Chapter XX: Can You Forgive Me?

Nearly a week later, Satine slowly walked up the path that led to the house. She smiled as she saw her home waiting for her. Her dear little home. Christian would be home in a week, and perhaps then they could begin to gather together the pieces of their shattered marriage. Satine had no illusions about how long it would take. They had hurt each other badly, and it would be hard for those wounds to heal. But they could do it. She narrowed her eyes at the figure working in the garden. That was odd. Henry usually took Thursdays off and spent them with the girl he was courting. With a mental shrug, Satine continued up to the house.

The figure in the garden straightened up as she approached and Satine's walk slowed as she realized it was not Henry. . . it was Christian.

he whispered hoarsely. Satine stood there in shock. Christian's face was set, but his hands were shaking.

she said. She stared at him, her suitcase having fallen to the ground by her. She took two hesitant steps towards him and Christian pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

he said again, and this time, Satine realized he was crying. Oh, Satine. . . They drew together until they started running into each other's arms. Satine burst into tears as she felt his arms around her for the first time in so long. He kissed her face, her hands, her hair, holding her tightly as if he was afraid she would run away. Satine held him close, sobbing into his chest.

My love. . . she whispered to him. Oh, my love, my love. . .

Christian slowly drew back and cradled her face in his hands, running his hands over her features as if memorizing them. Satine searched his eyes, finding all the love she would ever need in their blue depths. Then both of them hesitantly closed their eyes and moved towards each other until their lips met in a deep kiss. Satine wrapped her arms about him, listening to him breathe.

Inside the house, Anne watched with a small smile on her face. Her mother would be shocked if she could see this, but Anne knew what real love was when she saw it. With a wistful shake of her head, she dropped the curtain and discreetly retired to the sewing room.

It seemed like forever before they reluctantly drew back from the kiss. With his arm securely wrapped around her, Christian walked with Satine to the two-person swing in the garden. They sat there hand-in-hand before Christian first spoke.

Satine, I-- when I came back early and saw you had gone--I-- I didn't know what to do-- I was afraid I had lost you-- that you didn't love me-- Satine pressed her fingers to his lips with a gesture of unmistakable tenderness.

I went back to Montmartre.

Christian's heart fell. Were you really going to leave me? Satine cut him off with a shaking laugh.

Leave you? No, oh, God, no, Christian! I-- she paused and stared into his eyes. I went because-- I can't have children. The doctor said so and I thought that maybe someone there could help me.

Christian said, touching her hair. I was so afraid that I'd driven you away because I'd be so terrible. I can't tell--

Satine interrupted. Don't you care?

Of course I care that you were gone, Satine. It was pure hell when I thought that I'd--

No, not that, Satine said impatiently. Don't you care that I can't have children?

Yes, yes, of course I care that-- yes, that must be horrible, darling, and I'll do everything I can to make up for it-- maybe it's my fault---

Satine cried, barely believing the surge of joy in her heart. Not me! Doesn't that bother you? Christian stared at her, not comprehending.

he said finally. Satine, I love you. Not whether we can have children or not. I don't care about that. I don't care about any of that as long as we have each other. A strangled cry came from Satine and she began to laugh.

Toulouse was right for once, she said, wiping away her tears.

Satine shook her head.

I'll tell you later.

Christian placed both of his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. A tear trickled out of the corner of his eye and Satine kissed it away.

he said. Can you forgive me?

Can you forgive me? she asked in reply.

I asked first, Christian said pertly, inwardly thanking God that he hadn't lost his beloved wife.

Ladies go first.

Yes, ladies answer first.

Oh. Well, then. Yes.

Christian repeated.

They kissed again then, each remembering the sheer joy that had accompanied the simple word.



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Author's Note: Go AWAY, stupid copyright people! I'm poor!

I hope this makes up for the anguish I put them through. If this doesn't satisy anyone's need for mush, read the next chapter.