Disclaimer: I own neither the Moulin Rouge nor The Phantom of the Opera. Never have. Never will.
Summary: After the Duke leaves, the Moulin Rouge falls into debt and Harold is forced to fire actors left and right. After the Opera Populaire is destroyed, everyone who worked there finds themselves jobless. The two businesses must work together to save everyone from the streets. But Christine doesn't like Satine...and Satine doesn't like Christine. Two stars can't share the same stage - can they?
A/N: Basically, I wanted to post something and this was the only thing halfway ready. Enjoy!
The curtain closed for the final time, and Harold could feel the excitement and triumph in the air. Someone went outside and came back declaring that they couldn't find the Duke anywhere – he was gone, and as far as anyone knew, he was gone for good.
Even as the rest of the Moulin Rouge cheered, Harold couldn't help feeling a shiver of doubt. Where would their money come from now? Ticket sales for Spectacular Spectacular were through the roof, but Harold was now a businessman as much as an entertainer. He knew that even if the show continued to sell out every performance, that money alone would not be enough to keep a full theatre on its feet.
They could raise prices, of course. They could ask for donations, they could search for a new investor...Harold went through the list of possible plans of action quickly. It was a very short list, and he didn't like how much of it depended on the generosity of others. Especially now that Satine had chosen to give up her job as a courtesan – that had always been something he counted on.
Harold now glanced at Satine. She and Christian were together, of course – able to publicly show their love for the first time. He could not, however hard he tried, bring himself to wish she hadn't fallen for him. She was so happy – happier than he'd ever seen her. Happier than she'd ever been, probably.
He sighed and looked at the other Diamond Dogs. One of them could take Satine's place as star courtesan, but it didn't seem right to fill that position while Satine 'the Sparkling Diamond' was still working at the Moulin Rouge, courtesan or not. Maybe when she left…
No! She can't leave – that really would be the end of the Moulin Rouge!
But without a star courtesan, the Moulin Rouge might be over anyway. Harold appraised Nini Legs-in-the-Air – the girl, if any, who would replace Satine – and decided he'd have to take that chance. Nini was a wonderful dancer and an even better prostitute, but she had a nasty temper. Not to mention that awful laugh…he could hear it now, slurred by the large amount of Absinthe she was consuming, but still hard on the ears.
No, she could remain Nini Legs-in-the-Air, and nothing more.
"Harold, why are you looking so serious?" Harold turned around to find Satine grinning at him. "Aren't you glad the Duke's gone?" she asked.
"Yes, but –"
Satine didn't let him finish. "I am. Horrid man."
"Yes, but –"
"Christian asked me to marry him." Her smiled grew, if that was possible. "And I said yes. We're engaged! Isn't it wonderful!" Laughing, she skipped – yes, skipped – over to tell Nini and her friends. They didn't seem nearly so happy about it, but this didn't dampen her spirits. Harold got the idea that nothing was going to dampen her spirits for a long time.
Well, at least something was going the way it should. Harold smiled, and joined what was quickly becoming an engagement party.
Firmin watched the Opera Populaire burn and felt a cold horror well up in him. "We're ruined, Andres. Ruined!" he said, still staring at the flames hopelessly.
"So you've said." Andres replied, not a little impatiently. "I ask again – where's Miss Daae? And the Viscomte, for that matter? I haven't seen him since the chandelier fell."
"While we're talking of missing persons." Madame Giry said, joining their conversation smoothly. "I'd like to add my daughter to the list. And a large group of others, mostly stagehands, I think."
"Well, where are they all then?" asked Firmin angrily. "They can't all be trapped in the building – it's not burning that fast."
"They are below the opera house, trying to find the Opera Ghost. But I don't think – here they are now!"
Sure enough, Raoul and Christine were emerging from the opera house. They were covered in soot and seemed shaken up, but on the whole, looked unharmed. Raoul was soaking wet – how had that happened?
M. Giry ran up and hugged first Christine, then Raoul. The three of them rejoined Firmin and Andres across the square from the Opera Populaire. Christine, Firmin noticed, had tears streaming down her cheeks – but that was no surprise. This opera house had, after all, been the only home she'd known since her father died.
They watched the building burn in silence for a few more minutes. M. Giry was visibly getting more agitated by the second. No one had come out since Christine and Raoul.
Finally, another group appeared, led by Meg Giry herself. She, along with several of the others, was coughing hard and the shirt that had once been white was now torn and gray.
M. Giry again ran up to embrace her daughter and this time Firmin and Andres followed her, wanting to make sure the stagehands were all accounted for.
"Are you all right?" Firmin heard M. Giry ask Meg frantically.
"Y-yes." Meg coughed. "I'm fine. He-he's gone."
Firmin glanced back at them and saw Meg holding out a piece of white cloth to her mother – the Phantom's mask, he realized. Then they had been down to where the Phantom of the Opera lived. And had, apparently, scared him off. Or killed him – either way was fine by him as long as he never had to deal with the man again.
"Is this everyone?" he asked the group of stagehands. "Good." he said without really listening to their murmurs of assent.
"You know who else isn't here?" Andres asked him suddenly. "Carlotta. Or Piangi, for that matter."
"They're dead." M. Giry interrupted. "I saw them – Piangi had a noose around his neck and Carlotta stayed with him."
"A noose? The Phantom!" Firmin said angrily. "We must –"
"There is nothing you can do. The Opera Ghost is gone. You won't be able to find him."
Firmin realized she was right, and nodded. "As long as he stays gone, I don't care anymore."
"But – the opera house!" Andres cried. "Where are they going to perform now?" he stared around at the others, but everyone else only mirrored his hopeless expression.
"I don't know." Murmured M. Giry after a few seconds. "I really don't know."
A/N: So, I'm not sure I like how this turned out. I rewrote it about a million times (ok, ok, I rewrote it twice), and it did help a little. But not much. Subsequent chapters will be told from Christine or Satine's point of view, so they will be better - I hope.
Please review!