Okay, this is my first Moulin Rouge fic. Please, don't kill me. R/R please, I need feedback. I'm used to writing Star Wars, so I want to make sure that I'm not killing the MR Fandom. Thanks everyone!~ewankenobi2002
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When Dreaming Ends
Coughing. He was always coughing. The hacking and the huffing, trying to clear his throat all the time.
His chest felt heavy, like someone was sitting on it. His skin was cold and clammy, his once rich color turning a nasty shade of gray.
The fever was upon him, the sweat that dripped down his brow made that evident. He coughed again, the hack making his once strongly built but now weak body shake. Bringing a white handkerchief to his mouth, he wiped it across his lips, swallowing down the rest of the coppery taste.
He sighed and fell back into the soft pillows, his hand with the handkerchief falling to his side.
He was dying.
His blood was clotted on the handkerchief, and he coughed again. He heaved, as if trying to vomit, but the pain in his chest made him double over. His chest ached, his heart pounding loudly in his rib cage.
More sweat rolled down his face and he clenched his eyes shut. He brought the handkerchief back to his mouth to wipe away the blood that slowly trickled down his lip.
The fit subsided, and taking deep breaths he rested once again against the pillows.
He was dying. The sad realization flooded his mind. He was dying. In his shabby apartment in Paris, alone. He had known he was dying from the start, when he first developed a sort of dry cough. But he was never able to accept it.
He opened his eyes and stared out the glass doors that lead to his balcony. The moon sparkled in the night sky and he tried to smile as memories flitted in and out of his mind.
"My gift is my song…"
He heard the words being whispered from somewhere, and he know that delirium had settled in.
"…You see I've forgotten if they're
green or they're blue.."
He smiled at the picture his eyes played in front of him. His love once again in his arms dancing, as he sang his love to her. It was so real to him, that he could feel the wind flutter across his face as they waltzed across the room.
He coughed again, but tried to pay no heed.
"…Yours are the sweetest eyes,
I've ever seen…"
He reached out, trying to touch the red-headed beauty that dance to and fro. He swore that he felt the silky black fabric of the dress she had worn barely touch his fingers.
He coughed once again, bringing his arm up to shield his mouth. The arm of the white sleep shirt was now covered in his own blood. He lay back down, his breathing becoming labored, his heart starting to race.
"Want to vanish inside your kiss…"
The first vision vanished, and was replaced with his love in the dress she died in. A tear ran down his cheek and mixed with sweat, as he panted, trying to calm his heart. The voice danced around him, so real, so alive. He closed his blood shot eyes, letting the so-very-missed voice flood his ears.
"Everyday I'm loving' you
more and more…"
He sighed and stifled another cough, "Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Come back to me and forgive everything…" He croaked this out, his voice scratchy from lack of use.
He wasn't afraid, not anymore. He wanted to die. Oh, how he remember pleading to the god's to take his life so he could be with his beloved. How he remember trying to take his own life when the god's had not responded.
He was getting his wish. Finally. He was ready to die, to be free, to be with her and to alive again.
"Season's my change, winter to spring,
but I'll love you…till the end of time..."
He gasped, hot white light flooding his eyes. He couldn't catch his breath, and yet another fit of coughing took him by surprised. He hacked and heaved, trying with all his might not to die, not yet. He wanted to see the rest of the memory played out before him. He needed to see it.
Blood ran down his chin, his shaky hand not quick enough to catch it. A shallow scream rose from his throat, and he fought to keep sitting upright. He gulped, more blood filling his mouth. He was taking breaths by gulps now, his lungs acting as if no matter how much air he got it was never enough.
"Christian…" He heard the sweet, silky voice, he fought to open his eyes. Blood was now trickling down his nose. The fit finally stopped and he leaned back, opening his eyes. He gasped.
"Christian…It's time my love. Come to me." Satine said. She sat the window ceil, looking so beautiful. He wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his arm, not caring about the stain it would leave.
"Come on. It's time. You've been strong enough. Let me be strong for you, for once." Satine said silkily. He stared at the vision. She wasn't real, he knew that, for her appearance was slightly faded and almost glistening.
"S-s-satine." He chocked out. He coughed again, more blood slowly making it's way down his mouth.
"Come on. We have a lot of catching up to do." She smiled at him sweetly, before disappearing like the wind.
He leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. As he lay there, still as death, he heard her voice once again flit by him like the wind.
"Today's a day, when dreaming ends…"
He smiled slightly, "Yes…When…Dreaming…Ends…" He said slowly, his gasping making his speech choppy. Slowly Christian floated off into the sleep of death, the darkness and calm consuming him.
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Okay, people, don't kill me for killing Christian. This was my more logical approach to what would happen after the movie. Tuberculosis is contagious, and you'd think that after kissing her and spending all the time with Satine, he'd catch something. Well, I decided that idea would make a good angst thing. Thanks everyone, please R/R and don't eat me alive. I love Christian as much as anyone, so just don't…kill me.~ewankenobi2002