Author's note None of this belongs to me. I get nothing except for fun out this writing experience.

January 13, 1894

My Darling Daughter,

I am writing you this letter because I will not be able to do all of the things a mother should be able to do. I will not be able to hear you say your first word. I will not be able to see you take your first step. I will not be there when you learn to read and write. I will not be the one to teach how to count. However, there are several things that I believe you should know. I want you to know to know how much I love you. It is so very painful to be forced to send you away. Know that I will think of you often. You are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. Finally, know that, if I am able, I will come and claim you in the future.

I also want you to remember that because I love you so much, I am sending you away from me. I live in a place that would not be a suitable environment to raise a child in. I want you to have a happy life and receive a good education. I know that you will make me proud. Even if we never meet again, I will always love you.

Come what may,

Mother

Satine looked at her child, who was sleeping peacefully in a corner. She closed her eyes and thought back to the day when Mesiure Zeidler had found out that she was pregnant. He had been livid. Almost without thinking, he had urged her to have an abortion. She had refused.

"Satine, it's the only way." She turned on him furious. "No, Harold! It isn't the only way. I don't care what you say; I am not giving up my child." Zeidler's face softened with compassion. "Think about what you are saying, the Moulin Rouge is no place to raise a child."

Harold was right. She didn't want her little girl, her little Natalie, growing up in the Moulin Rouge amongst courtesans and cancan dancers. She had then decided to send the child away. She had a friend who ran an orphanage in London. She had told Satine that she would be more than willing to care for her daughter. Tonight was the night that Satine had chosen to take Natalie to her. She put the letter in the blanket she had wrapped Natalie in. She picked up her sleeping daughter, a small bag of baby clothes and her own suitcase. Then, ever so quietly, she slipped away from the Moulin Rouge and made her way to the train depot.

1901 (London)

Christian sat beside his sister as she lay in bed. She was dying of pneumonia. She had been battling the illness for over a month, but it was no use and her life was quickly draining from her. "Christian…" She whispered as he leaned in to hear her. "Christian, promise me…" She paused to cough, her lungs filling up with fluid. "Promise me you'll take care of James when I'm gone." Christian nodded, he couldn't speak. He wasn't ready to lose another woman that he cared about; it hadn't even been a year since he'd held Satine as she had died of consumption. His sister saw the pain in his tear-filled eyes. She smiled weakly. "I know it will be hard, Chris. But you both need each other right now." As she finished saying this she began to cough again. She was right. She had lost her husband in a train wreck; James had been born the month before. She had been the only parent her soon had known. Christian had helped her before he had gone to Paris, and he had returned when he heard she was ill. "Don't worry about us." He said, holding back tears. "Thank you… Chris… tell James… I love him… I… love… you… both… Come…what… may." She whispered, when she had finished saying this, she closed her eyes, gripped Christian's hand and then died." "I love you too." He whispered. She was at peace now. His sister was gone; James was his responsibility now. He gently kissed her forehead in a final farewell and walked out of the room. The service would be small, but he would think about that later; right now James needed him. Christian stood and walked, slowly, out of the room.

One week later

It was the evening after his sister's funeral, and Christian was in the library, with his father. "What are you planning to with James?" "I'm going to take him back to Paris with me." "Paris! Don't be absurd, Christian. Now, your sister wanted…" "Beth wanted me to take care of James. The best way for me to do that is to take him to Paris." "Why not come back to London?" "Because there are too many reminders of his mother's death here and I believe the move would do him good. Besides, Paris is my home now." "What about his education?" "There are plenty of fine teachers in Paris." His father sighed. "I suppose you are right. What will happen to the house?" "I've made arrangements for the books to be brought to Paris, along with James's belongings. As for everything else, you can decide what to do with it all." His father nodded. Although he would never admit it, he was proud of the man Christian had become since he moved to Paris. "When will you leave?" "Tomorrow morning." "Very well. Now that everything is settled, I must bid you farewell. Give James my love." "I will, father." Christian stood and walked his father to the door. When his father was gone, Christian went up stairs to his room. He climbed into bed expecting sleep to overtake him. Instead, his thoughts turned to Satine. He would give anything to have her lying there beside him. How he missed her. He could still remember the few times they had made love. Her warm skin had felt so right next to his. Why hadn't he met her sooner? He might have been able to save her. Eventually he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. He woke early the next morning and took James with him, back to Paris.