Chapter XVI: Ashes for Dreams

Satine hurried into the dark house, silently thanking whatever gods there might be that she didn't encounter any of the servants. Her face hadn't seemed too swollen when she had taken a glance at herself in the mirror in the doctor's house, but she didn't want to answer any questions right now. She peered into the study. It seemed empty and silent, and Satine slipped into it with a
grateful sigh. Right now she didn't want to see anyone. She just wanted to sit in the dark and be alone.

A cold beam of moonlight illuminated Satine as she sat down on the window-seat. The light in the room was all ghostly green and blue. Satine leaned her head against the cool glass and let herself sink back into the destructive haze of pain. She was not to stay there long, however.

Christian was sitting in a small nook at the other end of the room. For a few minutes after Satine's entrance, he sat silently, unwilling to reveal his presence. But soon the tension grew too strong for him to just wait it out.

Where have you been? he asked evenly, turning on the gas lamp as he rose. Satine gasped and turned to him.

Christian! How long have you been there?

Where have you been? Christian asked again, a steely note underlying his words. Satine opened her mouth to confess all, but then she paused. Why should Christian care? He had the whore from the Moulin Rouge. He could walk away at any time, and no one would blame him. Satine's twisted thoughts seemed perfectly rational from inside her blur of anguish.

Does it really matter, Christian? she asked wearily, rising from her seat to go stand by him. Christian's jaw tightened.

What's going on, Satine?

Satine said icily.

Why won't you tell me what's going on? Christian tried again to soothe the feelings that were torturing him, but the ugliness reared up again in spite of his best efforts. He remembered this-- the stabbing pains of jealousy that he knew all too well. The past weeks of coldness, of brushing him off, of refusing to look into his eyes or kiss his lips culminated in the quiet rage he now
felt.

There's nothing to tell, Christian. Christian grabbed her wrist tightly and pulled her to face him. Satine's eyes narrowed.

Let me go! Christian! She pounded her fist against his chest in vain. Christian was still stronger than her, and held her tightly.

Satine, please, tell me what's going on! Satine jerked back away from him, anger smoldering in her eyes.

Why do you want to know, Christian? You're just like the rest of them anyway! she cried. Until their dying days, neither Satine nor Christian would ever forgive themselves for what they both said and did this night, but judgment is always far more potent in hindsight. Christian went pale and dropped her wrist.



Men grow cold as girls grow old, Satine said cruelly, ignoring her screaming conscience. You pretend better then the rest, Christian, that's all. It's just lust and infatuation, anyway. The courtesan was a fool to choose the penniless--

She didn't get any further than that. Christian's hand swung out and slapped her across the cheek. Her hand rose involuntarily to her stinging face. Oh, it wasn't really physically painful--even in his angriest moments, Christian couldn't really hurt her--but the ache in her heart. . . They stared at each other for a long moment. Christian's face was ashen from the realization of what he had done, and Satine's chest was heaving with sobs. After what seemed like forever, Christian almost reached out to touch her, but then drew his hand back.

I'm sorry, he whispered. He walked past her to the door. Satine didn't move to stop him, so complete was her shock. She dropped to her knees, crying bitterly.

Christian strode to their room, his mental tumult too painful for him to even begin to understand. Quickly he bundled some of his personal possessions in his arms and headed back to wait outside the study. He only had to stay in the hall for a few minutes before Satine emerged, her hair falling down, her satin skin stained by the tears. He shrank back into the shadows until she passed, and then he went into the study and locked the door. Christian drew in a slow, painful breath as tears appeared in his eyes.

Satine, please he choked out. Please forgive me. . .please. . .

Satine hesitantly pushed the door to their bedroom open.

she called softly. She was answered only by silence. Satine looked into the wardrobe and felt a fresh onslaught of pain. His nightclothes were gone.

Satine sobbed into her pillow that night. Christian. . .

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Author's Note: Hey! Where did all the angst come from? Hee hee. . . am slightly drunk. Or something.

Baz owns Moulin Rouge. Nice man who hopefully has the intelligence of seeing the futility of suing a poor high school senior, especially one who has v. little money in her bank account.

I has a question. This story has about five or six chapters left in it and I have several ideas for new fics. I hope to write them all, but ya never know. Which would you enjoy reading more, a sort of prequel to this about Satine's past, OR a darker, alt. ending fic that looks as if it's going to be angsty? Public response will dictate what comes from DP's pen next. :D