Alyse awoke the next morning and opened her eyes tentatively. She hadn't had much sleep, and she had no idea what to expect. She'd gone to bed feeling like her whole body was floating, and slept soundly all through the night. She sat up carefully and looked around the room.

Ohh…

She was sitting perfectly still, but her vision was vibrating. Everything was shaking from left to right, even though she made the utmost effort to barely even breathe. She closed her eyes, then reopened them, but it was still the same. She let out a little moan and wondered how on earth she was going to get ready to leave--much less walk down the stairs, cross the street, and go inside the Moulin Rouge and work!

Somehow, Alyse managed to clean herself up and get dressed. She fumbled for the door and opened it, slid out and closed it. She leaned against it for a moment, to get her bearings, and heard another door open and shut. She looked across the landing and saw Christian with his arms full of his papers.

He stopped, took one look at her, and began to laugh.

"That's not very nice," she said weakly, and he laughed harder.

"I'm sorry, really, I'm so sorry," he said, trying to contain his mirth. He remembered all too well many a morning of feeling the way she looked, and it was not a pleasant feeling, he could say that.

"Is this normal?" Alyse asked him, her eyes focusing on him vaguely.

"Is what normal?"

"You're moving around quite a bit."

He snorted. "I'm standing perfectly still, Alyse. That's just the absinthe."

She moaned again. "Why did I let you make me try it?"

"Me?" he exclaimed, and saw her smile a little. "I do believe you asked me, if my memory serves me correctly!"

"Yes, yes, you're right. But you should have told me no!" she said with a dramatic sigh. "Remind me, the next time I feel like drinking, I should stick to water."

He nodded seriously. "I'll do that." She still hadn't moved from her place against the door, and he came towards her. "Do you need some help?"

She didn't say anything for a minute, and then, "Yes…I don't think I know how to walk right now."

Christian made a point of keeping his amusement to himself as he helped her down the stairs, then offered her his arm as they stepped outside. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and he steered her down the sidewalk, to a café on the corner. He deposited her into a chair and when she looked up at him, confused, he said, "You need coffee. Wait here."

Alyse just stared after him as he went into the building. Did he really think she could go anywhere, even if she wanted to? She couldn't hardly even see.

He returned a few minutes later with two cups and placed one in front of her. When she looked at him dubiously, he laughed. "Go ahead, it's just coffee. It works wonders for me."

She picked up the cup and sipped at it, letting the warmth soothe her nerves, and they sat for a few minutes, watching the world go by as they finished their cups. When she set hers down, he looked at her and asked, "How do you feel now?"

She looked around, then back at him. "Well, you're not shaking anymore, so I suppose that's a good thing, right?"

"Yes, that's good," Christian grinned. "We'd better get going, or we'll be late." They stood up and made their way to the Moulin Rouge. As they approached the building, Alyse could almost feel Christian tensing up beside her. Once again, she thought how hard it must be for him to come here, and when he turned to open the door for her, she gave him a warm smile. He returned it, and once inside, they both went their separate ways.

Christian spent the most part of his day at the typewriter, brainstorming ideas and running them by Toulouse when he came over. Zidler was a frequent visitor to his little table as well, asking his opinion on certain actors and who did Christian think fit his vision, truly? He was pleased to be involved in the process of picking the actors, but he'd stuck to himself so much over the last few years that all of the social activity was wearing him down. The only thing that saved him was when Alyse was trotted out onto the stage for some various thing, to show off another dress, or to run a scene with one of the men auditioning. Every time he saw her, he couldn't help but remember her last night, drunk on absinthe, dancing around his room with Toulouse, and a smile broke out over his face without fail. She always chose that moment to glance towards him, and some of the nervousness that she was trying so hard to hide trickled away as she smiled back at him.

She came onto the stage quite a few times to do scenes with one of the men from yesterday, the one named Jerome. Christian could tell right away that he was a fabulous actor, but he couldn't say he cared much for the man himself. He seemed overly self confident, full of attitude and false charm, which he was currently focusing on Alyse as they stood together onstage, having just run through a scene. Zidler was talking to Christian, and he pulled his eyes off of the actors and focused on the man.

"…so what do you think? He has a marvelous voice, so he'd be perfect for the singing. How about that one to play Pierre?"

Christian tried to push aside his unfounded personal feelings toward Jerome and managed to say, "He has a lot of talent, yes. I think he'd do well."

"Splendid!" Zidler clapped his hands and went to deliver the good news.

So Jerome was given the part of Pierre, the romantic, broken-hearted musician, and he sauntered about the Moulin Rouge the rest of the afternoon looking very pleased with himself. When Zidler dismissed them all for the day, he made his way over to Alyse, who was coming out from backstage, finally back in her regular clothing and grateful for it.

"It would be a great pleasure to me if I could escort you home," Jerome purred without preamble as he sidled up to her.

Alyse tried to keep the slight feeling of panic that bubbled up inside of her from showing on her face. Oh, Jerome was nice enough, she supposed, but he was far too smooth and calculating for her preferences. She fumbled in her mind for an excuse, and then suddenly she saw one. "Oh, Jerome, I'm really terribly sorry, but Christian has already offered to walk me home. We live in the same building," she added, at Jerome's perplexed look, thanking her lucky stars that Christian hadn't left early today. She glanced quickly in his direction and called, "Are you nearly ready to leave, Christian?"

He looked up from where he was gathering his things together. He'd heard the short conversation and was all too happy to help Alyse get away from Jerome. "I'm ready," he replied. He put on his coat and hat, gathered his papers under his arm, and turned to face her. "Shall we?"

She tried not to run the distance to him, remembering to toss an absent "I'll see you tomorrow, Jerome," over her shoulder as she walked. She took Christian's arm as she had that morning as they left the building, and a sigh of relief exploded out of her as she looked back over her shoulder. "Oh, thank heavens for you!" she said with a giggle.

Christian laughed as he glanced at her. "I take it you're no fan of Jerome?" he asked, realizing as he spoke that he was prying, but the question was already out, and she was answering.

"He's very talented." She said, then paused. "And as I was growing up I was taught, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." She laughed again. "Did you see his face?" she asked. "He couldn't believe I didn't want to walk home with him."

"I imagine you bruised his ego more than his feelings," Christian said with a snort. They hadn't been paying attention to where they were walking, and instead of crossing the street, they'd walked down the block. Now they were stopped in front of a little restaurant, and he turned to look at her. "Would you…would you like to have dinner with me?" It was just dinner, he told himself. A meal between two friends. Just friends…

She glanced at him and decided it was a casual offer. Nothing romantic, no tricks up his sleeve. She accepted his invitation, and they went inside, where they enjoyed a pleasant meal. Alyse remembered to order water without being reminded, a fact which amused Christian to no end when she explained she didn't feel like repeating that morning's experience tomorrow. He had wine and they ended up picking food off of each other's plates, like old friends who'd known each other for years. It amazed Alyse how comfortable she was with Christian, after only knowing him for a few short days. She didn't have much experience with men--certainly she'd been courted by men before, but they'd mostly been interested in her name and her father's money, and not in her specifically. Whenever she'd brought up her interests in a conversation, they'd all smiled and nodded, looking over her head in disinterest until they could turn the topic back to something they enjoyed, such as business or politics. But Christian was different. He talked about art, and books, and music, all things that Alyse loved. When she spoke, he listened, and when he answered, she could tell he took her seriously. They discussed the play at length, the actors, joked about Harold Zidler and his colorful personality. It was clear to Alyse that Christian still believed in three of the four ideals he'd held dear when he'd first come to Paris--truth, beauty, and freedom. As for love--his nose wrinkled when he explained the ending he was working on for the play. Alyse bit her lip to keep from asking him why he was so opposed to love now. This was twice he'd made wry comments about the play and writing it to please the audience, not to reflect real life. But she was smart, and could figure out why he didn't believe in love anymore--once he'd loved, and he'd lost. Now he didn't want to try again. That much was obvious, even without him having to say it.

Once they'd finished their meal and Christian had paid, they stepped back outside into the Paris night. The walkways were bustling with people, and they moved into the crowds.

"I don't feel like going back yet," Christian said with a laugh. "It's such a nice evening. Would you mind a walk?"

"No, of course not," Alyse said, secretly pleased to have the chance to spend more time with him. It felt like old habit now to slip her arm into his, and they strolled along, him pointing things out to her as they went--little shops, more cafes, landmarks. She wondered vaguely in some quiet part of her mind how they must look to other people--two young lovers out for a nighttime stroll? Then she quickly dismissed the thought. Those kinds of things, she reminded herself, are not the things one thinks about a friend, a very new friend at that, much less a man who no longer believes in love. She once again resolved to focus on him as only a friend and to put aside the little crush that she was afraid she'd been carrying around for years. This was Christian as he was now with her, not the same man from the book. She'd be wise to remember that.

They reached a small park and stopped walking. Christian intended for them to turn around and head back, but she stopped him.

"Christian, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he replied.

She sighed a little and then said, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He looked at her in surprise, realizing this was a serious question. He thought it over and decided to be honest with her. "I suppose it's because I see myself in you." It was Alyse's turn to look surprised, and Christian laughed. "Myself as I was when I first came to Paris, I mean. Young, innocent, naïve--" She blushed at this, and he took her hand without thinking. "Please don't take offense, Alyse, it's not meant as an insult. I just…" He searched for the right words and made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Big and blue, they stared up at him, awaiting his answer. He swallowed and finally managed to say, "I know how much I appreciated having friends when I first arrived, and I thought maybe you could use one too. I remember all too well how hard it is to fit in here. Having a friend helps." He stopped speaking, because he was afraid he wasn't making sense, but she nodded and squeezed his hand.

"It does. I'm very grateful." She released his hand, and they stood there, smiling at each other for a moment. A breeze blew through the trees, carrying a hint of a chill on it, and Alyse shivered a little.

Christian noticed and was immediately concerned. "Are you cold?" he asked, and before she could respond, was juggling the papers he carried as he shrugged off his coat.

"No, Christian, really, I'm--"

But her protests fell on deaf ears as he dropped the coat onto her shoulders. "Don't be silly," he said. "I'm wearing long sleeves, anyway, and you're not. Here, slip your arms in." She did as he told her, and was enveloped in a long coat much too big on her. She laughed a little as she brought her arms up, showing off sleeves that fell past her fingertips. He shoved his papers under his arm and rubbed his hands briskly up and down her arms for a moment, as if trying to warm her up, and she glanced up into his eyes. She was suddenly aware of his smell, wrapping around her, as she stood draped in his coat, his hands on her arms. The coat smelled faintly of cigarettes and of something she couldn't place, something that was probably just Christian himself. As she looked at him, she felt a spark light up between them, felt everything else fall away like it had yesterday when she met his eyes from the stage. And this time, she knew he felt it too. She could see it in his eyes, as his guard fell for just a split second.

Christian knew that if he'd been writing this scene in a play or a story, this would be the point where the boy would lean down and kiss the girl softly, and then they'd walk off into the night, happy and pleased with their love. But this wasn't a story, this was real life, and Christian had learned long ago that life hurt. Never fall in love, it always ends bad. That had been his motto for years, taken from words the Argentinean had spoken to him once. It was all too true.

He dropped his hands from her arms, and thankfully, the spell was broken. She blinked as he stepped back and asked, "Is that better?"

Alyse had to clear her throat before she could answer. "Yes, much, thank you."

Christian nodded as she pulled the coat around her and then he said, "We should be getting back. We wouldn't want to be late tomorrow."

She laughed and they began the walk back to their building. This time they walked in silence. The city was quieting down and so they moved on through the darkened night, finally reaching their building. They made their way up the stairs and each pulled out their own key.

"Do you still have work to do tonight?" Alyse asked as she unlocked her door.

Christian already had his open and turned to look at her. "Yes, unfortunately," he sighed. "I promised Harold I'd try to have the script done by tomorrow or the next day at the latest, and I'm sure he'll be badgering me about it as soon as he sees me. I hope I don't keep you awake."

It took her a moment to realize he meant the typewriter. "Oh, no, it won't be a problem," she said, hoping he hadn't noticed her hesitation. "I'm very tired."

Once again they stared at each other, and then she said, "Well, thank you for supper, and for the walk--oh!" she laughed, pulling off his coat. "And for this." She stepped across the hall to hand it to him.

"You're welcome," he replied. Another silence, and then he said, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, tomorrow," she said, suddenly anxious to get away from his gaze. She felt like he could see every thought running through her mind. "Good luck with your writing."

"Thank you," he said. She gave him a quick smile and moved through her doorway, and Christian watched as she shut the door with a soft click. If only life was fair, he thought, and then dismissed the notion. Life wasn't fair. If it was, Satine would still be alive. He sighed to himself and walked into his room, closing the door behind him. He went to toss the coat onto his bed, then stopped. He could swear that he could smell her on the fabric. He sniffed the collar and closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head at the fanciful thought and dropped the coat on the bed. Crazy, he told himself. She hadn't worn it for that long. Not looking forward to the long night ahead of him and the memories that were sure to distract him, he sat down and began to work.

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[a/n: Credit goes to Mr. Ewan McGregor for the description of Alyse's hangover *grin*]