Author's note: I forgot to mention this in my last installment. I believe that Satine and Christian had a playful relationship. I mean, could you imagine just sitting at a table in stony silence for twenty years with no conversation? That'd be just icky! Plus, I think Satine was just a naturally charming/funny person. So, yes; they tease, they joke. That's the way I think their relationship would have gone.
Author's note II: In the movie, Satine's persona is never really revealed beyond the whole flying away bit. Christian we know about, Satine's a mystery.
But since I am omnipotent and have you reading my story *bwahahaha* I have Satine as kinda a scared little girl. She wants love, she wants security, and she wants acceptance. Yeah. Poor needy Satine.
AND I gave Christian a last name. Please, don't bite my head off.
Christian was blindly running, but he instinctively knew where he was going. Though one might think he would have been slower carrying Satine, the urgency of his flight made him faster. One block up. Must get help for Satine. Two blocks over. And help is at home. Three houses down.
There it was, the house he had grew up in. He would have enjoyed the view if it weren't for the sense of crisis that plagued him, and Satine's dead weight in his arms.
He kicked the gate open, rushing up the driveway and up the front steps. He kicked at the door.
The door was opened by the new maid, Lindsay. She had been there for a few months, and had never seen Christian. When he started to push in, the frightened Lindsay tried to slam the door in his face.
Christian stuck his boot between the doorjamb and the door, not ready to give up. Goddammit, he knew he had been disowned, but not even his cold-hearted father would turn him away with the sky a dismal gray and the wind so very cold and an unconcious woman in his arms.
Would he?
Oh God, Christian thought, though he had never been one for religion, please let them understand...
He need not have worried.
The door was pulled open by Christian's mother.
Evelyn Deveraux was a small woman, about a head shorter than her oldest son. She had aged remarkably well, looking not a day over 30. In reality she was 38, a fact she was quick to hide. She had gray eyes of her favorite son and thick, dirty blond hair. She was a compliant woman, eager to please and slow to annoy, hard to anger and quick to excite.
At the sight of her favorite son, Evelyn beamed. With a second glance, her smile faded. Christian was obviously distressed, and in his arms he carried a woman who was obviously in a state of collapse.
"Christian?"
A quick, curt nod was her response as Christian entered the house. "What happened?" Evelyn continued. She turned to Lindsay. "Go fetch a doctor," she hissed. "And be quick about it."
Christian was talking much as she started towards the stairs. Evelyn hurried ahead. "We'll put her in the rose room- no, that's cold. All the guest rooms are cold! Christian darling, go to Annette's room and put her in there- Annette! Annette, come here, dear!"
A pretty young girl came rushing down the hallway and started down the stairs. She was stopped by Christian, who marched, unperturbed, to Annette's room.
Annette was a quite a lovely girl. She was a tiny little thing, with delicate features. She had light brown hair and had the same eyes as Christian and Evelyn. Like her mother, her face started to light up at the sight of him, but turned to confusion once she saw what her brother was holding.
"Christian?" asked Annette.
Christian ignored her, starting down the hall towards Annette's room.
Annette looked at her mother for an explanation. Evelyn merely shrugged and motioned for her to follow.
When Evelyn and Annette got to the room, Christian had already laid Satine down on the bed. Evelyn sat next to her, feeling forehead.
"She's burning up with fever."
Christian shook his head. "She wasn't this afternoon."
"She is now. Christian, go downstairs and wait for the doctor. Annette, get a nightgown."
Christian backed slowly away, until he knocked into the wall. He turned and fled down the hall and took the stairs three at a time. He went to the window and all but pressed his nose against the glass waiting.
It seemed like an eternity until the small maid and the doctor appeared.
Christian threw the door open and hurried the doctor upstairs and into Annette's room.
Evelyn and Annette had changed Satine into the nightgown and put her under the covers. At the sight of Satine's paler-than-normal face and ragged, shallow breathing, the doctor was instantly alarmed.
He turned to Christian. "You cannot stay here." He instructed. "Miss Annette, you either."
He practically pushed Annette and Christian out the door. They both stood there for a minute, stunned.
Annette turned to her brother, her face in a huge grin. "You've been here five minutes, and already the house is topsy-turvy. Welcome back."
Christian embraced his sister, his fear momentarily abated. Doctors were good. Doctors could help Satine. They could give you a spoonful of nasty liquid or a shot and the world would make sense again. A doctor could help Satine. And besides, it was nice to see Annette again. "I missed you." he replied earnestly.
Annette smiled winningly. "How could you not miss me?"
Christian playfully yanked on her hair. Annette turned serious again. "Who is she?"
"My fianc‚e."
Annette looked at him as if to ask `And?'
Christian looked away, his anxiety having returned, his eyes boring holes into the door. Annette watched him for a second, watching his fanatic intensity. Annette felt certain that with a few more seconds of his glaring the door would fly off it's hinges and into the room.
She tentatively reached out and touched his shoulder. Christian, who had been dreaming up worse case scenarios, jumped at her touch.
"Let's go downstairs," Annette suggested. "And you can tell me what you've been up to." Firmly taking a hold on Christian's elbow, she dragged him down the stairs.
Christian seemed to be in a daze. He continued to daydream about all sorts of things while Annette patiently waited for him to come to.
But Annette was not a patient girl, and after five minutes of stony silence, a year of pent up emotions and years of playful sibling rivalry, Annette reached out and smacked her brother's arm.
"Snap out of it!"
Christian's head jerked up, and he stared at Annette for a moment as if not sure of who she was.
"So, Christian," Annette barged in, "What have you been doing these past few months?"
"I went to Paris." he replied vaguely.
"I know that. What did you do there?"
He was looking down at his lap, where he was holding a pillow and fingering the tassels. "I wrote a play."
"Did you now? How nice. Was it a good play?"
A pause. "I don't know."
"I'm your sister, quit being modest. Go on, rant and rave about how fabulous it was."
"We left before opening night." he said dully.
"We?" Annette asked carefully.
Christian looked up at his sister. His eyes were full of worry, and they searched Annette with fear. This was his beloved little sister, his own dear sweet Annette. She, his conspirator, his compatriot.
Christian's eyes welled up with tears. "What if she dies?"
Annette looked at her brother, horrified. She had never seen a man cry, much less her hero, her older brother. And there he was, his eyes welling up with tears over a girl he hadn't known six months before.
If it had been anyone else, Annette would have ran. Annette would have ran out of the room and away from the offending male who dare show emotion and weakness in the presence of a female.
But it wasn't anybody. It was Christian, her favorite brother.
She pulled Christian into an embrace, giving him the comfort he so desperately needed.
Christian put his head down on Annette's shoulder, gripping her tightly. "Sissy... I don't know what I'd do."
Annette silently hugged her brother. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to comfort him.
"I'd die without her, Sister. I'm certain of it."
Annette stroked her brother's hair. "Shh, Christie... shh. You don't want Mamma to see you like this, do you? Or the boys? Shh, Christie, stop your tears. Everything's going to be alright."
Christian obediently sat up. Annette continued speaking rapidly, scared that he might start sobbing again.
"You remember when Tommy had Scarlet Fever? You remember? And we were all sure he was going to die? Mamma didn't let him, because Mamma doesn't take any nonsense. Mamma won't let her die, Christie, you know she won't. And neither will Dr. Wallace."
Christian nodded, taking a few deep breaths. Annette smiled fondly at her brother. "That's better. Now, tell me all about her."
Christian started to play with the pillow again.
"Where did you meet her?" prompted Annette.
"At the Moulin Rouge." he said softly.
Annette's voice caught in her throat. She had heard the argument between her father and Christian before he had left. She remembered his words: You'll wind up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!
Had Christian fulfilled that prophesy?
A sicker, more perverse thought entered Annette's head: If she was a cancan dancer, did that mean that she was... that she was...
A prostitute?
"At the Moulin Rouge?" she asked carefully.
Christian nodded. He looked up at Annette, whose eyes were now filled with doubt. Reading her mind as only a brother could, he narrowed his eyes and gripped her hand.
"Don't look that way, Annette, and don't even begin to think poorly of her." he threatened. Annette watched him cautiously.
"What? I didn't say anything."
Christian looked at her pleadingly.
"She's not bad, Sister. She's not. She's sweet and kind and loving..."
Annette watched her brother. His entire expression changed whenever he thought of her- his eyes got a far away look in them, his mouth curved into a smile, and his whole attitude changed.
Christian wasn't one to fall for a bad girl, at least she didn't think he was. And if he believed that she was a good person, than she must be.
Whatever she was, Christian did seem to love her. And Annette decided that right then and there that no matter what happened, she was going to love her too.
`What's her name?" she asked, hesitant to take him out of his reverie.
"Satine." he said dreamily.
Of all the women to choose from, he chose the star.
Annette knew she was not supposed to know of such things. A lady of her culture and age should never know about underworld occurrences.
But Annette was a crafty little thing, skilled in the art of eavesdropping. She overheard everything and retained it. Had she been a boy, she would have been without a doubt her father's favorite. But since she was a woman, she was not supposed to have a brain, and thus was ignored.
Annette nodded slowly. "Satine."
"Satine." he affirmed.
"From the Moulin Rouge." continued Annette. Christian nodded. "There's gonna be some troub-lllllle." She knew that her father was going to have a heart attack, keel over and die, come back, and kill Christian.
At that very moment, the door opened. Christian was up in an instant. The little maid came down the stairs and dropped a curtsy in front of them.
"Miss Annette, the mistress and the gentl'man want to see you and the master `ere."
Annette nodded. "Thank you, Lindsay. You may go."
She turned to Christian. "That's our call."
Christian was already up the stairs, and she heard the door shut. Annette sighed and chased after him.
"Ah, Miss Annette. Now we can get started." Dr. Wallace was standing in the middle of the room. Satine had a strap around her arm. An open bottle of clear liquid was on the bedstand, and a syringe was next to it. "I fear the lady," he motioned to Satine. "Has a rather bad case of consumption."
And with a sickening lurch, time stopped. Christian stood there, and could literally feel time halting. He knew was consumption was. It was a disease that deteriorated the lungs until there hardly anything left. The disease consumed the lungs, thus giving it it's name: consumption.
Victims died by drowning in their own blood.
And his beloved Satine had that?!?
"Though it seems quite bad, it is at a curable stage. But the lady will need to be placed in a sanitarium."
Again, another word Christian realized. When he was younger, his family would take vacation up to the mountains. On the way, you could always see large white buildings high up in the mountains, distant and hard to get to. `What are those?' he would ask. `Sanitariums' someone would reply.
Sanitariums. Bleak places where the coughs of the dying were amplified by those of the others who coughed in unison. Places where when you stopped, it still echoed through the desolate, hopeless halls. Places where family and friends visited less and less. Places where parents stopped visiting their fussy children because they know all is lost. A place where optimism was missing.
And this man wanted to put his Satine in one of those places? His beautiful, wild, spirited Satine in that barren, despondent, hopeless place?
Christian was jerked out of his meditation because Dr. Wallace was talking again.
"She needs good clean mountain air and plenty of rest. As in, no overexertation. Pure bedrest."
Christian was nodding. As much as he hated the idea, he knew the doctor knew what he was talking about. And if it meant Satine would get well, then so be it.
~*~
"Red Bird, let's hear a song."
"Yes, Red Bird! Sing something!"
She shook her head, laughing. Her red hair whipped out, hitting the people in her direct vicinity. "We'll wake everyone up!"
"No we won't! Oh, please, Red Bird? Sing something!" they chorused.
"Yeah, come on, Red."
She turned to her sister. "Jenny, you're always taking their side! And me being your own sister!"
"Stop being modest and sing." Genevieve instructed.
She smiled and started to sing.
"All I want is a room somewhere;
Far away from the cold night air."
She pranced around the room
"With one enormous chair;
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"
She had climbed up on a bed and was now motioning for the girls to move the candle from the nighstand. Up she went, balancing precariously on the rickety piece of furniture. She flashed a grin.
"Lots of choc'late for me to eat;
Lots of coal makin' lots of heat;
Warm face, warm hands, warm feet,
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"
She sat down on the nightstand, drawing an leg to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them, putting her chin on her knee.
"Oh, so loverly sittin' abso-bloomin'-lutely still!
I would never budge 'till spring
crep over me winder sill."
She got a fanciful look on her face, as if she were dreaming.
"Someone's head restin' on my knee;
warm and tender as he can be,"
She raised her head resolutely here, as if singing loudly would make it more true.
"Who takes good care of me;
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"
Jenny smiled at her sister. "Loverly,"
She smiled back. "Loverly,"
"Loverly,"
"Oh wouldn't it be
Loverly."
~*~
Satine slowly opened her eyes. Though there was only an oil lamp near the door, Satine had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes.
She slowly moved her head to the right. There, holding her hand, was Christian. He had pushed her chair back and laid his head down on the bed. He was fast asleep.
She felt her heart swell with love for him. Poor thing looked exhausted, and she momentarily hated herself for tormenting him like she had.
She turned her head the other way. A girl she had never seen before was holding her hand. She was pretty, with light brown hair and an elegant appearance. She was leaning her head back in the chair and seemed to be sleeping.
In a chair next to the door slept a woman that she could hardly see.
Satine wanted to wake up. She wanted to shake Christian's hand and cry out, Look, I'm awake, and I'm fine! She wanted to find out who these two other women were. She wanted to know why she was in a pink room that was far nicer than the room they had rented at Mrs. Phillips.
But fatigue decided that Satine's wants wouldn't be satisfied, and she felt her eyelids start to droop. She managed to give Christian's hand a weak squeeze before she succumbed the sleep that was so warm and inviting.
~*~
Annette hated to sew. Sewing was bad, sewing was evil, yet her mother insisted. And so she had a half-finished needlepoint of a swan she had been working on since she was fourteen.
Annette was quite clumsy with the needle, and when she stuck it in to the the cloth she got her finger as well.
She yelped in pain. "Blast this infernal thing!" she cried out, throwing it aside. She looked at her finger from which a bead of blood was coming. "O-ow." she whined, sticking her finger in her mouth and groaning.
"Sounds painful." Came a weak, hoarse voice.
Annette whipped her head around. Attempting to sit up and wide awake was Satine.
"Satine!" Annette yelped, momentarily forgetting her finger as she pushed Satine back down into the pillows. "Oh my heavens, you're awake!" Annette started babbling. "I"m sorry Christian isn't here, he's been with you for five days straight and he just started sleeping last night out of sheer exhaustion because, believe you me, if he had had a choice he would have stayed awake for the next seven days if he had needed to, but he was beginning to stink so we sent him off to bathe and eat and sleep so that's where he is now and my mother is downstairs so if you want me to get her I will... how are you feeling? You must think of me as horribly rude, I'm Christian's sister. Would you like me to go wake up Christian? I know he wanted me to get him the moment you woke up. Am I tiring you by speaking so much?"
Satine just looked at Annette, having missed most of what she had said that didn't pertain to Christian.
"You're Annette, aren't you?"
Annette nodded. "My fame precedes me." She started for the door. "I'm going to get Christian- he'll have my head if I don't get him- do you need anything?"
Satine shook her head. "I'm fine. Let him sleep. Sit down." Satine motioned for her to sit. "Come. Sit."
Annette looked at her warily. By her father's description, evil women were crass, boorish indivuals of the devil, their hideousness thinly veiled by their beauty. Annette vaguely remembered the priest's words about the Jezebels of the world. One could see the evil in their eyes. One must never fall victim to the wiles of corrupt women.
Christian had told her that she wasn't like that, and if she hadn't been assured before, she was now.
Satine's eyes were warm and inviting. There was nothing false about her smile, which shone with real affability. And there was nothing counterfeit about her beauty. She was easily the most beautiful woman Annette had ever seen.
Annette chucked her father's thoughts out the window. Who cared what the stuffy old geezer thought, anyway? She sat down on the bed next to her.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
Satine smiled feebly. "My throat's a little sore."
Annette snorted in the most unladylike fashion. "Small wonder, with the way you were coughing."
"What's the matter with me?" Satine asked evenly.
Annette bit her lip. "I think I'll go get Christian now." she started to stand up, but was stopped when Satine's long fingers wrapped around her wrist.
"Annette, tell me."
"I'll be right back-" Annette said, much stronger than Satine and pulling away. She went out the door and disappeared.
Satine laid back down on her pillows. She felt slightly dizzy from the conversation, a fact that made her cringe. This weakness was ridiculous and could not be tolerated.
Christian skidded to a stop in the doorway in a dark green robe. He stopped at the sight of her, his eyes wide, before he ran into the room.
He gathered Satine into his arms, kissing her forehead, her lips, her hair. Between kisses he mumbled "Oh, thank you, God, thank you, Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you."
Christian had murmured every prayer he knew while sitting vigil besides her.
He pulled away and looked at Satine. His eyes were brimming with tears. "I thought I was going to lose you." he whispered, drawing her to him again.
Satine rested her head on his shoulder, revelling in his embrace. "Never," she said in her slightly rasping voice. "Never, never, never."
He pulled away again, his hands on her cheeks. "My God. You look-"
"Like a wreck?" she supplied.
"No," he said in an awed tone. "Beautiful."
She laughed softly and rolled her eyes. "Flatterer."
"How are you feeling, dearest?" he asked.
"My throat's a little sore," she admitted. She looked at him carefully. "Christian- what's the matter with me?."
Christian stood up and went the window. "We need a little light in this room." he said suddenly. He leaned into the windowframe.
How can I tell her? How can I say that she's on the brink of death?
Satine looked after him helplessly. While she was furious with him for not telling her, she realized how hard it must be for him. God knew she would be a destroyed if Christian was sick. He's shielding me.
"Christian..." she called quietly.
He turned to her, his eyes filled with pain. He crossed back to the bed, taking her hands in his.
"Darling... you have..." he swallowed hard. Satine felt she stomach roll with anxiety. This had to be bad if he was having such a hard time saying it. "It's... consumption."
Satine lay quietly for a moment, allowing herself to absorb his words. Consumption. She knew what that meant. Blood. Coughing. Doctors with needles and tonics. Santa-
"Will I have to go to a Sanitarium?" she asked softly.
The distant, detached man sitting next to her nodded slowly.
The noise Christian heard next shocked him. Satine had released a little laugh.
The Sparkling Diamond had shone through.
"Is that all?" she asked. Her tone was light and carefree. "Oh, Christian, that's nothing. I thought you were talking about something serious here."
Christian looked at her seriously, and slowly shook his head. Don't do this.
Satine defiantly sat up, raising her chin in a obstinate gesture. "Oh, please. I don't get sick, Christian. This is nothing more than a bout of-"
Satine had been going strong. Her eyes were shining, her voice was steady, her arguement persuasive.
But she was still sick, and she drew her breath in quickly, a hand to her chest. When she looked up at Christian she had both tears and humility in her eyes.
"How bad is it?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
"The doctor said it's still curable. But you'll need loads of medicine and bedrest. That's why they're placing you in a Sanitarium."
"Am I going to die?"
The words came swiftly and without hesitation, as if she had asked him what time it was. He looked at her, horrified.
He did not see the confident, lighthearted Satine he knew so well, nor did he see that false happiness of the Sparkling Diamond.
In place of them was a scared little girl who needed to hear the truth even though she might not like it. A scared little girl who needed someone to chase the monsters away from under her bed and keep them away.
A scared little girl who needed love.
Christian put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head slowly and deliberately.
"No." he said. "You're going to get well, my love. I will take care of you."
Satine looked at him for a moment before nodding and smiling at him. "I believe you." She yawned. She hated herself for being so tired. "I'm tired."
Christian nodded. "I had better go then. Dr. Wallace will have my head if I keep you up."
He moved to get up when Satine whimpered.
"No. Just... stay with me."
Christian looked down at her. She could hardly keep her eyes open, yet her fingers kept a death grip on his hand. She yanked his arm. Always the insistant and horribly spoiled, she was not going to let him go without a fight.
Rather than leave, Christian smiled. "Alright."
He lay down besides Satine, on top of the blankets. She sighed happily, snuggling into him. He put his arm around her, and she laid her head on his chest. A few seconds later, he deep breathing told him that she was asleep.
"I'll protect you," he whispered to his sleeping beauty. "I promise."
Author's note II: In the movie, Satine's persona is never really revealed beyond the whole flying away bit. Christian we know about, Satine's a mystery.
But since I am omnipotent and have you reading my story *bwahahaha* I have Satine as kinda a scared little girl. She wants love, she wants security, and she wants acceptance. Yeah. Poor needy Satine.
AND I gave Christian a last name. Please, don't bite my head off.
Christian was blindly running, but he instinctively knew where he was going. Though one might think he would have been slower carrying Satine, the urgency of his flight made him faster. One block up. Must get help for Satine. Two blocks over. And help is at home. Three houses down.
There it was, the house he had grew up in. He would have enjoyed the view if it weren't for the sense of crisis that plagued him, and Satine's dead weight in his arms.
He kicked the gate open, rushing up the driveway and up the front steps. He kicked at the door.
The door was opened by the new maid, Lindsay. She had been there for a few months, and had never seen Christian. When he started to push in, the frightened Lindsay tried to slam the door in his face.
Christian stuck his boot between the doorjamb and the door, not ready to give up. Goddammit, he knew he had been disowned, but not even his cold-hearted father would turn him away with the sky a dismal gray and the wind so very cold and an unconcious woman in his arms.
Would he?
Oh God, Christian thought, though he had never been one for religion, please let them understand...
He need not have worried.
The door was pulled open by Christian's mother.
Evelyn Deveraux was a small woman, about a head shorter than her oldest son. She had aged remarkably well, looking not a day over 30. In reality she was 38, a fact she was quick to hide. She had gray eyes of her favorite son and thick, dirty blond hair. She was a compliant woman, eager to please and slow to annoy, hard to anger and quick to excite.
At the sight of her favorite son, Evelyn beamed. With a second glance, her smile faded. Christian was obviously distressed, and in his arms he carried a woman who was obviously in a state of collapse.
"Christian?"
A quick, curt nod was her response as Christian entered the house. "What happened?" Evelyn continued. She turned to Lindsay. "Go fetch a doctor," she hissed. "And be quick about it."
Christian was talking much as she started towards the stairs. Evelyn hurried ahead. "We'll put her in the rose room- no, that's cold. All the guest rooms are cold! Christian darling, go to Annette's room and put her in there- Annette! Annette, come here, dear!"
A pretty young girl came rushing down the hallway and started down the stairs. She was stopped by Christian, who marched, unperturbed, to Annette's room.
Annette was a quite a lovely girl. She was a tiny little thing, with delicate features. She had light brown hair and had the same eyes as Christian and Evelyn. Like her mother, her face started to light up at the sight of him, but turned to confusion once she saw what her brother was holding.
"Christian?" asked Annette.
Christian ignored her, starting down the hall towards Annette's room.
Annette looked at her mother for an explanation. Evelyn merely shrugged and motioned for her to follow.
When Evelyn and Annette got to the room, Christian had already laid Satine down on the bed. Evelyn sat next to her, feeling forehead.
"She's burning up with fever."
Christian shook his head. "She wasn't this afternoon."
"She is now. Christian, go downstairs and wait for the doctor. Annette, get a nightgown."
Christian backed slowly away, until he knocked into the wall. He turned and fled down the hall and took the stairs three at a time. He went to the window and all but pressed his nose against the glass waiting.
It seemed like an eternity until the small maid and the doctor appeared.
Christian threw the door open and hurried the doctor upstairs and into Annette's room.
Evelyn and Annette had changed Satine into the nightgown and put her under the covers. At the sight of Satine's paler-than-normal face and ragged, shallow breathing, the doctor was instantly alarmed.
He turned to Christian. "You cannot stay here." He instructed. "Miss Annette, you either."
He practically pushed Annette and Christian out the door. They both stood there for a minute, stunned.
Annette turned to her brother, her face in a huge grin. "You've been here five minutes, and already the house is topsy-turvy. Welcome back."
Christian embraced his sister, his fear momentarily abated. Doctors were good. Doctors could help Satine. They could give you a spoonful of nasty liquid or a shot and the world would make sense again. A doctor could help Satine. And besides, it was nice to see Annette again. "I missed you." he replied earnestly.
Annette smiled winningly. "How could you not miss me?"
Christian playfully yanked on her hair. Annette turned serious again. "Who is she?"
"My fianc‚e."
Annette looked at him as if to ask `And?'
Christian looked away, his anxiety having returned, his eyes boring holes into the door. Annette watched him for a second, watching his fanatic intensity. Annette felt certain that with a few more seconds of his glaring the door would fly off it's hinges and into the room.
She tentatively reached out and touched his shoulder. Christian, who had been dreaming up worse case scenarios, jumped at her touch.
"Let's go downstairs," Annette suggested. "And you can tell me what you've been up to." Firmly taking a hold on Christian's elbow, she dragged him down the stairs.
Christian seemed to be in a daze. He continued to daydream about all sorts of things while Annette patiently waited for him to come to.
But Annette was not a patient girl, and after five minutes of stony silence, a year of pent up emotions and years of playful sibling rivalry, Annette reached out and smacked her brother's arm.
"Snap out of it!"
Christian's head jerked up, and he stared at Annette for a moment as if not sure of who she was.
"So, Christian," Annette barged in, "What have you been doing these past few months?"
"I went to Paris." he replied vaguely.
"I know that. What did you do there?"
He was looking down at his lap, where he was holding a pillow and fingering the tassels. "I wrote a play."
"Did you now? How nice. Was it a good play?"
A pause. "I don't know."
"I'm your sister, quit being modest. Go on, rant and rave about how fabulous it was."
"We left before opening night." he said dully.
"We?" Annette asked carefully.
Christian looked up at his sister. His eyes were full of worry, and they searched Annette with fear. This was his beloved little sister, his own dear sweet Annette. She, his conspirator, his compatriot.
Christian's eyes welled up with tears. "What if she dies?"
Annette looked at her brother, horrified. She had never seen a man cry, much less her hero, her older brother. And there he was, his eyes welling up with tears over a girl he hadn't known six months before.
If it had been anyone else, Annette would have ran. Annette would have ran out of the room and away from the offending male who dare show emotion and weakness in the presence of a female.
But it wasn't anybody. It was Christian, her favorite brother.
She pulled Christian into an embrace, giving him the comfort he so desperately needed.
Christian put his head down on Annette's shoulder, gripping her tightly. "Sissy... I don't know what I'd do."
Annette silently hugged her brother. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to comfort him.
"I'd die without her, Sister. I'm certain of it."
Annette stroked her brother's hair. "Shh, Christie... shh. You don't want Mamma to see you like this, do you? Or the boys? Shh, Christie, stop your tears. Everything's going to be alright."
Christian obediently sat up. Annette continued speaking rapidly, scared that he might start sobbing again.
"You remember when Tommy had Scarlet Fever? You remember? And we were all sure he was going to die? Mamma didn't let him, because Mamma doesn't take any nonsense. Mamma won't let her die, Christie, you know she won't. And neither will Dr. Wallace."
Christian nodded, taking a few deep breaths. Annette smiled fondly at her brother. "That's better. Now, tell me all about her."
Christian started to play with the pillow again.
"Where did you meet her?" prompted Annette.
"At the Moulin Rouge." he said softly.
Annette's voice caught in her throat. She had heard the argument between her father and Christian before he had left. She remembered his words: You'll wind up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!
Had Christian fulfilled that prophesy?
A sicker, more perverse thought entered Annette's head: If she was a cancan dancer, did that mean that she was... that she was...
A prostitute?
"At the Moulin Rouge?" she asked carefully.
Christian nodded. He looked up at Annette, whose eyes were now filled with doubt. Reading her mind as only a brother could, he narrowed his eyes and gripped her hand.
"Don't look that way, Annette, and don't even begin to think poorly of her." he threatened. Annette watched him cautiously.
"What? I didn't say anything."
Christian looked at her pleadingly.
"She's not bad, Sister. She's not. She's sweet and kind and loving..."
Annette watched her brother. His entire expression changed whenever he thought of her- his eyes got a far away look in them, his mouth curved into a smile, and his whole attitude changed.
Christian wasn't one to fall for a bad girl, at least she didn't think he was. And if he believed that she was a good person, than she must be.
Whatever she was, Christian did seem to love her. And Annette decided that right then and there that no matter what happened, she was going to love her too.
`What's her name?" she asked, hesitant to take him out of his reverie.
"Satine." he said dreamily.
Of all the women to choose from, he chose the star.
Annette knew she was not supposed to know of such things. A lady of her culture and age should never know about underworld occurrences.
But Annette was a crafty little thing, skilled in the art of eavesdropping. She overheard everything and retained it. Had she been a boy, she would have been without a doubt her father's favorite. But since she was a woman, she was not supposed to have a brain, and thus was ignored.
Annette nodded slowly. "Satine."
"Satine." he affirmed.
"From the Moulin Rouge." continued Annette. Christian nodded. "There's gonna be some troub-lllllle." She knew that her father was going to have a heart attack, keel over and die, come back, and kill Christian.
At that very moment, the door opened. Christian was up in an instant. The little maid came down the stairs and dropped a curtsy in front of them.
"Miss Annette, the mistress and the gentl'man want to see you and the master `ere."
Annette nodded. "Thank you, Lindsay. You may go."
She turned to Christian. "That's our call."
Christian was already up the stairs, and she heard the door shut. Annette sighed and chased after him.
"Ah, Miss Annette. Now we can get started." Dr. Wallace was standing in the middle of the room. Satine had a strap around her arm. An open bottle of clear liquid was on the bedstand, and a syringe was next to it. "I fear the lady," he motioned to Satine. "Has a rather bad case of consumption."
And with a sickening lurch, time stopped. Christian stood there, and could literally feel time halting. He knew was consumption was. It was a disease that deteriorated the lungs until there hardly anything left. The disease consumed the lungs, thus giving it it's name: consumption.
Victims died by drowning in their own blood.
And his beloved Satine had that?!?
"Though it seems quite bad, it is at a curable stage. But the lady will need to be placed in a sanitarium."
Again, another word Christian realized. When he was younger, his family would take vacation up to the mountains. On the way, you could always see large white buildings high up in the mountains, distant and hard to get to. `What are those?' he would ask. `Sanitariums' someone would reply.
Sanitariums. Bleak places where the coughs of the dying were amplified by those of the others who coughed in unison. Places where when you stopped, it still echoed through the desolate, hopeless halls. Places where family and friends visited less and less. Places where parents stopped visiting their fussy children because they know all is lost. A place where optimism was missing.
And this man wanted to put his Satine in one of those places? His beautiful, wild, spirited Satine in that barren, despondent, hopeless place?
Christian was jerked out of his meditation because Dr. Wallace was talking again.
"She needs good clean mountain air and plenty of rest. As in, no overexertation. Pure bedrest."
Christian was nodding. As much as he hated the idea, he knew the doctor knew what he was talking about. And if it meant Satine would get well, then so be it.
~*~
"Red Bird, let's hear a song."
"Yes, Red Bird! Sing something!"
She shook her head, laughing. Her red hair whipped out, hitting the people in her direct vicinity. "We'll wake everyone up!"
"No we won't! Oh, please, Red Bird? Sing something!" they chorused.
"Yeah, come on, Red."
She turned to her sister. "Jenny, you're always taking their side! And me being your own sister!"
"Stop being modest and sing." Genevieve instructed.
She smiled and started to sing.
"All I want is a room somewhere;
Far away from the cold night air."
She pranced around the room
"With one enormous chair;
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"
She had climbed up on a bed and was now motioning for the girls to move the candle from the nighstand. Up she went, balancing precariously on the rickety piece of furniture. She flashed a grin.
"Lots of choc'late for me to eat;
Lots of coal makin' lots of heat;
Warm face, warm hands, warm feet,
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"
She sat down on the nightstand, drawing an leg to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them, putting her chin on her knee.
"Oh, so loverly sittin' abso-bloomin'-lutely still!
I would never budge 'till spring
crep over me winder sill."
She got a fanciful look on her face, as if she were dreaming.
"Someone's head restin' on my knee;
warm and tender as he can be,"
She raised her head resolutely here, as if singing loudly would make it more true.
"Who takes good care of me;
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"
Jenny smiled at her sister. "Loverly,"
She smiled back. "Loverly,"
"Loverly,"
"Oh wouldn't it be
Loverly."
~*~
Satine slowly opened her eyes. Though there was only an oil lamp near the door, Satine had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes.
She slowly moved her head to the right. There, holding her hand, was Christian. He had pushed her chair back and laid his head down on the bed. He was fast asleep.
She felt her heart swell with love for him. Poor thing looked exhausted, and she momentarily hated herself for tormenting him like she had.
She turned her head the other way. A girl she had never seen before was holding her hand. She was pretty, with light brown hair and an elegant appearance. She was leaning her head back in the chair and seemed to be sleeping.
In a chair next to the door slept a woman that she could hardly see.
Satine wanted to wake up. She wanted to shake Christian's hand and cry out, Look, I'm awake, and I'm fine! She wanted to find out who these two other women were. She wanted to know why she was in a pink room that was far nicer than the room they had rented at Mrs. Phillips.
But fatigue decided that Satine's wants wouldn't be satisfied, and she felt her eyelids start to droop. She managed to give Christian's hand a weak squeeze before she succumbed the sleep that was so warm and inviting.
~*~
Annette hated to sew. Sewing was bad, sewing was evil, yet her mother insisted. And so she had a half-finished needlepoint of a swan she had been working on since she was fourteen.
Annette was quite clumsy with the needle, and when she stuck it in to the the cloth she got her finger as well.
She yelped in pain. "Blast this infernal thing!" she cried out, throwing it aside. She looked at her finger from which a bead of blood was coming. "O-ow." she whined, sticking her finger in her mouth and groaning.
"Sounds painful." Came a weak, hoarse voice.
Annette whipped her head around. Attempting to sit up and wide awake was Satine.
"Satine!" Annette yelped, momentarily forgetting her finger as she pushed Satine back down into the pillows. "Oh my heavens, you're awake!" Annette started babbling. "I"m sorry Christian isn't here, he's been with you for five days straight and he just started sleeping last night out of sheer exhaustion because, believe you me, if he had had a choice he would have stayed awake for the next seven days if he had needed to, but he was beginning to stink so we sent him off to bathe and eat and sleep so that's where he is now and my mother is downstairs so if you want me to get her I will... how are you feeling? You must think of me as horribly rude, I'm Christian's sister. Would you like me to go wake up Christian? I know he wanted me to get him the moment you woke up. Am I tiring you by speaking so much?"
Satine just looked at Annette, having missed most of what she had said that didn't pertain to Christian.
"You're Annette, aren't you?"
Annette nodded. "My fame precedes me." She started for the door. "I'm going to get Christian- he'll have my head if I don't get him- do you need anything?"
Satine shook her head. "I'm fine. Let him sleep. Sit down." Satine motioned for her to sit. "Come. Sit."
Annette looked at her warily. By her father's description, evil women were crass, boorish indivuals of the devil, their hideousness thinly veiled by their beauty. Annette vaguely remembered the priest's words about the Jezebels of the world. One could see the evil in their eyes. One must never fall victim to the wiles of corrupt women.
Christian had told her that she wasn't like that, and if she hadn't been assured before, she was now.
Satine's eyes were warm and inviting. There was nothing false about her smile, which shone with real affability. And there was nothing counterfeit about her beauty. She was easily the most beautiful woman Annette had ever seen.
Annette chucked her father's thoughts out the window. Who cared what the stuffy old geezer thought, anyway? She sat down on the bed next to her.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
Satine smiled feebly. "My throat's a little sore."
Annette snorted in the most unladylike fashion. "Small wonder, with the way you were coughing."
"What's the matter with me?" Satine asked evenly.
Annette bit her lip. "I think I'll go get Christian now." she started to stand up, but was stopped when Satine's long fingers wrapped around her wrist.
"Annette, tell me."
"I'll be right back-" Annette said, much stronger than Satine and pulling away. She went out the door and disappeared.
Satine laid back down on her pillows. She felt slightly dizzy from the conversation, a fact that made her cringe. This weakness was ridiculous and could not be tolerated.
Christian skidded to a stop in the doorway in a dark green robe. He stopped at the sight of her, his eyes wide, before he ran into the room.
He gathered Satine into his arms, kissing her forehead, her lips, her hair. Between kisses he mumbled "Oh, thank you, God, thank you, Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you."
Christian had murmured every prayer he knew while sitting vigil besides her.
He pulled away and looked at Satine. His eyes were brimming with tears. "I thought I was going to lose you." he whispered, drawing her to him again.
Satine rested her head on his shoulder, revelling in his embrace. "Never," she said in her slightly rasping voice. "Never, never, never."
He pulled away again, his hands on her cheeks. "My God. You look-"
"Like a wreck?" she supplied.
"No," he said in an awed tone. "Beautiful."
She laughed softly and rolled her eyes. "Flatterer."
"How are you feeling, dearest?" he asked.
"My throat's a little sore," she admitted. She looked at him carefully. "Christian- what's the matter with me?."
Christian stood up and went the window. "We need a little light in this room." he said suddenly. He leaned into the windowframe.
How can I tell her? How can I say that she's on the brink of death?
Satine looked after him helplessly. While she was furious with him for not telling her, she realized how hard it must be for him. God knew she would be a destroyed if Christian was sick. He's shielding me.
"Christian..." she called quietly.
He turned to her, his eyes filled with pain. He crossed back to the bed, taking her hands in his.
"Darling... you have..." he swallowed hard. Satine felt she stomach roll with anxiety. This had to be bad if he was having such a hard time saying it. "It's... consumption."
Satine lay quietly for a moment, allowing herself to absorb his words. Consumption. She knew what that meant. Blood. Coughing. Doctors with needles and tonics. Santa-
"Will I have to go to a Sanitarium?" she asked softly.
The distant, detached man sitting next to her nodded slowly.
The noise Christian heard next shocked him. Satine had released a little laugh.
The Sparkling Diamond had shone through.
"Is that all?" she asked. Her tone was light and carefree. "Oh, Christian, that's nothing. I thought you were talking about something serious here."
Christian looked at her seriously, and slowly shook his head. Don't do this.
Satine defiantly sat up, raising her chin in a obstinate gesture. "Oh, please. I don't get sick, Christian. This is nothing more than a bout of-"
Satine had been going strong. Her eyes were shining, her voice was steady, her arguement persuasive.
But she was still sick, and she drew her breath in quickly, a hand to her chest. When she looked up at Christian she had both tears and humility in her eyes.
"How bad is it?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
"The doctor said it's still curable. But you'll need loads of medicine and bedrest. That's why they're placing you in a Sanitarium."
"Am I going to die?"
The words came swiftly and without hesitation, as if she had asked him what time it was. He looked at her, horrified.
He did not see the confident, lighthearted Satine he knew so well, nor did he see that false happiness of the Sparkling Diamond.
In place of them was a scared little girl who needed to hear the truth even though she might not like it. A scared little girl who needed someone to chase the monsters away from under her bed and keep them away.
A scared little girl who needed love.
Christian put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head slowly and deliberately.
"No." he said. "You're going to get well, my love. I will take care of you."
Satine looked at him for a moment before nodding and smiling at him. "I believe you." She yawned. She hated herself for being so tired. "I'm tired."
Christian nodded. "I had better go then. Dr. Wallace will have my head if I keep you up."
He moved to get up when Satine whimpered.
"No. Just... stay with me."
Christian looked down at her. She could hardly keep her eyes open, yet her fingers kept a death grip on his hand. She yanked his arm. Always the insistant and horribly spoiled, she was not going to let him go without a fight.
Rather than leave, Christian smiled. "Alright."
He lay down besides Satine, on top of the blankets. She sighed happily, snuggling into him. He put his arm around her, and she laid her head on his chest. A few seconds later, he deep breathing told him that she was asleep.
"I'll protect you," he whispered to his sleeping beauty. "I promise."