The heavy red curtains rushed to a close and Zidler's diamond dogs were drowned in darkness. Satine's breathless gasps from the best performance of her life echoed around the small, stuffy area behind the velvet. She threw every last grain of energy into making her voice as inaudible as she could, and breathed to Christian,

            'We have to leave, we have to go,'

            And within seconds they had slipped backstage, leaving the ghost of a showgirl among the can-can dancers. Christian and Satine threw themselves down the corridor, more fearful than anything else. Satine flew through her dressing-room door. Christian halted and looked at her, wide-eyed.

            'Go, get your things, go!'

            She flayed with tears, seized her half-packed bag from the floor where she had left it that afternoon and began to sweep the rest of her belongings into the little case. She hurriedly chose a few bottles from the dressing table and hid every diamond she owned among the depths of the bag. She flung open her little window and opened the door of the birdcage. The little bird flew straight out into the night. Satine wrenched the glittering headdress from her head and threw it into the bag before enveloping herself in her grey travelling coat, pulling the collar around the Duke's magnificent necklace. As she turned to the door she was struck with the quick, sharp memory of Harry Zidler standing there only hours before.

 'You're dying, Satine.'

She sighed into the mirror before hurrying out of the Moulin Rouge for the last time. Satine walked quickly, with her head down, and she tucked her bright hair into her coat, convinced that it would give her away. She fled past the audience as they shuffled away from the Moulin, walking too quickly to hear their conversation, but sure they must have recognised her. They would not see their sparkling diamond again.

            She found Christian's door ajar, and she found Christian himself taking papers down from his walls and pressing them into his suitcase. His room had never been lavish, but now it was barer than ever. He flung his arms around her and covered her face with kisses.

            'I love you.' br

            Then he pulled his case shut and led her quickly down the stairs and away from Montmarte. Neither the courtesan or the writer turned to see the devastated man at the doors of the theatre, watching his little bird fly away and his beloved Moulin crash to the ground.

*          *          *

            Please tell me what you think, this is actually my first fanfic so feedback would be incredibly appreciated.

            I pretty much know how I want this to end but I want to know whether anybody likes it so far and/or whether anyone will actually read it before I go to the trouble of writing the whole thing. Thanks for reading.