Untitled
By: Sugar Princess
Disclaimer: Satine, Christian, Zidler and Marie don't belong to me. All of Satine's and Christian's family does.
Author's note: I've noticed a slight similarity to my story and that of Drama-Princess's. I started this and completed this before I read your story, and I apologize for those resemblances.If you haven't already read the story, do so. It's great!
Author's note 2: In my other story, `For the former world has passed away', Christian's family is exactly them same. The stories have nothing to do with one another, I just couldn't envision another family for him.
Let's just start.
Harold tried to reason with Satine. Make her stay. If not for her own sake, for Christian's.
Satine shook her head. All she could see was that Harold was trying to keep her captive. She took off her kimono and flung it against the wall. She went to the other side of the room and shrugged into the coat Christian had sent her over in, needing to feel closer to him.
"I don't need you anymore!" Satine raged. "All my life you've said I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me." She looked at him, pleading for Harold to understand with her eyes. "He loves me, Harold. He loves me." She got a soft look in her eye that no amount of acting talent could of produced. "And that means everything." She was gathering confidence now, her love making her an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. "We going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge!" she finished triumphantly. She glared at Harold, a defiant look in her eyes that read: Just you try and stop me.
Harold looked at his little sparrow. His darling, his diamond.
"Then God's speed." He said slowly.
Satine tilted her head, as if surprised Harold hadn't put up more of a fight. She was, after all, his Sparkling Diamond. She looked almost hurt.
But Satine was not stupid. Seeing her opportunity, she seized it.
"Thank you, Harold."
Harold motioned for Marie to go to Satine. "Help her pack, Marie. God knows she can't fold to save her life."
Marie had been watching him carefully, and stiffened at his choice of words. Nevertheless, she loved Satine, and would do anything to help her. She nodded, and went to where Satine was standing, and folded up a moss-colored velvet dress.
Satine went to Harold and took his hands. She took a shuddery breath. "I'm doing the right thing, Harold." Her expression was troubled. She was looking for his approval.
He squeezed her hands. "Yes, gosling. You are doing to right thing."
Satine shone forth a radiant smile and nodded. "Yes. I am." she pulled her hands away and went to where Marie was, eager to leave the place that been her home for years.
"Marie," started Harold. "Help her dress." He looked at Satine. "Darling, wear your blue wool. It's getting chilly out."
Satine nodded. "And my blue wool is so flattering."
"How could it not be on you, kitten?" he started to the door, determined to leave before he got emotional.
"Harold?"
He turned around.
Satine ran across the room and hurtled herself into his arms. She buried her face into the crook of his neck. Harold stroked her hair.
She was leaving the only father she had ever known, the guiding force she had so cherished. She knew she owed him her life, for without him she would have surely died on the streets.
More than gratitude, she did truly love him.
"I'm going to miss you." She whimpered.
"And I will miss you, my sparrow." He said. Satine lifted her head and looked at him with a tear-streaked face. Harold wiped a tear away. "Don't you cry, now. Smile for me." Satine sniffled and obediently favored him with a smile. "That's my girl. You be a good girl." Satine nodded, and hugged him again. "Ah, ch‚rie, this isn't good-bye forever. Soon, I'll see you again and we'll laugh over this whole little drama you're creating."
"Yes. We'll laugh." Satine repeated. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. She drew away from him. "Goodbye." she said, the words sounding hollow and foreign in her mouth.
"Goodbye." Harold walked out the room, never looking back. He did not want to see his darling leave.
Satine watched him leave and bit her lip to keep herself from crying. She felt Marie's soft, cool hand take her elbow.
"You're goin' ta catch a chill standin' there in nothin' but y'underthings. Here's your dress."
Marie pulled off the coat and put it on top of the suitcase she had been packing. She took the blue wool Harold had suggested and held it out.
Satine stepped into the dress and pulled it up. She slid her arms into the sleeves, and felt Marie start buttoning it up.
She looked towards her suitcase, which was now a carpetbag and a suitcase. She heard Marie growl behind her. "You should be takin' a trunk, with you goin' away an' all. Takin' but the bare essentials."
"I'll be fine, Marie." Satine said a lot more calmly than she felt.
Marie finished with the buttons and moved to admire Satine in the dress.
"Blue looks so lovely on you." She said appreciatingly, smoothing the skirt down. As quickly as she smiled, she frowned. "Your hair is a mess."
Satine rolled her eyes. "I have no time for my hair, Marie. I have to go." She whined.
"You're not leaving here with your hair like that." Marie said obstinately.
Satine made a face. "Marie."
"Sit." She ordered.
Sighing, Satine sat down in her vanity chair. Marie untangled the clip that had once held up her hair and began to gently run the brush through it.
"You're going to be fine, girl. Don't you start getting doubts."
Satine shook her head. "I'm not. This is right, Marie. I know it is."
"You keep thinking that, girl. No matter what happens."
Satine looked at the mirror to see Marie, who was pulling her hair halfway up with a silver clip. "I will."
Marie finished, and hurried to Satine's closet. "The ermine will go well with that ... or the mink ... the rabbit, maybe?" she turned to look at her. "While I'm looking, wash your face. Your make-up's everywhere."
Satine dutifully took a washcloth and wet it, then moved it over her face. She took a towel and dried it off, then went back to where Marie was in the closet.
She put a hand on Marie's arm. "Thank you, Marie. For everything."
"Ah, lovey. No matter. Here, put this on." She handed her an ermine stole. "It's cold out, and this will keep you warm."
Satine allowed Marie to put it around her shoulders.
"And your kid gloves- in the drawer-" Marie whirled away to find them.
"Marie-"
"Here they are, hold out your hands. Good girl." Satine slid into the gloves.
"Marie, I must go."
Marie gave her the look. "Not without a hat. "
"Marie." Satine pleaded. "He's waiting."
Marie stopped and looked at the girl that had been in her care for years. "I know, dearie."
Satine put her arms around Marie. "I'll miss you, Marie."
"Don't you dare cry! Your eyes will get all red." Marie patted her back. "I'll miss you too, lovey."
Satine took a deep breath and looked around. Her eyes stopped on her little bird.
"Oh- Libby!" she cried. She ran to the cage. "Goodbye, my darling- Maman's going away now. Grandm‚re will take of you." Satine turned to Marie. "You will watch Liberty for me, won't you?"
Marie nodded. "Yes." She went to the door, and looked in both directions before carefully hissing: "Chocolat!"
Immediately, the big man appeared. Marie jerked her head to indicate for him to come.
He cleared the hallway in a few short strides, entering the room. He picked up the suitcase and the carpetbag.
"Go now. It's almost dawn. If you hurry, you can make the first train." Marie instructed.
Satine grabbed Christian's coat, then reached out her arms and took another quick hug before leaving. "Good-bye, Marie."
"Good-bye yourself! Go on, now! Scoot!"
Satine looked around before stealing down the hall with Chocolat.
Marie watched her leave, and sighing, retreated back into Satine's boudoir.
Harold was waiting.
Marie turned and gasped, a hand thrown to her heart. "Lord almighty, Harold! You'll give one a heartattack with your sneaking around."
"She's gone?"
Marie nodded. "She just left."
Harold nodded slowly. "It's for the best."
"We didn't tell her." Marie accused.
"It can't be helped now."
"What will we say in the morning?" she asked.
Harold smiled. "That Mademoiselle Satine is feeling sick and is sleeping in, and when we go to check her- say around noon- we'll find her gone."
Marie nodded again. "I'm happy for her."
Harold put a hand on her shoulder. "I am too, Marie. I am too."
~*~
As Satine and Chocolat crept through the darkened streets of Montmartre, she felt the cold grip of fear. What if the Duke does catch up with us? What if we are making a big mistake?
Chocolat was fast, and Satine was riding on the wings of urgency and love, and together they made it to Christian's building in record time.
Satine went up the stairs slowly. What if I'm was wrong? Am I stupid for putting both me and Christian in danger for a whim?
Just before she turned and ran back down the stairs and to the Moulin Rouge, Chocolat had knocked and the door was thrown open by an anxious Christian.
At the sight of his worried face, all of Satine's doubts melted. I've been gone for a half an hour and he's scared for me!
Into his arms she flew, all her worries disappearing as he swept her up in his embrace.
This is right.
Christian kissed her, then pulled away and looked her over. "Are you alright?" he asked nervously.
Satine nodded ecstatically. "I'm fine, Christian."
Chocolat put the suitcase and carpetbag down with more noise and movement then necessary to make sure they remembered that he was there.
Christian looked towards Chocolat, keeping his arm around Satine protectively.
Words failed Christian as he looked at Chocolat. "Thank you." He said simply. Reaching into his pocket, he handed him a mangled fold of bills.
Chocolat pushed it away, shaking his head. "No."
Christian pushed it at him again.
Chocolat shook his head again. "No."
Defeated, Christian looked at Satine for help.
Satine took the bills and handed them to Chocolat. "Take them, Chocolat. Please."
Chocolat touched a hand to his chest. "It was my pleasure, Mademoiselle Satine."
Satine's face softened. "Oh, Chocolat," she said quietly. She stood on tiptoe and pecked him on his cheek.
Chocolat smiled. "Behave, Mademoiselle."
Then, almost as if he had never been there, he was gone.
Satine dropped her wrap, and his coat, on the foot of the bed. She handed him back the money. She gave him a glance that seemed to say: 'What now?'
He returned the glance.
"I made it." She said slowly. Christian nodded.
Satine giggled happily. "I made it! I'm free!" She threw her arms around Christian's neck and kissed him happily.
Christian smiled at her joy. His own suitcase was small compared to her oversized one, this he noticed as he almost tripped over them.
"The first train to Calais is at dawn." He informed her.
She nodded. "So that gives us, what, forty-five minutes."
"Well, more or less thirty so we can buy tickets and get our luggage stored-" he was silenced by a gloved finger to his lips.
"Don't worry so much." She whispered, leaning in for a kiss.
He pulled back. "I don't worry too much," he said obstinately. Satine looked at him, an amused expression on her face, as if she was waiting for him to come to his senses. "Alright, maybe I worry a little."
He put a hand on her shoulder to pull her close. She flinched.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing." She replied carelessly, biting her lip.
"What happened there?" Christian asked more forcefully.
Satine slid out of his grasp with practiced ease. "Nothing happened, Christian."
He stared at her for a minute. Satine felt a prickle of guilt as she turned her back to him and sat down on his bed. She instantly became enthralled with his coverlet and started tracing the pattern.
Christian watched her for a moment before moving closer and sitting behind her. He kissed where he had hurt her gently.
"Why won't you let me in, Satine?" he breathed.
She turned to him, a puzzled look on her face. "Whatever are you talking about?"
"Something happened to you there," he indicated to her shoulder. "Yet you won't tell me what. You claim to love me, but you shut me out."
"That's not fair, Christian." Satine said, bristling. "You know I love you."
"And you know I love you. Why won't you talk to me?"
Satine got up, sighing, and walked to the window.
"I won't tell you because I love you."
Christian was right behind her. "What happened there, Satine? What happened earlier tonight?"
Satine turned around and looked deep into his eyes. "He ... he hurt me." Her voice had dropped down so that he could hardly hear it.
Christian's eyes narrowed and his breath was drawn in through his teeth, making it sound like a hiss. "How?"
Satine had already returned to her view of Montmartre. "How did he hurt you?"
Satine shrugged noncommittally. "I shouldn't have said anything." She muttered, berating herself.
"No!" Christian jumped at the chance to make her see. "You should. You should tell me these things, Satine." He cupped her face with his hands. His hands were warm, and her cheeks were still cold from the night air. "No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise." He swallowed. "I'll die first."
Satine looked at him carefully. His eyes were so truthful, so earnest. She put her hands on his neck and looked at him with tears in her eyes.
"No one has ever told me that." She shook her head. "No one has ever valued my life above their own."
"I do," he vowed. "And I always will."
Satine looked down in one last desperate attempt to shield Christian from the truth.
"He tried to rape me." She whispered.
"What?" Christian asked in horror.
"He-"
"No, I heard you, darling, I just don't believe it." He narrowed his eyes and put a protective hand on Satine's waist. "I will kill him." He swore.
"He didn't. Chocolat got there and-and punched him."
Christian pulled her closer. "Oh, my poor darling. My poor baby." He looked her over carefully, running his finger over her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her lips to make sure she was all in one piece.
Satine closed her eyes. "I couldn't pretend anymore."
"And never again. You'll never have to again, darling. Over my dead body."
Satine shuddered. "Don't even say that."
Christian was quiet for a moment. He walked to the window, then back again to the bed. "So, where should we go?"
Satine looked at his inquisitively. "Calais...?"
"That's it?" he asked as though he had just been told the moon was indeed made of green cheese. "You can go anywhere in the world and you want to go to Calais?"
Satine raised a delicate eyebrow. "And where do you suggest?"
"Anywhere we can get a ship from Calais to."
"That's a help. Thank you ever so much."
Christian sat at his writing table. Satine tilted her head, apparently deep in thought.
"What about London?" she said after a few minutes.
"London?" Christian squeaked.
"London." She affirmed. She looked at him, her eyes shining. "I've never been there, but I've always wanted to." She looked at Christian. "You don't like it there?"
He shrugged. "I- I don't mind." So what if my family lives there. Makes no difference. London is a big city. I'll never see them. And if it will make her happy, I'll do it.
"-Christian?" she said in a tone that made him realize a few other 'Christian's had been said before that point. He snapped his head up. "Are you sure you don't mind? Because we can go somewhere else."
He nodded. "It's fine, dearest."
She promptly released a radiant smile, one that made Christian fall in love with her all the more.
He would have been happy to gaze at her face for a while longer, but Satine let the smile slide and asked: "What time is it?"
As she asked, she noticed that his desk was strangely bare. She studied it, and realized it looked odd because it was bereft of his typewriter. She looked at their pile of luggage to see if there was a typewriter case anywhere.
There wasn't.
Christian looked at his pocket watch- one of the few things his father had ever given him that had meant something to him. This watch had been his Great-grandfather's, crafted for him especially, passed on to his Grandfather, then to his Father, and on his last birthday before he had left, his father had given it to him.
"Time to go." He said.
Satine reached and got her stole, and put it around her shoulders. Christian put on his coat. He picked up his suitcase, shoved her carpet bag under the same arm, and then picked up her suitcase. He staggered to the door. "Coming?"
Satine stood there, silently shaking with mirth. "I can take something, you know." She said, following him.
"No, I've got it."
Satine shrugged. "Have it your way."
Going down the stairs, he groaned. "What do you have in here? Rocks?" Thinking on his choice of words, he shook his head. "Don't answer that."
Satine giggled. "Marie was upset that I wasn't bringing a trunk."
"A trunk?" he moaned.
"No trunk." She replied. "Don't worry."
They started down the cold, predawn streets of Montmartre. Satine shivered.
"Have you ever noticed it's always coldest before sunrise?" she asked, pulling her wrap closer.
Christian nodded. "One of nature's oddities. Then the sun rises and the cold melts away. It's like the calm before the storm, backwards."
Satine quirked an eyebrow. "You're trying to confuse me, aren't you?"
He turned and gave her his devastatingly handsome smile. "How'm I doing?"
She swat at him with her hand. He laughed at her miss.
"You're wretched." She pouted.
"I can be much, much worse, sweetheart."
She rolled her eyes. "Hooray."
They walked a few minutes in silence, and then, just as Christian was sure his arms were going to fall off, he saw the Station.
"Thank the Lord," he muttered under his breath. To Satine, "There it is."
Satine felt the all-too-familiar tightness in her chest. She took a few deep breaths- or, at least attempted to- and swallowed hard. She placed a smile on her face and nodded. Christian smiled back, and turned around to continue walking towards their destination.
Satine allowed herself a small cough. This is silly, she told herself firmly. You're just catching a little cold. STOP IT.
Christian, ever the attentive, turned at the noise.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
She shook her head, smiling a real smile at his concern. "It's nothing, darling." He turned back; the Station was just across the street. "It's nothing." She told herself.
She followed Christian, who walked right up to the desk. "Two first class tickets to Calais, and onwards to London." He said proudly.
While the man behind the desk gave everything to him, Satine looked at him skeptically. Where on earth had he gotten the money for all this?
Again, she scanned their luggage for any sign of his beloved typewriter. She had a sinking feeling that she knew where it was, and that she knew where he had gotten the money.
Before she had enough time to ponder over how she was going to bring this up, he had turned to her happily, smiled, called a porter over, tagged their luggage, took her hand, and lead her to the train. He handed the man at the door their tickets, slipped him something, and was allowed to board.
"What was that?" she hissed as their searched for their berth.
"A little something to let us on so that we didn't freeze waiting to be let on. Aha, here it is." He opened the door and there it was: a small little room with a row of red-velvet seats along either wall, a nice big window, and a heavy curtain which had been pulled back. The window was letting in some milky light.
Christian cast a sideways glance to Satine, eager for her approval. As if she had heard his unspoken plea, she smiled. "This is grand." She said, flouncing down onto one of the seats. She bounced up and down a few times, giggling as if she were a little girl. "And the seats are springy!"
Christian shook his head and laughed at her. He went and sat next to her.
"Are you happy?" he asked her seriously.
She looked at him solemnly, cocking her head as she pondered over her answer.
"I thought I was happy before." She bit her lip. "But now I know what real happiness is." Taking some more time, she nodded and grasped his hand. "Yes. Yes, I'm happy." She wrapped her free arm around him and held him tight. "I'm happy. You make me happy." She closed her eyes in bliss, pressing her cheek to his. "I love you." She whispered.
Christian inhaled deeply, embracing her tighter. "I love you more." He said.
She pulled away, an impish grin on her face. "Not possible."
"Stranger things have happened." He said mysteriously.
Satine yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Tired?" asked Christian.
"Exhausted." She concurred.
"Well then, you just lie down and go to sleep."
Satine nodded, and yawned again. She leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder and his back against his chest, and shut her eyes. Christian slid his arm around her waist, and she held onto his arm as if he were a stuffed animal to sleep with. Nuzzling her face into arm, she was instantly asleep.
Christian chuckled. Poor darling was exhausted, and he had her up and traipsing about in the middle of the night.
He ran a finger over the roundness of her cheek, rosy as a child's and smooth as silk. She was quite the beauty. It had not all been a marketing device on Zidler's part.
He pondered over his luck. It seemed just a little while ago that he had left London to Paris, and come to his little flat. He had known Satine for precious little time.
But I feel like I've known her forever, he thought. How clich‚ is that?
To think that the stunningly gorgeous, remarkably talented and totally unreachable Satine was here, running away with him because she loved him.
She really did.
And he loved her, with all his heart and soul. And by God, they would have to kill him first before he let them do anything to her, or try to take her away.
"No one will ever hurt you, love." He whispered, fingering her silver clip. "I promise."
As if she had heard his words, she snuggled in closer, sighing sleepily.
Sighing himself and feeling quite content, Christian leaned back into the red velvet seats. They had made a clean getaway, and he wouldn't have to worry until at least tomorrow evening. Everything was going to be alright.
*~*
Christian woke up a little while later to hear a slight knocking at his door and the strange, irregular motion of a train moving. He yawned. "Come in!" he called.
An official-looking man walked in. "Tickets, s'il vous plait." Christian rubbed his eyes and slowly moved out from under Satine, lowering her to the seat. She groaned and rolled over so that she faced the wall.
Christian reached into his coat pocket and gave the tickets to him.
He read them over, marked something on them, nodded, and handed them back to Christian. "Bon journ‚e, Monsieur. Et Madame." He added, when he saw Satine sitting up, bewildered.
The official left and Christian closed the door. Satine stretched her arms above her head, a habit she had after sleeping when she was well-rested, Christian had noticed, and yawned, her gloves still on. A hand reached up and patted her hair absent-mindedly.
"Good morning." Christian said. Satine nodded.
"Good morning." She stretched again. "What time is it?"
Christian flipped out his watch. "Quarter after nine," he announced.
Satine nodded again. She smiled, looking embarrassed. "I hate to say this, but..." she trailed off.
"Yes?" Christian prompted. Years of keeping her thoughts hidden has done this girl no good, he thought.
"I'm famished." She finished.
"Is that all?" Christian asked. Satine nodded. "Well then," he said, holding out his hand. "Let's feed you!"
The sojourned through the many cars of the train, in vain attempt to find the dining car. At half past nine, they were still searching.
"Does this train ever end?" asked Satine, slightly out of breath.
"Oh, come now. It's an adventure!"
Satine sniffed. "Adventure my foot, Christian. This is ridiculous, and I'm starving." As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.
At that moment, another official-looking man appeared, and Christian called him over. "Excuse me," he asked. "Where would the dining car be?"
The man looked over both Christian and Satine, taking in his threadbare clothes and Satine's fine dress, taking special notice of her curves. Satine fidgeted under his glance.
The man pointed in the direction from where they had came. "Five cars down that way." He said.
Satine poked Christian in the ribs. "See? I told you."
"You did no such thing." Christian retorted. Satine replied by sticking her tongue out at him, when Christian tried, he failed miserably because he was laughing too hard.
The man looked at them skeptically. "I assume you're traveling first class, Madame?" he asked.
Satine put on a serious face, drawing herself to her full height, which was quite impressive. "Would a lady of my breeding travel anything but?"
"And the gentleman?"
Christian bit his lip to contain his laughter. Satine looked down her nose at the man, looking the very image of a stern and haughty lady of culture. "You mean my husband? But of course. You, on the other hand, should learn your place. Recognize and not question your passengers." Satine switched to sarcastic sweetness. "Thank you ever so much for your help."
She took Christian's hand and turned around, starting to walk through the cars in search of food.
She didn't stop until she had reached the dining car, where she slid into a chair with the grace of a princess.
Christian sat down in front of her, looking at her wide-eyed.
Satine ignored her, hungrily scanning the menu. When the waiter arrived, she wasted no time in ordering herself some tea, French toast, and bacon. She looked at Christian. "What do you want, darling?"
Christian ordered a coffee, and continued to look at Satine soulfully.
"What?" she asked. "Did I grow a second head or something?"
"You called me your husband." He said quietly.
She nodded. "Rolled off the tongue rather nicely, didn't you think?"
"Did you mean it?"
Satine looked at Christian, and she was dimly aware that she probably had the same love-struck face that he had on her own face. She nodded.
"I mean, I know it was forward of me..."
He took her hand across the table. "Oh, darling, no. No." he cast a furtive glance around the near empty car, before getting down on one knee next to Satine's chair. "Will you marry me?"
Satine's face broke out into a beam, and she giggled with delight. She threw her arms around him, winding up on the floor most ungracefully. "What kind of a question is that?" she said whilst she embraced him.
"Is that a yes?"
"Oh, of course it is, you silly thing!"
Awkwardly, they both climbed back up to their chairs, casting furtive glances around to see who had seen it. There was young woman with a nanny, a baby and a two small children, a boy and a girl, both which were playing hide and go seek. Both were lovely, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. The baby was quiet and cooed and gurgled often and loud enough to reach Christian and Satine.
At the sight, Satine became transfixed. "Oh, look." She whispered reverently. She looked at the children esuriently, as if drinking in the sight of them. She took note of the little boy's pants and little button-down starched shirt and shoes. ("Just like a little grown-up." Satine had exclaimed) The little girl had on a pink dress with little pantaloons that peeped out from under the dress, with charming little shoes and white stockings. The nanny that chased them wore a stiff dark blue dress and an apron, her hair piled up on her head. Satine frowned at her.
As if in a trance, Satine stood up and started towards them. Christian turned in his chair, but knew not to follow her. This was something she would do alone.
Satine crept to the woman quietly, her eyes stuck on the baby. It had on a little white batiste gown with pink ribbons laced through it, and fine Irish lace on the cuffs and collar.
The woman turned. She was quite lovely, with golden hair like the children and emerald-colored eyes, and wearing a fashionable green muslin dress. She smiled weakly at Satine.
"Good morning." She said good-naturedly.
"Good morning." Whispered Satine. "I know this is rather forward of me, but- may I hold her?"
The woman looked somewhat startled, and looked down at the baby, who gurgled and waved a tiny fist around. She looked back up Satine, preparing to act indignant, call for the nanny and her children, and leave.
But something about the woman's eyes touched her. She honestly had no other motive but to hold the baby. Her face softened, and she nodded, holding the baby out.
Satine took the baby in her arms and drew her close, smiling and waving a finger in front of her face. As she rocked and hummed happily, she looked up at the mother. "What's her name?"
"Ella Catherine." The mother announced proudly.
"Ella." Satine cooed. "Elllllllllllllllla. What a beautiful name, for such a beautiful little girl, yes it is! Oh, aren't you the most precious thing ever." She looked up at the mother. "How old is she?"
"Six months."
Satine smiled. "A summer baby, just like me..." She looked back towards Christian, who was smiling. She grinned back. He turned back and opened a paper he had bought.
The woman craned her neck to see who she had looked at.
"Who's that?" she asked.
Satine smiled. "My husband." She said. Just a small lie, she consoled herself. It's almost true.
The waiter came and began to set down food at the table. Satine handed the Ella back to her mother.
"Oh, thank you so much."
The woman smiled warmly. "Think nothing of it, dear. What a pity you have no children of your own. You're wonderful with them." Looking towards her children, she called for them. "Timothy! Lottie! Come eat your breakfast!"
The children scrambled to the table, the nanny not far behind. The boy- Timothy- looked up at Satine and smiled. She smiled back, and turned to walk back to her own table.
She slid back into her seat and sighed. Christian put his newspaper down.
"Have fun?" he asked, without sarcasm.
"Christian, how do you feel about ... children?" Satine asked uncertainly.
Christian looked at her and laughed softly. "Are you worried about that, sweet?" he smiled at her concerned expression. "I love children, Satine."
Satine let her shoulders relaxed, and the sun came out again. "Good. I'm glad. So do I."
The waiter arrived with their food, which Satine scarfed down. Christian watched her with amusement as he sipped his coffee.
"What? I told you I was hungry." she said innocently.
"You forgot to mention that you might gobble me up if I didn't feed you."
Satine shook her head. "You're horrible, Christian. Downright terrible."
Christian looked down at her hand, which was resting on the table. He smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you." He said.
She shrugged. "The ring doesn't matter, Christian. I don't need one."
"Yes, you do." He looked at her forcefully, then gripped her hand. "You need a ring."
Satine looked at him strangely. What was the great and grand importance of a ring?
She looked into his eyes and found her answer. The ring wasn't for her sake, but for his. He felt he needed to give her a token of their love for it to be real.
She squeezed his hand back. "Alright. I need a ring. I demand a ring. Give me a ring, Christian."
He chuckled. "Spoiled."
She shrugged again. "Can't help it."
"Bratty."
Satine looked mock-shocked. "Now that was uncalled for."
Across the dining room, the mother got up. She took Timothy's hand with her free one and started to leave. When she got to the doorway, she turned to see the young woman and her husband joking around. They seemed to be squabbling, but then the man laughed and took her hand, kissing her palm.
The mother smiled and continued on her way. Young people in love were the best kind.
~*~
"Next stop, Calais. Prochain ville, Calais. Next stop, Calais!" The Conductor walked around announcing.
Satine looked up from the paper she had been reading of Christian's. Christian was asleep, his head in her lap.
She gently shook his shoulder. "Darling... darling, time to wake up."
Christian groaned and moved his shoulders away. Satine leaned down closer to him. "Rise n' shine." she whispered.
Christian opened his eyes. "You have bacon breath." he said.
She pulled away. "We're in Calais." she announced, just as the Conductor came back their way. "Prochain ville, Calais! Next stop, Calais."
Christian nodded. "So I heard."
Twenty minutes later, the train pulled up at the station in Calais. Christian stood up too fast, and was thrown into the opposite wall as the train shuddered to a stop.
Satine suppressed a giggle.
They got off the train, and waited in the cool sea breeze that coastal Calais offered for their luggage. When the two suitcases and carpet bag appeared, a porter graciously surfaced and offered to find them a cab. With a sigh, Christian nodded.
Satine became suspicious yet again. As she was ushered into the horse-drawn cab, she looked at Christian, who was paying the porter. The wad of bills he had was slimmer, but still impressively thick. Where had it all come from?
Christian got into the cab and told the driver to take them to the docks. They started forwards. Christian leaned back in his seat, and grinned lazily at Satine.
She, on the other hand, sat erect and glared at him.
"What?" he asked. "What did I do?"
"Christian, where did you get all this money?" she asked without shame.
Christian looked down at his hands. "You shouldn't worry about such things, dearest."
She took his chin in her hand, forcing her to look at her. "Tell me." she demanded.
"I sold the typewriter." he said hollowly, without emotion.
Satine closed her eyes and allowed herself to absorb the impact. Christian loved his typewriter. Taking it away from him would be like taking music away from her. Was he crazy?
"Are you crazy?" she inquired politely.
He shrugged noncommittally. "We needed the money more."
Satine leaned back, dizzy. "You better go un-sell it, Christian. That typewriter was- is- your life."
Christian shook her urgently. "No, my love. No. You're my life. And you mean more to me than anything else in the world."
Satine looked at him, tears stinging her eyes. She still wasn't able to comprehend that he loved her enough to do anything for her- even die for her.
She looked out the window. They were at the docks. "Oh, look!" she exclaimed, pointing out the window at all the boats.
Christian smiled at her na‹vet‚. "I see." he said placatingly.
The cab came to a halt, and they climbed out. While Christian paid the driver and went to get their bags, Satine looked at her surroundings with wide eyes.
"Christian, look at the big ships!" she cried, pointing. Christian's face broke out into a grin. When she was like this, there was not a trace of the `Sparkling Diamond'. No, this was entirely herself.
The cab drove away, and Christian pulled out their tickets. "Alright, darling, we need to find the `Morning Glory'."
Satine wrinkled her nose. "We're sailing on a ship called the `Morning Glory'?"
Christian nodded.
"Ew." she said simply.
"Snob." Christian laughed, taking her hand.
He walked up to a deckman, and asked him where they could find the boat. The man, who smelled strongly of fish and was smiling way more than was necessary at Satine, pointed to where a tiny little boat was anchored.
It was tiny as tiny as it appeared, Christian noticed, once you got close. When you were by all those huge ships, it seemed tiny in comparison, but it was really a nice sized little boat.
Christian got their luggage sorted out with the porter, slipped him a few francs, then turned to Satine.
"We should board," he announced. "The boat leaves in an hour."
Satine nodded and allowed Christian to lead her to the bridge.
Because it was a small passenger boat, it would go incredibly slowly, allowing them time to spend the night on the boat and arrive in London the next morning.
Satine boarded the ship, taking everything in with wide eyes. The settings were nothing new- opulent carpets, wallpaper so lovely it bordered on real art, shining wood floors- but the whole experience was.
Christian had been taking voyages on ships for most of his life. The only joy he took in it was the joy Satine derived.
A porter led them to their room, their luggage in tow.
The room was good-sized, with light and dark blue wall paper and a light blue coverlet on the bed, dark cherry wood furniture and a window.
Satine crossed straight to the window, opening it and sticking her head out. She inhaled the salty air, taking in as much as she could. Her lungs contracted painfully as she did so, and she coughed, silently willing herself to stop. She coughed again, and took a slow breath. Her lungs loosened, and her breathing became normal again.
She felt Christian's fingers on her shoulders, pulling her back. He had just barely missed her little `episode'. She stepped away from the window.
"What are you trying to do, push your fianc‚e out?" she teased.
He grinned good-naturedly. "But of course. I thought you might enjoy a little swim with the fishies."
She rolled her eyes. "More than anything."
"It's freezing out there." Christian said, returning to seriousness.
She shook her head. "No, it's not. It's chilly."
"Satine, there's snow on the dock. There's snow everywhere. It's cold."
"Baby." she taunted.
Christian shook his head at her, moving over to his suitcase. He slung it up onto the bed and flicked it open. Picking up a pile of two shirts, he went to a draw. He opened it and dropped them in. He went back to the suitcase, took out a few pairs of pants, and put them in the drawer.
Satine watched him with curiosity. All of his clothes fit into one drawer, with space left.
He looked up at her and smiled weakly. "I'm a light packer."
"I'm not."
"I noticed." he said with a grimace. "I lugged them around all morning."
He pushed the drawer in. "I'm done."
Satine smiled. "Good. That leaves one-two-three-four-five drawers for me. And the closet." she sighed. "I hope it will be enough."
Christian shook his head again, and sat down on the bed, swinging his legs up and reclining back.
Satine wagged a finger at her. "Uh-uh. My side of the bed."
"No way." he said. "Mine."
She smirked. "Then I guess we'll have to share."
He rolled her eyes. "Great."
Satine moved over to her suitcase, putting it up on the bed and opening it carefully. She slowly pulled out a lilac dress that fell limply over her arm as she crossed to the closet and put it in. Another trip back to the suitcase; this time a green velvet was extracted.
Christian watched with mild interest. It was quite interesting how many dresses Satine had fit into that suitcase.
Just when Christian was sure the suitcase had to be empty and the closet was full, Satine pulled out a gray woolen skirt which she placed in a drawer, along with a plenitude of multi-colored blouses. A long woolen winter coat came out next, followed by another one in a different color. A few scarves, two shawls. She finally shut the suitcase and placed it under the bed.
Christian cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up expectantly.
"We're staying here one night."
She continued to look at him as if to say, go on.
"So?"
"You're just going to have to pack it up tomorrow."
She sighed. Men had no comprehension of how to take care of clothes. "They'll air out tonight, Christian."
He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "They're been packed for a couple of hours."
She sighed. "Forget it, Christian."
She then picked up the carpet bag. First out: a white silk, barely-there nightgown. A sheer white overthrow. A white kimono with red flowers. Then an odd one, a cotton nightgown with respectable sleeves and neckline, bordered with lace and tied with a white satin ribbon. Neglig‚e. Satins and silks of all different colors, with lace or feathers or fur.
Satine was blushing furiously. "What was Marie thinking?" she asked aloud. "I didn't pack it." she explained quickly. Christian shrugged.
Some slips came out, and a few corsets, all embroidered. A few pairs of gloves, some pairs of silk stockings, some sheer stockings ("Shockings." as Christian named them), some garters. Some pretty handkerchiefs, all adorned with lace or little flowers. One had a little red windmill.
Then came the shoes. Christian again was shocked as to how many things this woman had managed to bring along with her for having but a moment's notice.
"Are there bottoms to those bags or are they just never-ending?"
Most of them were black, all different styles, ("You can never have too many pairs of black shoes.") some were white, a pair of green heels, a pair of fine leather boots, some red, some blue. Dark gray and light gray. And then there were the bedroom slippers- black with marabou feathers and white with marabou and a glittering paste buckle, each with heels five inches high.
"Is that it?" Christian asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes," Satine said forlornly. "That's it."
"That's incredible." he breathed.
"And you're delightfully ignorant in the ways of women." She said, sitting down next to him and kissing him. "Which is good. I'd be jealous if you were."
She stood up again, going back to the carpet bag. "No more!" Christian protested weakly.
"Just jewelry and my toiletries. Perfume and the like."
Christian nodded. "So you're done now."
Satine nodded. "If only I didn't have to repack it in the morning. I don't know how." She flashed a brilliant smile. "I'll worry about it tomorrow."
There was noise outside the door now, they could hear people walking around. Some people were calling to one another in the halls.
"Bitsy! Bitsy, how nice to see you again." one woman shouted.
Satine smiled conspiratorially at Christian, sitting down next to him and holding a finger up to her lips. "Shhh."
Bitsy replied: "Oh, Martha! How have you been, dear? It's been far too long."
"Grand, Bitsy. And how are you and Charles?"
"We're fine." Bitsy responded. "And you and Ferguson?"
Martha chuckled. "Fergie and I just came back from Greece. All those rocks interest him, but I met up with Laura and James Moriaty. Laura hated it there too."
"You poor dear." Bitsy sympathized. "Come, my room's down this way."
Bitsy must have led Martha away, for the chatter stopped.
Satine smiled at Christian like a schoolgirl caught whispering. "That was wicked of us."
"We couldn't help but overhear, darling." Christian pointed out.
"That's my horrid habit," Satine confessed. "I'm an atrocious person who can eavesdrop better than any one person should be able to."
Christian patted her hand. "That's okay. We all have our faults."
A horrible noise sounded, making Satine jump and cover her ears and Christian wince. "What is that?" Satine asked.
"The ship's claxon. That means the ship's leaving." He grinned. "You don't want to miss this."
Satine was anxious to get up on deck and totally forgot about her wrap. Had it not been for practical Christian with his anti-cold ways, she would have frozen up there.
But he had brought it for her, and put it around her shoulders. Men were throwing ropes to the men on the docks, and the claxon sounded again as they started to pull away.
"We're moving!" Satine exclaimed, delighted.
"Now's when you say goodbye." He instructed.
"But we don't know anyone." She protested.
"Doesn't matter. You wave anyway."
She obediently waved to the people on the dock. "Goodbye! Goodbye!"
Everyone on the `Morning Glory' was- waving goodbye to strangers and friends alike.
When they got out of the harbor and into the channel, a strong wind blew up. Satine shivered, and coughed. Christian was instantly concerned. "Are you alright?"
Satine shook her head and smiled. "I'm fine. We should go and change for dinner. See?" she pointed to a little man standing by the door, preparing the blow a bugle.
Christian nodded and followed her back down to their room.
~*~
Satine finished piling her hair on her head, and studied the effect. Her dark blue satin contrasted dramatically with her skin tone. The single sapphire pendant settled perfectly between her collar bones, just the right length for the neckline. The sleeves draped over her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. She turned, admiring the bustle on the back. This was a beautiful dress. She also noticed the small bruise she had on her right shoulder. She swabbed some face powder over it, hoping it would make it disappear. True to it's advertisement, it did.
She dabbed some more perfume on, and slid on a sapphire ring on her ring finger. She studied it, feeling a bit guilty. They were lying, saying that they were married.
What's with the sudden development of a conscience, Satine? She asked herself.
It wasn't much of a stretch, saying they were married. After all, they were engaged.
Engaged.
As in, going to be married. Betrothed. Promised.
Engaged.
She giggled at her reflection. She, Satine, was going to be married to who she was certain was the most wonderful man on earth.
24 hours ago she had been rehearsing for a play, and smoothing over the mess Christian had made from his outburst with the Duke. She had been getting ready for her supper with the Duke.
Satine shuddered, and willed herself to forget. She never wanted to think of that night ever again.
She put on a pair of sapphire earrings. She looked in the mirror, smiling coquettishly. "You look mahvelous, dahlink." She bit back her laughter at her own foolishness.
And then, all of the sudden, she felt the horrible tightening in her chest. She gripped at the handkerchief she had lying on the dresser top. She pushed it to her mouth, hoping to stifle the sound.
Christian had left her to her own devices after she had said she needed to get dressed for supper. He had disappeared up on deck. She had supposed that he, like herself, was reflecting on how different their lives were now.
She gagged into her handkerchief. Coughing and wheezing in the most unladylike fashion. Tears welled up in her eyes. Wouldn't this cough ever go away?
~*~
Up on deck, Christian sighed. It was nippy outside, but he didn't even want to be in there while Satine got dressed. While he was comfortable wearing what he had worn before, she had made him change, and while he had been changing, she was rifling through her dresses, holding each one up and asking which one he liked. All of them, he had replied. To that she had rolled her eyes and muttered `Men!' with a huff.
He suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Satine needed him. NOW.
~*~
She thought back to what Marie did. She made her drink that bitter liquid in those tiny silver vials. Where were they now?
Back home. Where you belong.
She rifled through her jewelry bag, hoping that by some miracle there was something in there to stop this.
And there it was. Practical Marie, having foreseen her need, had slipped in a few.
Satine gratefully grasped the silver cruet and held it up, tilting her head and the bottle back. She swallowed the bitter fluid.
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. She coached herself for a minute. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
She looked down at the handkerchief in her hand. It was spotted with crimson. Satine grimaced. Where could she hide this?
Satine looked around. There was no where to wash it out, the blood would tint the water red. There was only one thing she could do.
Toss it out the porthole and into the sea.
She glanced at the needlework in the corner. It was the one of the tiny red windmill.
How ironic, she thought, that this would be the one I had to throw away.
Satine pranced over the porthole and put her arm out, daintily releasing the handkerchief. It fluttered a bit before being sprayed by sea foam, then it landed in the water.
Just as Satine had retracted her arm, the door flew open and a breathless Christian whirled in. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and took her forearms.
"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.
Satine nodded. "I'm fine." She replied, a bit breathless herself. She studied Christian's anxious face. How did he know I was sick just a few minutes ago?
Christian looked at her carefully. He could have sworn that something was wrong. What a load of nonsense. You're just paranoid. Get a hold of yourself, man!
Without warning, Christian pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. Satine relaxed into his embrace, sighing happily. She felt so safe in his arms, and she loved his concern. She nuzzled her face into the softness of his worn white shirt, inhaling deeply his scent- a mix of soap from his shirt, paper, and something that was just Christian. A fragrance that was all his own.
Christian held her closer, protecting her from unseen demons. He would never let anything ever hurt her again, he had sworn it to her. And to himself. They would harm her over his dead body. Literally.
She pulled away, looking up at him.
"I think we have to go."
He groaned. "Do we have to?"
Satine nodded affirmatively. "Yes. We must." She moved away entirely, pulling out a lacey shawl and throwing it over her shoulders.
Sighing, Christian followed Satine out the door.
~*~
The dining room was full of people of wealth, all a glitter with ruby necklaces and diamond cuff links. Whereas Christian felt uncomfortable, Satine was right at home amongst the wealthy. She mingled quite well. Christian tried to escape to deck several times, the pressure of Satine's fingers on his arm kept him there. And the pleading look in her eyes. If it makes her happy, who cares? He reasoned.
They were seated at a table with 10 other people. The captain sat at one end, the richest man on the ship at the other. The rest of the table were filled with industrialists and their wives; two pairs of Lords and Ladies; and a Russian Count and Countess.
Everyone simply adored Satine, who was bright and bubbly as one could hope. Forever the social butterfly, she was flawless at entertaining people whose names she didn't know and holding their interest with nothing but a short little laugh.
Christian, on the other hand, was not too thrilled to be sitting at a table full of the bourgeois people he had escaped from but a little while before. When spoke to, he was as polite and as civil as everyone expected him to be, but was silent otherwise.
An hour and a half later, the men rose from their chairs. "Time for a brandy, I'd say!" one man announced heartily. They all offered to escort their women back to their rooms, which most declined. Christian stood up as well, motioning to Satine that he wanted to go.
Satine smiled apologetically. "This has been a rather pleasant evening, ladies, but I am afraid that all this delightful conversation has made me a bit tired. Good night."
A chorus of goodnights were thrown her away, and Christian was finally free.
"That was the longest 90 minutes of my life."
"You're overreacting."
Their room was blissfully quiet after the chatter of the evening. Satine pulled off her shawl and smiled mischievously. "And what are we going to do for the rest of the evening?"
Christian grinned back at her. "Oh, I can think of some things to do."
"Anything interesting?" Satine teased.
Christian crossed the distance between them, taking her into his arms and pressing his forehead to hers. "Well, I have this notion that we love one another..."
"And?" Satine breathed.
The rest was whispered into her ear, and she giggled madly.
Yes, Christian had a good idea.
~*~
Christian opened his eyes and yawned. The porthole let in the sunlight. A clock on the nightstand said it was quarter to eleven.
Next to him, Satine started to move around. She rolled over, trying to escape the light. Christian grinned wickedly and started to tickle her ribs.
Satine was up very quickly. She yawned, causing Christian to do so once again. "Good morning." He said evenly.
"You're horrible."
He grinned. "I know." He pointed to the clock. "It's time to get up."
"I'm guessing you're a morning person." she moaned, arching her back and yawning again. She stretched her arms as she had the morning before.
He nodded. "Yeah."
She shook her head. "I'm not."
"I noticed."
She smirked. "I will rise, but I will not shine."
He pinched her cheek. "You always shine, darling."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You say that now." She got up and slid into her kimono, groaning. "I've got to pack this all up."
Christian smiled. "Told you not to unpack it all."
"Oh, hush up." She put a thoughtful finger to her lip. "When do we dock?"
"Noon."
Satine shrieked. "I've only got an hour and fifteen minutes to get ready and pack!"
~*~
An hour an ten minutes later, Satine proudly announced that she was packed and ready to go. There was a commotion in the hallway again. People were eager to set foot in England.
A porter came and took the luggage, and they got out to open air to cross the gangplank. The smile Satine had on was unremoveable. "I've never been to England." she told Christian excitedly.
"I know." he replied. He squeezed her hand. "You've told me five times already."
Satine made a face at him.
"Now, we've still got a short train ride to London, darling." he said. Satine's smiled faltered.
"We're still not there?" she asked, sounding a bit weary.
He shook his head. "Not yet, my love."
She sighed, putting her arms around his waist and leaning her head on her shoulder. "London is very far from Montmartre, isn't it?" she asked, slightly drowsily. Christian kissed her forehead. London wasn't very far, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Yes, darling. Very far."
She nodded. "Good."
The gangplank finally ended, and they were officially in England. The porter with the luggage magically reappeared, and Christian hailed cab.
Satine climbed up into the backseat. She could have leaned her head back and have been asleep in an instant, but she didn't for fear of wrinkling her white dress and coat. She did, however, remover her little white beret.
Christian climbed in next to her. He studied her. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked.
She forced a smile to her lips. She wouldn't tell him how tired she was, or the weight in her chest. She wouldn't mention how hard it was becoming for her to breathe, or how even walking tired her. No, he was worried enough already. He didn't need anything else to worry about.
"I'm fine."
No, she wouldn't tell him. It would all pass, and she would be fine once she went to sleep. After all, she thought with a smile, she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Yes, after a little cat nap, she'd be just fine.
The train station looked exactly like the one in Montmartre, causing Satine do a double take in shock. This is either a very good sign or a very bad sign, she thought.
They alighted from the cab. For once they wouldn't have to wait, the train was leaving in five minutes. They had barely enough to time to check their luggage and get into their berth before the train left.
Satine curled up on the seat. This berth looked exactly the same as the one from before, but instead of red velvet seats this one had blue velvet. Satine didn't care. She was tired, and she was going to sleep. Just a little rest, and I'll be fine.
Christian sat across from her. He had gotten another newspaper from heavens-knows-where and was now scanning it.
Yes, it was a long way to London. Enough time to catch forty winks. And when I wake up, this cough will be gone.
Doubts settled, Satine slipped into the land of Nod.
~*~
"Next stop, London. Next stop, London."
Christian looked up from his paper, which he had read cover to cover three times. London.
He looked out the window. Yup, there was London.
He knelt down by Satine, gently shaking her. "Satine." he said softly. "Darling, it's time to wake up."
She groaned. "I'm up."
"We're almost there."
Satine sat right up. "To London?"
Christian nodded. "Yes."
She sent forth a smile that put the sun to shame. "Finally." she complained good-naturedly.
Satine produced a small mirror and anxiously checked her appearance. "Do I look alright?"
Christian looked at her affectionately. "You look beautiful."
Satine snorted. "I look like a wreck."
"Never."
Christian once again got up too fast and was thrown into a wall; this time Satine didn't bother to hide her amusement and burst out laughing.
Christian dusted his coat off and smiled smarmily back at Satine.
That short burst of laughter had left her breathless, and a hand to her throat was visible proof. Christian was at her side instantly. "Satine? Darling? What's the matter?"
Satine cleared her throat and inhaled slowly. "I'm fine."
The panicky look didn't leave Christian's eyes. "Dearest, are you sure?"
Satine nodded, smiling. "I'm fine."
Christian said no more, but he was concerned none the less. He attributed the little spell to her being tired from traveling, and tried to give it no more thought.
At least he tried.
~*~
They got off the train with no further mishaps. Satine had vetoed the cab idea, saying she wanted to stretch her legs and walk around a bit. Christian protested, asking what they would do with their bags.
Satine tilted her head. "We'll find a hotel, and leave them there."
And since Christian was willing to do whatever Satine wanted, he gave in.
The first little inn they saw was quaint. The woman who owned it, Mrs. Phillips, seemed nice, it wasn't that busy, and it served breakfast, lunch and dinner. Satine seemed pleased with the room they were offered, and they decided to take it.
After putting their bags up in their room, Satine insisted again that she wanted to take a walk. Taking the scarf that Mrs. Phillips offered, Christian agreed. Satine, who seemed to be totally unaffected by the cold, pranced off down the street.
"Christian, your family still lives here, don't they?" she blurted out.
Christian stopped, looking startled. He slowly nodded.
"That's why you didn't want to come here." she deduced.
"I did too want to come here." he objected.
She looked at him.
"Don't lie. I know you came here because I wanted to."
Christian sighed. "Yes. My family lives around here. Very close in fact."
Satine sighed as well. "I'd like to meet them." Taking his arm, she snuggled into them. "What are they like?"
"My father is a narrow-minded business man who is set in his ways. He's certain that white is white, and that black is black, and refuses to believe in any sort of gray."
"What a lovely description."
Christian ignored her. "My mother is... docile. She blindly adores my father and believes anything he says. I think the first argument they've had since they were married was about my leaving and his disowning me.
"I have two brothers, Gregory and Thomas. Greg is two years younger than me and an underhanded sneak who is exactly like my father but twice as conniving. Thomas is only thirteen and isn't quite sure about anything yet. He's being influenced greatly by Greg.
"And then I have my little sister, Annette. She's... uh... not like my mother. Reckless. A lot like me, actually. She's sixteen, and quite pretty. We've been fending off suitors since she was twelve. Smart too. Very clever. My father thinks of her as nothing but a silly piece of fluff whose only job is to be virtuous and married off, and that really hurts her. My mother wanted her to be mild-mannered and meek like every lady she knows, so she's a great source of disappointment for her as well. We've always been one another's favorite, because I didn't tease her about not being lady-like and she didn't tease me for being more interesting in books than in business."
Satine watched Christian with wide eyes as he ripped off his recital. "I'm guessing you don't like your family very much."
Christian shook his head.
"Want to trade?"
Christian looked up at her, interested. If Satine was willing to share, he wasn't about to stop her.
"Tell me."
Satine smiled dryly and started to talk.
"My father was a brick-layer. He was English. He was the foreman, and we were very proud of him. He died when I was six when a scaffold fell on him. My mother was French. She was always very sick. But she was always very happy, even though times were really hard for her.
"I had three sisters, one older and two younger. Odette was three years older, Genevieve was two years younger, and Lizbette was the baby. She was four years younger than me.
"Odette was a great beauty. She was delicate and graceful. She was a dancer. She never walked, she glided, and never spoke, she trilled. She was very soft-spoken and gentle. She had the most beautiful golden hair, just like my father had. Golden hair and bright blue eyes.
"Genevieve was my partner in crime. If I was in any mischief, so was Jenny. She was pretty in a coarser way. She had red hair like me, and it was curly too, but her hair was much lighter, almost orange, and always out of control. Odette or Maman braided it every morning, and by noon her hair was coming out. She had freckles too. But she was so sweet.
"Lizbette was the baby, and was horribly spoiled. She was very frail, and was usually stuck in bed because Maman was afraid for her. She too hair blond hair, but hers was light, very light. She was beautiful child, and so darling.
"My mother died when I was twelve, leaving us all alone in the world. We were sent from our village, Marisse, to an orphanage in Paris.
"Odette disappeared one day. She came by to see me and Genevieve, and then went to see Lizbette, who was with the little ones. She told me that we should always stay together, and left. I never saw her again.
"When I was thirteen and Lizbette was 9, diphtheria came to the orphanage. Genevieve and I were spared, but Lizbette, being very delicate and weak, caught it and was dead before the week was over.
"When I was fourteen a well-dressed man walked into the office. He had a nicely tailored suit, and we all wondered who he was.
"A little while later, the owner of the orphanage's wife, Madame Benoit, came out and picked me and three other girls to come in."
Satine smiled ruefully. "I remember it all so clearly. The first one was Brigitte. She had the prettiest flaxen hair and emerald green eyes. She was but a tiny little thing, very small. Another one chosen was Antoinette, who had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was very smart. The last one was Estelle, who had midnight black hair and violet eyes. She was fierce and had a temper.
"Mme Benoit told us that this man was going to take us away from the orphanage, and that we would go to a nice place.
"The man's name was Harold Zidler."
Satine stopped uncertainly. "I said goodbye to Genevieve and we left the next morning. It was then I realized that this was probably where Odette had gone.
"But I never saw Odette. I saw my three friends- tiny Brigitte, smart Antoinette, impetuous Estelle- all fall victim to some horrid aspect of our new life.
"First we were nothing but costume girls, but it wasn't very long before we made the graduation to dancing girls.
"I was the only one who survived."
Satine swallowed, and looked at Christian with pain in her eyes. He squeezed her arm.
"I wrote to Genevieve a lot. I missed her horribly. She wrote back, nice long letters telling me what was going on and how she was.
"Then one day I got a letter from Mme Benoit. Genevieve had died in a typhoid outbreak."
Satine cuddled into Christian. "I was all alone. Odette was no where to be found, Lizbette was dead, Genevieve was dead, Maman was dead, Papa was dead. I had no one.
"I became very involved in my work. And I became very good at it.
"I was fifteen when I became one of the Diamond dogs, and a year later I was the Sparkling Diamond."
"My poor darling." Christian said, embracing her.
She sighed. "Wow. I feel a lot better having told you that."
Christian grinned. "The marvel of sharing."
"Want to hear my most interesting achievement?" Satine asked with a wicked smile.
"What?" he asked warily.
"I can peel an apple without breaking the skin."
"Really?"
Satine nodded proudly. "Uh huh. The one thing we always had a lot of was fruit. And boy, did we ever have a lot of. So, one day I was playing around and I challenged myself and found out I could do it."
"I can say the alphabet backwards." Christian announced.
"Oh, can you?" Satine asked, laughing. "That's useful."
"More so than peeling an apple whole." He sent the barb at her.
Satine winced. "Ouch. Let's hear it."
"Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T," He started.
He started walking away, still reciting. "S-R-Q-P-O,"
Satine felt her chest contract. Suddenly, the world was spinning round and round. The letters of the alphabet swirled around her head in a sea of red. Her mother humming a song. Christian singing.
"N-M-L-K-J-I," he continued.
Satine gripped at the iron fence, willing her mind to clear and her breath to catch.
It didn't work.
"H- G-F-E-D," Christian protracted.
"Christian-"
Christian turned to see Satine weakly holding her hand out to him, before starting to fall.
He caught her just before she reached the ground.
Christian looked around wildly, thoughts whirling through his head. Where could he go? Who could he get to help Satine.
He looked up at the entrance of the park. Harrison Park. If this was Harrison, that meant that home was a block away.
Home.
All thoughts of his parents and siblings left his head. Satine needed help, and he could get her help back home.
Conveniently forgetting that he and his family hadn't left on the best of terms, Christian picked Satine up and started running towards his house.
Home.
By: Sugar Princess
Disclaimer: Satine, Christian, Zidler and Marie don't belong to me. All of Satine's and Christian's family does.
Author's note: I've noticed a slight similarity to my story and that of Drama-Princess's. I started this and completed this before I read your story, and I apologize for those resemblances.If you haven't already read the story, do so. It's great!
Author's note 2: In my other story, `For the former world has passed away', Christian's family is exactly them same. The stories have nothing to do with one another, I just couldn't envision another family for him.
Let's just start.
Harold tried to reason with Satine. Make her stay. If not for her own sake, for Christian's.
Satine shook her head. All she could see was that Harold was trying to keep her captive. She took off her kimono and flung it against the wall. She went to the other side of the room and shrugged into the coat Christian had sent her over in, needing to feel closer to him.
"I don't need you anymore!" Satine raged. "All my life you've said I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me." She looked at him, pleading for Harold to understand with her eyes. "He loves me, Harold. He loves me." She got a soft look in her eye that no amount of acting talent could of produced. "And that means everything." She was gathering confidence now, her love making her an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. "We going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge!" she finished triumphantly. She glared at Harold, a defiant look in her eyes that read: Just you try and stop me.
Harold looked at his little sparrow. His darling, his diamond.
"Then God's speed." He said slowly.
Satine tilted her head, as if surprised Harold hadn't put up more of a fight. She was, after all, his Sparkling Diamond. She looked almost hurt.
But Satine was not stupid. Seeing her opportunity, she seized it.
"Thank you, Harold."
Harold motioned for Marie to go to Satine. "Help her pack, Marie. God knows she can't fold to save her life."
Marie had been watching him carefully, and stiffened at his choice of words. Nevertheless, she loved Satine, and would do anything to help her. She nodded, and went to where Satine was standing, and folded up a moss-colored velvet dress.
Satine went to Harold and took his hands. She took a shuddery breath. "I'm doing the right thing, Harold." Her expression was troubled. She was looking for his approval.
He squeezed her hands. "Yes, gosling. You are doing to right thing."
Satine shone forth a radiant smile and nodded. "Yes. I am." she pulled her hands away and went to where Marie was, eager to leave the place that been her home for years.
"Marie," started Harold. "Help her dress." He looked at Satine. "Darling, wear your blue wool. It's getting chilly out."
Satine nodded. "And my blue wool is so flattering."
"How could it not be on you, kitten?" he started to the door, determined to leave before he got emotional.
"Harold?"
He turned around.
Satine ran across the room and hurtled herself into his arms. She buried her face into the crook of his neck. Harold stroked her hair.
She was leaving the only father she had ever known, the guiding force she had so cherished. She knew she owed him her life, for without him she would have surely died on the streets.
More than gratitude, she did truly love him.
"I'm going to miss you." She whimpered.
"And I will miss you, my sparrow." He said. Satine lifted her head and looked at him with a tear-streaked face. Harold wiped a tear away. "Don't you cry, now. Smile for me." Satine sniffled and obediently favored him with a smile. "That's my girl. You be a good girl." Satine nodded, and hugged him again. "Ah, ch‚rie, this isn't good-bye forever. Soon, I'll see you again and we'll laugh over this whole little drama you're creating."
"Yes. We'll laugh." Satine repeated. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. She drew away from him. "Goodbye." she said, the words sounding hollow and foreign in her mouth.
"Goodbye." Harold walked out the room, never looking back. He did not want to see his darling leave.
Satine watched him leave and bit her lip to keep herself from crying. She felt Marie's soft, cool hand take her elbow.
"You're goin' ta catch a chill standin' there in nothin' but y'underthings. Here's your dress."
Marie pulled off the coat and put it on top of the suitcase she had been packing. She took the blue wool Harold had suggested and held it out.
Satine stepped into the dress and pulled it up. She slid her arms into the sleeves, and felt Marie start buttoning it up.
She looked towards her suitcase, which was now a carpetbag and a suitcase. She heard Marie growl behind her. "You should be takin' a trunk, with you goin' away an' all. Takin' but the bare essentials."
"I'll be fine, Marie." Satine said a lot more calmly than she felt.
Marie finished with the buttons and moved to admire Satine in the dress.
"Blue looks so lovely on you." She said appreciatingly, smoothing the skirt down. As quickly as she smiled, she frowned. "Your hair is a mess."
Satine rolled her eyes. "I have no time for my hair, Marie. I have to go." She whined.
"You're not leaving here with your hair like that." Marie said obstinately.
Satine made a face. "Marie."
"Sit." She ordered.
Sighing, Satine sat down in her vanity chair. Marie untangled the clip that had once held up her hair and began to gently run the brush through it.
"You're going to be fine, girl. Don't you start getting doubts."
Satine shook her head. "I'm not. This is right, Marie. I know it is."
"You keep thinking that, girl. No matter what happens."
Satine looked at the mirror to see Marie, who was pulling her hair halfway up with a silver clip. "I will."
Marie finished, and hurried to Satine's closet. "The ermine will go well with that ... or the mink ... the rabbit, maybe?" she turned to look at her. "While I'm looking, wash your face. Your make-up's everywhere."
Satine dutifully took a washcloth and wet it, then moved it over her face. She took a towel and dried it off, then went back to where Marie was in the closet.
She put a hand on Marie's arm. "Thank you, Marie. For everything."
"Ah, lovey. No matter. Here, put this on." She handed her an ermine stole. "It's cold out, and this will keep you warm."
Satine allowed Marie to put it around her shoulders.
"And your kid gloves- in the drawer-" Marie whirled away to find them.
"Marie-"
"Here they are, hold out your hands. Good girl." Satine slid into the gloves.
"Marie, I must go."
Marie gave her the look. "Not without a hat. "
"Marie." Satine pleaded. "He's waiting."
Marie stopped and looked at the girl that had been in her care for years. "I know, dearie."
Satine put her arms around Marie. "I'll miss you, Marie."
"Don't you dare cry! Your eyes will get all red." Marie patted her back. "I'll miss you too, lovey."
Satine took a deep breath and looked around. Her eyes stopped on her little bird.
"Oh- Libby!" she cried. She ran to the cage. "Goodbye, my darling- Maman's going away now. Grandm‚re will take of you." Satine turned to Marie. "You will watch Liberty for me, won't you?"
Marie nodded. "Yes." She went to the door, and looked in both directions before carefully hissing: "Chocolat!"
Immediately, the big man appeared. Marie jerked her head to indicate for him to come.
He cleared the hallway in a few short strides, entering the room. He picked up the suitcase and the carpetbag.
"Go now. It's almost dawn. If you hurry, you can make the first train." Marie instructed.
Satine grabbed Christian's coat, then reached out her arms and took another quick hug before leaving. "Good-bye, Marie."
"Good-bye yourself! Go on, now! Scoot!"
Satine looked around before stealing down the hall with Chocolat.
Marie watched her leave, and sighing, retreated back into Satine's boudoir.
Harold was waiting.
Marie turned and gasped, a hand thrown to her heart. "Lord almighty, Harold! You'll give one a heartattack with your sneaking around."
"She's gone?"
Marie nodded. "She just left."
Harold nodded slowly. "It's for the best."
"We didn't tell her." Marie accused.
"It can't be helped now."
"What will we say in the morning?" she asked.
Harold smiled. "That Mademoiselle Satine is feeling sick and is sleeping in, and when we go to check her- say around noon- we'll find her gone."
Marie nodded again. "I'm happy for her."
Harold put a hand on her shoulder. "I am too, Marie. I am too."
~*~
As Satine and Chocolat crept through the darkened streets of Montmartre, she felt the cold grip of fear. What if the Duke does catch up with us? What if we are making a big mistake?
Chocolat was fast, and Satine was riding on the wings of urgency and love, and together they made it to Christian's building in record time.
Satine went up the stairs slowly. What if I'm was wrong? Am I stupid for putting both me and Christian in danger for a whim?
Just before she turned and ran back down the stairs and to the Moulin Rouge, Chocolat had knocked and the door was thrown open by an anxious Christian.
At the sight of his worried face, all of Satine's doubts melted. I've been gone for a half an hour and he's scared for me!
Into his arms she flew, all her worries disappearing as he swept her up in his embrace.
This is right.
Christian kissed her, then pulled away and looked her over. "Are you alright?" he asked nervously.
Satine nodded ecstatically. "I'm fine, Christian."
Chocolat put the suitcase and carpetbag down with more noise and movement then necessary to make sure they remembered that he was there.
Christian looked towards Chocolat, keeping his arm around Satine protectively.
Words failed Christian as he looked at Chocolat. "Thank you." He said simply. Reaching into his pocket, he handed him a mangled fold of bills.
Chocolat pushed it away, shaking his head. "No."
Christian pushed it at him again.
Chocolat shook his head again. "No."
Defeated, Christian looked at Satine for help.
Satine took the bills and handed them to Chocolat. "Take them, Chocolat. Please."
Chocolat touched a hand to his chest. "It was my pleasure, Mademoiselle Satine."
Satine's face softened. "Oh, Chocolat," she said quietly. She stood on tiptoe and pecked him on his cheek.
Chocolat smiled. "Behave, Mademoiselle."
Then, almost as if he had never been there, he was gone.
Satine dropped her wrap, and his coat, on the foot of the bed. She handed him back the money. She gave him a glance that seemed to say: 'What now?'
He returned the glance.
"I made it." She said slowly. Christian nodded.
Satine giggled happily. "I made it! I'm free!" She threw her arms around Christian's neck and kissed him happily.
Christian smiled at her joy. His own suitcase was small compared to her oversized one, this he noticed as he almost tripped over them.
"The first train to Calais is at dawn." He informed her.
She nodded. "So that gives us, what, forty-five minutes."
"Well, more or less thirty so we can buy tickets and get our luggage stored-" he was silenced by a gloved finger to his lips.
"Don't worry so much." She whispered, leaning in for a kiss.
He pulled back. "I don't worry too much," he said obstinately. Satine looked at him, an amused expression on her face, as if she was waiting for him to come to his senses. "Alright, maybe I worry a little."
He put a hand on her shoulder to pull her close. She flinched.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing." She replied carelessly, biting her lip.
"What happened there?" Christian asked more forcefully.
Satine slid out of his grasp with practiced ease. "Nothing happened, Christian."
He stared at her for a minute. Satine felt a prickle of guilt as she turned her back to him and sat down on his bed. She instantly became enthralled with his coverlet and started tracing the pattern.
Christian watched her for a moment before moving closer and sitting behind her. He kissed where he had hurt her gently.
"Why won't you let me in, Satine?" he breathed.
She turned to him, a puzzled look on her face. "Whatever are you talking about?"
"Something happened to you there," he indicated to her shoulder. "Yet you won't tell me what. You claim to love me, but you shut me out."
"That's not fair, Christian." Satine said, bristling. "You know I love you."
"And you know I love you. Why won't you talk to me?"
Satine got up, sighing, and walked to the window.
"I won't tell you because I love you."
Christian was right behind her. "What happened there, Satine? What happened earlier tonight?"
Satine turned around and looked deep into his eyes. "He ... he hurt me." Her voice had dropped down so that he could hardly hear it.
Christian's eyes narrowed and his breath was drawn in through his teeth, making it sound like a hiss. "How?"
Satine had already returned to her view of Montmartre. "How did he hurt you?"
Satine shrugged noncommittally. "I shouldn't have said anything." She muttered, berating herself.
"No!" Christian jumped at the chance to make her see. "You should. You should tell me these things, Satine." He cupped her face with his hands. His hands were warm, and her cheeks were still cold from the night air. "No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise." He swallowed. "I'll die first."
Satine looked at him carefully. His eyes were so truthful, so earnest. She put her hands on his neck and looked at him with tears in her eyes.
"No one has ever told me that." She shook her head. "No one has ever valued my life above their own."
"I do," he vowed. "And I always will."
Satine looked down in one last desperate attempt to shield Christian from the truth.
"He tried to rape me." She whispered.
"What?" Christian asked in horror.
"He-"
"No, I heard you, darling, I just don't believe it." He narrowed his eyes and put a protective hand on Satine's waist. "I will kill him." He swore.
"He didn't. Chocolat got there and-and punched him."
Christian pulled her closer. "Oh, my poor darling. My poor baby." He looked her over carefully, running his finger over her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her lips to make sure she was all in one piece.
Satine closed her eyes. "I couldn't pretend anymore."
"And never again. You'll never have to again, darling. Over my dead body."
Satine shuddered. "Don't even say that."
Christian was quiet for a moment. He walked to the window, then back again to the bed. "So, where should we go?"
Satine looked at his inquisitively. "Calais...?"
"That's it?" he asked as though he had just been told the moon was indeed made of green cheese. "You can go anywhere in the world and you want to go to Calais?"
Satine raised a delicate eyebrow. "And where do you suggest?"
"Anywhere we can get a ship from Calais to."
"That's a help. Thank you ever so much."
Christian sat at his writing table. Satine tilted her head, apparently deep in thought.
"What about London?" she said after a few minutes.
"London?" Christian squeaked.
"London." She affirmed. She looked at him, her eyes shining. "I've never been there, but I've always wanted to." She looked at Christian. "You don't like it there?"
He shrugged. "I- I don't mind." So what if my family lives there. Makes no difference. London is a big city. I'll never see them. And if it will make her happy, I'll do it.
"-Christian?" she said in a tone that made him realize a few other 'Christian's had been said before that point. He snapped his head up. "Are you sure you don't mind? Because we can go somewhere else."
He nodded. "It's fine, dearest."
She promptly released a radiant smile, one that made Christian fall in love with her all the more.
He would have been happy to gaze at her face for a while longer, but Satine let the smile slide and asked: "What time is it?"
As she asked, she noticed that his desk was strangely bare. She studied it, and realized it looked odd because it was bereft of his typewriter. She looked at their pile of luggage to see if there was a typewriter case anywhere.
There wasn't.
Christian looked at his pocket watch- one of the few things his father had ever given him that had meant something to him. This watch had been his Great-grandfather's, crafted for him especially, passed on to his Grandfather, then to his Father, and on his last birthday before he had left, his father had given it to him.
"Time to go." He said.
Satine reached and got her stole, and put it around her shoulders. Christian put on his coat. He picked up his suitcase, shoved her carpet bag under the same arm, and then picked up her suitcase. He staggered to the door. "Coming?"
Satine stood there, silently shaking with mirth. "I can take something, you know." She said, following him.
"No, I've got it."
Satine shrugged. "Have it your way."
Going down the stairs, he groaned. "What do you have in here? Rocks?" Thinking on his choice of words, he shook his head. "Don't answer that."
Satine giggled. "Marie was upset that I wasn't bringing a trunk."
"A trunk?" he moaned.
"No trunk." She replied. "Don't worry."
They started down the cold, predawn streets of Montmartre. Satine shivered.
"Have you ever noticed it's always coldest before sunrise?" she asked, pulling her wrap closer.
Christian nodded. "One of nature's oddities. Then the sun rises and the cold melts away. It's like the calm before the storm, backwards."
Satine quirked an eyebrow. "You're trying to confuse me, aren't you?"
He turned and gave her his devastatingly handsome smile. "How'm I doing?"
She swat at him with her hand. He laughed at her miss.
"You're wretched." She pouted.
"I can be much, much worse, sweetheart."
She rolled her eyes. "Hooray."
They walked a few minutes in silence, and then, just as Christian was sure his arms were going to fall off, he saw the Station.
"Thank the Lord," he muttered under his breath. To Satine, "There it is."
Satine felt the all-too-familiar tightness in her chest. She took a few deep breaths- or, at least attempted to- and swallowed hard. She placed a smile on her face and nodded. Christian smiled back, and turned around to continue walking towards their destination.
Satine allowed herself a small cough. This is silly, she told herself firmly. You're just catching a little cold. STOP IT.
Christian, ever the attentive, turned at the noise.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
She shook her head, smiling a real smile at his concern. "It's nothing, darling." He turned back; the Station was just across the street. "It's nothing." She told herself.
She followed Christian, who walked right up to the desk. "Two first class tickets to Calais, and onwards to London." He said proudly.
While the man behind the desk gave everything to him, Satine looked at him skeptically. Where on earth had he gotten the money for all this?
Again, she scanned their luggage for any sign of his beloved typewriter. She had a sinking feeling that she knew where it was, and that she knew where he had gotten the money.
Before she had enough time to ponder over how she was going to bring this up, he had turned to her happily, smiled, called a porter over, tagged their luggage, took her hand, and lead her to the train. He handed the man at the door their tickets, slipped him something, and was allowed to board.
"What was that?" she hissed as their searched for their berth.
"A little something to let us on so that we didn't freeze waiting to be let on. Aha, here it is." He opened the door and there it was: a small little room with a row of red-velvet seats along either wall, a nice big window, and a heavy curtain which had been pulled back. The window was letting in some milky light.
Christian cast a sideways glance to Satine, eager for her approval. As if she had heard his unspoken plea, she smiled. "This is grand." She said, flouncing down onto one of the seats. She bounced up and down a few times, giggling as if she were a little girl. "And the seats are springy!"
Christian shook his head and laughed at her. He went and sat next to her.
"Are you happy?" he asked her seriously.
She looked at him solemnly, cocking her head as she pondered over her answer.
"I thought I was happy before." She bit her lip. "But now I know what real happiness is." Taking some more time, she nodded and grasped his hand. "Yes. Yes, I'm happy." She wrapped her free arm around him and held him tight. "I'm happy. You make me happy." She closed her eyes in bliss, pressing her cheek to his. "I love you." She whispered.
Christian inhaled deeply, embracing her tighter. "I love you more." He said.
She pulled away, an impish grin on her face. "Not possible."
"Stranger things have happened." He said mysteriously.
Satine yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Tired?" asked Christian.
"Exhausted." She concurred.
"Well then, you just lie down and go to sleep."
Satine nodded, and yawned again. She leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder and his back against his chest, and shut her eyes. Christian slid his arm around her waist, and she held onto his arm as if he were a stuffed animal to sleep with. Nuzzling her face into arm, she was instantly asleep.
Christian chuckled. Poor darling was exhausted, and he had her up and traipsing about in the middle of the night.
He ran a finger over the roundness of her cheek, rosy as a child's and smooth as silk. She was quite the beauty. It had not all been a marketing device on Zidler's part.
He pondered over his luck. It seemed just a little while ago that he had left London to Paris, and come to his little flat. He had known Satine for precious little time.
But I feel like I've known her forever, he thought. How clich‚ is that?
To think that the stunningly gorgeous, remarkably talented and totally unreachable Satine was here, running away with him because she loved him.
She really did.
And he loved her, with all his heart and soul. And by God, they would have to kill him first before he let them do anything to her, or try to take her away.
"No one will ever hurt you, love." He whispered, fingering her silver clip. "I promise."
As if she had heard his words, she snuggled in closer, sighing sleepily.
Sighing himself and feeling quite content, Christian leaned back into the red velvet seats. They had made a clean getaway, and he wouldn't have to worry until at least tomorrow evening. Everything was going to be alright.
*~*
Christian woke up a little while later to hear a slight knocking at his door and the strange, irregular motion of a train moving. He yawned. "Come in!" he called.
An official-looking man walked in. "Tickets, s'il vous plait." Christian rubbed his eyes and slowly moved out from under Satine, lowering her to the seat. She groaned and rolled over so that she faced the wall.
Christian reached into his coat pocket and gave the tickets to him.
He read them over, marked something on them, nodded, and handed them back to Christian. "Bon journ‚e, Monsieur. Et Madame." He added, when he saw Satine sitting up, bewildered.
The official left and Christian closed the door. Satine stretched her arms above her head, a habit she had after sleeping when she was well-rested, Christian had noticed, and yawned, her gloves still on. A hand reached up and patted her hair absent-mindedly.
"Good morning." Christian said. Satine nodded.
"Good morning." She stretched again. "What time is it?"
Christian flipped out his watch. "Quarter after nine," he announced.
Satine nodded again. She smiled, looking embarrassed. "I hate to say this, but..." she trailed off.
"Yes?" Christian prompted. Years of keeping her thoughts hidden has done this girl no good, he thought.
"I'm famished." She finished.
"Is that all?" Christian asked. Satine nodded. "Well then," he said, holding out his hand. "Let's feed you!"
The sojourned through the many cars of the train, in vain attempt to find the dining car. At half past nine, they were still searching.
"Does this train ever end?" asked Satine, slightly out of breath.
"Oh, come now. It's an adventure!"
Satine sniffed. "Adventure my foot, Christian. This is ridiculous, and I'm starving." As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.
At that moment, another official-looking man appeared, and Christian called him over. "Excuse me," he asked. "Where would the dining car be?"
The man looked over both Christian and Satine, taking in his threadbare clothes and Satine's fine dress, taking special notice of her curves. Satine fidgeted under his glance.
The man pointed in the direction from where they had came. "Five cars down that way." He said.
Satine poked Christian in the ribs. "See? I told you."
"You did no such thing." Christian retorted. Satine replied by sticking her tongue out at him, when Christian tried, he failed miserably because he was laughing too hard.
The man looked at them skeptically. "I assume you're traveling first class, Madame?" he asked.
Satine put on a serious face, drawing herself to her full height, which was quite impressive. "Would a lady of my breeding travel anything but?"
"And the gentleman?"
Christian bit his lip to contain his laughter. Satine looked down her nose at the man, looking the very image of a stern and haughty lady of culture. "You mean my husband? But of course. You, on the other hand, should learn your place. Recognize and not question your passengers." Satine switched to sarcastic sweetness. "Thank you ever so much for your help."
She took Christian's hand and turned around, starting to walk through the cars in search of food.
She didn't stop until she had reached the dining car, where she slid into a chair with the grace of a princess.
Christian sat down in front of her, looking at her wide-eyed.
Satine ignored her, hungrily scanning the menu. When the waiter arrived, she wasted no time in ordering herself some tea, French toast, and bacon. She looked at Christian. "What do you want, darling?"
Christian ordered a coffee, and continued to look at Satine soulfully.
"What?" she asked. "Did I grow a second head or something?"
"You called me your husband." He said quietly.
She nodded. "Rolled off the tongue rather nicely, didn't you think?"
"Did you mean it?"
Satine looked at Christian, and she was dimly aware that she probably had the same love-struck face that he had on her own face. She nodded.
"I mean, I know it was forward of me..."
He took her hand across the table. "Oh, darling, no. No." he cast a furtive glance around the near empty car, before getting down on one knee next to Satine's chair. "Will you marry me?"
Satine's face broke out into a beam, and she giggled with delight. She threw her arms around him, winding up on the floor most ungracefully. "What kind of a question is that?" she said whilst she embraced him.
"Is that a yes?"
"Oh, of course it is, you silly thing!"
Awkwardly, they both climbed back up to their chairs, casting furtive glances around to see who had seen it. There was young woman with a nanny, a baby and a two small children, a boy and a girl, both which were playing hide and go seek. Both were lovely, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. The baby was quiet and cooed and gurgled often and loud enough to reach Christian and Satine.
At the sight, Satine became transfixed. "Oh, look." She whispered reverently. She looked at the children esuriently, as if drinking in the sight of them. She took note of the little boy's pants and little button-down starched shirt and shoes. ("Just like a little grown-up." Satine had exclaimed) The little girl had on a pink dress with little pantaloons that peeped out from under the dress, with charming little shoes and white stockings. The nanny that chased them wore a stiff dark blue dress and an apron, her hair piled up on her head. Satine frowned at her.
As if in a trance, Satine stood up and started towards them. Christian turned in his chair, but knew not to follow her. This was something she would do alone.
Satine crept to the woman quietly, her eyes stuck on the baby. It had on a little white batiste gown with pink ribbons laced through it, and fine Irish lace on the cuffs and collar.
The woman turned. She was quite lovely, with golden hair like the children and emerald-colored eyes, and wearing a fashionable green muslin dress. She smiled weakly at Satine.
"Good morning." She said good-naturedly.
"Good morning." Whispered Satine. "I know this is rather forward of me, but- may I hold her?"
The woman looked somewhat startled, and looked down at the baby, who gurgled and waved a tiny fist around. She looked back up Satine, preparing to act indignant, call for the nanny and her children, and leave.
But something about the woman's eyes touched her. She honestly had no other motive but to hold the baby. Her face softened, and she nodded, holding the baby out.
Satine took the baby in her arms and drew her close, smiling and waving a finger in front of her face. As she rocked and hummed happily, she looked up at the mother. "What's her name?"
"Ella Catherine." The mother announced proudly.
"Ella." Satine cooed. "Elllllllllllllllla. What a beautiful name, for such a beautiful little girl, yes it is! Oh, aren't you the most precious thing ever." She looked up at the mother. "How old is she?"
"Six months."
Satine smiled. "A summer baby, just like me..." She looked back towards Christian, who was smiling. She grinned back. He turned back and opened a paper he had bought.
The woman craned her neck to see who she had looked at.
"Who's that?" she asked.
Satine smiled. "My husband." She said. Just a small lie, she consoled herself. It's almost true.
The waiter came and began to set down food at the table. Satine handed the Ella back to her mother.
"Oh, thank you so much."
The woman smiled warmly. "Think nothing of it, dear. What a pity you have no children of your own. You're wonderful with them." Looking towards her children, she called for them. "Timothy! Lottie! Come eat your breakfast!"
The children scrambled to the table, the nanny not far behind. The boy- Timothy- looked up at Satine and smiled. She smiled back, and turned to walk back to her own table.
She slid back into her seat and sighed. Christian put his newspaper down.
"Have fun?" he asked, without sarcasm.
"Christian, how do you feel about ... children?" Satine asked uncertainly.
Christian looked at her and laughed softly. "Are you worried about that, sweet?" he smiled at her concerned expression. "I love children, Satine."
Satine let her shoulders relaxed, and the sun came out again. "Good. I'm glad. So do I."
The waiter arrived with their food, which Satine scarfed down. Christian watched her with amusement as he sipped his coffee.
"What? I told you I was hungry." she said innocently.
"You forgot to mention that you might gobble me up if I didn't feed you."
Satine shook her head. "You're horrible, Christian. Downright terrible."
Christian looked down at her hand, which was resting on the table. He smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you." He said.
She shrugged. "The ring doesn't matter, Christian. I don't need one."
"Yes, you do." He looked at her forcefully, then gripped her hand. "You need a ring."
Satine looked at him strangely. What was the great and grand importance of a ring?
She looked into his eyes and found her answer. The ring wasn't for her sake, but for his. He felt he needed to give her a token of their love for it to be real.
She squeezed his hand back. "Alright. I need a ring. I demand a ring. Give me a ring, Christian."
He chuckled. "Spoiled."
She shrugged again. "Can't help it."
"Bratty."
Satine looked mock-shocked. "Now that was uncalled for."
Across the dining room, the mother got up. She took Timothy's hand with her free one and started to leave. When she got to the doorway, she turned to see the young woman and her husband joking around. They seemed to be squabbling, but then the man laughed and took her hand, kissing her palm.
The mother smiled and continued on her way. Young people in love were the best kind.
~*~
"Next stop, Calais. Prochain ville, Calais. Next stop, Calais!" The Conductor walked around announcing.
Satine looked up from the paper she had been reading of Christian's. Christian was asleep, his head in her lap.
She gently shook his shoulder. "Darling... darling, time to wake up."
Christian groaned and moved his shoulders away. Satine leaned down closer to him. "Rise n' shine." she whispered.
Christian opened his eyes. "You have bacon breath." he said.
She pulled away. "We're in Calais." she announced, just as the Conductor came back their way. "Prochain ville, Calais! Next stop, Calais."
Christian nodded. "So I heard."
Twenty minutes later, the train pulled up at the station in Calais. Christian stood up too fast, and was thrown into the opposite wall as the train shuddered to a stop.
Satine suppressed a giggle.
They got off the train, and waited in the cool sea breeze that coastal Calais offered for their luggage. When the two suitcases and carpet bag appeared, a porter graciously surfaced and offered to find them a cab. With a sigh, Christian nodded.
Satine became suspicious yet again. As she was ushered into the horse-drawn cab, she looked at Christian, who was paying the porter. The wad of bills he had was slimmer, but still impressively thick. Where had it all come from?
Christian got into the cab and told the driver to take them to the docks. They started forwards. Christian leaned back in his seat, and grinned lazily at Satine.
She, on the other hand, sat erect and glared at him.
"What?" he asked. "What did I do?"
"Christian, where did you get all this money?" she asked without shame.
Christian looked down at his hands. "You shouldn't worry about such things, dearest."
She took his chin in her hand, forcing her to look at her. "Tell me." she demanded.
"I sold the typewriter." he said hollowly, without emotion.
Satine closed her eyes and allowed herself to absorb the impact. Christian loved his typewriter. Taking it away from him would be like taking music away from her. Was he crazy?
"Are you crazy?" she inquired politely.
He shrugged noncommittally. "We needed the money more."
Satine leaned back, dizzy. "You better go un-sell it, Christian. That typewriter was- is- your life."
Christian shook her urgently. "No, my love. No. You're my life. And you mean more to me than anything else in the world."
Satine looked at him, tears stinging her eyes. She still wasn't able to comprehend that he loved her enough to do anything for her- even die for her.
She looked out the window. They were at the docks. "Oh, look!" she exclaimed, pointing out the window at all the boats.
Christian smiled at her na‹vet‚. "I see." he said placatingly.
The cab came to a halt, and they climbed out. While Christian paid the driver and went to get their bags, Satine looked at her surroundings with wide eyes.
"Christian, look at the big ships!" she cried, pointing. Christian's face broke out into a grin. When she was like this, there was not a trace of the `Sparkling Diamond'. No, this was entirely herself.
The cab drove away, and Christian pulled out their tickets. "Alright, darling, we need to find the `Morning Glory'."
Satine wrinkled her nose. "We're sailing on a ship called the `Morning Glory'?"
Christian nodded.
"Ew." she said simply.
"Snob." Christian laughed, taking her hand.
He walked up to a deckman, and asked him where they could find the boat. The man, who smelled strongly of fish and was smiling way more than was necessary at Satine, pointed to where a tiny little boat was anchored.
It was tiny as tiny as it appeared, Christian noticed, once you got close. When you were by all those huge ships, it seemed tiny in comparison, but it was really a nice sized little boat.
Christian got their luggage sorted out with the porter, slipped him a few francs, then turned to Satine.
"We should board," he announced. "The boat leaves in an hour."
Satine nodded and allowed Christian to lead her to the bridge.
Because it was a small passenger boat, it would go incredibly slowly, allowing them time to spend the night on the boat and arrive in London the next morning.
Satine boarded the ship, taking everything in with wide eyes. The settings were nothing new- opulent carpets, wallpaper so lovely it bordered on real art, shining wood floors- but the whole experience was.
Christian had been taking voyages on ships for most of his life. The only joy he took in it was the joy Satine derived.
A porter led them to their room, their luggage in tow.
The room was good-sized, with light and dark blue wall paper and a light blue coverlet on the bed, dark cherry wood furniture and a window.
Satine crossed straight to the window, opening it and sticking her head out. She inhaled the salty air, taking in as much as she could. Her lungs contracted painfully as she did so, and she coughed, silently willing herself to stop. She coughed again, and took a slow breath. Her lungs loosened, and her breathing became normal again.
She felt Christian's fingers on her shoulders, pulling her back. He had just barely missed her little `episode'. She stepped away from the window.
"What are you trying to do, push your fianc‚e out?" she teased.
He grinned good-naturedly. "But of course. I thought you might enjoy a little swim with the fishies."
She rolled her eyes. "More than anything."
"It's freezing out there." Christian said, returning to seriousness.
She shook her head. "No, it's not. It's chilly."
"Satine, there's snow on the dock. There's snow everywhere. It's cold."
"Baby." she taunted.
Christian shook his head at her, moving over to his suitcase. He slung it up onto the bed and flicked it open. Picking up a pile of two shirts, he went to a draw. He opened it and dropped them in. He went back to the suitcase, took out a few pairs of pants, and put them in the drawer.
Satine watched him with curiosity. All of his clothes fit into one drawer, with space left.
He looked up at her and smiled weakly. "I'm a light packer."
"I'm not."
"I noticed." he said with a grimace. "I lugged them around all morning."
He pushed the drawer in. "I'm done."
Satine smiled. "Good. That leaves one-two-three-four-five drawers for me. And the closet." she sighed. "I hope it will be enough."
Christian shook his head again, and sat down on the bed, swinging his legs up and reclining back.
Satine wagged a finger at her. "Uh-uh. My side of the bed."
"No way." he said. "Mine."
She smirked. "Then I guess we'll have to share."
He rolled her eyes. "Great."
Satine moved over to her suitcase, putting it up on the bed and opening it carefully. She slowly pulled out a lilac dress that fell limply over her arm as she crossed to the closet and put it in. Another trip back to the suitcase; this time a green velvet was extracted.
Christian watched with mild interest. It was quite interesting how many dresses Satine had fit into that suitcase.
Just when Christian was sure the suitcase had to be empty and the closet was full, Satine pulled out a gray woolen skirt which she placed in a drawer, along with a plenitude of multi-colored blouses. A long woolen winter coat came out next, followed by another one in a different color. A few scarves, two shawls. She finally shut the suitcase and placed it under the bed.
Christian cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up expectantly.
"We're staying here one night."
She continued to look at him as if to say, go on.
"So?"
"You're just going to have to pack it up tomorrow."
She sighed. Men had no comprehension of how to take care of clothes. "They'll air out tonight, Christian."
He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "They're been packed for a couple of hours."
She sighed. "Forget it, Christian."
She then picked up the carpet bag. First out: a white silk, barely-there nightgown. A sheer white overthrow. A white kimono with red flowers. Then an odd one, a cotton nightgown with respectable sleeves and neckline, bordered with lace and tied with a white satin ribbon. Neglig‚e. Satins and silks of all different colors, with lace or feathers or fur.
Satine was blushing furiously. "What was Marie thinking?" she asked aloud. "I didn't pack it." she explained quickly. Christian shrugged.
Some slips came out, and a few corsets, all embroidered. A few pairs of gloves, some pairs of silk stockings, some sheer stockings ("Shockings." as Christian named them), some garters. Some pretty handkerchiefs, all adorned with lace or little flowers. One had a little red windmill.
Then came the shoes. Christian again was shocked as to how many things this woman had managed to bring along with her for having but a moment's notice.
"Are there bottoms to those bags or are they just never-ending?"
Most of them were black, all different styles, ("You can never have too many pairs of black shoes.") some were white, a pair of green heels, a pair of fine leather boots, some red, some blue. Dark gray and light gray. And then there were the bedroom slippers- black with marabou feathers and white with marabou and a glittering paste buckle, each with heels five inches high.
"Is that it?" Christian asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes," Satine said forlornly. "That's it."
"That's incredible." he breathed.
"And you're delightfully ignorant in the ways of women." She said, sitting down next to him and kissing him. "Which is good. I'd be jealous if you were."
She stood up again, going back to the carpet bag. "No more!" Christian protested weakly.
"Just jewelry and my toiletries. Perfume and the like."
Christian nodded. "So you're done now."
Satine nodded. "If only I didn't have to repack it in the morning. I don't know how." She flashed a brilliant smile. "I'll worry about it tomorrow."
There was noise outside the door now, they could hear people walking around. Some people were calling to one another in the halls.
"Bitsy! Bitsy, how nice to see you again." one woman shouted.
Satine smiled conspiratorially at Christian, sitting down next to him and holding a finger up to her lips. "Shhh."
Bitsy replied: "Oh, Martha! How have you been, dear? It's been far too long."
"Grand, Bitsy. And how are you and Charles?"
"We're fine." Bitsy responded. "And you and Ferguson?"
Martha chuckled. "Fergie and I just came back from Greece. All those rocks interest him, but I met up with Laura and James Moriaty. Laura hated it there too."
"You poor dear." Bitsy sympathized. "Come, my room's down this way."
Bitsy must have led Martha away, for the chatter stopped.
Satine smiled at Christian like a schoolgirl caught whispering. "That was wicked of us."
"We couldn't help but overhear, darling." Christian pointed out.
"That's my horrid habit," Satine confessed. "I'm an atrocious person who can eavesdrop better than any one person should be able to."
Christian patted her hand. "That's okay. We all have our faults."
A horrible noise sounded, making Satine jump and cover her ears and Christian wince. "What is that?" Satine asked.
"The ship's claxon. That means the ship's leaving." He grinned. "You don't want to miss this."
Satine was anxious to get up on deck and totally forgot about her wrap. Had it not been for practical Christian with his anti-cold ways, she would have frozen up there.
But he had brought it for her, and put it around her shoulders. Men were throwing ropes to the men on the docks, and the claxon sounded again as they started to pull away.
"We're moving!" Satine exclaimed, delighted.
"Now's when you say goodbye." He instructed.
"But we don't know anyone." She protested.
"Doesn't matter. You wave anyway."
She obediently waved to the people on the dock. "Goodbye! Goodbye!"
Everyone on the `Morning Glory' was- waving goodbye to strangers and friends alike.
When they got out of the harbor and into the channel, a strong wind blew up. Satine shivered, and coughed. Christian was instantly concerned. "Are you alright?"
Satine shook her head and smiled. "I'm fine. We should go and change for dinner. See?" she pointed to a little man standing by the door, preparing the blow a bugle.
Christian nodded and followed her back down to their room.
~*~
Satine finished piling her hair on her head, and studied the effect. Her dark blue satin contrasted dramatically with her skin tone. The single sapphire pendant settled perfectly between her collar bones, just the right length for the neckline. The sleeves draped over her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. She turned, admiring the bustle on the back. This was a beautiful dress. She also noticed the small bruise she had on her right shoulder. She swabbed some face powder over it, hoping it would make it disappear. True to it's advertisement, it did.
She dabbed some more perfume on, and slid on a sapphire ring on her ring finger. She studied it, feeling a bit guilty. They were lying, saying that they were married.
What's with the sudden development of a conscience, Satine? She asked herself.
It wasn't much of a stretch, saying they were married. After all, they were engaged.
Engaged.
As in, going to be married. Betrothed. Promised.
Engaged.
She giggled at her reflection. She, Satine, was going to be married to who she was certain was the most wonderful man on earth.
24 hours ago she had been rehearsing for a play, and smoothing over the mess Christian had made from his outburst with the Duke. She had been getting ready for her supper with the Duke.
Satine shuddered, and willed herself to forget. She never wanted to think of that night ever again.
She put on a pair of sapphire earrings. She looked in the mirror, smiling coquettishly. "You look mahvelous, dahlink." She bit back her laughter at her own foolishness.
And then, all of the sudden, she felt the horrible tightening in her chest. She gripped at the handkerchief she had lying on the dresser top. She pushed it to her mouth, hoping to stifle the sound.
Christian had left her to her own devices after she had said she needed to get dressed for supper. He had disappeared up on deck. She had supposed that he, like herself, was reflecting on how different their lives were now.
She gagged into her handkerchief. Coughing and wheezing in the most unladylike fashion. Tears welled up in her eyes. Wouldn't this cough ever go away?
~*~
Up on deck, Christian sighed. It was nippy outside, but he didn't even want to be in there while Satine got dressed. While he was comfortable wearing what he had worn before, she had made him change, and while he had been changing, she was rifling through her dresses, holding each one up and asking which one he liked. All of them, he had replied. To that she had rolled her eyes and muttered `Men!' with a huff.
He suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Satine needed him. NOW.
~*~
She thought back to what Marie did. She made her drink that bitter liquid in those tiny silver vials. Where were they now?
Back home. Where you belong.
She rifled through her jewelry bag, hoping that by some miracle there was something in there to stop this.
And there it was. Practical Marie, having foreseen her need, had slipped in a few.
Satine gratefully grasped the silver cruet and held it up, tilting her head and the bottle back. She swallowed the bitter fluid.
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. She coached herself for a minute. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
She looked down at the handkerchief in her hand. It was spotted with crimson. Satine grimaced. Where could she hide this?
Satine looked around. There was no where to wash it out, the blood would tint the water red. There was only one thing she could do.
Toss it out the porthole and into the sea.
She glanced at the needlework in the corner. It was the one of the tiny red windmill.
How ironic, she thought, that this would be the one I had to throw away.
Satine pranced over the porthole and put her arm out, daintily releasing the handkerchief. It fluttered a bit before being sprayed by sea foam, then it landed in the water.
Just as Satine had retracted her arm, the door flew open and a breathless Christian whirled in. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and took her forearms.
"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.
Satine nodded. "I'm fine." She replied, a bit breathless herself. She studied Christian's anxious face. How did he know I was sick just a few minutes ago?
Christian looked at her carefully. He could have sworn that something was wrong. What a load of nonsense. You're just paranoid. Get a hold of yourself, man!
Without warning, Christian pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. Satine relaxed into his embrace, sighing happily. She felt so safe in his arms, and she loved his concern. She nuzzled her face into the softness of his worn white shirt, inhaling deeply his scent- a mix of soap from his shirt, paper, and something that was just Christian. A fragrance that was all his own.
Christian held her closer, protecting her from unseen demons. He would never let anything ever hurt her again, he had sworn it to her. And to himself. They would harm her over his dead body. Literally.
She pulled away, looking up at him.
"I think we have to go."
He groaned. "Do we have to?"
Satine nodded affirmatively. "Yes. We must." She moved away entirely, pulling out a lacey shawl and throwing it over her shoulders.
Sighing, Christian followed Satine out the door.
~*~
The dining room was full of people of wealth, all a glitter with ruby necklaces and diamond cuff links. Whereas Christian felt uncomfortable, Satine was right at home amongst the wealthy. She mingled quite well. Christian tried to escape to deck several times, the pressure of Satine's fingers on his arm kept him there. And the pleading look in her eyes. If it makes her happy, who cares? He reasoned.
They were seated at a table with 10 other people. The captain sat at one end, the richest man on the ship at the other. The rest of the table were filled with industrialists and their wives; two pairs of Lords and Ladies; and a Russian Count and Countess.
Everyone simply adored Satine, who was bright and bubbly as one could hope. Forever the social butterfly, she was flawless at entertaining people whose names she didn't know and holding their interest with nothing but a short little laugh.
Christian, on the other hand, was not too thrilled to be sitting at a table full of the bourgeois people he had escaped from but a little while before. When spoke to, he was as polite and as civil as everyone expected him to be, but was silent otherwise.
An hour and a half later, the men rose from their chairs. "Time for a brandy, I'd say!" one man announced heartily. They all offered to escort their women back to their rooms, which most declined. Christian stood up as well, motioning to Satine that he wanted to go.
Satine smiled apologetically. "This has been a rather pleasant evening, ladies, but I am afraid that all this delightful conversation has made me a bit tired. Good night."
A chorus of goodnights were thrown her away, and Christian was finally free.
"That was the longest 90 minutes of my life."
"You're overreacting."
Their room was blissfully quiet after the chatter of the evening. Satine pulled off her shawl and smiled mischievously. "And what are we going to do for the rest of the evening?"
Christian grinned back at her. "Oh, I can think of some things to do."
"Anything interesting?" Satine teased.
Christian crossed the distance between them, taking her into his arms and pressing his forehead to hers. "Well, I have this notion that we love one another..."
"And?" Satine breathed.
The rest was whispered into her ear, and she giggled madly.
Yes, Christian had a good idea.
~*~
Christian opened his eyes and yawned. The porthole let in the sunlight. A clock on the nightstand said it was quarter to eleven.
Next to him, Satine started to move around. She rolled over, trying to escape the light. Christian grinned wickedly and started to tickle her ribs.
Satine was up very quickly. She yawned, causing Christian to do so once again. "Good morning." He said evenly.
"You're horrible."
He grinned. "I know." He pointed to the clock. "It's time to get up."
"I'm guessing you're a morning person." she moaned, arching her back and yawning again. She stretched her arms as she had the morning before.
He nodded. "Yeah."
She shook her head. "I'm not."
"I noticed."
She smirked. "I will rise, but I will not shine."
He pinched her cheek. "You always shine, darling."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You say that now." She got up and slid into her kimono, groaning. "I've got to pack this all up."
Christian smiled. "Told you not to unpack it all."
"Oh, hush up." She put a thoughtful finger to her lip. "When do we dock?"
"Noon."
Satine shrieked. "I've only got an hour and fifteen minutes to get ready and pack!"
~*~
An hour an ten minutes later, Satine proudly announced that she was packed and ready to go. There was a commotion in the hallway again. People were eager to set foot in England.
A porter came and took the luggage, and they got out to open air to cross the gangplank. The smile Satine had on was unremoveable. "I've never been to England." she told Christian excitedly.
"I know." he replied. He squeezed her hand. "You've told me five times already."
Satine made a face at him.
"Now, we've still got a short train ride to London, darling." he said. Satine's smiled faltered.
"We're still not there?" she asked, sounding a bit weary.
He shook his head. "Not yet, my love."
She sighed, putting her arms around his waist and leaning her head on her shoulder. "London is very far from Montmartre, isn't it?" she asked, slightly drowsily. Christian kissed her forehead. London wasn't very far, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Yes, darling. Very far."
She nodded. "Good."
The gangplank finally ended, and they were officially in England. The porter with the luggage magically reappeared, and Christian hailed cab.
Satine climbed up into the backseat. She could have leaned her head back and have been asleep in an instant, but she didn't for fear of wrinkling her white dress and coat. She did, however, remover her little white beret.
Christian climbed in next to her. He studied her. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked.
She forced a smile to her lips. She wouldn't tell him how tired she was, or the weight in her chest. She wouldn't mention how hard it was becoming for her to breathe, or how even walking tired her. No, he was worried enough already. He didn't need anything else to worry about.
"I'm fine."
No, she wouldn't tell him. It would all pass, and she would be fine once she went to sleep. After all, she thought with a smile, she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Yes, after a little cat nap, she'd be just fine.
The train station looked exactly like the one in Montmartre, causing Satine do a double take in shock. This is either a very good sign or a very bad sign, she thought.
They alighted from the cab. For once they wouldn't have to wait, the train was leaving in five minutes. They had barely enough to time to check their luggage and get into their berth before the train left.
Satine curled up on the seat. This berth looked exactly the same as the one from before, but instead of red velvet seats this one had blue velvet. Satine didn't care. She was tired, and she was going to sleep. Just a little rest, and I'll be fine.
Christian sat across from her. He had gotten another newspaper from heavens-knows-where and was now scanning it.
Yes, it was a long way to London. Enough time to catch forty winks. And when I wake up, this cough will be gone.
Doubts settled, Satine slipped into the land of Nod.
~*~
"Next stop, London. Next stop, London."
Christian looked up from his paper, which he had read cover to cover three times. London.
He looked out the window. Yup, there was London.
He knelt down by Satine, gently shaking her. "Satine." he said softly. "Darling, it's time to wake up."
She groaned. "I'm up."
"We're almost there."
Satine sat right up. "To London?"
Christian nodded. "Yes."
She sent forth a smile that put the sun to shame. "Finally." she complained good-naturedly.
Satine produced a small mirror and anxiously checked her appearance. "Do I look alright?"
Christian looked at her affectionately. "You look beautiful."
Satine snorted. "I look like a wreck."
"Never."
Christian once again got up too fast and was thrown into a wall; this time Satine didn't bother to hide her amusement and burst out laughing.
Christian dusted his coat off and smiled smarmily back at Satine.
That short burst of laughter had left her breathless, and a hand to her throat was visible proof. Christian was at her side instantly. "Satine? Darling? What's the matter?"
Satine cleared her throat and inhaled slowly. "I'm fine."
The panicky look didn't leave Christian's eyes. "Dearest, are you sure?"
Satine nodded, smiling. "I'm fine."
Christian said no more, but he was concerned none the less. He attributed the little spell to her being tired from traveling, and tried to give it no more thought.
At least he tried.
~*~
They got off the train with no further mishaps. Satine had vetoed the cab idea, saying she wanted to stretch her legs and walk around a bit. Christian protested, asking what they would do with their bags.
Satine tilted her head. "We'll find a hotel, and leave them there."
And since Christian was willing to do whatever Satine wanted, he gave in.
The first little inn they saw was quaint. The woman who owned it, Mrs. Phillips, seemed nice, it wasn't that busy, and it served breakfast, lunch and dinner. Satine seemed pleased with the room they were offered, and they decided to take it.
After putting their bags up in their room, Satine insisted again that she wanted to take a walk. Taking the scarf that Mrs. Phillips offered, Christian agreed. Satine, who seemed to be totally unaffected by the cold, pranced off down the street.
"Christian, your family still lives here, don't they?" she blurted out.
Christian stopped, looking startled. He slowly nodded.
"That's why you didn't want to come here." she deduced.
"I did too want to come here." he objected.
She looked at him.
"Don't lie. I know you came here because I wanted to."
Christian sighed. "Yes. My family lives around here. Very close in fact."
Satine sighed as well. "I'd like to meet them." Taking his arm, she snuggled into them. "What are they like?"
"My father is a narrow-minded business man who is set in his ways. He's certain that white is white, and that black is black, and refuses to believe in any sort of gray."
"What a lovely description."
Christian ignored her. "My mother is... docile. She blindly adores my father and believes anything he says. I think the first argument they've had since they were married was about my leaving and his disowning me.
"I have two brothers, Gregory and Thomas. Greg is two years younger than me and an underhanded sneak who is exactly like my father but twice as conniving. Thomas is only thirteen and isn't quite sure about anything yet. He's being influenced greatly by Greg.
"And then I have my little sister, Annette. She's... uh... not like my mother. Reckless. A lot like me, actually. She's sixteen, and quite pretty. We've been fending off suitors since she was twelve. Smart too. Very clever. My father thinks of her as nothing but a silly piece of fluff whose only job is to be virtuous and married off, and that really hurts her. My mother wanted her to be mild-mannered and meek like every lady she knows, so she's a great source of disappointment for her as well. We've always been one another's favorite, because I didn't tease her about not being lady-like and she didn't tease me for being more interesting in books than in business."
Satine watched Christian with wide eyes as he ripped off his recital. "I'm guessing you don't like your family very much."
Christian shook his head.
"Want to trade?"
Christian looked up at her, interested. If Satine was willing to share, he wasn't about to stop her.
"Tell me."
Satine smiled dryly and started to talk.
"My father was a brick-layer. He was English. He was the foreman, and we were very proud of him. He died when I was six when a scaffold fell on him. My mother was French. She was always very sick. But she was always very happy, even though times were really hard for her.
"I had three sisters, one older and two younger. Odette was three years older, Genevieve was two years younger, and Lizbette was the baby. She was four years younger than me.
"Odette was a great beauty. She was delicate and graceful. She was a dancer. She never walked, she glided, and never spoke, she trilled. She was very soft-spoken and gentle. She had the most beautiful golden hair, just like my father had. Golden hair and bright blue eyes.
"Genevieve was my partner in crime. If I was in any mischief, so was Jenny. She was pretty in a coarser way. She had red hair like me, and it was curly too, but her hair was much lighter, almost orange, and always out of control. Odette or Maman braided it every morning, and by noon her hair was coming out. She had freckles too. But she was so sweet.
"Lizbette was the baby, and was horribly spoiled. She was very frail, and was usually stuck in bed because Maman was afraid for her. She too hair blond hair, but hers was light, very light. She was beautiful child, and so darling.
"My mother died when I was twelve, leaving us all alone in the world. We were sent from our village, Marisse, to an orphanage in Paris.
"Odette disappeared one day. She came by to see me and Genevieve, and then went to see Lizbette, who was with the little ones. She told me that we should always stay together, and left. I never saw her again.
"When I was thirteen and Lizbette was 9, diphtheria came to the orphanage. Genevieve and I were spared, but Lizbette, being very delicate and weak, caught it and was dead before the week was over.
"When I was fourteen a well-dressed man walked into the office. He had a nicely tailored suit, and we all wondered who he was.
"A little while later, the owner of the orphanage's wife, Madame Benoit, came out and picked me and three other girls to come in."
Satine smiled ruefully. "I remember it all so clearly. The first one was Brigitte. She had the prettiest flaxen hair and emerald green eyes. She was but a tiny little thing, very small. Another one chosen was Antoinette, who had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was very smart. The last one was Estelle, who had midnight black hair and violet eyes. She was fierce and had a temper.
"Mme Benoit told us that this man was going to take us away from the orphanage, and that we would go to a nice place.
"The man's name was Harold Zidler."
Satine stopped uncertainly. "I said goodbye to Genevieve and we left the next morning. It was then I realized that this was probably where Odette had gone.
"But I never saw Odette. I saw my three friends- tiny Brigitte, smart Antoinette, impetuous Estelle- all fall victim to some horrid aspect of our new life.
"First we were nothing but costume girls, but it wasn't very long before we made the graduation to dancing girls.
"I was the only one who survived."
Satine swallowed, and looked at Christian with pain in her eyes. He squeezed her arm.
"I wrote to Genevieve a lot. I missed her horribly. She wrote back, nice long letters telling me what was going on and how she was.
"Then one day I got a letter from Mme Benoit. Genevieve had died in a typhoid outbreak."
Satine cuddled into Christian. "I was all alone. Odette was no where to be found, Lizbette was dead, Genevieve was dead, Maman was dead, Papa was dead. I had no one.
"I became very involved in my work. And I became very good at it.
"I was fifteen when I became one of the Diamond dogs, and a year later I was the Sparkling Diamond."
"My poor darling." Christian said, embracing her.
She sighed. "Wow. I feel a lot better having told you that."
Christian grinned. "The marvel of sharing."
"Want to hear my most interesting achievement?" Satine asked with a wicked smile.
"What?" he asked warily.
"I can peel an apple without breaking the skin."
"Really?"
Satine nodded proudly. "Uh huh. The one thing we always had a lot of was fruit. And boy, did we ever have a lot of. So, one day I was playing around and I challenged myself and found out I could do it."
"I can say the alphabet backwards." Christian announced.
"Oh, can you?" Satine asked, laughing. "That's useful."
"More so than peeling an apple whole." He sent the barb at her.
Satine winced. "Ouch. Let's hear it."
"Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T," He started.
He started walking away, still reciting. "S-R-Q-P-O,"
Satine felt her chest contract. Suddenly, the world was spinning round and round. The letters of the alphabet swirled around her head in a sea of red. Her mother humming a song. Christian singing.
"N-M-L-K-J-I," he continued.
Satine gripped at the iron fence, willing her mind to clear and her breath to catch.
It didn't work.
"H- G-F-E-D," Christian protracted.
"Christian-"
Christian turned to see Satine weakly holding her hand out to him, before starting to fall.
He caught her just before she reached the ground.
Christian looked around wildly, thoughts whirling through his head. Where could he go? Who could he get to help Satine.
He looked up at the entrance of the park. Harrison Park. If this was Harrison, that meant that home was a block away.
Home.
All thoughts of his parents and siblings left his head. Satine needed help, and he could get her help back home.
Conveniently forgetting that he and his family hadn't left on the best of terms, Christian picked Satine up and started running towards his house.
Home.