Chapter II: The Read Through

Clara, Satine's personal maid, stood back and smiled, pleased at her masterpiece. Satine opened her eyes and glanced up and at her reflection. Her hair was perfectly arranged on her head, albeit a distracting curl that dangled near her ear. Satine twisted in her chair and smiled up at the black-haired woman.

Satine said, brushing some rouge on while Clara brought out her pearl choker. Let me see. She held the jewels near her rich brown suit. It was just the right shade that brought out the auburn tints in her hair. Satine exhaled deeply, as if trying to dispel her nervousness while Clara fussed with the clasp.

Clara said, handing Satine her fur stole. Have a good day, Miss Satine.

Thank you, she replied, smiling at the girl as she left. As the door swung shut, Satine turned back to the mirror with a sigh. She did look beautiful . . . but the face in the mirror seemed so foreign, so painted. It seemed to belong to another woman. Someone who was wonderful. Not the real Satine.

Satine! My dear! the Duke called impatiently from downstairs. Satine shook her head to banish any doubting thoughts and automatically stood upon hearing his call.

Coming, dear Duke!

How to Win the Heart of a Poet, the Duke sniffed on their way there. I do hope it's not some silly love story. And I wish they'd been able to send us a script. Really, if they manage all their business like this. . .

I'm sure everything will be fine, Satine said absently, playing with her white satin gloves.

Yes, yes, I suppose, the Duke sputtered. But really!

Satine ignored him as they approached the magnificent theatre. London. And she was really here.

Christian nervously tugged at his starched caravat as they waited for the actors to arrive. He felt like a little boy in his Sunday best, waiting to make a speech in his class. A pretty girl with long, brown hair and icy blue eyes smiled at him, her heart-shaped face lighting up as she did so.

she said softly. I'm Rose Woodhouse. Christian awkwardly extended his hand.

Uh, hello. I'm-- Christian Everett. The girl laughed quietly.

So I believed, the girl replied, tossing her head so her hair was illuminated by the morning sunlight. Christian studied her for a moment longer. It almost looked like her hair was tinted with gold when she did that. He blushed slightly when she sent him a coquettish look.

I'm sorry, he laughed, anxious to make a good impression. Pleased to meet you, Miss Woodhouse.

And I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Everett.

he said, glad to have found one person he could talk to in this room. Call me Christian. Rose smiled slowly.

In which case, you must call me Rose. Christian was about to speak when the door opened and everyone in the room stopped their quiet conversations.

Who is this? he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

The lead actress, Rose whispered back. Mademoiselle Claudel. There was a small sneer on her face, but Christian missed it as he stared towards the door, all his old worry rushing back to trouble him. A large, bald man entered first and sent a baleful glance around the room, soon followed by a smaller man with the small, ratty mustache. And then-- she entered.

Her perfume floated in a half second before her, filling the air with the sweetest floral scent Christian had ever smelled. But it was her face that captured Christian's heart in that brief, silent moment in which Rose Woodhouse's everyday prettiness faded like a star in the wake of sunrise. There was a sort of unexpressed tenderness in that face, as if she was the sort of woman who could love deeply and passionately, but never had. The soft curve of cheek and mouth was adorable, and a small ringlet tempted the casual admirer to look a little closer. Sadness lingered a little about the eyes, and the set of her chin spoke determination. She was wonderful.

Rose hissed next to him, and Christian realized that he was staring. He quickly focused his gaze on a very ugly rug beneath his feet. The director was making hurried introductions.

Rose Woodhouse, who will be playing the character of Blanche. . . and our writer, Christian Everett.

Satine turned to the young man disinterestedly, but as she caught sight of his embarrassed expression, she smiled slightly. The poor boy looked exactly as she felt. She couldn't see his face, but she could imagine it. Young and homely, with muddy hazel eyes and teeth that slipped out just the tiniest bit. . . Just then, Christian raised his head and looked directly into Satine's eyes.

She nearly gasped. Instead of the clever farmboy she'd been imagining, she saw a very handsome young man before her. His eyes were a soft, dreamy blue and there was a dimple in his chin. . . for a brief moment she imagined pressing her finger onto that dimple and smiling into his eyes. . .

Satine frowned at herself. What on earth? Mooning over a boy that was at least two years her junior, probably four! Could she possibly be more ridiculous? Diverting her eyes from the writer, she glimpsed a hideously ugly rug on the floor. Yes, that would do nicely.

We. . . have a small problem, one of the assistants spoke up timidly as he entered the room. Thankful for a new focus, both Satine and Christian turned around to stare fiercely at the interrupter. The young man looked as if he was about to faint.

Yes, yes, what is it? The Duke demanded impatiently. The assistant swallowed.

Mr. Jones. . . the lead actor. . . is ill today and cannot come.

the director, Paul Day, asked sharply, his face turning a peculiar shade of purple. The boy stammered out his message once more and then fled to a comparatively safe corner of the room. There was a sort of stunned silence around the room for a moment.

Well,we'll just have to find someone to read the part, Satine said sensibly.

But where on earth are we going to find someone to read the role of the young English poet! Paul Day wailed. Every eye in the room turned onto Christian. . . except Satine, who was busy pretending to find the table absolutely fascinating. Christian grinned nervously.

Well, then, he looked over at Rose for help, but she only shrugged.

Don't be ridiculous, Satine said disdainfully fifteen minutes later.

But-- all you need is love! Christian cried. His acting had left something to be desired in the first bit, but now that his heart rate had begun to return to some semblance of normalcy, he was filling the position quite well.

You poets, Satine laughed. Always thinking up some silly rhyme or another.

Silly rhyme? Christian shifted in his chair. It's not a silly rhyme.

Oh, get up and act the song out, Mr. Day cried out. You know it, and all you have to do is react, Miss Claudel. Satine rose and put on her most expressionless face.

I know-- I know it's not much-- but. . .but. . . it's the best I can do. . . Christian stammered out the lines until he finally got the courage to look up. Satine's eyes were fixed on him for a brief moment and Christian took a deep breath.

My gift is my song
And this one's for you. . .

Everyone in the room unconsciously straightened up, and Rose leaned over the edge of her chair with interest dancing in her eyes. Satine stared at him in wonder. She'd never heard a voice like that. . .

And you can tell everybody
That this is your song
It may be quite simple, but
Now that it's done,
Hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words,

Christian caught Satine's eye again and she smiled mysteriously at him.

How wonderful life is
Now you're in the world.

Christian walked over to the large window, forgetting that anyone was there but him and Satine. The world seemed to be suspended for his song. He was singing the song for her and her alone. Director, Duke, Rose, all gone. It was just him. . . him and Satine.

Sat on the roof
And I kicked off the moss
Well, some of these verses, well they, they got me quite cross
But the sun's been kind while I wrote this song.

Christian finally turned back to Satine, who was shyly watching him from where she stood. He took a deep breath and sang the next lines to her while Rose sat and fumed with newfound jealousy.

It's for people like you that
Keep it turned on!

Satine flushed faintly. If she'd been asked to explain her feelings at that moment, she couldn't have possibly succeeded. The world seemed to have been drenched in some kind of rosy light and was spinning around her. She felt as if she'd set a dainty foot down on the clouds and began to dance across them. What was this?

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do
You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue!

His eyes were the most beautiful blue she'd ever seen. There was nothing deceitful in them . . nothing like anything she'd seen in the eyes of the men she'd kissed before.

But anyway, the thing is,
What I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen!

Christian took her in his arms and began to spin with her. Satine felt the world sing with him, filling her ears with the most perfect music she'd ever heard.

And you can tell everybody
That this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is now you're in the world!

Christian traced her cheek shyly, afraid to really touch her. Almost as if she was something-- worth something.

I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words. . .

Christian took both her hands in his and she looked at him with wonder. She'd never had anyone touch her like that before.

How wonderful life is
Now you're in the world. . .
Hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is
Now you're in the world!

Christian picked her up and spun her around and around, until Satine felt like she'd sipped the most intoxicating wine anyone had ever poured into her cup. As he lowered her to the ground and she stared into her eyes, she knew then, no matter how she tried to deny it, life would never be the same again.

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Author's Note: Baz owns the movie characters, I own the story ones. Suing me will be a pointless exercise.

Right now, this probably seems like Moulin Rouge put in a different setting. But it won't be-- I have many twists for our favorite characters on the way! Fear not! And remember-- one glass tells the truth. Too much of it lies.