A/N: This is my first posted Moulin Rouge fic. I'm not sure what possessed me to write it—I was watching the end of Moulin Rouge and I wondered why none of the cancan girls made an appearance during Satine's big death scene? Zidler was there, the Bohemians were there, Marie was there, Chocolat was there, and other random people were there too—but Nini and the other main girls didn't seem to be around. Here's my take on why. I wrote and edited this all in about a half hour—so, yeah, I don't promise perfection. All comments are welcome—thanks :)
Disclaimer: Lalalallalala. They're not mine. Really.
The Cancan Girls' Farewell
"Stand by for curtain call!" the stage manager's voice called over the chaotic jubilation. The applause roared surreally from behind the fallen curtain. The rose petals, fluttering to the ground, made an enchanted world, almost as mystical as the spectacle they had just brought to life. The girls, donning their identical costumes, grinned fervently at each other. The adrenaline coursed through their veins. Lining up, they moved through the haze of white and red.
"What a show, eh?" Nini asked, leaning over to another.
She smiled. "It'll be the talk of Paris."
"I just can't wait to see my paycheck."
"The thrill of curtain call is enough for me," remarked the youngest, idealistic one.
Nini rolled her eyes. "Cheap thrills," she quipped. "Money buys you the real stuff."
"But it is exciting," she persisted, her smile not waning.
"Then can I have your share of the money?" Nini asked coarsely, her grating laughter rippling through them.
They almost didn't hear the gasp—but the silence that fell throughout the company reached them. They all turned, curious. Then they saw Satine, sprinkled with white and red rose petals, lying prone in her lover's arms. Even from a distance, they could see the blood on her chin and hear the rasps of her breath. Their smiles faded.
"Somebody get some help!" Christian screamed, his voice panicked and distraught.
"It won't do any good," Nini muttered, with a shake of her head. She didn't need this. She didn't care to watch this. Pursing her painted lips, she saw the glory of curtain call curtailed and meandered backstage.
Wandering her way expertly through the mess of a backstage, she found her way to the common dressing room. It was disarrayed with the frantic nature of the evening—dresses strewn about haphazardly, makeup sitting open upon rickety vanities. The place was pathetic—nothing like Satine's elegant and private room down the hall. Nini cursed under her breath and rummaged for a cigarette in the mess. She tried not to smoke—it turned some clients off—but with the tragedy playing out in the next room, she didn't envision doing any business tonight.
She lit the cigarette with a random match and inhaled deeply. The fumes relaxed her immediately, taking the edge off her anger and also her adrenaline. When the other girls found her, she was substantially more subdued.
"She's dying," the large one said, somewhat sadly.
"It's about time," Nini murmured.
"Nini!" she exclaimed. "Don't talk like that. We're like sisters."
"Sisters?" Nini snorted. "Right, right. Well she's the favorite child. We're just the other kids."
"She never meant us any ill will."
"Do you believe that?" Nini said with an incredulous laugh.
"This isn't getting us anywhere," another said, sitting down on a nearby stool. "Hand me one, will you, Nini?"
Nini absently tossed the remaining cigarettes her way, letting her find her own matches. Soon the cigarettes had passed by all four, with only the large one abstaining, preferring to raid her stash of food. They sat in silence, commiserating the turn of the evening.
"It doesn't seem fair, does it?" the young one asked suddenly.
"What?"
"After all that, I mean, why did she die then?"
"When did you ever think life was fair?" Nini wondered pointedly.
"They've just gone through so much to be together," she said softly.
"She's not the only one who has
suffered here!" Nini exclaimed. "We have worked just as hard as she has, we
have danced and sung. We have
performed. We have given up everything
for what anyone will pay. And what do we
have to show for it? Nothing."
"The show should
pay well," the other added.
"If we get paid at all," Nini muttered.
"What do you mean?"
Sighing, Nini leaned forward. "Think about it," she said plaintively. "The Duke is in charge of everything, including our paychecks. He's lost everything that mattered to him—he lost Satine. Our contracts—we don't have contracts. Not really. Only with Zidler, and they mean nothing to the Duke. Nothing is keeping the Duke from taking the money and leaving the Moulin Rouge to rot where it is. And we can't do a thing about it—what authority would ever listen to a bunch of cancan girls from the brothels? The sparkling diamond screwed us over again."
The other girls became melancholy with her story. "He wouldn't do that though," the large one hoped. "We've done nothing."
"He never cared about us at all," Nini said bitterly. "Zidler never even cared about us. With Satine around, we always looked second best to all the clients. It was always about Satine. And we supported her—danced and sang back up so she could shine. And Satine turned her back on us for true love."
"Their love was so strong though," the large one said.
"What right does any of us, her most of all, have to love!" Nini accused.
"Well she lost him now anyway," the young one said.
"No, she took the easy way out," Nini said. "She died. She left him with a shattered heart and nothing to show for it. He won't get a cent for all of his work either. He'll be lucky if the Duke doesn't hunt him down. She left him worse off than any of us."
They fell into a depressed silence.
"Do you think she's gone yet?" the young one finally asked quietly.
"Close enough," sassed Nini.
"Let's go look," she suggested. "We owe her that much."
"I owe her nothing," Nini insisted.
The young one stood, extinguishing her cigarette. "I'm going."
Stuffing the last bite of her pastry into her mouth, the large one stood as well. "I'll go with you. I always did rather like her."
The other stood as well, beginning to follow the two out in silence. At the door, she looked back at Nini, questioningly. "Nini, if you hated her so much, why did you kick the gun away on stage?"
Nini clenched her jaw together, her eyes stinging momentarily. But she was as good an actress as any. She turned steely eyes back up to the other, a smile playing across her lips. "I thought he might miss," she said lightly.
The other eyed her suspiciously, but could find no trace of lying in Nini's face. With an uncertain smile, she turned, exiting back toward the stage.
When she was alone again, Nini slumped over, the tears spilling over her eyelids. She hated Satine—that was true. But she did not hate her for all those reasons. Through Satine, she had found hope—hope in true love. She had been envious once, she still was, but the hope outweighed her envy and jealousy. If someone could love Satine enough to pull her up from the underworld, then maybe…maybe there was hope for the rest of them as well.
But Satine lay dying on the stage. Satine had fumbled her last and only chance at happiness. And if Satine couldn't make, how could she?
Sniffling, Nini recovered her pride and wiped her eyes. "Farewell, our sparkling diamond," she murmured in a low and dead voice. "But never rest in peace. If I can't, then neither should you."