"Eternal Flame"
by Jedi Adia
Author's note: This is a Moulin Rouge/Enemy at the Gates crossover.
Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann and Enemy at the Gates belongs to Alain Godard and Jean-Jacques Annaud. This piece of fanfiction was written for enjoyment and not for profit.
The visions outside his window were almost surreal. But then, just about everything felt like it wasn't happening to Christian these days. From the moment Satine took her last breath, Christian felt as though the life had been driven from him. The last eighteen months had been hard, but at least Satine had died a free woman. With a sigh, Christian swallowed the last of a pint of vodka, and the lights of Stalingrad blurred before him as the tears came. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, as he looked through the tears at distant lights, and not-so-distant memories began to wash over him like waves in an angry sea...
Christian had been awestruck when he first saw Satine at the Moulin Rouge in the early months of 1941. But the awe he felt that first night was nothing compared to the love he began to feel for her a couple nights later. The night she thought he was someone else - the Duke. For him, the eternal flame was lit that night; the eternal flame was lit for them both when he returned to her. "You're going to be bad for business, I can tell," she said when he declared his love for her atop the elephant. That night was the beginning of their walk along the thin line between idyllic and perilous times. Times of stolen moments behind the Duke's back, who owned her as he did the Moulin Rouge. No more, Christian decided one day. He made a point of going to Harry Zidler and informing him that he was taking Satine away.
"She was supposed to talk to you," Harry said. "The Duke wants you dead, Christian."
"That's why I need to get away from here. But there's no way I'm going to leave without Satine."
"Satine is the property of the Duke," Harry said. It hurt to say it, but it was the truth.
"That's all the more reason for us to get away," Christian said. "I just wanted to tell you...I thought you should know. You've been with her for a long time now."
After taking his leave of Harold, Christian found Satine at rehearsal. He also found that the Duke was watching her closely, and now him. "Satine, I need to talk to you," he said. The Duke came over to them. "Alone."
"What about?" Satine asked.
"Yes, boy, what is this about?" the Duke pressed.
"It's...it's about one of the scenes. I have a few questions," Christian said.
"Well, perhaps I can answer them for you," the Duke said.
"No. It's alright," Satine said. "Excuse us." She went with Christian and left the rehearsal. They walked away from the rehearsal and went to her dressing room to be alone. Closing the door, Satine turned to Christian. "Christian..." she whispered, "what is it?"
"I've no time to explain," Christian said. He took her hand. "Pack what's necessary. We're leaving in five minutes."
Satine never questioned him. She knew they were leaving the Moulin Rouge. She would finally fly away. Yet at this moment, she didn't even smile as she gathered what she could. "How will we get out?"
"We must not be seen leaving together," Christian whispered. "You should wear something so no one recognizes you. Everything will be fine. We have help." She didn't ask what he meant by that. "I'll be waiting at my flat for you." He kissed her. "Be careful." He was gone a second later, slipping out the door and closing it behind him.
"Where's Satine?" the Duke asked, as he intercepted him.
"She'll be out in a few minutes."
"Perhaps I should go in there!"
"No, don't," Christian said. "She wants a moment alone."
"I've been looking for you!" Harry said to the Duke, as he came toward them. He drew the Duke away from Christian and went in the direction of the stage area, while Christian turned and let for the flat, where Satie and Toulouse were waiting.
Satine packed a small bag and gave it to Chocolat, who would go to Christian's flat with her. She knew nothing of Christian's recent encounter with the Duke, or of the fact that Harry was on their side. But Chocolat was with them and for that she was grateful. "I'm ready," she said, after enveloping herself in a plain cloak and drawing the hood over her head. Her life at the Moulin Rouge was over.
They made their way out the back entrance of the Moulin Rouge and around to the front, where Christian's flat was in plain view. Chocolat accompanied her across the street and into the building where Christian waited with Toulouse and Satie.
"Satine, did - you weren't seen by anyone?" Christian asked.
"I don't think so," Satine said. "What happens now?"
"We get out of here." Christian turned to Satie and Toulouse. "What about you?" He directed this at Chocolat as well.
"We disappear," Toulouse said. "Good luck, Chwistian...Satine." He shook Christian's hand and hugged Satine. Satie hugged them both and left with Toulouse. Only Chocolat accompanied them to the train station. Christian wasn't taking Satine back to England; he felt he had done damage to his relationship with his father that could never be repaired, and his father would never accept Satine. So he decided they would go east to Russia. To Stalingrad where no one knew of the Penniless Poet and the courtesan, the star of the Moulin Rouge. Christian knew of one person who was willing to help them anyway; he had been friends with Vassili Zaitsev for a long time. Yes, Christian thought, as Satine slept in the seat next to him on the train. There would be a future for them. He sank back against the seat with a contented sigh of relief. Sleep was elusive; he couldn't stop thinking about life with Satine in Stalingrad. It was the last place anyone would look for them.
Both Satine and Christian finally relaxed when the train crossed the border into Russia a couple days later. It was early morning, and Satine was just waking up. "It won't be long now," Christian whispered to her. They would be there in a few hours. Satine took his hand and lifted her head from his shoulder.
"They'll never find us," she whispered with a smile. Her face contorted as she broke into a fit of coughing. Christian held her as she bent over, waiting for it all to end. He continued to hold her as she drew herself upright again. Why was this happening?
A few hours later, the train arrived at the station in Stalingrad. Christian and Satine took the little they'd brought with them and went to the home of Vassili Zaitsev. Their plans had been made so hastily that Christian hadn't thought to contact Vassili. Not that Vassili would care...he was alone. Or so Christian thought.
The hired troika came to a stop before Vassili's home, the same one he'd been living in when Christian first met him. Christian helped Satine out and gathered what little they had. Christian paid the driver and went with Satine to Vassili's front door.
Vassili Zaitsev had seen the troika and met its passengers at the door. Christian hadn't changed a bit since he met him, but the red-haired woman was a stranger to him. "Christian!" he said as he opened the door. "France get to be too much for you? You got something out of it, I see." He was looking at Satine now.
"Vassili, this is Satine," Christian said, putting an arm around Satine's shoulders. "Satine, this is Vassili Zaitsev. I met him when I came out here a few years ago."
"It's a pleasure," Satine said.
"The pleasure's all mine," Vassili told her. He led them inside, as a woman suddenly appeared, eyeing them with interest.
"It appears you have a woman of your own, Vassili," Christian said.
"That I do, Christian," Vassili said, going to the woman and taking her hand, "and her name is Tania Chernova. Tania, this is Christian and his lady Satine. You must be tired," he said to them. "Come, I'll give you a place to rest."
Christian could only nod as Vassili led the way to a small apartment at the other end of the house.
"I sometimes rent this out to people. But there's no one here now," Vassili said as he unlocked the door. "There's another one in the basement, but it's about half the size of this one."
"We can't thank you enough, Vassili," Christian said.
"Don't worry about it," Vassili said. He and Tania left them alone, as Christian closed the door and Satine took the bags. She started towards their room, the only bedroom in the apartment.
"Satine, what are you doing?"
"I thought I'd take the bags to our room," she said. When she saw the worried look on his face, she said, "I'm not an invalid, Christian. I was sick. But I'm ok now." But she wasn't. She knew that and knew from his face that he sensed something was wrong. Satine walked into the bedroom and placed the bags at the foot of the bed, before sitting down. Even doing little things was a strain and she wondered how she ever survived the Moulin Rouge, doing what she did.
Christian came to her and held her. "Satine..."
She turned to him and he drowned in her kiss. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she whispered. And she meant it. All she wanted was Christian.
The next morning found them in the bathroom. The curtains were closed, but the sun filtered through them. Christian was in the tub and Satine soon joined him. He watched as she put up a rod to run the length of the sunken tub and threw a white lace curtain over it to enclose them both. "I want us to have the illusion of being truly alone," she whispered with a kiss. And they were. Vassili and Tania were around, but that meant nothing. There was no Duke and that's what mattered. He was gone from their lives forever.
A couple of hours later, Christian and Satine dragged themselves away from their apartment. They needed to talk to Vassili and Tania. They wanted to be married.
It was the next day that Satine and Christian exchanged the vows that would bind them together forever. They lived an idyllic life together until the time that they were plunged into the turmoil that the rest of the world was in. It was late 1941, and the day began like the other ones that came before it. Christian and Satine lingered in bed and left their apartment a couple hours after awakening. It was then that Christian noticed something amiss. He had known his friend for far too long for Vassili to be able to hide something. But Christian didn't need to ask, for it was the first thing Vassili told him that morning. "Germany betrayed us." Vassili held up the morning paper and Christian took it from him. "They broke the non-aggression pact we signed with them at the beginning of the war. They're coming here."
Christian felt Satine tense beside him. There was no safe haven for them anymore. He sat down at the table and Satine did the same.
"Stalin's ordered that all troops be mobilized as soon as possible," Vassili said.
"So I guess you'll be leaving," Christian said, as Satine wordlessly took his hand.
Vassili nodded. "Yes we will."
"I'm joining the war effort. My vendetta against the Germans practically forced me to do so."
"Why? Why can't you just stay here?" Satine asked.
"I can't. There's no way I can sit here and wait while Russian blood is being spilled at the hands of the Germans."
"What should we do, Vassili?" Christian asked.
"Stay here. There's no way you can make an escape," was the answer. Vassili and Tania went to pack some necessities and when they returned thirty minutes later, Christian and Satine hadn't moved. They were numb and scared. Not just for themselves, Vassili knew, but also for him and Tania. They were probably about to lose the only friends they'd ever known. They'd never talked about France much and Christian hadn't had anyone in England, so it was a safe assumption. And if it was true, Vassili felt bad. They were good people, whose lives were changing once again - this time for the worse. Vassili and Tania said good-bye, knowing they probably wouldn't come back, and left.
The German Sixth Army entered Stalingrad just days after Tania and Vassili left. Christian and Satine moved down to the apartment in the basement, concealed by a hidden door in the wall. Christian was thankful they'd been told about this. There was no way they'd have been able to stay upstairs. The Germans would have easily found them.
The Germans were pushed to the back of his mind as Satine sank to the floor in another coughing fit. She had been better, but it had been an easy life for the past few months...one life together they'd taken for granted. Christian sat beside her as it passed and he helped her to the bed in the next room. "They must have taken everythingwest of here," Satine whispered.
"Probably. Good thing we got out when we did," Christian said. He smiled at her, but he couldn't mask his concern, her face was so pale.
"Christian...there's something you need to know," Satine said, sorry she hadn't told him sooner. "There's no easy way to say this...no easy way but to say it outright." She took his hand and swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "I'm dying, Christian."
"No...Satine..." Christian shook his head in denial. This wasn't true. It couldn't be.
"Christian, I love you..." Satine said. "I have very little time left, and..." She turned away, unable to believe that she was really going to die here, in this war-torn prison.
"Satine...tell me this is just something the Duke planted in your head to keep us apart," Christian said. "Tell me this isn't true." The tears falling in rivers down his cheeks and the sudden cracking of his voice prevented him from going on.
"Harry told me," Satine said, "the night before we left the Moulin Rouge."
"Why didn't you tell me, Satine?" Christian asked. "Why?"
"I had trouble believing it," Satine said.
"Like I am now?"
Satine turned to him, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Christian," she said. "I just want to be with you during the time I have left, however much that is." She curled up on the bed and was asleep moments later. Christian got no sleep that night, as he watched her and listened to her breathe. It was getting more difficult for her to do so, and it pained Christian to listen. It only reminded him of how little time she had left.
Satine never left their bed the next day. Her breathing was getting more ragged and it was all Christian heard...her breathing and the screaming in the streets. There was death everywhere, and it was more than he could stand. The people of Stalingrad were being exterminated, starved by the German Sixth Army, while the Russian soldiers, Vassili and Tania among them, fought to save their people. And Satine, Christian didn't know if she'd survive the rest of the day; he wished he would did, like her and the rest of them. "Satine...I love you, Satine...don't go..."
But Satine died during the night that night. Christian felt he died with her. He loved her and couldn't live without her. Grief consumed him, and was still doing so, fifteen months later. The German Sixth Army had been defeated, and Tania had returned. Christian could see she had her own grief to deal with...the loss of Vassili Zaitsev. But Christian wasn't thinking of Vassili now. Satine was always in his thoughts, and always would be until his dying day. Their love was like these lights that Christian stared at now, from their first apartment. But their love, unlike the lights of Stalingrad, was an eternal flame that would never be extinguished.
by Jedi Adia
Author's note: This is a Moulin Rouge/Enemy at the Gates crossover.
Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann and Enemy at the Gates belongs to Alain Godard and Jean-Jacques Annaud. This piece of fanfiction was written for enjoyment and not for profit.
The visions outside his window were almost surreal. But then, just about everything felt like it wasn't happening to Christian these days. From the moment Satine took her last breath, Christian felt as though the life had been driven from him. The last eighteen months had been hard, but at least Satine had died a free woman. With a sigh, Christian swallowed the last of a pint of vodka, and the lights of Stalingrad blurred before him as the tears came. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, as he looked through the tears at distant lights, and not-so-distant memories began to wash over him like waves in an angry sea...
Christian had been awestruck when he first saw Satine at the Moulin Rouge in the early months of 1941. But the awe he felt that first night was nothing compared to the love he began to feel for her a couple nights later. The night she thought he was someone else - the Duke. For him, the eternal flame was lit that night; the eternal flame was lit for them both when he returned to her. "You're going to be bad for business, I can tell," she said when he declared his love for her atop the elephant. That night was the beginning of their walk along the thin line between idyllic and perilous times. Times of stolen moments behind the Duke's back, who owned her as he did the Moulin Rouge. No more, Christian decided one day. He made a point of going to Harry Zidler and informing him that he was taking Satine away.
"She was supposed to talk to you," Harry said. "The Duke wants you dead, Christian."
"That's why I need to get away from here. But there's no way I'm going to leave without Satine."
"Satine is the property of the Duke," Harry said. It hurt to say it, but it was the truth.
"That's all the more reason for us to get away," Christian said. "I just wanted to tell you...I thought you should know. You've been with her for a long time now."
After taking his leave of Harold, Christian found Satine at rehearsal. He also found that the Duke was watching her closely, and now him. "Satine, I need to talk to you," he said. The Duke came over to them. "Alone."
"What about?" Satine asked.
"Yes, boy, what is this about?" the Duke pressed.
"It's...it's about one of the scenes. I have a few questions," Christian said.
"Well, perhaps I can answer them for you," the Duke said.
"No. It's alright," Satine said. "Excuse us." She went with Christian and left the rehearsal. They walked away from the rehearsal and went to her dressing room to be alone. Closing the door, Satine turned to Christian. "Christian..." she whispered, "what is it?"
"I've no time to explain," Christian said. He took her hand. "Pack what's necessary. We're leaving in five minutes."
Satine never questioned him. She knew they were leaving the Moulin Rouge. She would finally fly away. Yet at this moment, she didn't even smile as she gathered what she could. "How will we get out?"
"We must not be seen leaving together," Christian whispered. "You should wear something so no one recognizes you. Everything will be fine. We have help." She didn't ask what he meant by that. "I'll be waiting at my flat for you." He kissed her. "Be careful." He was gone a second later, slipping out the door and closing it behind him.
"Where's Satine?" the Duke asked, as he intercepted him.
"She'll be out in a few minutes."
"Perhaps I should go in there!"
"No, don't," Christian said. "She wants a moment alone."
"I've been looking for you!" Harry said to the Duke, as he came toward them. He drew the Duke away from Christian and went in the direction of the stage area, while Christian turned and let for the flat, where Satie and Toulouse were waiting.
Satine packed a small bag and gave it to Chocolat, who would go to Christian's flat with her. She knew nothing of Christian's recent encounter with the Duke, or of the fact that Harry was on their side. But Chocolat was with them and for that she was grateful. "I'm ready," she said, after enveloping herself in a plain cloak and drawing the hood over her head. Her life at the Moulin Rouge was over.
They made their way out the back entrance of the Moulin Rouge and around to the front, where Christian's flat was in plain view. Chocolat accompanied her across the street and into the building where Christian waited with Toulouse and Satie.
"Satine, did - you weren't seen by anyone?" Christian asked.
"I don't think so," Satine said. "What happens now?"
"We get out of here." Christian turned to Satie and Toulouse. "What about you?" He directed this at Chocolat as well.
"We disappear," Toulouse said. "Good luck, Chwistian...Satine." He shook Christian's hand and hugged Satine. Satie hugged them both and left with Toulouse. Only Chocolat accompanied them to the train station. Christian wasn't taking Satine back to England; he felt he had done damage to his relationship with his father that could never be repaired, and his father would never accept Satine. So he decided they would go east to Russia. To Stalingrad where no one knew of the Penniless Poet and the courtesan, the star of the Moulin Rouge. Christian knew of one person who was willing to help them anyway; he had been friends with Vassili Zaitsev for a long time. Yes, Christian thought, as Satine slept in the seat next to him on the train. There would be a future for them. He sank back against the seat with a contented sigh of relief. Sleep was elusive; he couldn't stop thinking about life with Satine in Stalingrad. It was the last place anyone would look for them.
Both Satine and Christian finally relaxed when the train crossed the border into Russia a couple days later. It was early morning, and Satine was just waking up. "It won't be long now," Christian whispered to her. They would be there in a few hours. Satine took his hand and lifted her head from his shoulder.
"They'll never find us," she whispered with a smile. Her face contorted as she broke into a fit of coughing. Christian held her as she bent over, waiting for it all to end. He continued to hold her as she drew herself upright again. Why was this happening?
A few hours later, the train arrived at the station in Stalingrad. Christian and Satine took the little they'd brought with them and went to the home of Vassili Zaitsev. Their plans had been made so hastily that Christian hadn't thought to contact Vassili. Not that Vassili would care...he was alone. Or so Christian thought.
The hired troika came to a stop before Vassili's home, the same one he'd been living in when Christian first met him. Christian helped Satine out and gathered what little they had. Christian paid the driver and went with Satine to Vassili's front door.
Vassili Zaitsev had seen the troika and met its passengers at the door. Christian hadn't changed a bit since he met him, but the red-haired woman was a stranger to him. "Christian!" he said as he opened the door. "France get to be too much for you? You got something out of it, I see." He was looking at Satine now.
"Vassili, this is Satine," Christian said, putting an arm around Satine's shoulders. "Satine, this is Vassili Zaitsev. I met him when I came out here a few years ago."
"It's a pleasure," Satine said.
"The pleasure's all mine," Vassili told her. He led them inside, as a woman suddenly appeared, eyeing them with interest.
"It appears you have a woman of your own, Vassili," Christian said.
"That I do, Christian," Vassili said, going to the woman and taking her hand, "and her name is Tania Chernova. Tania, this is Christian and his lady Satine. You must be tired," he said to them. "Come, I'll give you a place to rest."
Christian could only nod as Vassili led the way to a small apartment at the other end of the house.
"I sometimes rent this out to people. But there's no one here now," Vassili said as he unlocked the door. "There's another one in the basement, but it's about half the size of this one."
"We can't thank you enough, Vassili," Christian said.
"Don't worry about it," Vassili said. He and Tania left them alone, as Christian closed the door and Satine took the bags. She started towards their room, the only bedroom in the apartment.
"Satine, what are you doing?"
"I thought I'd take the bags to our room," she said. When she saw the worried look on his face, she said, "I'm not an invalid, Christian. I was sick. But I'm ok now." But she wasn't. She knew that and knew from his face that he sensed something was wrong. Satine walked into the bedroom and placed the bags at the foot of the bed, before sitting down. Even doing little things was a strain and she wondered how she ever survived the Moulin Rouge, doing what she did.
Christian came to her and held her. "Satine..."
She turned to him and he drowned in her kiss. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she whispered. And she meant it. All she wanted was Christian.
The next morning found them in the bathroom. The curtains were closed, but the sun filtered through them. Christian was in the tub and Satine soon joined him. He watched as she put up a rod to run the length of the sunken tub and threw a white lace curtain over it to enclose them both. "I want us to have the illusion of being truly alone," she whispered with a kiss. And they were. Vassili and Tania were around, but that meant nothing. There was no Duke and that's what mattered. He was gone from their lives forever.
A couple of hours later, Christian and Satine dragged themselves away from their apartment. They needed to talk to Vassili and Tania. They wanted to be married.
It was the next day that Satine and Christian exchanged the vows that would bind them together forever. They lived an idyllic life together until the time that they were plunged into the turmoil that the rest of the world was in. It was late 1941, and the day began like the other ones that came before it. Christian and Satine lingered in bed and left their apartment a couple hours after awakening. It was then that Christian noticed something amiss. He had known his friend for far too long for Vassili to be able to hide something. But Christian didn't need to ask, for it was the first thing Vassili told him that morning. "Germany betrayed us." Vassili held up the morning paper and Christian took it from him. "They broke the non-aggression pact we signed with them at the beginning of the war. They're coming here."
Christian felt Satine tense beside him. There was no safe haven for them anymore. He sat down at the table and Satine did the same.
"Stalin's ordered that all troops be mobilized as soon as possible," Vassili said.
"So I guess you'll be leaving," Christian said, as Satine wordlessly took his hand.
Vassili nodded. "Yes we will."
"I'm joining the war effort. My vendetta against the Germans practically forced me to do so."
"Why? Why can't you just stay here?" Satine asked.
"I can't. There's no way I can sit here and wait while Russian blood is being spilled at the hands of the Germans."
"What should we do, Vassili?" Christian asked.
"Stay here. There's no way you can make an escape," was the answer. Vassili and Tania went to pack some necessities and when they returned thirty minutes later, Christian and Satine hadn't moved. They were numb and scared. Not just for themselves, Vassili knew, but also for him and Tania. They were probably about to lose the only friends they'd ever known. They'd never talked about France much and Christian hadn't had anyone in England, so it was a safe assumption. And if it was true, Vassili felt bad. They were good people, whose lives were changing once again - this time for the worse. Vassili and Tania said good-bye, knowing they probably wouldn't come back, and left.
The German Sixth Army entered Stalingrad just days after Tania and Vassili left. Christian and Satine moved down to the apartment in the basement, concealed by a hidden door in the wall. Christian was thankful they'd been told about this. There was no way they'd have been able to stay upstairs. The Germans would have easily found them.
The Germans were pushed to the back of his mind as Satine sank to the floor in another coughing fit. She had been better, but it had been an easy life for the past few months...one life together they'd taken for granted. Christian sat beside her as it passed and he helped her to the bed in the next room. "They must have taken everythingwest of here," Satine whispered.
"Probably. Good thing we got out when we did," Christian said. He smiled at her, but he couldn't mask his concern, her face was so pale.
"Christian...there's something you need to know," Satine said, sorry she hadn't told him sooner. "There's no easy way to say this...no easy way but to say it outright." She took his hand and swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "I'm dying, Christian."
"No...Satine..." Christian shook his head in denial. This wasn't true. It couldn't be.
"Christian, I love you..." Satine said. "I have very little time left, and..." She turned away, unable to believe that she was really going to die here, in this war-torn prison.
"Satine...tell me this is just something the Duke planted in your head to keep us apart," Christian said. "Tell me this isn't true." The tears falling in rivers down his cheeks and the sudden cracking of his voice prevented him from going on.
"Harry told me," Satine said, "the night before we left the Moulin Rouge."
"Why didn't you tell me, Satine?" Christian asked. "Why?"
"I had trouble believing it," Satine said.
"Like I am now?"
Satine turned to him, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Christian," she said. "I just want to be with you during the time I have left, however much that is." She curled up on the bed and was asleep moments later. Christian got no sleep that night, as he watched her and listened to her breathe. It was getting more difficult for her to do so, and it pained Christian to listen. It only reminded him of how little time she had left.
Satine never left their bed the next day. Her breathing was getting more ragged and it was all Christian heard...her breathing and the screaming in the streets. There was death everywhere, and it was more than he could stand. The people of Stalingrad were being exterminated, starved by the German Sixth Army, while the Russian soldiers, Vassili and Tania among them, fought to save their people. And Satine, Christian didn't know if she'd survive the rest of the day; he wished he would did, like her and the rest of them. "Satine...I love you, Satine...don't go..."
But Satine died during the night that night. Christian felt he died with her. He loved her and couldn't live without her. Grief consumed him, and was still doing so, fifteen months later. The German Sixth Army had been defeated, and Tania had returned. Christian could see she had her own grief to deal with...the loss of Vassili Zaitsev. But Christian wasn't thinking of Vassili now. Satine was always in his thoughts, and always would be until his dying day. Their love was like these lights that Christian stared at now, from their first apartment. But their love, unlike the lights of Stalingrad, was an eternal flame that would never be extinguished.