I felt like I didn't belong that night at dinner with them, but when I
looked into my son's matching face, I knew every thing would be all right.
Ewan was so beautiful, but it didn't surprise me. I fell in love with him at first sight, like his mother so many years ago. Anger still bubbled up inside me when I remembered. How could she keep something like this from me? We had created something together from the love I thought was between us.
I would have given her the world, or as much of it I could afford. I would have married her, and would provide for my son forever, no matter the hours. I loved him, and moments ago I was feeling so lost, so alone, but now I have a son. . .
Why didn't she tell me?
Dinner was nice - not because of the food, because I barely ate these days. I just jabbed my fork into my food, listening to my son - my SON - talk on about loose tooth's and sailors.
I stared into his sparkling blue eyes, young and naive and full of life. Just like mine used to be, before I cried those many rivers of tears for nothing. I glanced over at Satine (or should I say Samantha? I didn't know WHAT to call her anymore). Her head was bent down, jabbing her food along with me, listening silently to what her son had to say. It was just the three of us - Marie had 'errands' to run.
For a second there, I felt like we were all a family, sitting down to dinner, listening to our son ramble about the day, saying as much words as he could with as little air as possible. But. . . no, we're not a family.
When Ewan finally stopped to draw in a breath of air, his mother whispered, "Darling, eat your supper."
Ewan looked down at his place of cut-up meat and green vegetables and frowned.
I laughed, reaching over to tousle his hair. "I don't like vegetables either."
"Do I have ta eat 'em, Daddy?" he asked hopefully.
The name sounded so wonderful coming from him - Daddy. I smiled deeply, feeling that squeeze in my heart lessen.
"Yes you do," his mother said. She briefly locked soft eyes with me, and my smile slowly faded to see her down cast face. She turned away, shaking her head. "I have a headache. . . I'll be in the sitting room." She rose from the table and kissed Ewan on the head, leaving the room.
I stared after her, a part of me longing for to come back.
"Daddy?" Ewan asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Why did you leave us before?" he asked softly.
"L-leave?" I stammered. Is that what he thought? "Son, I didn't leave you. I would NEVER leave you."
"But Mummy told me you were dead." He tilted his head to the side for a moment. "Daddy, what does it mean when you die?"
I sighed, throwing back a few hairs that were in front of my eyes. "Death. . . seems to have new meanings everyday," I whispered, taking a drink of water.
"Did you not love us?"
"No!" I exclaimed. "Do you know that the moment I saw you, I fell in love with you?" He shook his head, smiling slightly. "I have ALWAYS wanted a son, you know that? Come here." I pulled away from the table and patted my legs. He slowly rose from his chair and warily climbed into my lap. I hugged him tightly.
"Never knew I could feel like this," I sang to him. "It's like I've never seen the sky before. Everyday I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart - can you hear it sing? It's telling me to give you everything." I tickled him and he laughed. "Seasons may change, winter to spring. . . but I love you, until the end of time. Come what may. . . come what may. I will love you until my dying day."
He smiled up at me, wrapping his short arms around my neck and squeezing. "Daddy. . . that's a poem you wrote. It was in a book, and I read it one day. Mummy said it was yours and she started crying and took it away from me."
"She was crying?" I asked, confused. Why would she care?
"Yup. Oma said it hurts her ta talk about you, because she said she loved you very much. And it wasn't easy when you died." He thought for a moment. "Daddy, where DID you go?"
My mouth hung open, and I thought for a moment. I couldn't tell him everything, that his mother used to be a courtesan. That there was once a duke. . . I shivered and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I poked the left side of his chest. "I was right there."
Ewan looked down. "You were INSIDE of me?" I laughed. "How did you get in there?"
"No. . . your heart. I was in your heart. If you just think of me and remember me. . . I'm there. And that's where I was."
"So. . . if I want to talk to you, I just. . . talk to my heart?" he asked.
I laughed slightly. "Something like that."
"Daddy, are you home now?"
I had been waiting for a child as long as I could remember. And now that I have one. . . I'm staying, whether she likes it or not. I nodded.
"You can share my room!" he exclaimed.
I forced a smile. "Son. . . I'm not going to live here, but just a few blocks away."
"But. . ." his lips thrust out into a pout. "But. . . you're my dad. Your mom and dad are in the same house. . ."
"If you want me, just talk to your heart," I said. No way was Satine going to let me live here.
"But, Daddy. . ."
I held him close. "I'm already there," I whispered, noticing how the light played with shadows. "Take a look around. I'm the sunshine in your hair. I'm the shadow on the ground. I'm the whisper in the wind. I'm your imaginary friend. And I know I'm in your prayers. Oh I'm already there."
"But what if I need you. . ."
"Then I'll be here as soon as I can," I smiled. "I love you, alright?"
"Ok. Hey, Daddy? I need to show you this thing. . . it's this old script I found in the attic. Oma said you wrote it. . . Mummy took that away from me too. Mummy doesn't like to talk about you much. . ."
"How about we save that for another time?" I suggested, knowing the old script he was referring to and I wasn't up to more reminiscing of the past. "Hey, isn't it someone's bedtime?" I picked him up and carried him to my side. "Hey, where's your room, anyway?" I asked, heading out of the room.
"Up the stairs and to the right," he said, hugging me.
I smiled and climbed the stairs, feeling that I could do anything at this moment. It's strange. . . one minute you're alone in the world, and then the next your son is hugging you.
"This one?" I asked, hearing a slight snore in return. The events of the day must have exausted him, and I pushed the door open.
I found a small bed, and figured it was his, laid him in it, slipping of his shoes and pulling the covers up around his chin.
I stared at him in the dark, a single beam of moonlight on his face. It felt like I was staring down at me, watching myself sleep. I sighed, planting a kiss on his forehead and heading out the door.
I heard Satine before I saw her, muffling cries with something. I really wanted to leave, to just wait until morning when Ewan was awake again. . . but for some reason my hand raised and I knocked on the door.
I heard the shuffle of papers, and then a weak voice saying, "Oh darling, come in."
I sighed at the name, and slowly pushed the door open. Her eyes fell when she saw my face.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were. . ."
"I put him to bed." I looked behind me to the stairs and laughed slightly. "He's great. So full of life. . ."
"He's my everything," she whispered, picking some toys off of the floor and setting them in a box, and sat down in a chair. "He's really glad to see you."
"Satine. . ." she flinched when I said her name, but I went on. "Satine, what do I tell him? He asked me where I was for so long. . . what do I tell him?"
She sighed. "I don't know."
"I can't do this forever. Satine, you've lied to him for his whole life! You told him I was dead, and he doesn't even know what that means!"
"I will tell him everything. . . but not right now. How can I make my son understand that his mother sold her love to men?" she spat out the word.
"But it's the truth," I said. I wanted her to feel my pain, to hurt her in any way.
She let out a small cry and a strawberry-blond curl fell over her eye. My hand reached out to push it back in instinctively, but my head told me not to and I recoiled.
"Just. . ." I stared at her mouth, soft pink. It was different from bright red, but I liked it. No matter what she was beautiful. My heart wanted desperately to tell her, but she spoke again. "I'll figure out how to tell him. Just let him know you love him - that's all you can do."
"That's all?" I whispered, staring at her face. She looked up, and I saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eyes. Besides that, her face was expressionless. How I wished I could make her smile, and even for an instant know that she was only mine.
She looked away. "I don't know," she whispered.
I held my breath and took a step closer, knowing fully well that I shouldn't, but couldn't stop myself. I felt a song in my throat, and I touched her hand softly. "I can't remember why we fell apart, from something that was so meant to be. Forever was the promise in our hearts, now more and more I wonder where you are."
Her chin quivered and a tear rolled down her cheek. I reached up, brushing it away with my finger and my hand lingered. She closed her eyes and leaned into it.
"Do I ever cross your mind, anytime? Do you ever wake up reaching out for me? Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?" I took a deep breath, kneeling down beside her and touched her pink lips, running my finger over them. "I miss you," I whispered.
Her lashes fluttered open, pushing back tears. "Christian, I. . ." She took in a few breaths. "Christian. . ."
"Daddy?"
I glanced toward the door and saw Ewan, rubbing his eyes furiously.
He yawned. "Daddy, you didn't tuck me in. . ."
I looked back at Satine and smiled softly. "I better go. . ."
I turned away and scooped up my son and we went up the stairs together.
My hand rose, shaky, to my lips. I still felt his fingers there, heard his song echo through my head.
"I do miss you," I whispered. "I do."
It had taken me by surprise. How can it be possible that he can still love me? I looked out the window, seeing the bright lights on motor cars pass by in the rain. Why did it always rain when I wanted my tears to fall?
The doorbell rang, and I rose from my chair, wondering who it could be at this time of hour, and smoothed out my dress and went to the door.
In front of me was Jonathan, soaked. He leaned his arm against the door, panting.
"D-did you run all the way h-"
He pushed me into the house, his hands on my waist and his lips pressed against mine. He slammed the door behind him and picked me up, leading me into the sitting room and shutting that door behind him, pushing me down on a couch.
I pushed him away from me. "Jonathan. . ."
"Samantha, I haven't seen you all week. . ." he whispered, lowering his head down to my neck and leaving hot kisses.
"Jonathan, this isn't a good time right now," I said, trying to push him off of me but he was stronger. "Ewan is. . ."
"Upstairs sleeping," he cut in, silencing my mouth with another kiss. Water shook from his hair.
"I just put. . ." Christian froze, opening the door and freezing, his hand gripping the doorknob. "Oh."
Oh, please. . . no. . .
Jonathan lifted his head just for a moment, his attention away, giving me just enough time to slip onto the floor and away from him. I stood, backing away from Christian's cold stare.
Christian glared at me. "I'm so sorry I interrupted."
I shook my head. If only I could make him understand. . .
"Samantha, who is this guy?" Jonathan asked, going to Christian. "Why is he in your house?"
"What right do YOU have to be here?" Christian asked. "Who are you?"
"I'm her fiancé."
I backed away more, sighing. This certainly wasn't the way I wanted this all to go. . .
"Who are you?" Jonathan asked.
"Christian James," he whispered.
"J-James? Y-Y-You're Ewan's. . ."
"Father," Christian finished. "Yeah."
"I, uh. . . I'm sorry." Jonathan smoothed his hair back, sighing deeply. "Uh, Samantha? Can I. . . talk to you for a second?"
I nodded slowly, following him past Christian. I looked away from his eyes, knowing very well what they would be like.
"You're HUSBAND'S back?!" Jonathan demanded.
"Well. . ."
"How long has he been here?"
"He came a couple weeks ago. . ." I said, my head down. I felt like a scolded child.
"And you didn't TELL me?!" he yelled, putting two fingers to his mouth. "Your HUSBAND comes back. . . I thought he was dead!"
"Well. . ."
"Dead people don't come back! They stay dead!"
There was a lot of talk about the dead lately. "Well obviously he's not dead."
"He. . ." Jonathan put his hands on my shoulders, his voice quieting. "He didn't die at sea with the Navy, did he?"
"Well. . ." I looked into his eyes, seeing anger, and looked away. "Not exactly."
"He left you, didn't he? That bastard, thinking he can come back now. . ."
"No, Jonathan. . . I left him!" Christian would never desert me with his child.
Jonathan was quiet for a moment. His hands slid off my shoulders and he paced by the door. "Then. . . Samantha I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. You two were. . . married, though, right?"
I shook my head. "Not exactly."
"Oh. . ." His hand tightened around his mouth.
"There is. . . a lot about me that you don't know. A lot of things. A whole past that I ran away from. . ."
"Like what, Samantha?"
I sighed. "Well, my name isn't Samantha James, for one."
He rolled his eyes and turned away, and I grabbed his arm.
"My name is Satine Desmerges. I grew up in. . . France." I still couldn't bring myself to tell him I was from Montmarte, that I was once a can-can dancer, and the sparkling diamond of the Moulin Rouge. "I was twenty-one, and I fell in love. . ."
"And when you became pregnant, he left you," he sighed, thinking he knew me, knew Christian. But he didn't know anything.
"I left him!" I yelled. "I left!"
"Why?" He turned his enraged eyes at me and stared down at me coldly.
I shrugged, looking away with a shiver. "I was young, scared, and pregnant."
"Well what about your mother? She's helping you with Ewan. . ."
"Marie isn't my mother," I whispered. He groaned. "My parents are dead, but she adopted me and lives with me because we've known each other for so long. . ."
"Sama-" he started.
"Satine," I corrected. If the truth was out already, I couldn't stand another moment of being called Samantha.
He sighed. "Satine. . . I love you."
I looked away. I don't know what the meaning of my confession was hoping to bring, but definitely not this.
"I said I wanted to marry you. . . and I still do." He put a hand under my chin and made me look into his eyes, still cold, but kind. A sympathy, almost. "I want to marry you, Satine Desmerges. I love you. . . But I just don't know what to do right now."
"I know," I whispered. "Me either."
He sighed, leaning his head down, but I backed away.
"I think you should go now," I whispered, brushing back a strand of hair.
He slowly nodded. "You will. . . keep in touch, yes?" I nodded. "And when will I see you again?"
I forced a smile. "Who else would I see on Monday mornings at 7:30?"
He nodded. "Right. . . right." He saluted me, and turning up his collar he stepped back outside in the rain.
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. This was nothing that I wanted to happen. . . for weeks I had forgotten about Jonathan and my promise to him. . . I had even taken off the ring he had given me after one night in the bath and forgot to put it back on. It just sat in my gold jewelry box, and Marie had gone to cash in my diamonds on Monday's, me being too busy with the play.
The play. . . Christian was still in the room. Damnit, WHY can't things ever turn out the way you want them to?
As soon as I opened the door, Christian said, "Fiancé?"
I looked into his angry face. "I was meaning to tell you. . ."
"Fiancé?!" he roared. "WHEN were you meaning to tell me, huh? Just before I gave you back my h-" He stood and walked around the room, stopping by the book shelf. His hand rose to rub his cheek and he suddenly turned around. "Damnit Satine. . . does our son even know?"
"Well. . ." I started.
"He doesn't know?! What were you thinking?!"
"Well I told him. . . he just didn't understand, exactly."
"Satine, our son doesn't UNDERSTAND much," he said, slapping his hand on a few book covers. "You told him I DIED, but he doesn't UNDERSTAND!"
"He's five years old, Christian." I knew it was a lie, but the truth was I couldn't tell him.
"That boy," he pointed to the direction of the stairs, "is so grown up already. He is so smart. . ." a tear ran down his cheek and his face wavered with emotions. "But you. . ." his red face twisted into hatred. "But you keep him in this. . . world. . . and you expect everyone else to work around you."
"I can't, Christian!" I yelled, collapsing into a chair. "I can't tell him! About the Moulin Rouge, about Harold, and selling my love to men, about. . ." I couldn't go on.
"About me and you?" he asked. I looked away. "What DID we have, Satine? Tell me."
I lowered my head to my hands and breathed deeply, tears falling from my eyes.
"Are you too ashamed to tell him that you come and go? That you'd let any man take a poke if he had two thousand francs. . ."
"Stop it," I whispered.
"Why? Isn't it true?"
I looked up into his angry, tears streaked face.
"I want my son," he whispered.
I looked down at my feet.
"Get married. . . have as many children as you want. . . I don't care," his voice was full of spite. "I don't care about you, Satine. Whatever was between us. . ." He paused, sniffing, holding back tears. "When I come here, I'm here for my son. You. . . you are nothing to me."
With no more words, he burst out of the room and a few seconds later I heard the door slam.
I slowly stood from my chair, running a hand over my arms, suddenly cold, and wondered over toward the bookcase. I reached out to touch the spines, and tears appeared in my eyes.
"Will we ever discover the right key? Sing a song that is just as it should be? Will we ever be able to be the best of. . ."
Sobs took my speech from me. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: Oh my gosh, guy's(girls, mostly. . .)! Thank you SOOO much with your reviews! They just encourage me to continue on, and that's the reason why I keep on keepin' on (a song form the Brady Bunch. . . yeah, well. . .) I thank you so much, and I love you guy's, seriously!!!! And I'm so sorry if I made you guy's cry before!
SONGS USED: 'Come What May' written by David Baerwald 'I'm Already There' by Lonestar 'Anytime' by. . . oh shoot I just forgot! 'Friends, the best of' from 'Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up' but I changed the words a bit
Ewan was so beautiful, but it didn't surprise me. I fell in love with him at first sight, like his mother so many years ago. Anger still bubbled up inside me when I remembered. How could she keep something like this from me? We had created something together from the love I thought was between us.
I would have given her the world, or as much of it I could afford. I would have married her, and would provide for my son forever, no matter the hours. I loved him, and moments ago I was feeling so lost, so alone, but now I have a son. . .
Why didn't she tell me?
Dinner was nice - not because of the food, because I barely ate these days. I just jabbed my fork into my food, listening to my son - my SON - talk on about loose tooth's and sailors.
I stared into his sparkling blue eyes, young and naive and full of life. Just like mine used to be, before I cried those many rivers of tears for nothing. I glanced over at Satine (or should I say Samantha? I didn't know WHAT to call her anymore). Her head was bent down, jabbing her food along with me, listening silently to what her son had to say. It was just the three of us - Marie had 'errands' to run.
For a second there, I felt like we were all a family, sitting down to dinner, listening to our son ramble about the day, saying as much words as he could with as little air as possible. But. . . no, we're not a family.
When Ewan finally stopped to draw in a breath of air, his mother whispered, "Darling, eat your supper."
Ewan looked down at his place of cut-up meat and green vegetables and frowned.
I laughed, reaching over to tousle his hair. "I don't like vegetables either."
"Do I have ta eat 'em, Daddy?" he asked hopefully.
The name sounded so wonderful coming from him - Daddy. I smiled deeply, feeling that squeeze in my heart lessen.
"Yes you do," his mother said. She briefly locked soft eyes with me, and my smile slowly faded to see her down cast face. She turned away, shaking her head. "I have a headache. . . I'll be in the sitting room." She rose from the table and kissed Ewan on the head, leaving the room.
I stared after her, a part of me longing for to come back.
"Daddy?" Ewan asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Why did you leave us before?" he asked softly.
"L-leave?" I stammered. Is that what he thought? "Son, I didn't leave you. I would NEVER leave you."
"But Mummy told me you were dead." He tilted his head to the side for a moment. "Daddy, what does it mean when you die?"
I sighed, throwing back a few hairs that were in front of my eyes. "Death. . . seems to have new meanings everyday," I whispered, taking a drink of water.
"Did you not love us?"
"No!" I exclaimed. "Do you know that the moment I saw you, I fell in love with you?" He shook his head, smiling slightly. "I have ALWAYS wanted a son, you know that? Come here." I pulled away from the table and patted my legs. He slowly rose from his chair and warily climbed into my lap. I hugged him tightly.
"Never knew I could feel like this," I sang to him. "It's like I've never seen the sky before. Everyday I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart - can you hear it sing? It's telling me to give you everything." I tickled him and he laughed. "Seasons may change, winter to spring. . . but I love you, until the end of time. Come what may. . . come what may. I will love you until my dying day."
He smiled up at me, wrapping his short arms around my neck and squeezing. "Daddy. . . that's a poem you wrote. It was in a book, and I read it one day. Mummy said it was yours and she started crying and took it away from me."
"She was crying?" I asked, confused. Why would she care?
"Yup. Oma said it hurts her ta talk about you, because she said she loved you very much. And it wasn't easy when you died." He thought for a moment. "Daddy, where DID you go?"
My mouth hung open, and I thought for a moment. I couldn't tell him everything, that his mother used to be a courtesan. That there was once a duke. . . I shivered and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I poked the left side of his chest. "I was right there."
Ewan looked down. "You were INSIDE of me?" I laughed. "How did you get in there?"
"No. . . your heart. I was in your heart. If you just think of me and remember me. . . I'm there. And that's where I was."
"So. . . if I want to talk to you, I just. . . talk to my heart?" he asked.
I laughed slightly. "Something like that."
"Daddy, are you home now?"
I had been waiting for a child as long as I could remember. And now that I have one. . . I'm staying, whether she likes it or not. I nodded.
"You can share my room!" he exclaimed.
I forced a smile. "Son. . . I'm not going to live here, but just a few blocks away."
"But. . ." his lips thrust out into a pout. "But. . . you're my dad. Your mom and dad are in the same house. . ."
"If you want me, just talk to your heart," I said. No way was Satine going to let me live here.
"But, Daddy. . ."
I held him close. "I'm already there," I whispered, noticing how the light played with shadows. "Take a look around. I'm the sunshine in your hair. I'm the shadow on the ground. I'm the whisper in the wind. I'm your imaginary friend. And I know I'm in your prayers. Oh I'm already there."
"But what if I need you. . ."
"Then I'll be here as soon as I can," I smiled. "I love you, alright?"
"Ok. Hey, Daddy? I need to show you this thing. . . it's this old script I found in the attic. Oma said you wrote it. . . Mummy took that away from me too. Mummy doesn't like to talk about you much. . ."
"How about we save that for another time?" I suggested, knowing the old script he was referring to and I wasn't up to more reminiscing of the past. "Hey, isn't it someone's bedtime?" I picked him up and carried him to my side. "Hey, where's your room, anyway?" I asked, heading out of the room.
"Up the stairs and to the right," he said, hugging me.
I smiled and climbed the stairs, feeling that I could do anything at this moment. It's strange. . . one minute you're alone in the world, and then the next your son is hugging you.
"This one?" I asked, hearing a slight snore in return. The events of the day must have exausted him, and I pushed the door open.
I found a small bed, and figured it was his, laid him in it, slipping of his shoes and pulling the covers up around his chin.
I stared at him in the dark, a single beam of moonlight on his face. It felt like I was staring down at me, watching myself sleep. I sighed, planting a kiss on his forehead and heading out the door.
I heard Satine before I saw her, muffling cries with something. I really wanted to leave, to just wait until morning when Ewan was awake again. . . but for some reason my hand raised and I knocked on the door.
I heard the shuffle of papers, and then a weak voice saying, "Oh darling, come in."
I sighed at the name, and slowly pushed the door open. Her eyes fell when she saw my face.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were. . ."
"I put him to bed." I looked behind me to the stairs and laughed slightly. "He's great. So full of life. . ."
"He's my everything," she whispered, picking some toys off of the floor and setting them in a box, and sat down in a chair. "He's really glad to see you."
"Satine. . ." she flinched when I said her name, but I went on. "Satine, what do I tell him? He asked me where I was for so long. . . what do I tell him?"
She sighed. "I don't know."
"I can't do this forever. Satine, you've lied to him for his whole life! You told him I was dead, and he doesn't even know what that means!"
"I will tell him everything. . . but not right now. How can I make my son understand that his mother sold her love to men?" she spat out the word.
"But it's the truth," I said. I wanted her to feel my pain, to hurt her in any way.
She let out a small cry and a strawberry-blond curl fell over her eye. My hand reached out to push it back in instinctively, but my head told me not to and I recoiled.
"Just. . ." I stared at her mouth, soft pink. It was different from bright red, but I liked it. No matter what she was beautiful. My heart wanted desperately to tell her, but she spoke again. "I'll figure out how to tell him. Just let him know you love him - that's all you can do."
"That's all?" I whispered, staring at her face. She looked up, and I saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eyes. Besides that, her face was expressionless. How I wished I could make her smile, and even for an instant know that she was only mine.
She looked away. "I don't know," she whispered.
I held my breath and took a step closer, knowing fully well that I shouldn't, but couldn't stop myself. I felt a song in my throat, and I touched her hand softly. "I can't remember why we fell apart, from something that was so meant to be. Forever was the promise in our hearts, now more and more I wonder where you are."
Her chin quivered and a tear rolled down her cheek. I reached up, brushing it away with my finger and my hand lingered. She closed her eyes and leaned into it.
"Do I ever cross your mind, anytime? Do you ever wake up reaching out for me? Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?" I took a deep breath, kneeling down beside her and touched her pink lips, running my finger over them. "I miss you," I whispered.
Her lashes fluttered open, pushing back tears. "Christian, I. . ." She took in a few breaths. "Christian. . ."
"Daddy?"
I glanced toward the door and saw Ewan, rubbing his eyes furiously.
He yawned. "Daddy, you didn't tuck me in. . ."
I looked back at Satine and smiled softly. "I better go. . ."
I turned away and scooped up my son and we went up the stairs together.
My hand rose, shaky, to my lips. I still felt his fingers there, heard his song echo through my head.
"I do miss you," I whispered. "I do."
It had taken me by surprise. How can it be possible that he can still love me? I looked out the window, seeing the bright lights on motor cars pass by in the rain. Why did it always rain when I wanted my tears to fall?
The doorbell rang, and I rose from my chair, wondering who it could be at this time of hour, and smoothed out my dress and went to the door.
In front of me was Jonathan, soaked. He leaned his arm against the door, panting.
"D-did you run all the way h-"
He pushed me into the house, his hands on my waist and his lips pressed against mine. He slammed the door behind him and picked me up, leading me into the sitting room and shutting that door behind him, pushing me down on a couch.
I pushed him away from me. "Jonathan. . ."
"Samantha, I haven't seen you all week. . ." he whispered, lowering his head down to my neck and leaving hot kisses.
"Jonathan, this isn't a good time right now," I said, trying to push him off of me but he was stronger. "Ewan is. . ."
"Upstairs sleeping," he cut in, silencing my mouth with another kiss. Water shook from his hair.
"I just put. . ." Christian froze, opening the door and freezing, his hand gripping the doorknob. "Oh."
Oh, please. . . no. . .
Jonathan lifted his head just for a moment, his attention away, giving me just enough time to slip onto the floor and away from him. I stood, backing away from Christian's cold stare.
Christian glared at me. "I'm so sorry I interrupted."
I shook my head. If only I could make him understand. . .
"Samantha, who is this guy?" Jonathan asked, going to Christian. "Why is he in your house?"
"What right do YOU have to be here?" Christian asked. "Who are you?"
"I'm her fiancé."
I backed away more, sighing. This certainly wasn't the way I wanted this all to go. . .
"Who are you?" Jonathan asked.
"Christian James," he whispered.
"J-James? Y-Y-You're Ewan's. . ."
"Father," Christian finished. "Yeah."
"I, uh. . . I'm sorry." Jonathan smoothed his hair back, sighing deeply. "Uh, Samantha? Can I. . . talk to you for a second?"
I nodded slowly, following him past Christian. I looked away from his eyes, knowing very well what they would be like.
"You're HUSBAND'S back?!" Jonathan demanded.
"Well. . ."
"How long has he been here?"
"He came a couple weeks ago. . ." I said, my head down. I felt like a scolded child.
"And you didn't TELL me?!" he yelled, putting two fingers to his mouth. "Your HUSBAND comes back. . . I thought he was dead!"
"Well. . ."
"Dead people don't come back! They stay dead!"
There was a lot of talk about the dead lately. "Well obviously he's not dead."
"He. . ." Jonathan put his hands on my shoulders, his voice quieting. "He didn't die at sea with the Navy, did he?"
"Well. . ." I looked into his eyes, seeing anger, and looked away. "Not exactly."
"He left you, didn't he? That bastard, thinking he can come back now. . ."
"No, Jonathan. . . I left him!" Christian would never desert me with his child.
Jonathan was quiet for a moment. His hands slid off my shoulders and he paced by the door. "Then. . . Samantha I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. You two were. . . married, though, right?"
I shook my head. "Not exactly."
"Oh. . ." His hand tightened around his mouth.
"There is. . . a lot about me that you don't know. A lot of things. A whole past that I ran away from. . ."
"Like what, Samantha?"
I sighed. "Well, my name isn't Samantha James, for one."
He rolled his eyes and turned away, and I grabbed his arm.
"My name is Satine Desmerges. I grew up in. . . France." I still couldn't bring myself to tell him I was from Montmarte, that I was once a can-can dancer, and the sparkling diamond of the Moulin Rouge. "I was twenty-one, and I fell in love. . ."
"And when you became pregnant, he left you," he sighed, thinking he knew me, knew Christian. But he didn't know anything.
"I left him!" I yelled. "I left!"
"Why?" He turned his enraged eyes at me and stared down at me coldly.
I shrugged, looking away with a shiver. "I was young, scared, and pregnant."
"Well what about your mother? She's helping you with Ewan. . ."
"Marie isn't my mother," I whispered. He groaned. "My parents are dead, but she adopted me and lives with me because we've known each other for so long. . ."
"Sama-" he started.
"Satine," I corrected. If the truth was out already, I couldn't stand another moment of being called Samantha.
He sighed. "Satine. . . I love you."
I looked away. I don't know what the meaning of my confession was hoping to bring, but definitely not this.
"I said I wanted to marry you. . . and I still do." He put a hand under my chin and made me look into his eyes, still cold, but kind. A sympathy, almost. "I want to marry you, Satine Desmerges. I love you. . . But I just don't know what to do right now."
"I know," I whispered. "Me either."
He sighed, leaning his head down, but I backed away.
"I think you should go now," I whispered, brushing back a strand of hair.
He slowly nodded. "You will. . . keep in touch, yes?" I nodded. "And when will I see you again?"
I forced a smile. "Who else would I see on Monday mornings at 7:30?"
He nodded. "Right. . . right." He saluted me, and turning up his collar he stepped back outside in the rain.
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. This was nothing that I wanted to happen. . . for weeks I had forgotten about Jonathan and my promise to him. . . I had even taken off the ring he had given me after one night in the bath and forgot to put it back on. It just sat in my gold jewelry box, and Marie had gone to cash in my diamonds on Monday's, me being too busy with the play.
The play. . . Christian was still in the room. Damnit, WHY can't things ever turn out the way you want them to?
As soon as I opened the door, Christian said, "Fiancé?"
I looked into his angry face. "I was meaning to tell you. . ."
"Fiancé?!" he roared. "WHEN were you meaning to tell me, huh? Just before I gave you back my h-" He stood and walked around the room, stopping by the book shelf. His hand rose to rub his cheek and he suddenly turned around. "Damnit Satine. . . does our son even know?"
"Well. . ." I started.
"He doesn't know?! What were you thinking?!"
"Well I told him. . . he just didn't understand, exactly."
"Satine, our son doesn't UNDERSTAND much," he said, slapping his hand on a few book covers. "You told him I DIED, but he doesn't UNDERSTAND!"
"He's five years old, Christian." I knew it was a lie, but the truth was I couldn't tell him.
"That boy," he pointed to the direction of the stairs, "is so grown up already. He is so smart. . ." a tear ran down his cheek and his face wavered with emotions. "But you. . ." his red face twisted into hatred. "But you keep him in this. . . world. . . and you expect everyone else to work around you."
"I can't, Christian!" I yelled, collapsing into a chair. "I can't tell him! About the Moulin Rouge, about Harold, and selling my love to men, about. . ." I couldn't go on.
"About me and you?" he asked. I looked away. "What DID we have, Satine? Tell me."
I lowered my head to my hands and breathed deeply, tears falling from my eyes.
"Are you too ashamed to tell him that you come and go? That you'd let any man take a poke if he had two thousand francs. . ."
"Stop it," I whispered.
"Why? Isn't it true?"
I looked up into his angry, tears streaked face.
"I want my son," he whispered.
I looked down at my feet.
"Get married. . . have as many children as you want. . . I don't care," his voice was full of spite. "I don't care about you, Satine. Whatever was between us. . ." He paused, sniffing, holding back tears. "When I come here, I'm here for my son. You. . . you are nothing to me."
With no more words, he burst out of the room and a few seconds later I heard the door slam.
I slowly stood from my chair, running a hand over my arms, suddenly cold, and wondered over toward the bookcase. I reached out to touch the spines, and tears appeared in my eyes.
"Will we ever discover the right key? Sing a song that is just as it should be? Will we ever be able to be the best of. . ."
Sobs took my speech from me. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: Oh my gosh, guy's(girls, mostly. . .)! Thank you SOOO much with your reviews! They just encourage me to continue on, and that's the reason why I keep on keepin' on (a song form the Brady Bunch. . . yeah, well. . .) I thank you so much, and I love you guy's, seriously!!!! And I'm so sorry if I made you guy's cry before!
SONGS USED: 'Come What May' written by David Baerwald 'I'm Already There' by Lonestar 'Anytime' by. . . oh shoot I just forgot! 'Friends, the best of' from 'Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up' but I changed the words a bit