Dreams and Dreams Destroyed
Disclaimer: Read my Moulin Rouge stories, ok? Just read them and tell me if you notice something - does Satine ever die in them? No! Absolutely not! If I owned this movie, she wouldn't've died at the end - I would've saved her at all cost! And not only that, but Nini would've had a much larger role. Clearly, I was not in any way connected with the creation of this wonderful story. I can claim more in this one than normal though - so far, at least, Nini is the only recognizable character in this story. Harold will probably appear soon, Toulouse, Arabia, even Satine herself eventually, but right now she's alone among OC's
Note: Nini is about 12 in this chapter and is called Nadine, because she hasn't yet acquired the nickname.
Another note: This is a prequel to How She Felt, which was written as a prequel to If Only You Knew. I don't really care what order you read them in, and I don't think it really matters. So, enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Sparkling Diamond
Nadine giggled as she watched the can-can dancers twirl across the stage. Their brightly colored dresses spun, making her dizzy, but she didn't care. She'd been fascinated by these girls all her life, attending their practices, idolizing them, trying to imitate their perfect moves. And tonight she'd been able to sneak into the Moulin Rouge to actually see them perform.
The excitement in the air infected her and she had to force herself not to join them like she sometimes did during rehearsals. They'd laugh at her and shoo her away then, but her mother had forbidden her to go to the club at night, so who knows what would happen if she were discovered.
But she wouldn't be – Nadine was carefully hidden away underneath one of the few unoccupied tables in the corner. As long as she didn't draw attention to herself, no one would ever know she'd been there.
Nadine's grin faded and she cocked her head to one side in confusion. The girls had taken partners now – men who'd come to see them just as Nadine had. She drew back, slightly horrified at the dance in front of her. Why would anyone ruin such a beautiful dance with those sorts of moves? The men couldn't actually dance, that much was obvious, and most of them weren't even trying – they were just trying to get much closer to the girls then Nadine thought necessary. Or even possible.
Then the lights dimmed and Nadine gasped with anticipation, just like everyone else. This was what she'd really come for and she knew it would make up for the awful things the men had done on the dance floor a few minutes before. Slowly, a white-clad woman was lowered on a fancy trapeze. Nadine smiled as the woman turned toward her – Desiree Rousseau, the Sparkling Diamond.
Desiree Rousseau was, in Nadine's opinion, the loveliest woman in the world. She had long, shiny black hair that she spent hours brushing and now hung past her waist, swinging slowly. In the half-light, her pale skin shone with a pearly glow, an effect only accentuated by the sparkling dress. Oh, that dress! Nadine stared at it almost hungrily. Desiree was a goddess in that dress. There was no other way to put it: she was a shining, 27-year-old beacon of dormant power, gracing the Moulin Rouge with her presence for only a short time. A goddess.
And she was Nadine's mother.
"The French . . . are glad . . . to die . . . for love." Desiree sang softly. Nadine closed her eyes, drinking it in. As far as she was concerned, there was no more beautiful a sound on earth and no more beautiful a woman to make it. "But I prefer a man who lives . . . and gives expensive . . . jewels!"
The music began once more and Nadine almost started to cheer along with everyone else, but stopped herself just in time. She stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as her mother's trapeze began to spin around the stage and Desiree filled the hall with her beautiful laughter. There was another sound to rival all others.
Nadine had heard her sing Diamants before, of course, but she'd never seen it performed. It was all improvisation, her mother told her, so there was no way to practice. Nadine had always wondered how improvisation could possibly work – what if she took a wrong step, or ran into someone else? – but now she understood. Desiree didn't just make things up as she went along – she watched the crowd carefully and listened to the orchestra, choosing her steps accordingly and dancing them as surely as though they had been rehearsed.
For the rest of the song, Nadine was unable to tear her eyes from her mother's shining figure. The dress, the music, the dancing – it was all so beautiful that Nadine could hardly stand not being a part of it. She wished it would go on forever and for the next few minutes it seemed like it was going to. How could such a wonderful night ever end? Nadine hardly notice how close the end was until she heard those dreaded final notes, "Diamonds . . . are a . . . girl's . . . best . . . friend!"
Nadine found herself wiping away tears as her mother vanished into the ceiling again. The crowd was cheering, begging for her to come back, but Nadine knew better. Now that her number was over, Desiree Rousseau wouldn't be returning.
Which meant, Nadine realized suddenly, that she should go. But the can-can girls were on the dance floor again – alone, thank god – and she hesitated. Surely a few more minutes couldn't hurt. She sat tensely, undecided for a few seconds, then gave into temptation. She relaxed, and soon was giggling at the dancers' moves once more.
Nadine didn't know how it had happened. One minute, she'd been staring at the girls, the room full of blazing lights and color, the next she felt someone shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see a dark, empty hall and knew at once she was in trouble – the Moulin Rouge didn't sleep until very early in the morning, which meant she'd been sleeping for several hours.
"Come on, young lady. That's enough excitement for one night." Nadine groaned, for the first time in her life wishing someone other than her mother were waking her up. Desiree sighed and pulled her daughter to her feet. "It's past your bedtime."
"I've been sleeping." Nadine murmured groggily. Desiree gave a low chuckle and led her back to their rooms in the Moulin.
Nadine went to bed and fell asleep again almost instantly. For the rest of the night, she dreamed of wild dances and beautiful voices, bright colors and spinning skirts. When she woke rather abruptly the next morning, there was only one thought in her head. This is what I want.
To dance the can-can, to sing Diamants, to dress in flowing dresses and to hear people cheering just for her. She wanted it all, more than she'd ever wanted anything before. Giggling quietly, she got up and hurried to the window, flinging it open. She leaned forward, breathing in the fresh air deeply. "Diamonds! Are a girl's . . . best . . . friend!" She sang, surprised at the sound of her own singing voice, rarely before used.
Nadine laughed out loud and turned back to the room. Her smile faded as she saw her mother watching her from across the room. She'd expected Desiree to be angry, since she'd disobeyed her orders, but instead there was a quizzical frown on her face. "So . . . you enjoyed the show last night?" she asked.
Nadine nodded eagerly, forgetting to look abashed. "Oh yes!" she cried. "It was wonderful!" Well, except for when those men came and ruined the can-can . . . she added silently. Desiree nodded slowly, still looking thoughtful. "Mother?" She asked uncertainly. "Are – are you angry with me?" Sometimes it was hard to tell.
"No." Desiree answered after a long pause. "No, I'm not. I think you're now old enough to see the dances as they are meant to be seen." Nadine gasped, and clapped her hands together in delight.
"Really? You mean it?"
Desiree chuckled softly. "Of course." She answered. "In fact – darling, I've seen you dance and even heard you sing on occasion. You have talent and that is something that's hard to come by here." Nadine opened her mouth to protest – the girls had talent, plenty of it! – but Desiree continued, "I think that, with some training, you could join us on the dance floor soon." Nadine's mouth was still open, but it was now in shock.
"I – I'm not that good . . ." she stammered. Her mother laughed sweetly.
"Not yet, perhaps, but I think . . . yes, I think you could be. Now, you have to understand – all the talent in the world does not make you a performer. It takes practice – years of practice – and lots of hard work. But you're almost twelve now – you're not a child anymore, Nadine. Are you willing to try?" Her mother's voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. Her a dancer? Join the girls on the stage? The dreams she'd only just realized she had suddenly seemed possible and for a few seconds she envisioned herself on the trapeze and heard the crowd's cheers below her. Cheering for her. "Nadine?" Desiree pulled her out of her imagination. "Would you like that?"
"What? Would I like it?" Nadine asked, incredulously. "Mother, I'd love it! I'll do anything, I promise! I don't care how much work it will take, or practice! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She ran across the room and hugged her mother tightly. When she let go, Desiree kissed her cheek lightly.
"Your lessons start this afternoon then." Smiling, Desiree left the room and Nadine went back to the window. She grinned as one of the windmill's arms swung down in front of her. Slowly, she sank to the floor and happily lost herself in wild daydreams of the day when her name would be known by everyone.
A/N: I think I like Nini as a child. She's fun to write, full of an energy that she doesn't have in How She Felt and If Only You Knew.
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