So, this probably isn't the only only story like this, but I thought I'd give it a shot. It gets more complicated later on and there are going to be happy moments, but you'll all have to be patient. Please tell me if you like it, because I'd really like to know. Also, criticism is welcome, but no flames, please.

-M

The song ended and the curtains started to close. As the light began to fade, Satine braced herself for what she knew must be done. She couldn't bear to think about it any more, but the thoughts were still pushing angrily at the back of her head.

I have to do this, if only for Christian, she thought miserably, taking one last look at his face. It was a mistake to look, and she doubted - not for the first time - what she was doing. I have to save him.

She let out a choked breath, gasping for air as she let herself fall backwards onto the stage. There were shocked gasps behind behind when she made herself go limp. She let the darkness engulf her as she felt Christian's arms around her, shaking her, willing her to wake up. "Satine!" he cried desperately. "Satine! Please, Satine!"

His arms wrapped around her tighter and soft sobs could be heard. Oh, Christian, she thought, fighting to keep her face blank and her breathing shallow so he wouldn't notice. I'm sorry.

His cries echoed loudly around the stage as the crowds roared, oblivious to the tragedy separated from them only by a set of thick velvet curtains. Satine's heart broke then, and she doubted she could ever repair it. I'm not worth saving, she thought bitterly, and tried once more to block out the sounds of grieving that floated around her. If I was, I wouldn't be causing them this pain.

She bit back tears, willing the sorrow around her to stop. She wished she could jump up and say, "I'm okay!" But she couldn't do that. That would defeat the whole purpose of this charade. She had known there would be pain ever since Zidler had first mentioned the plan, but she could never have imagine the reality.

It was almost too much to stand.

"You're dying," he had said. She had stopped walking, then, unsure of what to belief. She had called it a trick to get her from leaving, but she knew they were right. She had seen it herself, had she not? She had seen the blood, and felt the strain and the tightness in her chest when she coughed.

She had gone to Christian, then, and told him she had planned to stay with the Duke. The lie did not work, though, and neither of them could bear hiding the truth. They loved each other, and there was no way of fighting it. She never told Christian of her illness, for what would he do? She was ecstatic when Christian had come up the aisle to her, letting his heart out for the world to see. Come what may, she had thought.

The lights skittered across the stage in colours that cast strange shadows as Zidler had come again, and she was reminded of her fate. He had come up behind her during the last song, whispering hurriedly in her ear as Christian sang his part, unaware of what was being said.

"He's throwing away his life for you, Satine," he father had said quietly. "Think of what that will do to him. You're dying, and he will be left with nothing."

She had smiled for the crowd, despite the knot in her stomach. The Duke was glaring from across the room, making angry hand motions to someone behind her. Maybe her father was right and she could only ever hurt Christian. She would condemn him.

She kept dancing next to Christian, and whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "What should I do?"

Harold paused to smile at the crowd and think, then answered with the words that caused this all.

"Fake your death."

her heart skipped a beat, the smile slipping from her face momentarily before she fixed it. "What?" she asked, hoping she had heard wrong.

"Fake your death, Satine," he had said again. "The Duke will no longer try to harm you or Christian because of his jealousy, and Christian will get on with his life. You'll see."

"Harold. . . "

"It's for the better, my diamond," was all he had said before slipping away into the crowd of dancers as she began her part.

As she lay limply in Cristian's arms right then, she began to doubt those words. What if Christian didn't move on? What if this was all useless?

But it was too late. If she told him now, Christian would know she had faked it all. He would never forgive her, and she could never forgive herself.