I felt her hand on my cheek. But when she gave me kisses on my neck I
couldn't be silent anymore and I laughed. "That tickles," I murmured and
opened my eyes.
"Morning," she whispered, resting her head on my chest.
"Morning," I said, twisting my fingers through her curls. I thought back when I used to do that, wondering a question I had had long ago. "Is your hair really blond?"
She laughed. "No. . . I dyed it. It should be red again in a few months."
"Why did you dye it? I loved it red."
"It would have attracted too much attention," she said, entwining her fingers with mine. "It helped me get into the character of Samantha James, anyway."
"Did you get that name from my book?" I asked quietly.
She sighed. "Yeah. . ."
"So what do you think about it? I mean. . . you're the main character in it." My fingers played with the back of her neck.
"I thought it was ok," she shrugged, trying not to smile.
I lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. "Ok?"
She leaned over and kissed me, running her hands down my sides. When she was on top of me, she whispered, "I thought it was beautiful, my darling." She nipped at my ear. "Then again. . . everything that comes out of your mouth is wonderful. It's your gift."
I laughed. Everyone had always told me I had a gift. . . well, except my father. But she was the first one who ever made it seem special, like I had something worthwhile. I pushed her over on the bed, kissing her neck as she pushed down the sheets further on the bed and her fingers danced on my bare back. "Christian. . ."
"Satine. . ." My mouth came up to her and my whole being disappeared. This was the point where I lost all my reason, I lost every thought. And this was all I needed.
"Mummy! Daddy!" Ewan came bounding into the room.
I flew off of Satine and pulled the sheets up around our naked bodies. "Hey. . . son," I said unsteadily, my arm sticking out of the blankets.
"Mummy, it's Monday! I want to tell Jonathan that you cooked!"
Satine sharply exhaled a breath and looked over at me, but all I could offer was pinched eyebrows.
"I. . . I cash in my diamonds every Monday morning right when it opens. . ."
My hand found it's way to her cheek and she smile. "You going to tell him?" She stiffly nodded. "Want me to come?"
She shook my head. "No, it's better if he hears it from me."
"Mummy, are you coming?" Ewan asked impatiently, stern hands on hips.
"In just a moment, darling. Why don't you go downstairs and fix something for yourself, and I'll be down soon."
He sighed. "All right. . ." and he left the room.
Satine looked at me again, and I did my best to comfort her. She finally smiled. "Hi."
"Hello," I whispered. "I love you." And I leaned down and kissed her, so soft and slow I thought time had stopped.
"I love you," she whispered back when our lips parted. And after another kiss, we rolled out of bed.
"Ready to go?" I asked our son, snapping my handbag shut.
He nodded swiftly, taking my hand.
"Christian, darling. . . I'll be back later." I briefly kissed him, our son yanking me out the door.
"Goodbye!" Christian said after us, giving me one of his wonderful smiles.
On the street I held up my hand and a cab stopped outside the street. We piled in, and after telling him our destination, we left. My stomach ached, and a lump clung to my throat as I wondered what I was going to tell him.
"Mummy. . ." Ewan climbed into my lap. "What's wrong?"
I pinched his cheek, and he scowled. "Oh nothing, darling. Mummy just has a lot on her mind, that's all."
"Like what?"
I thought for a moment, and then sighed. "Grownup things. Things that only I should worry about while you remain completely adorable." I bent down and kissed his nose.
He scowled again. "Can I tell Jonathan you cooked? And that Daddy's living with us? And I got my own room? And. . ."
I pressed two pale fingers to his lips. "Ewan, darling. . ." I took in a deep breath. "Could I. . . talk to Jonathan alone today?"
"But why, Mummy? I have so much to tell him." He pouted.
"Darling, please. Why don't I give you some money and you go to the candy store and you can pick out what ever sweet you want?"
His eyes brightened and his lips curled into a smile. "Yeah!"
"Yeah?" I reached in my handbag and brought forth a few francs and gave them to him.
The carriage stopped, and we piled out onto the sidewalk. After paying the driver, I watched my son skip ahead to the candy store. "This is it. . ." I took in a deep breath and turned into the store.
The bell above the door announced my arrival, and behind the counter I saw Jonathan's blond head bent.
I slowly walked to him. "J. . .Jonathan?"
He didn't look up. "I knew you'd come," he whispered. "I knew. . . I just knew."
I froze in my tracks and stared at his bent head, my eyebrows pinched together. "We need to talk."
Jonathan lifted his head and forced a smile on his pale lips. His green eyes seemed to pierce through my heart as tears ran down his cheeks. "I knew. . . I knew it'd be you. Samantha. . ."
"Jonathan, my name is Satine, remember?" I said softly.
He shook his head violently. "No! No!" He took a few steps and closed the distance between us, grabbing my arms roughly. "No. . . Samantha. . ."
"Satine," I said softly, not sure if he had heard me, not sure if I wanted him to hear me.
"No!" he roared. "Samantha!"
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the pain of his strong hands on my arms away, but it wouldn't work.
"Samantha. . . is mine," he said through deep breaths. "Mine. . ."
I opened my eyes and saw him, a few strands of his hair flopped in front of his face. His eyes were beady, and his cold hands on me touched a buried memory. "No, Duke. . . No. . ."
"Silence!" he yells, his grip tighter, pulling me closer. "Samantha. . . you're mine!" He pressed dry lips to mine and I push away. No, Christian was the one. . . the only one for me. . . not the duke!
"You're mine!" I look into his face, the voice surprising me. . . and I realize that it's Jonathan speaking, not the duke. How had I gotten them confused.
"Jonathan, please!" I try to twist out of his grasp, but he has me tight. "Stop! Let me g-" He presses his lips to mine again and dragged me to the floor. No. . . no! "Get. . . off!"
"Mine!" he yelled.
My eyes filled with tears as I pushed my palms to him as hard as I could, but I couldn't get him off of me.
But suddenly, I saw a punch from the corner of my eye and Jonathan rolled over to his side, clutching his jaw and screaming in pain.
Through tears, I stared up at who had saved me. "Christian. . ." I whispered.
He gathered his arms around me, picking me up from the floor. "Yes darling, I'm here. I came to make sure everything was all right. . ."
I leaned my cheek against his. "I love you. . . so much. . ."
Christian's arms around me tightened comfortably. "Did he hurt you?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Let's go home." His smile fades as he looks at the floor. "Wh. . . where'd he go?"
I look down, and where Jonathan was crumpled on the floor, holding his jaw, there was only a small pool of blood.
"Put. . . her. . . down," said a quiet voice. I strained my eyes through their tears to see Jonathan rising from behind the counter, a silver gun in his hand. Christian's hands tensed around me and we didn't move. "Damnit, I said put her down!"
Christian slowly put me on the ground and put his arms out, blocking me with his body. I clung to the back of Christian's shirt, closing my eyes, waiting to wake up from all this.
"Samantha. . . come here," Jonathan whispered. I looked around me, wondering what I could use for a weapon. All was quiet, and then Jonathan clicked the revolver. "Samantha, I said come here!"
"No," Christian whispered to him.
"No?!" Jonathan demanded, waving the gun in the air. "She's mine. . . mine!"
"No, she's not," Christian whispered. "She doesn't belong to anyone. Please. . . put the gun down. . ."
"Mine. . ." Jonathan said through gritted teeth. "Mine. . ."
"Please, put the gun down." I peaked my head out from Christian's protecting arms. "Lets just talk, alright?"
Jonathan took a few steps closer, waving the gun in the air. "Samantha. . . you're mine. It's him. . . it's all his fault. He took you away from me!"
"Please. . ." I sobbed.
He ran his finger over the trigger, slowly lowering it to Christian's head. "It's all his fault. . ."
My speech is gone, and I reach out to touch Christian. This is not happening. . . I had finally found you. . . "No. . . please don't, Jonathan. . ."
"He took you away from me! He stole you! You are mine!" He squared the gun right at Christian's heart.
"Please. . ." I gripped Christian's hand as he tried to confine me behind him. No. . . this was not how it was supposed to be. . . "I love you. . . I love you. . ." I whispered, my voice breaking with sobs.
"Jonathan," Christian started, his voice wavering. "Please, lets talk this out. Put the gun d-"
The gun fired with a loud, ear splitting 'BANG!', and then across the shop stretched an eerie silence. As the smoke cleared, Jonathan saw with large, red eyes who was sprawled on the floor, blood spilled everywhere. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: Ok, I know hair dye used back then was permanent, but just stick with me on this. And I finally have time to write this! This was SCARY! It creaped me out while I wrote. And now the question is. . . who did Jonathan shoot?
SONGS USED: -none-
"Morning," she whispered, resting her head on my chest.
"Morning," I said, twisting my fingers through her curls. I thought back when I used to do that, wondering a question I had had long ago. "Is your hair really blond?"
She laughed. "No. . . I dyed it. It should be red again in a few months."
"Why did you dye it? I loved it red."
"It would have attracted too much attention," she said, entwining her fingers with mine. "It helped me get into the character of Samantha James, anyway."
"Did you get that name from my book?" I asked quietly.
She sighed. "Yeah. . ."
"So what do you think about it? I mean. . . you're the main character in it." My fingers played with the back of her neck.
"I thought it was ok," she shrugged, trying not to smile.
I lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. "Ok?"
She leaned over and kissed me, running her hands down my sides. When she was on top of me, she whispered, "I thought it was beautiful, my darling." She nipped at my ear. "Then again. . . everything that comes out of your mouth is wonderful. It's your gift."
I laughed. Everyone had always told me I had a gift. . . well, except my father. But she was the first one who ever made it seem special, like I had something worthwhile. I pushed her over on the bed, kissing her neck as she pushed down the sheets further on the bed and her fingers danced on my bare back. "Christian. . ."
"Satine. . ." My mouth came up to her and my whole being disappeared. This was the point where I lost all my reason, I lost every thought. And this was all I needed.
"Mummy! Daddy!" Ewan came bounding into the room.
I flew off of Satine and pulled the sheets up around our naked bodies. "Hey. . . son," I said unsteadily, my arm sticking out of the blankets.
"Mummy, it's Monday! I want to tell Jonathan that you cooked!"
Satine sharply exhaled a breath and looked over at me, but all I could offer was pinched eyebrows.
"I. . . I cash in my diamonds every Monday morning right when it opens. . ."
My hand found it's way to her cheek and she smile. "You going to tell him?" She stiffly nodded. "Want me to come?"
She shook my head. "No, it's better if he hears it from me."
"Mummy, are you coming?" Ewan asked impatiently, stern hands on hips.
"In just a moment, darling. Why don't you go downstairs and fix something for yourself, and I'll be down soon."
He sighed. "All right. . ." and he left the room.
Satine looked at me again, and I did my best to comfort her. She finally smiled. "Hi."
"Hello," I whispered. "I love you." And I leaned down and kissed her, so soft and slow I thought time had stopped.
"I love you," she whispered back when our lips parted. And after another kiss, we rolled out of bed.
"Ready to go?" I asked our son, snapping my handbag shut.
He nodded swiftly, taking my hand.
"Christian, darling. . . I'll be back later." I briefly kissed him, our son yanking me out the door.
"Goodbye!" Christian said after us, giving me one of his wonderful smiles.
On the street I held up my hand and a cab stopped outside the street. We piled in, and after telling him our destination, we left. My stomach ached, and a lump clung to my throat as I wondered what I was going to tell him.
"Mummy. . ." Ewan climbed into my lap. "What's wrong?"
I pinched his cheek, and he scowled. "Oh nothing, darling. Mummy just has a lot on her mind, that's all."
"Like what?"
I thought for a moment, and then sighed. "Grownup things. Things that only I should worry about while you remain completely adorable." I bent down and kissed his nose.
He scowled again. "Can I tell Jonathan you cooked? And that Daddy's living with us? And I got my own room? And. . ."
I pressed two pale fingers to his lips. "Ewan, darling. . ." I took in a deep breath. "Could I. . . talk to Jonathan alone today?"
"But why, Mummy? I have so much to tell him." He pouted.
"Darling, please. Why don't I give you some money and you go to the candy store and you can pick out what ever sweet you want?"
His eyes brightened and his lips curled into a smile. "Yeah!"
"Yeah?" I reached in my handbag and brought forth a few francs and gave them to him.
The carriage stopped, and we piled out onto the sidewalk. After paying the driver, I watched my son skip ahead to the candy store. "This is it. . ." I took in a deep breath and turned into the store.
The bell above the door announced my arrival, and behind the counter I saw Jonathan's blond head bent.
I slowly walked to him. "J. . .Jonathan?"
He didn't look up. "I knew you'd come," he whispered. "I knew. . . I just knew."
I froze in my tracks and stared at his bent head, my eyebrows pinched together. "We need to talk."
Jonathan lifted his head and forced a smile on his pale lips. His green eyes seemed to pierce through my heart as tears ran down his cheeks. "I knew. . . I knew it'd be you. Samantha. . ."
"Jonathan, my name is Satine, remember?" I said softly.
He shook his head violently. "No! No!" He took a few steps and closed the distance between us, grabbing my arms roughly. "No. . . Samantha. . ."
"Satine," I said softly, not sure if he had heard me, not sure if I wanted him to hear me.
"No!" he roared. "Samantha!"
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the pain of his strong hands on my arms away, but it wouldn't work.
"Samantha. . . is mine," he said through deep breaths. "Mine. . ."
I opened my eyes and saw him, a few strands of his hair flopped in front of his face. His eyes were beady, and his cold hands on me touched a buried memory. "No, Duke. . . No. . ."
"Silence!" he yells, his grip tighter, pulling me closer. "Samantha. . . you're mine!" He pressed dry lips to mine and I push away. No, Christian was the one. . . the only one for me. . . not the duke!
"You're mine!" I look into his face, the voice surprising me. . . and I realize that it's Jonathan speaking, not the duke. How had I gotten them confused.
"Jonathan, please!" I try to twist out of his grasp, but he has me tight. "Stop! Let me g-" He presses his lips to mine again and dragged me to the floor. No. . . no! "Get. . . off!"
"Mine!" he yelled.
My eyes filled with tears as I pushed my palms to him as hard as I could, but I couldn't get him off of me.
But suddenly, I saw a punch from the corner of my eye and Jonathan rolled over to his side, clutching his jaw and screaming in pain.
Through tears, I stared up at who had saved me. "Christian. . ." I whispered.
He gathered his arms around me, picking me up from the floor. "Yes darling, I'm here. I came to make sure everything was all right. . ."
I leaned my cheek against his. "I love you. . . so much. . ."
Christian's arms around me tightened comfortably. "Did he hurt you?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Let's go home." His smile fades as he looks at the floor. "Wh. . . where'd he go?"
I look down, and where Jonathan was crumpled on the floor, holding his jaw, there was only a small pool of blood.
"Put. . . her. . . down," said a quiet voice. I strained my eyes through their tears to see Jonathan rising from behind the counter, a silver gun in his hand. Christian's hands tensed around me and we didn't move. "Damnit, I said put her down!"
Christian slowly put me on the ground and put his arms out, blocking me with his body. I clung to the back of Christian's shirt, closing my eyes, waiting to wake up from all this.
"Samantha. . . come here," Jonathan whispered. I looked around me, wondering what I could use for a weapon. All was quiet, and then Jonathan clicked the revolver. "Samantha, I said come here!"
"No," Christian whispered to him.
"No?!" Jonathan demanded, waving the gun in the air. "She's mine. . . mine!"
"No, she's not," Christian whispered. "She doesn't belong to anyone. Please. . . put the gun down. . ."
"Mine. . ." Jonathan said through gritted teeth. "Mine. . ."
"Please, put the gun down." I peaked my head out from Christian's protecting arms. "Lets just talk, alright?"
Jonathan took a few steps closer, waving the gun in the air. "Samantha. . . you're mine. It's him. . . it's all his fault. He took you away from me!"
"Please. . ." I sobbed.
He ran his finger over the trigger, slowly lowering it to Christian's head. "It's all his fault. . ."
My speech is gone, and I reach out to touch Christian. This is not happening. . . I had finally found you. . . "No. . . please don't, Jonathan. . ."
"He took you away from me! He stole you! You are mine!" He squared the gun right at Christian's heart.
"Please. . ." I gripped Christian's hand as he tried to confine me behind him. No. . . this was not how it was supposed to be. . . "I love you. . . I love you. . ." I whispered, my voice breaking with sobs.
"Jonathan," Christian started, his voice wavering. "Please, lets talk this out. Put the gun d-"
The gun fired with a loud, ear splitting 'BANG!', and then across the shop stretched an eerie silence. As the smoke cleared, Jonathan saw with large, red eyes who was sprawled on the floor, blood spilled everywhere. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: Ok, I know hair dye used back then was permanent, but just stick with me on this. And I finally have time to write this! This was SCARY! It creaped me out while I wrote. And now the question is. . . who did Jonathan shoot?
SONGS USED: -none-