Chapter ten: Peace and Terror

It had been an hour since Satine had come home, and now she and Christian sat and snuggled up against each other on the sofa, Christian softly caresses Satine's hair and Satine rests her head against his chest.

I am so glad he finally came to admit he has a disposition to jealousy.

Satine could not help but smirk at the thought of Christian's next attempt to convince her to give up her job at the tavern.

"Darling, they are not giving you the respect you deserve there, after last night it is clear they do not." No, no, no, he better just learn to deal with his feelings.

Satine pressed her nose and cheek hard against Christian's steadily rising and falling chest, eyes closed, and letting out a deep sigh. She enjoyed the feel of love running through her veins like adrenaline, and Satine knew she would never be happier than this, or feel safer in someone's arms. Christian held her head to his chest as if she was a baby, and felt like he was holding love in a solid form in his arms.

I did not know she was having so much trouble adapting to normal life. I should have known she was feeling unhappy though. It must be horrible for her to feel like she is not a woman, as she put it. She cannot cook, nor does she know how to wash clothes or run a proper household, as she says. Luckily I was able to comfort her by saying I had not even noticed, as I have not, and I do not mind. There is a time to learn everything, and the fact that most of the household jobs were being done for her at the Moulin Rouge does not take away her ability to do them herself. I will just help her as much as possible and everything should be fine.

She thought I did not trust her. Of course I trust her. When she looks up to me fairness is in her eyes, she gives sweetness from her mouth, comfort when I brush my fingers through her hair, trust when I feel her back get smaller and my hands stop and rest on her waist, safety as I feel the touch of her hands. She is love with her whole being. Everything, love, everything…

"Christian?" Satine's soft voice got him back to present, "We should probably stop by the old lady and tell her we are okay again."

Christian chuckled.

"Okay? Is that it?"

Satine's eyes widened a bit as she faked to realise her terrible choice of words.

"Oh," she whispered, "or should I say…" Satine pulled her knees underneath her so she could sit upright and face Christian.

"Better…" she kissed his forehead, "Wonderful…" she kissed his cheek, "Great…" she teasingly kissed the tip of his nose, "Or…," she waited a moment to look deeply into his eyes, which to her content, were fixed at hers, before she said: "Or simply very, very much in love…" and kissed him passionately.

When their kiss finally ended, Christian said: "I think we should go for the last one."

Satine laughed.

"You think so?"

"Yes," Christian said as he rested his hands on her waist, "unfortunately though, I have forgotten what it was. Could you…could you refresh my memory?"

Satine was holding her breath, trying hard not to laugh. She did when Christian cocked his head to one side and looked at her with pleading eyes though.

"Sorry!" she spoke while she made an effort to stop laughing so hard, "But I have never, and I mean never seen you act like that!"

Christian grinned but did not move.

"Come here, darling," he said in a serious voice while tears streamed down Satine's cheeks.

"W-what?" she asked as another wave of laughter escaped her.

"I said: come here and let me kiss you for the rest of your life!" Christian said as he pulled her down with him and kissed her for dear life. After a few seconds Satine had to pull back to gasp for air and let her last laughs escape. Also reminding Christian of what they were talking about before they got carried away.

"Okay, we will see her," Christian smiled, "Shall we buy her flowers for pointing out our problem?"

Satine smiled too.

"You can be such a sweetheart. Will you be a real sweetheart and get me my coat, then?"

An half an hour later Christian and Satine both sat on the old lady's sofa, beaming. The old lady was sitting in her armchair, happy to see her favourite people happy again.

"The flowers are beautiful," she spoke, "And I am very pleased I was able to help." She nodded her head towards them and smiled. Satine laid her hand on top of the old lady's.

"Thank you," Satine said sincerely, "Not only for this, but also for providing us with a wonderful home and a good friend. Bringing you flowers is the least we can do."

The old lady laid her other hand on top of Satine's and squeezed it gently.

"Your company means a lot to me, dear. An old lady like me can get quite lonesome sometimes."

Before either Satine or Christian could answer, Kelsey emerged from the hall, holding a white envelope in her hands.

"Good evening," she greeted Christian and Satine politely before turning to the old lady.

"What have you got there, dear? Is that a letter from my son?" the old lady asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I think so. It came all the way from Paris," Kelsey answered and simultaneously handed the letter to the old lady.

"Thank you, dear. Could you pour us another cup, please?" As Kelsey obeyed, the old lady turned to Christian and Satine.

"Would you mind if I…?" she asked holding up the envelope, "I have not heard from him for quite a while."

"Oh! Sure! Take your time, we will amuse ourselves," Satine quickly said.

The old lady read the letter and almost jumped up from her chair.

"Oh, goodness!"

"Is everything alright?" asked Christian. The old lady looked up at him from her letter.

"Even better," she beamed, "My son is coming to England! Yes, he writes that his master does not wish to spend another minute in Paris. You see, his master had had plans for some nightclub there, but I take it they failed at those. Something about a show and a dead girl. He was very vague about that part. Anyway, he and his master are heading for England as we speak- is everything alright?" The old lady paused and looked intently at Christian and Satine, who were both turning pale.

"That…that nightclub. Could that be called the... 'Moulin Rouge'?" Christian stuttered.

"Oh, let me see," the old lady skimmed the letter, "Oh yes, there it is. Moulin Rouge! Yes, indeed. How did you know?"

"Oh, lucky guess, I…I guess…"

Christian was holding Satine's hand and felt it become cold as his own hand felt sweaty.

"And what is your son's name, if I may ask?" Satine swallowed, dreading the answer.

The old lady answered: "Did I never tell you that?"

Neither Christian nor Satine moved. Then the old lady proudly said: "My son's name, is Warner!"