of the entire production, after having whispered it to a few bunkmates. We all knew, of course. It was so obvious. Everyone knew from the start. . . except the duke.
"Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste!" I looked over at Satine, whose eyes were looking past the Argentinean and at Christian as she sang. "It all revolves around you."
How could the duke not see it? Did he choose not to, and insist after all his faults that a girl like the courtesan was truly in love with him?
"But, I love you," the Argentinean sang in his deep voice.
"I love you," Satine echoed.
Sooner or later, he's going to find out. And then with Satine kicked out, who's left to take her place at the side of our wealthy benefactor?
I slowly made my way to the chair of the Duke, raising my eyebrows as I looked at the stage. "Hello there," I said, over the roar of people's voice. I lifted up the hem of my skirt and flashed him a bit of leg.
The duke nodded, but wouldn't take his eyes off Satine.
"Hi!"
He did nothing this time, but I swear his eyes grew wider as he stared.
No man's ever ignored me before. . . Why would he want Satine over me? She's not the rightful star. . . I am! I am!
"This ending's silly!" I say, touching his shoulder. He jumped a little and looked back at me for a moment, disgusted, and turned back.
"Why would the courtesan go for the penniless sitar player?" I yelled again, and that really got his attention. I tried to hide my smile as he whipped around and stared me in the eyes.
"Whoops!" I said, covering my mouth with my hand. "I mean the SITAR player."
His face grew pale as he slowly turned back around and I shrank back into the darkness. I know he's put two and two together. He's not as dumb as we all thought, I suppose.
Later in the dressing room I heard from the girls that the Duke hated the ending of the only 'lustful' relationship with the sitar player and the courtesan and suggested the end she picked the Maharaja. And Christian exploded by practically telling everything but the color corset Satine wore last night.
I smiled with delight over my chaos. As I escaped away that night, I couldn't help by be proud.
"The name on everybody's lips is gonna be -," I struck a pose feeling the effects of stardom come over me, "Nini. The lady rakin' in the chips is gonna be - Nini."
"I don't want you to sleep with him." I heard the soft, desperate tone in Christian's voice around the corner and I froze in my tracks.
"He could destroy everything," Satine said, in the same tone, but more forceful. There was a pause, and then she said, "It's for us. You promised, you promised me you wouldn't be jealous. It will be all right."
"No. . ." he cried.
"Yes, it will." Her voice was so weak, so hopeless. "He's waiting for me." I heard her take a step, interrupted by Christian's plea of "No, no."
I heard the rustling of some material, and a quiet sob, and then, "Come. . . what. . . may."
"Come what may," he said after a pause, as if he was trying to believe it.
I held my breath as Satine trudged around the corner, her head down and her face pale.
They had sung the song from the play. . . and now I see.
But at the same time, I don't know anything.
We all waited in limbo while Satine entertained the Duke in the Tower that night. And for our part, we could do nothing but wait.
The whole night was a blur. I started up trouble with Christian. Why was he so blind to Satine and his ridiculous obsession with love? She was a courtesan. . . not a woman. She could never love him.
And before I knew it there was a dance that made Christian grey eyes blaze. The story of a prostitute. . . and a man who falls in love with her. First, desire. . . then passion. . . then suspicion. Jealousy, anger, betrayal! When love is for the highest bidder there can be no trust, and without trust there is no love.
He burst out of the doors in a fit of untamed jealousy, and we all knew it had ended. The writer and the courtesan would be no more.
It was only later that I found out she had ran to him, and planned to elope. . . and she was dying.
When I woke up this morning, I found out the news. Marie was standing by the wall, her head in her hands, crying. Zidler stood staring at nothing particular, the tears just bordering his eyes.
I knew it. . . it was just like a day of the week. . . I knew it was to come. I had always known of her disease. It was the same one my mother had, when she was a courtesan. I was supposed to receive the same position when she passed on, until Satine had came and stolen it from me.
But, I thought strangely, I'm glad she did. I could be lying in the same death and decay as she is now. . . all alone. At least she has someone to love.
And I realize for the first time the passion and hopelessness in their song. "Season's may change, winter to spring. . . but I love you, until the end of time"
And as I saw him creeping around backstage, and later, holding Satine in his arms as she died. . . I knew they'd both be true to each other forever, come what may.
-----------------------------------------
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz.
A/N: I got this idea, not sure when. just did. Hope you guy's like this. . . sorry I haven't put out anything out lately. . . durn homework(yes, I mean 'durn').
Songs used: 'Gorecki' by Lamb, 'Roxie'(a bit changed to fit) from Chicago, 'Come What May' written by David Baerwald