Disclaimer: Characters, places and songs do not belong to me. Everything at the Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann, 20th Century Fox etc. Any other songs or sources not mentioned in Moulin Rouge belong to other people and are cited where needed.

Author's Note: Thanks as always to my beta-reader Lisa for helping me with this one. You rock! ;)

Thanks as well to all the people who reviewed Chapter One: The Phantom (yes, Old Deuteronomy was inspired by the character in CATS - I had "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats" open by my computer while I was writing this :P), Bohemian Storm, Lady In Red, Ami Chan, Tracy Winston, stephanie, lightning bug and Topaz.

You guys really made my day :D

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Chapter Two: Life Is Beautiful

The Duke stood by the window, watching the rain slash against the Gothic Tower's windows. Suitably dramatic, he mused to himself, taking a sip from the goblet of wine he held in his hand. He had wanted to stand on the balcony, so he could see when Satine arrived and be ready for her, but he was certainly not going to stand on a wet balcony. It would not do to be dripping wet in front of Satine…

He heard the doors being shut quietly behind him. Turning around, he smiled slightly. Satine stood there, her head tilted back so the candlelight caught her features.

"My dear Duke," she purred. "I hope I have not kept you waiting." She drew the veil back from her face. The Duke choked back the sigh he felt forming in his throat and instead inclined his head graciously towards her.

"Not at all, my dear," he said, walking as languidly as he could across the tower towards her. His friends back in England would have scoffed at him for trying to impress a common can-can dancer, but there was something elegant in Satine that demanded the utmost respect. He took her hand and kissed it, never letting his eyes leave her face. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Come," he said, leading her towards the table. "I have a magnificent feast prepared."

"Oh, Duke," she gasped, staring at the array of foods laid out. "This is all too much…"

"Nonsense," he replied, waving her remark away with a gesture, inwardly smirking. He had learnt that the quickest way to a woman's heart was to make her feel like a princess... and considering Satine's current social standing, she probably felt like an empress. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat down graciously.

"Nothing is too extravagant for my Sparkling Diamond."

She smiled and looked down at the floor, and he thought he saw, with some satisfaction, that she was blushing. He sat down at the opposite end of the table. A servant abruptly appeared from out of the shadows with a bottle of wine. He poured the wine out quickly and retreated. The Duke raised his glass. Satine did the same.

"To tomorrow night," she said, "and Spectacular Spectacular's success."

He chuckled quietly. "But above all, my dear… to us."

She raised her eyebrow seductively and drank. Satisfied, the Duke took a swallow of the wine. He set his glass down and waited. Satine looked at him quizzically, and the Duke looked pointedly into the shadows. An awkward silence descended over the room. Finally he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, come on!" he shouted, and another servant rushed out of the shadows with little of the poise of the previous one. As he lifted the covers of the plates and dishes, the Duke smiled conspiratorially at Satine.

"I just can't get the staff these days!"

Satine laughed politely, and the Duke turned to scold the unlucky servant. She suppressed a cough, gazed out the dreary window and then back to the reddening servant and Duke. She felt sick to her stomach with dread about what tomorrow night would bring, and the memory of the look on Christian's face as he had walked away from her… She smiled again at the Duke.

Just a few hours, Satine. That's all, she chanted inside her head. She didn't want to think about tomorrow night and what was expected of her. She had slept with men she had disliked before, but that had been before Christian. Before she knew that there was another side to it all. And tomorrow she would have to sleep with a man that she not only disliked but came close to hating, and through it all, she knew she would be thinking of Christian. She wouldn't want to, of course, because she had the slightly crazy idea that if she did, she would be hurting him even more. As though she was violating his love and soul alongside her own.

The Duke made a joke, and she laughed and flirted with him. Dinner passed quickly. The servants seemed to be afraid of the Duke's sharp tongue, and snatched the plates away and in the blink of an eye produced another. It gave an already slightly surreal evening an extra touch of strangeness.

As the last dishes were whisked away, the Duke got up and came closer to her.

"When this production succeeds, you will no longer be a mere can-can dancer… but an actress." She felt his breath, warm on her cheek, and she turned to the window. An actress… All she had ever wanted. So why did she feel like storming out of the tower without a second glance to what she would be throwing away?

Satine shivered as the Duke kissed her bare shoulder, her neck. She turned towards his close face and stared at him for a moment. He stared back. She knew what she was expected to do, but the thought of it revolted her. However, some instinct of self-preservation that life at the Moulin Rouge had instilled in her pushed her head forward, and she kissed him.

A few moments later she opened her eyes and looked across the room. The kiss was devoid of passion, of any feeling whatsoever. She was so tired, she could barely summon up enough energy to hate the Duke, let alone pretend to be in love with him.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he pulled away, looking immensely smug. Satine tried her best to smile and blush. The thought of Christian bubbled to the surface of her thoughts, and she frantically pushed him back down. The Duke was motioning over his manservant, who was carrying a thin black case. He stopped in front of Satine and held the box out.

"My dear Duke," she asked curiously, looking at the silent man in front of her. "What is this?"

The corners of his mouth twitched up slightly, and he opened the box. Satine gasped. Inside lay the most extravagant diamond necklace she had ever seen. It captured every tiny ray of light in the room and threw them back out at her eyes, blinding her. For an instant all thoughts of Christian, the Duke and the Moulin Rouge flew out the window. She reached out for it unconsciously and touched its glittering surface. The Duke laughed slightly at Satine's wide eyes and taking her hand, he led her over to a mirror by the tower's window. He took the necklace from the case and wrapped it around her neck. The weight of it was incredible. Satine suddenly understood why so many of the aristocratic ladies she'd seen in carriages in Paris were hunched over: they simply couldn't carry the weight of their jewellery.

"Oh, Duke… I don't know what to say…"

He smiled again. "Consider it a gift from this maharajah to his courtesan."

That snapped Satine out of her diamond-induced daze. He was trying to buy her. As if by just flashing a ludicrously expensive and exquisitely beautiful diamond necklace he could win her that easily. Satine's thoughts clicked back to Christian… He could never afford anything like this, not even if he worked for fifty years. And yet, after knowing her for five minutes (during which, she realised, he must have thought she was totally insane) he had written her a song. And, then a whole play and another, secret, song something that couldn't be given to anybody else. Dear Christian… She wouldn't trade him for all the diamonds in the world. She realised that the Duke was watching her intently, anxiously awaiting her verdict and smiled sensuously, running her fingers over the jewelled piece.

"I've never had a gift like it."

"Good," he smiled, relief evident on his face. "There will be much more than that once you are completely mine…" She gave him what she hoped was a longing look: he certainly interpreted it well because his smile widened. He turned away from her to get more wine, and Satine looked at her reflection in the mirror and touched the necklace gingerly. She thought of Christian in his tiny, dirty garret and sighed.

No matter what she told herself, no matter how hard she tried not to think about him, she was betraying him.

She couldn't bear it.

She simply could not bear it.

* * * * * * *

Christian stared blankly at the typewriter in front of him. The party upstairs had died out, or at least moved on somewhere else. He was trying to keep his mind off the Gothic Tower by writing a letter to his family, but his gaze kept drifting to the imposing building to the left of his view. He was trying not to think of her and the Duke together, certain that those thoughts would bring him nothing but misery. He sighed exasperatedly and hit the side of the typewriter roll with the palm of his hand. It made a horrible, clanging noise of protest, and he winced. Gingerly, he checked the damage. A typewriter was an essential piece of equipment to any writer, and he certainly could not afford a new one. Satisfied no lasting damage had been done, he stood up and paced his room, then, finding that it was far too small to get any serious pacing done, he strode outside, past the red 'L'amour' sign. It had finally stopped raining, and the moon was struggling to peer its way through the clouds.

He paused and looked towards the Tower. He knew what he really needed was to go for a long walk and burn off all the nervous energy he was using, but there was no way he was going to leave. What if Satine needed him? He knew she was tougher than she looked, but he also knew if he so much as left the garret for a quick drink or to get the papers, he might spontaneously combust with worry.

Ducking back into the apartment, he looked at the pocket watch lying open on next to the typewriter to see what time it was. He started in surprise when he saw it was 1 o'clock. He knew he had sat down at the typewriter at 10… Had he really been sitting there for three hours? He rubbed his temples ruefully. It was entirely possible… He'd always found trying to keep his mind blank a difficult task. Head in the clouds… That's what his mother had always said. He looked guiltily at the typewriter.

I really should get started on that letter, he thought vaguely. He looked back towards the Gothic Tower. The windows let out a flickering candlelight, but as Christian stared, the furthermost window's light went out. For a moment he stayed stock-still, his tired brain struggling to comprehend what this meant as the other lights were extinguished. Finally his thoughts rearranged themselves into a coherent realisation: Dinner's over.

He leapt over his chair, stumbling, and grabbed his coat from a hook near the door. He pulled it on as he raced down the stairs and out the front door. He knocked into a couple dancing just outside and shouting his apologies behind his shoulder, he ran in the direction of the Tower. He skidded to a stop on the wet ground, his eyes scanning the road hungrily for a glance of his Satine.

"Oh, where are you, where are you?" he moaned in a fever of desperation, not wanting to think of the possibility that she might still be inside.

Then he spotted her. She had just stepped out of the Tower's front door. There was something in her right hand. Christian squinted, but all he could tell was that it was thin black case. He started towards her, but stumbled as the Duke and his manservant followed her out. He quickly retreated back to the shadows and stood against the wall, heart pounding, his breath coming out in great rags. He listened.

"…the most wonderful evening, dear Duke," Satine was saying, smiling flirtatiously. The Duke took her hand and raised it to his lips. He murmured something, and Christian ground his teeth without realising it.

"Come, Satine," the Duke was saying, taking her arm and placing it in his. "We shall walk you back to your dressing room."

"No," said Satine quickly. Christian couldn't see the Duke's face but he saw the surprise the Duke must have felt in his body language. "I-I wanted to go see… the writer. And Toulouse and the rest of the cast," she added hastily. "I haven't had a chance to, uh, congratulate everybody yet, or wish them luck."

"Well, perhaps I could you walk you there…"

"No! No, no, that's very kind of you, but… it's quite out of your way. And I know these streets well. I will be perfectly safe, dear Duke."

"If you're certain…" said the Duke uncertainly.

"Quite certain," said Satine crisply, lightly pulling her arm free from his. Christian smiled despite himself. He watched as they said their goodbyes, reluctant in the Duke's case and bordering on impatience in Satine's. Christian watched as the Duke eventually made his way up the street and with one last look, out of sight. Satine's shoulders sagged, and she rubbed her forehead. Christian came out of the shadows.

"Satine!" he hissed, uncertain that the Duke was really gone: that weaselly little man had an unfortunate habit of appearing when he was least wanted. She started and whirled around, hand on her heart.

"Christian!" she hissed back. "What are you doing here?" She came over towards him, and Christian took her hand, pulling her closer.

"Looking for you. I saw the lights go out…" He looked hopefully at her. She gave him a disapproving look.

"You shouldn't have. If he saw you…"

"I don't care," said Christian stubbornly.

"No." She ventured a small smile. "I'm glad you are here though." In response, Christian hugged her closely, and she gripped his coat tightly with her hands, burying her face in his neck. They stayed like that for a moment. Then Christian frowned. He pulled away from Satine slightly, suddenly remembering the black case.

"What's this?" he asked taking the case from her hand.

"Oh!" said Satine quickly. "It's nothing…" She made a snatch for the case but it was too late. Christian opened it. His jaw dropped as his face was lit up by the silvery light of the diamonds.

"Wow," he said after a while. Satine said nothing but stared at his face anxiously. Christian couldn't tear his eyes away from the necklace. He'd never seen anything like it…

"It's a present from the Duke," whispered Satine finally.

"A present?" asked Christian sharply, looking up at her. "What for?"

Satine eyes widened and two dots of colour appeared in her cheeks.

"A present for me," she said quietly. "It's not for anything else."

Christian didn't reply straight away, not because he didn't believe her, more that he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"What?" asked Satine, her eyes narrowing and her tone icy. "What do you think I would do to get this-this… thing?"

"Nothing," said Christian quickly, shutting the case with a clip and handing it back to her. "It's just that…"

"What?"

"Men like the Duke…I know people like that. They were the type of people my father wanted to be friends with," he said somewhat bitterly. "They don't give out necklaces like that for – "

"For what?" spat Satine, eyes flashing. Christian said nothing, wondering how on earth they had managed to get here.

"For nothing?" she continued, her voice rising. "You think I would sleep with him for this?" She brandished the case in front of his face.

"Satine, darling, that's not what I meant…" He stepped forward but she stepped backwards, glaring at him.

"I can't believe you would think that of me," she said shaking her head. Her voice was trembling. "Anybody else, but not you…"

"Think what?" said Christian desperately. "I'm not thinking of anything." He reached out to touch her arm, but she jumped backwards, shrieking and losing all her composure.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She dropped the box on the floor, where it clattered but did not open.

Christian stared at her, aghast. "Darling, what's wrong..?"

"What's wrong?" she said, her eyes wide with tears and chest heaving with emotion. "I've just had the worst evening of my life, and all that could get me through it was the thought of you and now you're accusing me of – of whoring myself for a piece of jewellery!" She cupped her hand over her mouth, sobs wracking her body.

"No, darling, no…" whispered Christian, unable to believe that this was happening. He reached for her again, but she batted his hands away.

"I'm going home," she whispered. "Don't even try to follow me. I don't want to even look at you." She turned from him and took a step away.

Christian stared after her in amazement. She'll come back, he thought.

She took another step.

Doubt inched into his mind.

She doesn't mean it.

She took a third step.

Doubt swarmed and over ran him.

She means it. She's leaving you.

She started to take a fourth step, paused and then whirled around and ran back to his arms.

"Oh, Christian, I didn't mean that, I didn't, I didn't, not a single syllabub of it."

Now, Christian knew that she meant to say "not a single syllable of it," because a syllabub is something you eat, with cream and wine mixed in together to form the base. But he also knew an apology when he heard one. So he held her very close, and shut his loving eyes, and only whispered, "I knew it was false, believe me, every single syllabub."

Satine wailed slightly. "I've just had such a beastly night… I'm so tired…"

"I know, love, I know," soothed Christian, rocking her like he would a child. "It's over now, we're together now."

"Yes," she sighed, pulling away and smiling at him with red-rimmed eyes. She sniffed. "I'm so sorry. I know you wouldn't-"

"I know," he interrupted smiling gently at her. "It's okay, darling, it's all right."

She looked hopefully at him. "Really?"

"Of course. I shouldn't have…" He paused. "I'm sorry too."

She laughed lightly. "We're both so stupid…"

"Yes," he agreed. "We deserve each other completely."

She smiled brightly and kissed him lightly. Christian sighed happily and rested his chin on her head. After a moment, he pulled away and offered his arm.

"Come, Satine," he said in his most nasal voice. "We shall walk you back to your dressing room." Satine giggled and took his arm. "Thank you, dear sir." They started walking, but then Christian stopped, suddenly remembering the black case lying on the pavement.

"We should take that," he said pointing.

"Oh, leave it," said Satine, screwing her face up in distaste. "It's ghastly, let some drunk have it…" Christian looked at her in amazement.

"What?" she asked.

"Whatever happened to 'diamonds are a girl's best friend'?"

She cocked her head to one side, as if he were being especially slow. "You did."

Christian couldn't help the grin that slid over his face. He shook his head.

"We should take it," he said reasonably. "What if the Duke wants to see it?"

Satine sighed. "I suppose." She bent down and picked up the case, holding it gingerly in her right hand, as though it would burn her. "I just don't want to keep the cause of our first argument," she explained, taking his arm with her left arm.

"Is that what it was?" asked Christian, slightly bemused. "I wouldn't have thought of it like that…"

Satine gave him a curious look. "What would you have thought of it as?"

"I would have preferred not to think about it at all."

Satine smiled ruefully. "Then let's not think of it at all." She kissed him. "Deal?"

"Oh, yes," said Christian, grinning.

"Come on then," she said. She tilted her chin up and gave him a condescending look. "Escort me back to my dressing room."

"Yes, milady," said Christian mock-formally. Satine laughed and leant her head against his shoulder as they walked. After a while she sighed and looked up at him. She kissed him on the cheek.

"La vita é bella."

Christian smiled bemusedly at her. "What does that mean?"

"Life is beautiful," she said, then added, "Now that you're in my life."

He laughed softly, then nuzzled her ear. "How wonderful life is," he sang softly, "now you're in the world."

Satine turned her head and smiled. The moonlight that peeked out from the clouds illuminated her face with a soft glow. He kissed her, and as she wrapped her arms around his neck the words she had spoken echoed and turned in his mind like sails of a windmill.

La vita é bella.

How true they are when you love and are loved in return.

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A/N: I have a huge amount of obsessions and they usually all turn up in my fan fics in quotes or references. This chapter's candidates are: The Princess Bride by William Goldman (the syllable/syllabub mix up) and the Roberto Benigni (sp?) film, La Vita é Bella or Life Is Beautiful.

Reviews are always appreciated… :D