Just Believe
Chapter 1 - Life Goes On
A/N: Another crappy "soap opera-y" story from me. I'm hoping this one will be slightly happier than L'amour Fou, but I'm not promising anything.
"I'm sorry, Christian," Satine gasped quietly, running up the stairs towards Christian's garret. "I'm so sorry, so sorry."
Her face was damp with tears and her heart beat loudly in her ears. An overwhelming desire came over her to be with her aficionado and she stumbled in that longing; Chocolat reached forward and with broad, strong arms helped her up the rest of the stairs.
"Christian, I couldn't!" Satine gave once last cry as she threw the door open to Christian's. The familiar room greeted her, but his handsome face did not. Instead a small figure sat on the edge of his bed, a bottle of Absinthe in hand. "Where's Christian?" she asked Toulouse.
"He's weft."
Those straightforward words shattered her. She fell to the floor, her worst fear confirmed: Christian had left her. Chocolat reached forward to comfort her but she lashed out at him.
"Don't touch me!" she yelled. "Just--just don't touch me!"
He backed away and muttered, "Sorry, Mademoiselle Satine," before leaving.
Toulouse averted his gaze, taking a swig of Absinthe. Tears pricked at his eyes as the heart wrenching sobs of the Sparkling Diamond broke through every barrier he tried to place between them; there was no escaping the grief she felt, not even with the assistance of ignorance.
"Pwease Satine," he choked out. "Pwease stop."
Her bawling filled his senses, echoing around him, higher than even the blaring music that was starting up at the club: they were celebrating, Satine slept with the Duke and the Rouge was again the Bohemians home. Her body trembled on the floor, the power of crying making her quiver in her anguish. And suddenly Toulouse was overcome with anger; he wanted to stand and shake her vehemently until she was silenced. But he couldn't: he loved her like a sister, and he could not betray her in her darkest hour.
"Stop cwying, Satine, pwease," he said quietly, hopping off the bed and hobbling towards her. "Cwying will do you no good. Tewwible things happen, but that is wife, and we all need to wive it."
Satine ignored him.
"Where did he go? He couldn't have gotten far! Perhaps I can still catch him!"
Toulouse smiled gently at her fierce determination, and fell to his knees to envelope her in a hug. "He woves you," he whispered. "Christian woves you more than anything, but his heawt was bwoken. He was angwy, confused, scawed, and his jeawousy dwove him to do things he will soon wegwet."
"He has to come back, he has to." Satine sat on her haunches, hugging herself as she rocked back and forth. Music poured through the windows and shouts of raucous partying could be heard over the tunes; and as much as Satine hated having a part of it, she was the one who started it all. She cupped her face with her hands, ashamed that she ever had anything to do with the Duke. "I've done such a horrible thing."
As much as Toulouse hated admitting it, she was right. She had done a terrible thing. "It will be awight. Just give it time, it will be awight."
"Nothing will be alright, Toulouse," Satine muttered. "I've slept with the Duke. Christian has left me. How can everything be alright?"
Toulouse was silent. He doubted she would ever be as happy again as when she was with Christian; he made everything seem alright to her, and without him, she was left to wallow in the darkness. "Tew me what happened," he said instead.
A fresh wave of tears enveloped Satine. She was blinded by the watery sheets cascading from her eyes, and the glowing light of the room vanished in a blur. Her heart beat loudly; in her chest, her throat, her ears. Pain was all she knew.
"I saw C-Christian from the balcony. He was there and--oh God did he look hurt. My heart broke just looking at him. But I had a duty, Toulouse, and I promised to live up to it. A-after I was f-finished Chocolat came and collected me and I realized my mistake. What have I done?"
"Just bewieve," Toulouse reassured, squeezing her hand to put her at ease. "Just bewieve and everything will be awight." He stood and leaning on his walking stick, he made for the door. Just before he left, he said quietly, "He will come back."
Satine wasn't sure what was louder: the pounding of her heart or of the band as the Bohemians and whores showed their excitement. Then she leaned over and retched, sick mentally and physically, knowing what she did.
"I heard he sang a lullaby," she tried to sing, but it came out more of a weak croak, chocked by her tears. "I heard he sang if from his heart. When I found out, thought I would die, because that lullaby was mine."
Christian's face swam in front of her. He was so godly handsome, with his charming smile giving away his most naïve secrets, and still bestowing him with an enchanting enigmatic air. She reached out for him, but he disappeared like a sand castle being washed away by the rising tide.
"I heard he sealed it with a kiss; he gently kissed her cherry lips," she continued to sing. "I found that so hard to believe, because his kiss belonged to me. How could an angel break my heart?"
The stars glittered like thousands of diamonds across a velvet cloth, and tormented Satine with memories of the past.
"Why didn't he catch my falling star? I wish I didn't wish so hard… maybe I wished our love apart."
With her last effort, Satine pulled herself up and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. Toulouse was right: life had to go on. She gave one last look around the room, chocked back a threatening sob, and opened the door, whispering, "How could an angel break my heart?" before she left forever.
Even then, a stubborn voice inside her head insisted: He will come back.
A huge banner reading "Happy 10th Wedding Anniversary, Duke and Duchess of Monroth!" was pinned high on one wall. Eight golden chandeliers hung from the sculptured ceiling, and the gilded walls gleamed in the soft light. The patterned dance floor was waiting to welcome its awaited company, and dozens of tables sat around the ballroom, laden with gold silverware and a dowry for each guest.
"Everything looks magnificent, darling," said the Duke in his nasally voice.
The Duchess clinging to her arm nodded in agreement. She was of an extravagant beauty; her hair was long and a deep blood red. Her passionate blue eyes were framed by dark lashes, and she held the air of one having a sultry past. She obtained natural grace and held herself proud, her head high; she was indeed born to be someone of power and riches.
"Thank you, my dear Duke," she replied, and even her voice was soft and musical. "I worked hard to create the perfect party for the perfect husband."
She flashed a smile and batted her eyelashes. Ten years of doing so had gained her anything she wanted; she had complete power over the Duke. Anything she wanted, she had; anything she asked for, she received; anything she bade anyone do, happened. Her life seemed perfect.
"I'm sorry, but you must excuse me," she said after a few more moments of admiring the grandeur. "It is about time for me to start preparing myself."
She gently kissed him on his cheek, which took all those long ten years to be able to do without flinching. The Duke nodded, though disappointed she had to leave, and watched her as she trailed daintily up the ornate stairs. From there she walked swiftly down a hall and into her private boudoir.
A fire was already lit and the room was gently warm. She padded into her luxurious powder room and removed her large flower hat, then washed her face to clear herself of her makeup. Drying herself with a fluffy towel, she let her hair hang loose and stripped of her dress, standing in front of the mirror in her undergarments. And there, out of the gloom from the dim lights, staring blankly back at her reflection, was the old Satine she hid with makeup and money to transfigure into the Duchess.
"Miss?" Georgia, Satine's personal maid, knocked softly on the door and entered after hearing a quick 'Come in'. "Would you like me to run the water for you, Miss?"
"Yes, thank you," Satine nodded.
Georgia departed for the larger bathroom, leaving Satine to collect her thoughts. She turned back to the mirror and frowned at the reflection. The Duchess was so much more grand and spectacular than the Sparkling Diamond, but her façade was stronger and definitely more tiring, not only physically but mentally.
"Your bath is ready, Miss."
Satine pulled off the rest of her clothes and covered herself with a bathrobe before stepping out of the room. She moved to another door and into the bathroom, her robe falling to her ankles, and slipped into the white tub.
A gray sheet of rain enveloped the train and for a fleeting second Christian James wished to be back in Paris, with endless days of blue skies and the warm sun, instead of rainy, gloomy England. But just as swift as the thought came to him, it was discarded, because Christian made Paris become a part of the past when he left Montmartre.
"Could I offer you a drink, sir?"
Christian looked up to see a man in a suit pushing a cart of assorted drinks and food. "No thank you, I'm fine." The man moved on and Christian turned back to stare out the window. Dreary landscapes passed under drab skies as the rain poured endlessly, and he sat memorized until he was interrupted once again.
"Hey, Chris," said Susan, Christian's sister, taking her seat next to him. Ever since his heart had been broken, she had become his companion and best friend, and they were currently returning from a vacation in the country together.
"What took so long?" he asked, finally turning his gaze away from the window. "I thought you were only going to the bathroom."
"Well, I was, or at least until I saw this good looking guy on my way back."
Christian laughed and rolled his eyes. "And you were talking to him this whole time?"
"Uh huh," she stated proudly. "And look!" She pulled out a lavish invitation and waved it in front of him. "I'm invited to this big ball-thingy going on in York! Something about an anniversary, he said. He works for the guy who's throwing the ball and said I could come with a guest. Want to join me?"
"I don't know," Christian hesitated. "I haven't been to a party in so long."
"Oh, come on! It'll be loads of fun. And besides, you can take me out to buy a new dress!"
"Great," he muttered sarcastically, earning himself a playful slap on the shoulder.
"Really, it'll be good for you. Besides, Roger--he's the guy--made me promise to save him a dance. Can't let the poor boy down, now can I?" She grinned widely before settling back in her seat.
"I guess," Christian muttered, and turned his stare back to the droning rain.
A/N: Well.. what did ya think? If it's too stupid I won't continue, I'll let you be the judge of that. And if you didn't guess, the party Christian is going to is the one the Duke and Satine are holding.
