**Author's Note** Sorry it took so long to get this out! What with school
and an intense case of writer's block, I was stumped! The obvious was to
send S&C to London, and for lack of a better place, I did! **holds up
shield against flames** WAIT! I'M NOT DONE! Don't leave yet! **clears
throat** As I was saying, YES I sent them to London, but there will be a
very interesting twist, I promise! I PROMISE! So don't leave, please read!
**hehe, that rhymes, sorta, kinda** Anyways, sorry this chapter stunk so
much. The others will be better! I LOVE REVIEWS!!!!!!!!! AND ALL THE
REVIEWERS!!!! Thank you very much!
"Everybody off! Last stop!" said the conductor in his harsh, grating voice. Satine and Christian both jerked up in unison, having both laid down for a brief catnap. They groped for their bags and groggily stepped off the train onto an unfamiliar platform, gray in the early evening light. It was only after the train doors were closing that realization hit Christian like a heavy stone being dropped into a pond.
"Excuse me, but where are - " his word halted as the train began to move steadily away, the exhaust screening the platform in heavy yellow white billows that invaded the pairs' lungs, making them cough and gasp for air. After the toxins cleared, however, Christian's coughing ceased, but Satine's still went on, heedless of the clear air. She pressed a handkerchief against her lips to catch the blood she knew would come, and leaned against a nearby pillar for support. Christian immediately started toward her, but her breathing slowly fell back into its regular pattern and she smiled reassuringly.
"I'm fine Christian, it's nothing." She said, picking up her suitcase.
"Satine, you're sick. We have to get you some medicine." Said Christian, digging into his coat pockets for the money he put there yesterday morning, before he was filled with an unpleasant remembrance. He was wearing a different coat than he had been yesterday, because the coat with the money in it had been torn off Satine by the duke. His heart thudded sickly in his chest. **They were stuck in an unknown destination, with no money, while Satine was dying.** Satine interpreted the look on his face accurately, her own features falling.
"We have no money." She whispered, staring down at the ground as the acceptance of the situation they were in swept over her. Christian tried to smile, but the hopelessness of their plight was reflected in his eyes.
"Don't worry darling. I'll just write my father for some money, that's all." He said, picking her suitcase up for her. But even as the words came out of his mouth he doubted that they would ever be carried out. "Don't worry." Satine nodded numbly, fully realizing that it was unlikely Christian's father would ever do anything like that. "Now we may as well find out where exactly we've ended up." Said Christian, walking out of the station and blinking at the dying sunlight filtering through the air. Suddenly his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat, finding out abruptly that where they were was the one place he didn't want to be and vowed never to go back to.
"What's wrong Christian?" asked Satine with a frown, noticing the fast change in his body language. Christian swallowed, staring back at the train station longingly.
"We're in….in London." He said. "Let's leave." He started to walk briskly back to the train station and up to the ticket booth.
"No, no, Christian." Said Satine catching up to him. "I've always wanted to go to London." She said, linking her arm through his.
"Satine, my parents live here. I said I'd never go back." He said, staring down at her pleadingly.
"Oh Christian, it's a big city. We'll never see them." Christian sighed, looking down at her face, shining in anticipation like a small child. She seemed so happy….and it was true, he'd probably never see his parents anyway….
'Fine, Satine. We'll stay in London, FOR NOW." He answered, making careful emphasis on the last two words. Satine clapped her hands happily, and kissed him joyfully on the lips.
"I love you!" she said before scampering off into the city. Christian sighed and followed more slowly. They pawned Christian's watch, to Satine's great protest, because he simply wouldn't allow Satine to use her jewelry and got enough money for the couple to stay in a hotel for a couple of nights. A hotel as far away from his parent's house as possible. It was a very nice place, made of bricks and dark, glossy wood. The staff there was pleasant, and it had a clean, airy look and smell. Their room, on the second floor, was about the size of a large living room, with a king size bed, blue sheets, a dresser, table, a large oil lamp, and two nightstands, all made of mahogany Blue curtains to match the bedspread hung on a window that let in a good amount of light in the daytime and opened onto a tranquil view.
"Oh Christian, I love it." Said Satine breathlessly, running a slender hand over the soft sheets. Christian grinned, put down their bags, and kissed her tenderly, yet passionately.
"Now darling, I'm afraid that I must go downstairs and write that letter to Father." He said with a teasing smile. Satine pretended to pout, and then laughed.
"Good, I need some time to unpack my clothes." She said briskly, opening her suitcase.
"Unpack? You'll just have to pack it up again later though, darling." Said Christian, with a genuinely puzzled expression. Satine giggled.
"Men! I have to unpack or my dresses will all lose their shape Christian." She explained, as if talking to a very small child. Christian shrugged good- naturedly and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He walked down into the lobby and composed the letter to his father, frowning in concentration not to say the wrong thing.
Dear Father,
I am now in London, and with my
Christian paused, unsure of how to go on. What was he to say Satine was? If he said that she was anything but his wife, it even worsened the odds that his father would be willing to help him.
wife, who is ill with consumption. Because of our financial situation, we are unable to afford the proper medications. Therefore, we ask of you to give us enough money to pay her medical bills. Your aid will be much appreciated.
Your son,
Christian
Christian read over the letter once before putting it into the envelope, making sure he was careful not to mention Satine's name. His father, obsessed with what he called the "place of sin" or the Moulin Rouge, had extensively talked about the "evil" that was Satine, the girl that would rot in hell as she deserved. He handed the letter to the manager of the hotel, asking him to mail it, Then, smiling, he went back upstairs to Satine.
"Everybody off! Last stop!" said the conductor in his harsh, grating voice. Satine and Christian both jerked up in unison, having both laid down for a brief catnap. They groped for their bags and groggily stepped off the train onto an unfamiliar platform, gray in the early evening light. It was only after the train doors were closing that realization hit Christian like a heavy stone being dropped into a pond.
"Excuse me, but where are - " his word halted as the train began to move steadily away, the exhaust screening the platform in heavy yellow white billows that invaded the pairs' lungs, making them cough and gasp for air. After the toxins cleared, however, Christian's coughing ceased, but Satine's still went on, heedless of the clear air. She pressed a handkerchief against her lips to catch the blood she knew would come, and leaned against a nearby pillar for support. Christian immediately started toward her, but her breathing slowly fell back into its regular pattern and she smiled reassuringly.
"I'm fine Christian, it's nothing." She said, picking up her suitcase.
"Satine, you're sick. We have to get you some medicine." Said Christian, digging into his coat pockets for the money he put there yesterday morning, before he was filled with an unpleasant remembrance. He was wearing a different coat than he had been yesterday, because the coat with the money in it had been torn off Satine by the duke. His heart thudded sickly in his chest. **They were stuck in an unknown destination, with no money, while Satine was dying.** Satine interpreted the look on his face accurately, her own features falling.
"We have no money." She whispered, staring down at the ground as the acceptance of the situation they were in swept over her. Christian tried to smile, but the hopelessness of their plight was reflected in his eyes.
"Don't worry darling. I'll just write my father for some money, that's all." He said, picking her suitcase up for her. But even as the words came out of his mouth he doubted that they would ever be carried out. "Don't worry." Satine nodded numbly, fully realizing that it was unlikely Christian's father would ever do anything like that. "Now we may as well find out where exactly we've ended up." Said Christian, walking out of the station and blinking at the dying sunlight filtering through the air. Suddenly his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat, finding out abruptly that where they were was the one place he didn't want to be and vowed never to go back to.
"What's wrong Christian?" asked Satine with a frown, noticing the fast change in his body language. Christian swallowed, staring back at the train station longingly.
"We're in….in London." He said. "Let's leave." He started to walk briskly back to the train station and up to the ticket booth.
"No, no, Christian." Said Satine catching up to him. "I've always wanted to go to London." She said, linking her arm through his.
"Satine, my parents live here. I said I'd never go back." He said, staring down at her pleadingly.
"Oh Christian, it's a big city. We'll never see them." Christian sighed, looking down at her face, shining in anticipation like a small child. She seemed so happy….and it was true, he'd probably never see his parents anyway….
'Fine, Satine. We'll stay in London, FOR NOW." He answered, making careful emphasis on the last two words. Satine clapped her hands happily, and kissed him joyfully on the lips.
"I love you!" she said before scampering off into the city. Christian sighed and followed more slowly. They pawned Christian's watch, to Satine's great protest, because he simply wouldn't allow Satine to use her jewelry and got enough money for the couple to stay in a hotel for a couple of nights. A hotel as far away from his parent's house as possible. It was a very nice place, made of bricks and dark, glossy wood. The staff there was pleasant, and it had a clean, airy look and smell. Their room, on the second floor, was about the size of a large living room, with a king size bed, blue sheets, a dresser, table, a large oil lamp, and two nightstands, all made of mahogany Blue curtains to match the bedspread hung on a window that let in a good amount of light in the daytime and opened onto a tranquil view.
"Oh Christian, I love it." Said Satine breathlessly, running a slender hand over the soft sheets. Christian grinned, put down their bags, and kissed her tenderly, yet passionately.
"Now darling, I'm afraid that I must go downstairs and write that letter to Father." He said with a teasing smile. Satine pretended to pout, and then laughed.
"Good, I need some time to unpack my clothes." She said briskly, opening her suitcase.
"Unpack? You'll just have to pack it up again later though, darling." Said Christian, with a genuinely puzzled expression. Satine giggled.
"Men! I have to unpack or my dresses will all lose their shape Christian." She explained, as if talking to a very small child. Christian shrugged good- naturedly and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He walked down into the lobby and composed the letter to his father, frowning in concentration not to say the wrong thing.
Dear Father,
I am now in London, and with my
Christian paused, unsure of how to go on. What was he to say Satine was? If he said that she was anything but his wife, it even worsened the odds that his father would be willing to help him.
wife, who is ill with consumption. Because of our financial situation, we are unable to afford the proper medications. Therefore, we ask of you to give us enough money to pay her medical bills. Your aid will be much appreciated.
Your son,
Christian
Christian read over the letter once before putting it into the envelope, making sure he was careful not to mention Satine's name. His father, obsessed with what he called the "place of sin" or the Moulin Rouge, had extensively talked about the "evil" that was Satine, the girl that would rot in hell as she deserved. He handed the letter to the manager of the hotel, asking him to mail it, Then, smiling, he went back upstairs to Satine.