Set shortly after the scene in which Zidler tells Satine of her illness. Satine's POV. Very short fic, one which I think I needed to get out, based a little on some of my own thoughts of late (only I'm not dying or anything, so don't worry-lol). Probably been done before, but here is mine. Not particularly good, but stupid writers block is preventing me from writing anything better.

Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge or anybody in it, although I want Christian, the elephant room, and I would also like to be Satine (except not dead or a courtesan-hehe). *flutters eyelashes at Baz and begs him for the entire film*

--+----------------------------------------+--

I will never let them see what I feel. I never have, and I never will. I feel pain too, you know, pain, anger, fear and sadness. But the show must go on. And nobody must ever see my emotions or my world will collapse around me.

I was always the happy one. Even as a child, I would be the comedian, the one who always wore a smile, the one who lifted others when they were down.

Noone has ever lifted me.

I lift my face to the heavens and suppress the tears that threaten to spill over as a requiem for a lost life. My life.

I will let noone see my tears.

All my life I have had a high barricade around my soul, which nobody but Christian has ever broken down. Harold has never seen my true self, nor has Marie, though sometimes I am afraid she sees through my facade. And the other performers here, despite spending much of their life around me, do not know me at all.

Now I must shut Christian out too.

Harold and Marie try, clumsily, to comfort me, but I refuse even to speak to them. All that I had- my life and my love- is being taken away from me, and I will not associate with those who might have had a hand in one of those thefts. I stand alone as I always used to, before Christian, before Spectacular Spectacular, before any of this. I made it through then, and I will make it through now.

(Make it through to what, Satine? There's nothing to make it through to. )

Spectacular Spectacular will still show. Come hell or high water, Harold will have his play. And there is nothing I can do but participate. In what could be my last hours, I star in a show going against everything I now believe, that Christian has taught me.

Yet what else can I do?

In my heart of hearts, I still hope that Harold is lying, or that the doctor was wrong- I am not dying. But without Christian my life is empty, and I may as well be dead. No matter what, I cannot win.

Were the others to know, I would be pitied. Have you heard about poor Satine? I cannot take pity. I have my dignity, and I will maintain it at all costs. The Sparkling Diamond will never lose her shine.

So I shall walk forth with my head high, and pretend to myself and the others that I am fine, that nothing is wrong. I shall be excited about the show, and however much I feel I am cracking, I will never shatter.

At least not on the outside.