A/N-Warning : I have absolutely no experience writing Moulin Rouge fics as this is my first one. I hope you take that into account should you review. Also, this -will- eventually have content in it that is one-sided m/m slash that borders on the lines of being non consensual. If that bothers you greatly then I suggest you do not read further. Aside from that I only have a vague idea where I am going with this and it has not been Beta'd - but I still hope you like it! Please let me know either way as this -is- my first time and I'm anxious to know. Also, this was written at 3:30am so again...sorry if it is not up to par.

Life After Satine

By: MercilessTantalus

Chapter One: Realization

Chapter Rating: PG

It was strange, this feeling that overcame Christian as he typed out the last word in his novel. The last word to their story. Not because it had come to an unexpected end, after all, he was only telling events that had already unfolded. But because it was...over.

He had scraped by in his existence from day to day in the months after Satine had died. Where once he had lived with an innocent freedom and passion he was now chained to his past and his own grief. No matter how much time had passed the sores were still too fresh, time simply cannot heal all things.

As much as it shamed him to realize it after the fact, writing their story had been something of a distraction. It had allowed him to focus on the past, on reliving a far happier time in his life. He had been so lost in his work that now it was done...he did not feel a sense of accomplishment as he usually did, merely a feeling of emptiness.

It was done, completed.

Great.

Now what?

Running a hand tiredly over his face, Christian sat back in his seat sighing heavily as his hand reached for his last bottle of alcohol. Lifting it to his lips, Christian blinked as he found no rushing liquid running over his lips and bringing him a kind of detachment he had grown used to in the past months.

Glancing to the side, searching for more of that sweet elixir, Christian was unpleasantly surprised to find only empty bottles littering the floor. In fact, he found as he sat up a bit straighter, the entire room was a dump. His quarters that he once found cozy and quaint now looked very much like a dumping ground for tattered pieces of paper with rejected lines on them, empty alcohol bottles and dirty clothes.

Sluggishly pulling himself up to a standing position Christian wondered when the place had gotten to be such a mess. Taking a few steps forward he very soon realized that he was in no position to move so quickly after having been in a drunken stupor for the last several hours. Fortunately for him his steps had taken him in the direction of his bed and his last thought before he hit the sheets was wondering what his point was of living now, with his love gone and his task complete.

"Will you just hurry up already, we've got to be at rehearsal in five minutes!"

Blinking groggily Christian turned his head to the side, trying to figure out of this was a dream or if he was awake.

"I will always take time for friends! Remember love...love does not always have to be romantic, it's what we're all about and-"

"And there is no point in going to a rehearsal for a play as horrible as what Delahove is coming up with anyway."

Squinting in the daylight streaming from a nearby window Christian could make out the forms of Satie, the Argentinian and Talouse. Which meant that he probably wasn't dreaming. Still, he was surprised to see them, he thought he had driven them off weeks ago.

"It's still a job!" Satie was saying in a hushed whisper, "It's better than nothing, though we might not even have that if we're late again. If you didn't always insist on coming over here...he doesn't even appreciate it, look at him."

Quickly, on instinct, Christian shut his eyes again so the three sets of eyes suddenly looking his way would not know that he is awake and could hear them.

"He's still heartbroken." Talouse said in a voice that was full of pity and sadness. "You cannot blame him, he needs his friends now and I'm just trying to help." As he spoke, Christian risked a peak again, touched by the dwarfs words.

Satie was standing near the door with his arms over his chest, the Argentinian was righting Christian's garbage can and gathering some of the papers and tossing them in while Talouse picked up empty bottles and gently placed them in, putting a few new and only partially empty ones in their place along with a few sandwiches.

"Right, that's good." The Argentinian chimed in. While it was all well and good to help out a friend he believed it was going a bit too far to simply give away the last of their alcohol as Talouse was doing, but he believed it was part of the healing process. After all, alcohol always seemed to help with Talouse's own problems so he was convinced it could help Christian through his own rough times. "Let's go now."

Turning, the Argentinian and Satie left, Talouse following soon behind, shutting the door behind him with a soft, "Recover soon, my friend."

Once they were gone, Christian slowly sat up, slipping out from under the covers that he knew weren't over him when he had collapsed in bed the previous night. So, this is how I have survived all along... Christian realized, feeling sick to his stomach for a reason that, for once, had nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol he had ingested.

These past months it had been his -friends- that had been taking care of him. Cleaning his small apartment, leaving him food and alcohol...all along Christian had been in too much of a daze, too lost in his own grief and loss and self pity to even wonder how it was he continued to survive when he had not left his room aside to go to the bathroom in weeks. Selfish he thought to himself with a stab of disgust. I am as selfish now as I ever have been. As selfish as I was with Satine-

Breaking that thought of abruptly Christian took a gasping breath, getting unsteadily to his feet. It was wrong of his friends to baby him this way while he did nothing but waste their money. He was even wasting their talent as they seemed to be unable to find a good enough writer while he sat in the shadows and lost himself in the past. The pure fact of the matter was that while his heart would always live in the past his mind and his body needed to live in the present. He would no longer allow himself to take advantage of his friends.

"I've got to get it together, I've got to...got to get a job." He muttered to himself, stumbling over to his usual seat and sitting down. It would be too easy now... he reflected to get lost in what I have become. To allow my own grief to overpower me but I think...I -know- it is not what Sa...what...what she would have wanted. She told me that I had to go on. I have to not only survive but I have to flourish...I have to make her proud so that one day, when we are reunited, it can be for eternity.

With a sense of clarity that he had not felt in months, Christian lifted his head from the desk, his eyes wide and open. It was time to take control of his life again. Even if he could not write for love for himself anymore he could still believe in it. He still knew it existed for others and it would be a privilege at this point to make things easier for others.

It gave him something to live for.

A week later found Christian sitting at his desk once more. The crucial difference was the fact he was working on a new show for the bohemians and was not drunk off his mind. In fact, as physically painful as it might have been for him at first, he had not drunken a drop of alcohol ever since he had realized what had been going on the past months.

It seemed that many things had changed in that time. The Moulin Rouge had closed. And yes, while he had been aware enough of this to realize the lights had gone out he had done no more than to poetically compare that to Satine. Now the reality of the fact was only just dawning on him.

The Moulin Rouge had closed.

Which meant Zidler, the bohemians, all the dancers...did not have a job. What's worse, the dancers now had no where to live. Zidler had made enough to scrape together a home for himself and was now working at a fish factory and the bohemians had their own homes...but the girls. The Moulin Rouge had been more than a job to them, it had been their whole lives. And the reason it was gone was entirely Christian's fault.

While this realization might have sent him into another shame a self hatred spiral any other day it had only given him more clarity this day. When one door closes, another one opens...if it doesn't, one had only to break a door down. Christian had told the others who had been amazed and relieved to find this new life in him. He was not quite the vibrant artist he had once been but he was fighting again.

Daily the bohemians searched for a new place to perform. A new place that would take in the girls not as prostitutes but only as dancers and actresses, and Christian was working on his new play so they would have a hook with which to capture a new stage.

However, this was no longer 1899, it was now 1900. Times were harder, people less willing to take risks on a group of penniless bohemians. Thus far they had had no luck in finding a new place to live and work. But still they persevered in hopes that one day, one day soon, they would have a place for their talent.

"Love, yes, love always has to be the center, but it doesn't always have to be a drama. The crowd was seduced by the dancers and the intrigue but comedy is just as powerful or perhaps a mystery..." Christian mused to himself out loud as he typed a few ideas as they came to him. Candle light played across his features as he mused. It was dark and raining outside and as he had no money to pay for power, much of his writing was done by day or to candle light.

A loud bang pulled him from his thoughts and Christian turned to see the door had been thrown open and what looked rather like a drowned rat was standing in his doorway. The girl was extremely thin and frail looking, wet from the rain that was pouring outside, wearing a long thin coat. She seemed to be wearing -only- the coat. "Oi, so this is where you're hiding now adays, is it?" She sneered from the doorway, her face hidden in the shadows of the storm.

Startled to see the girl and not entirely sure as to how he was supposed to react, Christian simply stared at her. "I...am not hiding I assure you, Miss...?" He trailed off, intending for her to supply her name.

A laugh erupted from the woman quickly followed by coughs that wracked her thin weak body. Jumping to his feet in concern he took several steps toward her only to have a hand wave him away her eyes coldly glaring at him. A chill ran down his back. He knew those eyes.

"Oh don't you dare, don't you -dare- even -pretend- to care about me or how I'm doing." She fumed as best she could from her position leaning weakly on his door frame. Now that he was close enough to see her more clearly he couldn't shake the feeling that he knew her. "After all it's -your- fault...yours and the dia.." she coughed heavily "the -diamond's-" She exaggerated the word sarcastically.

It was this scathing attitude that made him finally realize who she was.

"Nini."