Chapter 10: Breaking Habits

March, 1914

Satine

It seems like forever until I finally hear the familiar scraping of the key turning in the lock on our apartment door. A hard twist, a sharp shove, and then the door opens to reveal Christian, tired and worn. His hair is matted, and his clothes are wrinkled from being smashed in a ball when he changed them for his waiter's uniform, but when he sees me his eyes are just as bright as ever, his smile just as wide. I'm next to him in moments, and I give him a welcoming kiss, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders the moment that he's next to me.

"I've missed you," I whisper, smiling into his cheeks.

"Me too," he laughs, lifting me up and spinning me around. I laugh and hold on tight until he puts me on the ground again. I quickly scurry over to the tiny kitchen/dining area, talking over my shoulder to him.

"You know, you should really rethink not letting me work. I've been out of my mind with boredom all day. The neighbors are nice and all, but there's no fun! No excitement! No-" I pause when I look around the corner and see Christian staring absentmindedly at the couch in the living room. "Christian?"

"Yeah… Yeah?" He seems to pull himself back to me, a smile already pulling itself across his face, but for that moment I saw a flicker of anxiety cross his face, and my lips pull down in a frown.

"Christian, we don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. I didn't mean to bore you."

"No, Satine, it's not that! It's just…" He sighs and takes a hand through his matted brown hair, his eyes weary again. "I'm finding it a little difficult to get French citizenship. The offices are all blocked up with word of hostility and suspicion and all that…" He makes his way over to the dining room table, sitting down heavily.

"You know you don't have to do this. We can move to England if you want-"

"No, no, France is your home. You like it here. I can't take this away from you."

I begin moving around the kitchen again, slowly, thinking. It's true: I love France. I love the language, the way that everyone acts, the atmosphere. From what Christian said, English is filled with stuck-up people who don't believe in making a mess of yourself or having much fun. I set a bowl of stew down in front of him.

"That's true. But Christian, if you're unhappy-"

He smiles up at me. "I can never be unhappy if you're near me." He takes a spoonful of the beef stew and brings it to his mouth.

After a moment's pause, I pick up my bowl as well, sitting down next to Christian. I brush some free hair from off of his forehead before setting down to my food as well.

For a couple of minutes, all we do is eat, taking in the warm, hearty stew. A bit of color returns to Christian's face, and I can see him relax in front of me, smiling as he catches me looking.

"Darling, have you heard anything about what's happening outside of France?" His face freezes, and after a moment, he quickly looks down to the stew, stirring his spoon. I regret saying anything immediately, and reach across to grab his hand in mine. "I didn't mean to make you upset-"

"No, no, it's fine." He gives a weak smile. "Do you know what some leaders are saying? They're saying that a stagnant country is a weak one. They say that if they aren't riled up every once and a while, they become- debilitated, and inactive." He stares down at the bowl for a moment more before snorting and pushing back from the table. "All that talk, and what do they really have in mind? Their land. Their money. Can't give any thought for the common man."

"Christian-"

He looks back to me, and a look of shock spreads across his face. "Oh, Satine, Darling, I shouldn't have said anything. I slipped-"

"Christian, when did you change?" I look sadly up at him. "When did you get so involved in this? I thought you were all about truth, and beauty, and freedom…"

His expression is surprised, and then sorrowful. "I am, Satine. I just… It's just taking over, you know? I can't not think about it." He reaches over and rubs my cheek with his thumb. "Don't worry though, love. Nothing can change my love for you. Nothing in the world." He smiles and kisses me, before straitening up and walking to our bedroom. I listen and hear him sit down on our bed with the creaky springs, and I stare at the bedroom door for several minutes, before standing up and taking care of the dinner bowls.

May, 1914

Christian

"Bonjour, mademoiselles. Que voulez-vous?"

I smile at the two young ladies that are sitting at the outside table of the café. They both give out girlish giggles, covering their mouths with soft, white-gloved hands. One of them, who has dark brown curls that she's pulled to one side of her head, bats her eyelashes coyly.

"Oh, my." Her companion, a blonde with bright blue, naïve eyes stares up at me with another giggle. "A real Frenchman! It was worth the trip from England to see one face to face." She laughs again, soft peels that chime like bells.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm actually from England as well." I give another wide smile, which sends them into another round of giggles.

"Look at our luck, Margret! We have stumbled across one of the only decent English men in this town!" The brown-haired young lady can hardly contain her laughter, holding up her hand in front of her face again. "Well, I guess we don't have to go through the chore of saying what we want in French, now do we? Let's see, what do you suggest, Mr…?"

"Please, call me Christian." While the young ladies blush and I try not to groan, I list off my memorized list of favorites. "Our ham and melon appetizers are excellent, as well as our pâtes au poulet, our chicken pasta. Le soupe de pommes de terre is especially excellent. "

"Oh, well…" The two women looked at the menu for several moments, taking several glances up at me. "Hm… Can you list those off again? We just want to hear you speak them in French again." Another burst of giggles.

I did as they asked, without letting the smile drop from my face. I didn't move a muscle when they began asking me about where I grew up instead of ordering. I didn't even let a look of annoyance cross my face when they decided that they just wanted some water.

"Deux l'eaus, coming up." I give a last smile before turning around and quickly walking back inside the café, never once letting the façade slip from my face, listening to the two women try to pronounce "water" in French.

"Ah, quelques dames plus anglais, est-il?" The cook laughed when he saw my face. "Vous semblez toujours prendre eux. C'est juste à cause de votre apparence beau bon."

"Oui, cela doit-il être. Il me semble toujours d'attraper ceux de cette façon ridicule," I say sarcastically, filling up the glasses. I catch myself in the middle of saying anything else, though, stopping a remark from coming out. Really, what was I saying? They were English tourists, trying to get a laugh out of going to a foreign country. They must be no older then twenty-one. Why was I behaving like I minded?

I shake my head, trying to lose my tiredness. It's the stress and anxiety getting to me. I had been working extra shifts all this week, and I'd been working for the past thirteen hours straight. I close my eyes for a moment, imagining Satine's face in my mind's eye. After a deep breath I open them again, and, feeling a strength from the thought of helping my love, I walk back out to the waiting women.

"So, Christian," the one named Margret says coyly. "I never do this usually, but since we are in France…" She gives a soft laugh. "When does your shift get off?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, ladies." I smile and hold up my left hand, where my wedding ring is snuggly perched. Both of their smiles drop in disappointment.

"What a shame! Married already?" Margret gives a soft pout. "She must be very lucky."

I give out a soft, embarrassed sound, my eyes becoming soft with the thought of Satine. My angel, my love. She is very lucky, to still be alive. I'll do anything, anything at all, to keep her that way.

"Christian!" I'm pulled out of my thoughts by a soft shout. Looking up, my eyes widen in happiness as I see Satine herself standing at the edge of the café's patio. She's in one of my favorite dresses, her white one that matches so well with her red hair. She hasn't pulled out many of her old dresses from before we left in a long time, and her cheeks are bright and pink with life, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Satine!" I smile widely as we both begin walking towards each other, Satine reaching out and grabbing my hands. I dip down and kiss her softly, before lifting up and hugging her.

"What are you doing here?" I kiss her forehead, brushing a stray hair from it.

"Oh, I just wanted to see where you work. I think some of your customers are waiting for you." She giggles and points back to my table. When I turn around, the two girls are looking stunned and crestfallen. I laugh and walk over to them, never letting go of Satine's hand.

"Well, no wonder she got you," Margret said, her eyes slightly narrowed from envy. Indeed, Satine was looking at the prime of her health today, her cheeks bright and powdered, her lips painted red, her hair brushed smoothly into soft curls that she's swept over her shoulder, catching the light. Compared to her, the two women look like little girls. I laugh and kiss Satine's forehead again.

"Is there anything else you would like, mademoiselles?" They both shake their heads in the affirmative, turning away from Satine and I to talk together sulkily. I laugh softly and squeeze Satine's hand.

"Come on, I'll try to see if I can get off my shift ten minutes early." I carefully lead Satine inside, smiling all the way.

Peter lets me off, smiling widely at Satine and telling me to go have fun. I smile my thanks and ask Satine to wait while I change. Once I'm in my regular clothes, we head out of the café and onto the regular streets, taking our time down the streets of Paris.

Since it's still early May, it's quite chill in the air, the tree's buds barely there on their branches. Hand and hand, Satine and I make our way up and down the French streets, sometimes talking, sometimes enjoying the silence together. Our feet lead us to the park where we had fallen asleep so long ago, or that's how it feels to me. We walk to the exact tree where we had slept, and just stared at it for a while, remembering. Looking at Satine now, I can hardly remember how she had looked at the peek of her illness: skin as pale as death, sweat covering her face, her lips stained with blood. I close my eyes to the memory. Her cheeks are still pale, but in a much healthier way, with splotches of color. I smile and kiss her softly.

"What was that for?" She laughs softly, kissing me back.

"Do I need a reason?" Her lipstick smudges on my mouth, and I pretend to lick it off, making her laugh again. Holding her tight, I lead her back the way that we came, back to the buildings, back to our home.

End of Chapter 10

Hope you guys liked the longer chapter!

So, a little note at the bottom of this (again). The action will be coming soon, I promise. At the moment, it's going pretty slowly, but it'll speed up in the next chapter, I promise.

(fingers crossed! XD)