Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Moulin Rouge characters

The Situation: Satine is in purgatory for her sins and is forced to watch Christian suffer by her death, until she can proove herself worthy of a better place... just a ghost of her former self, Satine must make Christian fall in love again....

The End Is Not Yet Here

Chapter 1:

Satine wandered through Christians room, and shivered. Satine was used to being cold by now, she was never warm. She knew she wasn't real but she wasn't quite dead yet, she didn't understand what she was doing here, in this half existance

Christian walked in and looked around. He felt it again, the feeling that Satine was so close he could touch her. But he knew that was impossible. He put the whiskey and absynthe he had just bought on the table and felt his un-shaved chin and sat down. It had been over three years since Satines death and he still felt that she was here. Satine reached out to touch him, she had slowly watched him become the alchoholic, drug addicted man in front of her, and knew it was her fault. It tortured her to watch him suffering all these and being unable to help him. She stroked his face but felt nothing, Christian shivered at her touch and got up. He soon began pouring a cup of the cheap whiskey with a shaking hand. He drank it all in one gulp and began to cry.

"Why?" He screamed "Why did you have to die, why did I have to fall in love with you?" He threw the cup against the wall and watched it shatter into a million peices.

"What have I become?" He whispered, his voice quivering, tears streaming down his face. Then he just sat on the floor and cried, he cried for what seemed like hours, until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Satine watched all this, and silent tears fell down her pale, translucent cheeks.

"I'm sorry" she whispered in an unheard voice and lay down next to him, wishing he could be the man she knew and loved.

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Christian woke up with sun streaming through his ripped curtains, he lay there for a bit then forced himself to get up, glass crunching under his hands, ripping the skin. He looked at himself in his cracked mirror, there were cuts on his face. He looked down at his hands which were bleeding horribly, but he didnt care. He needed a drink. He went over to the table where the whiskey and absynthe sat. He took the whiskey and took a mouthful out of the bottle, feeling it burn down his raw throat, smelling the pungent odour that he was so used to.

He gagged slightly and looked at the now blood streaked bottle, alchohol burning his cuts. He hated what he had become, but he couldnt stop, he could never stop. "Until my dieing day" he sang weakly , he laughed harshly at his voice that had been once so full of joy and was now rough and out of tune. He probably would have cried more but he had no tears left. Just then Tulus burst into the room yelling in a sing song voice "My friend, I have returned"

The sound peirced through Christians aching head, and was magnafied ten times over by his usual sunday morning hang-over. "Tulus!" Christian yelled "Not so loud!" He waved a hand in greeting, hardly excited by the fact that one of his good friends had returned from two years of travels.

Tulus looked around the flat, there were clothes everywhere, blood and glass covered the floor and the sickly sent of vomit and booz met his nostrels. He then looked at his friend, who looked worse then the apartment. Christians hair was uncombed and uncut, it looked as if he hadnt changed his clothes in weeks, he was covered in his own blood, and it was obvious he hadnt bathed in a while, and he sat in the middle of the floor, knee deep in his own filth, looking at Tulus as if he was about to die. But the worst thing of all were his eyes, which had once been full of life and hope, now looked dead and empty.

Tulus kneeled down next to his friend and whispered "what has happened to you, Christian" and with that Christian saw his life with a new light, and how pathetic it had become, he hugged his friend tightly and answered "I don't know Tulus, but I know I can't go on living like this, you should have let them shoot me"he added, remembering bitterly how the Duke tried to kill him.

"Don't talk like that Christian, then the Duke would have gotten what he wanted" Said Tulus sadly.

"He may have gotten what he wanted, but if he had of shot me, I would be with Satine now, among angles" Christian sobbed.

"Christian, I know you loved her, but it's been three years, you must move on with your life, do you think she would want to see you like this, suffering and in pain. You could write the story of the Moulin Rouge, at least you have a..." He looked around the room "lovely flat?" he said hopefully.

"I already wrote it, I don't know where it is though, and I don't care, I don't need to be reminded of my pain" With that he got up and walked to the window, and stared at the Moulin Rouge "And I'm being evicted" he said quietly "I haven't been paying my rent"

Tulus, who had made a ton of money from Spectacular Spectacular, thought of a solution then and there "You can live with me, and I will help you quit drinking and... ooh... absynthe, may I have a glass?" Not waiting for an answer he grabbed the bottle and went rummaging around for a glass. He poured himself some and with a sigh he said "Yes, yes you will come and live with me, I have a charming house just outside the village, lovely view, good for painting...." and he continued to ramble about inspiration and the beauty in the world. But Christian could see no beauty.