***Disclaimer; I do not own the Moulin Rouge, Christian, Satine or any of
the characters from Baz Luhrmann's film. The same goes for the Titanic,
Jack, Rose and any characters used in James Cameron's film. I am simply a
writer writing about my two favorite movies. ;)***
~Chapter 3~
"All right, this is going to sting," Christian warned Rose as he took the cloth, damp with alcohol, and placed it along the deep cuts across her face. She winced at the shooting pain, but then felt relief as Christian removed the cloth and began to softly blow on her cheek. "There you go. Let some air get to it, I'll apply some more alcohol later or you can do it yourself, if you want." He pointed to the cabinet in his bathroom, "it will be right here." Christian smiled as he walked back over to her. "Now, for that bruise," he went over to his small ice box and wrapped a few chunks of it in a dish towel. As Christian placed the ice over her eye he said, "just keep that over your eye for awhile so it doesn't swell up."
"Thank you," Rose whispered.
"For what?" asked Christian innocently.
Rose laughed and responded, "for saving my life, for beating up that horrible man, for cleaning my battle wounds," she shook the ice and smiled. "For taking me into your home."
Christian blushed slightly, "don't worry about it. It's nothing.
"No Christian, it is something. You're a very special person," she reached up and stroked his cheek as they looked into each others eyes.
Christian all of a sudden cleared his throat and stood up, "I was just at the right place at the right time, I guess." He could feel a very awkward tension in the room. He chuckled and said, "here, let me check on your 'battle wounds'".
************
Rose lightly touched the bruise across her eye. A dull pain shot through her, even though it was a small amount of pressure. She sighed and sat down on the small bed she had made on his couch. Christian had taken her blanket to wash it and gave her some new, cotton ones. She felt content knowing the Heart of the Ocean was under the couch. It was safe, she no longer had to worry about someone stealing it. In fact, she was safe. Christian had a small, messy apartment, but it was better then sleeping outside in the cold. The brick apartment had somewhat of a cozy feel to it, with various paintings by what looked to be some French painter, the little stove that Christian always kept a stained, metal kettle on and his desk, littered with papers and a very worn, but lovely typewriter. He must be a writer. Rose thought to herself. That was when she realized how little she knew about Christian. She knew he worked at the café, that he obviously must be a writer by the looks of things and he could definitely cook. She smiled as she remembered the first hot meal she had had in days. A couple hours ago, Christian had fixed them some beef stew with fresh, hot rolls. He had said that he didn't usually cook like that, but he liked to have the excuse when guests came by.
Just then, something caught Rose's eye. Over on his bookshelf, lined with books by famous authors, there was a shelf with many pictures in frames. She stood up and walked over to the shelf to examine it. In the frames, where pictures of a young woman. She had on beautiful gowns and diamonds. In many of the pictures it looked like she was singing. Rose thought to herself who the person could be.
"Her name was Satine," said Christian behind her.
Rose was startled and she turned around to see him looking longingly at the pictures. Rose had to look him straight in the face, so as not to let her eyes wander. He had been getting ready for bed and was wearing nothing but a pair of worn in, cotton trousers. It was all she could do not to stare at his well defined chest and stomach. Rose said, "I'm sorry, I just noticed the pictures. I didn't mean to be rude."
Christian smiled, "no, no. It's fine."
Rose could tell that the subject pained him so she tried to get his mind off it, "so, I noticed the typewriter, are you a writer?" she asked.
Christian turned away from the pictures and said, "well, I'm trying to be. Nobody seems to think I'm good enough. I'm starting to believe it myself. In fact, today I tried to get a piece published and they laughed in my face and called it 'sappy drivel'".
"That's horrible. Don't give up on yourself."
"It's hard when nobody believes in you."
Rose thought for a minute before she responded, "I believe in you."
Christian smiled at her and laughed, "you've never even read anything I've written." Rose blushed. He saw she was embarrassed and made a quick save, "but thank you, though." There was an awkward pause for a few moments, "would you like to read something."
"Of course."
Christian walked over to his typewriter and Rose thought she was going to die at the sight of his smooth back and the way the trousers sat so low on his waist. She quickly shrugged off her impure thoughts as he handed her a typed page. Rose sat down and read it. It was without a doubt, the most beautiful thing she had ever read. It was a poem about love. He obviously must have been in love before if he could write about it like this. When she finished, she looked up at said, "the publisher wouldn't take this?"
Christian smiled sadly and replied, "No, that and some of my other poems were in their classification of 'sappy drivel.'"
"Well, it's most certainly not 'sappy drivel'", she replied. "Keep trying, I'm sure one day they'll realize how wonderful it is."
"I hope so," Christian replied weakly. He looked at Rose and realized she was still in her pink colored dress. "Don't you want to sleep in something a little more comfortable?" he asked.
"Christian, these are my only clothes. I don't have anything else."
"I know, I mean, you can borrow one of my shirts if you want," he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a rather worn in looking button up shirt. "I know you're probably used to nightgowns, but this is all I have."
Rose reached out and took the shirt. "No, I appreciate it, thank you."
"Tomorrow I can take you into town and get you some dresses, toiletries and a real nightgown," he said with a wink.
"Christian, you can't spend all that money on me!"
"Yes I can. This is a man's apartment. I'm the only one who's lived here for 11 years. We need to get your 'womanly things'." Rose laughed. "That is, if you're intending to stay for awhile," Christian said, as more of a question than a comment.
Rose simply nodded, "as long as I'm welcome."
Christian smiled, "well, I guess I'm off to bed." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Rose."
"Goodnight, Christian," Rose called as she headed towards the bathroom to put on his shirt with the feeling of his lips still lingering against her cheek.
************
"Please fit this beautiful young lady for several dresses," Christian said to the store owner as he spun Rose around.
Rose laughed and took the hand of the woman as she began to admire the many dresses hanging neatly from racks. They were nothing compared to the beaded, flowing gowns she was used to, but at this point, she was happy to be getting any clothes at all. The plump woman had small, beady eyes that peered out behind her glasses and lips that were puckered into a small smile. She took Rose behind a curtain and began to take her measurements.
Waiting patiently in the front of the store, was Christian. He was leaning against one of the racks of clothes, waiting for Rose. His eyes scanned the store, full of corsets, dresses and sweet smelling soaps, hardly a place for a man. He chuckled to himself as his eyes fell upon a rather revealing nightgown. It had been a long time since he had seen a woman in one of those. He had tried being with another woman a few years earlier, but as she waltzed into his bedroom in her red nightgown, trying desperately to seduce him, he hadn't been able to go through with it. They were trying too hard and it was then he realized that he didn't really love her. It can go without saying, that was the end of that relationship.
Christian looked up at Rose as she came out from behind the curtain with the store owner. They began to look through the rack of dresses in her size. He smiled, seeing how much she was enjoying picking out her new clothes. So far she had picked a soft, green dress, a form-fitting dark purple dress, a simple red skirt and blouse and a sky blue gown with a small amount of beadwork, the most formal of them all. As Rose headed back into the dressing room, the plump saleswoman picked up a corset in Rose's size. These were the times he was thankful to be a man. The thought of being laced into one of those bone-crushing things made him shudder. He remembered how much Satine used to loathe the things.
Back in the dressing room, Rose took a deep breath as she was being laced into her corset. It was more painful then usual because the struggle with the drunk the other day had pulled several muscles along her sides. She bit her lip to keep from screaming as the thick, whale bone dug into her skin. When the torturous process of being tugged and pulled was over, Rose decided to slip on the purple dress first. She walked out and Christian's mouth almost flew open. The dress extenuated her curves and was rather low cut. She looked absolutely stunning.
"So," asked Rose, "what do you think?" She spun around to give him the full picture.
When Christian finally found his tongue, he replied, "you look gorgeous."
Rose blushed and said, "thank you." She then turned around to try on more of the dresses. Before the owner headed back in with her, she leaned into Christian and whispered, "you have a beautiful daughter."
Before Christian could say anything, the pudgy woman was waddling back into the dressing room. Christian almost fell on the floor as he rushed over to a near by mirror and pulled his bangs over his head to reveal his temples. He squinted and breathed a sigh of relief that there was not a single gray in his thick wave of brown hair. I do not look old enough to be her father, he said, reassuring himself.
This continued for about fifteen minutes; Rose trying on an outfit and modeling it for a speechless Christian. When they had finally gotten all that she needed, including a cream, silk nightgown, the owner began to charge up their bill. While Rose was waiting, her eyes fell upon a chiffon robe, covered in colorful butterflies; an exact replica of the one she wore before Jack drew her. She wanted the robe so badly, but she couldn't ask Christian for it. Especially after all the clothes he was already buying her. Christian turned around to see Rose staring at the robe with longing eyes and snuck up behind her and took it off the shelf and handed it to the woman, "ring this up as well."
Rose couldn't help it, she threw her arms around Christian and whispered a quiet "thank you" into his ear.
"Your welcome," Christian whispered back. He wasn't sure what she found so special about the robe. He also didn't know why he kept wishing he could see her in it.
Christian paid the bill and he and Rose each took a box full of clothes and headed back to his apartment. On the way, Christian said, "you won't believe what happened in there."
"What?" asked Rose curiously.
"The store owner thought that I was your father."
Rose laughed, "are you kidding? Not unless you had me when you were what, ten?"
"Really. Can you imagine? A thirty-four year old having a nineteen year old daughter?"
Rose smiled and nodded, fifteen years apart. He was of course too young to be her father, but the owner's comment did make her wonder exactly what she and Christian's relationship was. And as they silently walked down the busy, New York street, Christian was thinking the exact same thing.
~Chapter 3~
"All right, this is going to sting," Christian warned Rose as he took the cloth, damp with alcohol, and placed it along the deep cuts across her face. She winced at the shooting pain, but then felt relief as Christian removed the cloth and began to softly blow on her cheek. "There you go. Let some air get to it, I'll apply some more alcohol later or you can do it yourself, if you want." He pointed to the cabinet in his bathroom, "it will be right here." Christian smiled as he walked back over to her. "Now, for that bruise," he went over to his small ice box and wrapped a few chunks of it in a dish towel. As Christian placed the ice over her eye he said, "just keep that over your eye for awhile so it doesn't swell up."
"Thank you," Rose whispered.
"For what?" asked Christian innocently.
Rose laughed and responded, "for saving my life, for beating up that horrible man, for cleaning my battle wounds," she shook the ice and smiled. "For taking me into your home."
Christian blushed slightly, "don't worry about it. It's nothing.
"No Christian, it is something. You're a very special person," she reached up and stroked his cheek as they looked into each others eyes.
Christian all of a sudden cleared his throat and stood up, "I was just at the right place at the right time, I guess." He could feel a very awkward tension in the room. He chuckled and said, "here, let me check on your 'battle wounds'".
************
Rose lightly touched the bruise across her eye. A dull pain shot through her, even though it was a small amount of pressure. She sighed and sat down on the small bed she had made on his couch. Christian had taken her blanket to wash it and gave her some new, cotton ones. She felt content knowing the Heart of the Ocean was under the couch. It was safe, she no longer had to worry about someone stealing it. In fact, she was safe. Christian had a small, messy apartment, but it was better then sleeping outside in the cold. The brick apartment had somewhat of a cozy feel to it, with various paintings by what looked to be some French painter, the little stove that Christian always kept a stained, metal kettle on and his desk, littered with papers and a very worn, but lovely typewriter. He must be a writer. Rose thought to herself. That was when she realized how little she knew about Christian. She knew he worked at the café, that he obviously must be a writer by the looks of things and he could definitely cook. She smiled as she remembered the first hot meal she had had in days. A couple hours ago, Christian had fixed them some beef stew with fresh, hot rolls. He had said that he didn't usually cook like that, but he liked to have the excuse when guests came by.
Just then, something caught Rose's eye. Over on his bookshelf, lined with books by famous authors, there was a shelf with many pictures in frames. She stood up and walked over to the shelf to examine it. In the frames, where pictures of a young woman. She had on beautiful gowns and diamonds. In many of the pictures it looked like she was singing. Rose thought to herself who the person could be.
"Her name was Satine," said Christian behind her.
Rose was startled and she turned around to see him looking longingly at the pictures. Rose had to look him straight in the face, so as not to let her eyes wander. He had been getting ready for bed and was wearing nothing but a pair of worn in, cotton trousers. It was all she could do not to stare at his well defined chest and stomach. Rose said, "I'm sorry, I just noticed the pictures. I didn't mean to be rude."
Christian smiled, "no, no. It's fine."
Rose could tell that the subject pained him so she tried to get his mind off it, "so, I noticed the typewriter, are you a writer?" she asked.
Christian turned away from the pictures and said, "well, I'm trying to be. Nobody seems to think I'm good enough. I'm starting to believe it myself. In fact, today I tried to get a piece published and they laughed in my face and called it 'sappy drivel'".
"That's horrible. Don't give up on yourself."
"It's hard when nobody believes in you."
Rose thought for a minute before she responded, "I believe in you."
Christian smiled at her and laughed, "you've never even read anything I've written." Rose blushed. He saw she was embarrassed and made a quick save, "but thank you, though." There was an awkward pause for a few moments, "would you like to read something."
"Of course."
Christian walked over to his typewriter and Rose thought she was going to die at the sight of his smooth back and the way the trousers sat so low on his waist. She quickly shrugged off her impure thoughts as he handed her a typed page. Rose sat down and read it. It was without a doubt, the most beautiful thing she had ever read. It was a poem about love. He obviously must have been in love before if he could write about it like this. When she finished, she looked up at said, "the publisher wouldn't take this?"
Christian smiled sadly and replied, "No, that and some of my other poems were in their classification of 'sappy drivel.'"
"Well, it's most certainly not 'sappy drivel'", she replied. "Keep trying, I'm sure one day they'll realize how wonderful it is."
"I hope so," Christian replied weakly. He looked at Rose and realized she was still in her pink colored dress. "Don't you want to sleep in something a little more comfortable?" he asked.
"Christian, these are my only clothes. I don't have anything else."
"I know, I mean, you can borrow one of my shirts if you want," he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a rather worn in looking button up shirt. "I know you're probably used to nightgowns, but this is all I have."
Rose reached out and took the shirt. "No, I appreciate it, thank you."
"Tomorrow I can take you into town and get you some dresses, toiletries and a real nightgown," he said with a wink.
"Christian, you can't spend all that money on me!"
"Yes I can. This is a man's apartment. I'm the only one who's lived here for 11 years. We need to get your 'womanly things'." Rose laughed. "That is, if you're intending to stay for awhile," Christian said, as more of a question than a comment.
Rose simply nodded, "as long as I'm welcome."
Christian smiled, "well, I guess I'm off to bed." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Rose."
"Goodnight, Christian," Rose called as she headed towards the bathroom to put on his shirt with the feeling of his lips still lingering against her cheek.
************
"Please fit this beautiful young lady for several dresses," Christian said to the store owner as he spun Rose around.
Rose laughed and took the hand of the woman as she began to admire the many dresses hanging neatly from racks. They were nothing compared to the beaded, flowing gowns she was used to, but at this point, she was happy to be getting any clothes at all. The plump woman had small, beady eyes that peered out behind her glasses and lips that were puckered into a small smile. She took Rose behind a curtain and began to take her measurements.
Waiting patiently in the front of the store, was Christian. He was leaning against one of the racks of clothes, waiting for Rose. His eyes scanned the store, full of corsets, dresses and sweet smelling soaps, hardly a place for a man. He chuckled to himself as his eyes fell upon a rather revealing nightgown. It had been a long time since he had seen a woman in one of those. He had tried being with another woman a few years earlier, but as she waltzed into his bedroom in her red nightgown, trying desperately to seduce him, he hadn't been able to go through with it. They were trying too hard and it was then he realized that he didn't really love her. It can go without saying, that was the end of that relationship.
Christian looked up at Rose as she came out from behind the curtain with the store owner. They began to look through the rack of dresses in her size. He smiled, seeing how much she was enjoying picking out her new clothes. So far she had picked a soft, green dress, a form-fitting dark purple dress, a simple red skirt and blouse and a sky blue gown with a small amount of beadwork, the most formal of them all. As Rose headed back into the dressing room, the plump saleswoman picked up a corset in Rose's size. These were the times he was thankful to be a man. The thought of being laced into one of those bone-crushing things made him shudder. He remembered how much Satine used to loathe the things.
Back in the dressing room, Rose took a deep breath as she was being laced into her corset. It was more painful then usual because the struggle with the drunk the other day had pulled several muscles along her sides. She bit her lip to keep from screaming as the thick, whale bone dug into her skin. When the torturous process of being tugged and pulled was over, Rose decided to slip on the purple dress first. She walked out and Christian's mouth almost flew open. The dress extenuated her curves and was rather low cut. She looked absolutely stunning.
"So," asked Rose, "what do you think?" She spun around to give him the full picture.
When Christian finally found his tongue, he replied, "you look gorgeous."
Rose blushed and said, "thank you." She then turned around to try on more of the dresses. Before the owner headed back in with her, she leaned into Christian and whispered, "you have a beautiful daughter."
Before Christian could say anything, the pudgy woman was waddling back into the dressing room. Christian almost fell on the floor as he rushed over to a near by mirror and pulled his bangs over his head to reveal his temples. He squinted and breathed a sigh of relief that there was not a single gray in his thick wave of brown hair. I do not look old enough to be her father, he said, reassuring himself.
This continued for about fifteen minutes; Rose trying on an outfit and modeling it for a speechless Christian. When they had finally gotten all that she needed, including a cream, silk nightgown, the owner began to charge up their bill. While Rose was waiting, her eyes fell upon a chiffon robe, covered in colorful butterflies; an exact replica of the one she wore before Jack drew her. She wanted the robe so badly, but she couldn't ask Christian for it. Especially after all the clothes he was already buying her. Christian turned around to see Rose staring at the robe with longing eyes and snuck up behind her and took it off the shelf and handed it to the woman, "ring this up as well."
Rose couldn't help it, she threw her arms around Christian and whispered a quiet "thank you" into his ear.
"Your welcome," Christian whispered back. He wasn't sure what she found so special about the robe. He also didn't know why he kept wishing he could see her in it.
Christian paid the bill and he and Rose each took a box full of clothes and headed back to his apartment. On the way, Christian said, "you won't believe what happened in there."
"What?" asked Rose curiously.
"The store owner thought that I was your father."
Rose laughed, "are you kidding? Not unless you had me when you were what, ten?"
"Really. Can you imagine? A thirty-four year old having a nineteen year old daughter?"
Rose smiled and nodded, fifteen years apart. He was of course too young to be her father, but the owner's comment did make her wonder exactly what she and Christian's relationship was. And as they silently walked down the busy, New York street, Christian was thinking the exact same thing.