~A Poet's Dream~
Chapter Two
Bounded Souls
And if you wed another
I would have to kill you.
Both in bed my lover
I would rather see you dead and under covers then in front of the world.
And exposing for all others, skin in which I curled.
I would be your Indian lover.
I would be your Indian lover.
I would be your Indian lover boy.
Feel my joy.
And if you touch a man then you can fully expect I will abort my plan to woe you so circumspect.
I'll cross the gate of Hell and sell what is left then of my soul
And in exchange I'll lay away my dying role.
I would be your Indian lover.
I would be your Indian lover.
I would be your Indian lover boy.
Feel my joy.
(Indian Lover, by Jude Christodal)
~*~
"My dear Duke, I was just telling our writer that his show was a success," Satine stammered quickly.
"I see," the Duke replied suspiciously, as he eyed Christian. The boy was filthy, wet, bruised and bleeding. It seemed to the Duke that the Show was the last thing he could possibly care about.
"Yes, Christian and I were just leaving," Toulouse added desperately.
"I'll leave you to your future then," Christian whispered hoarsely. He turned quickly and headed toward his garret.
Satine watched Christian leave, her heart breaking. She wanted desperately to explain everything to him, but the entire thing now seemed futile. Her words would have done nothing to comfort him, knowing that no matter how the scenario was painted, in the end, Satine was going to stay with the Duke.
"Shall we adjourn to the Tower, my dear?" The Duke took Satine's hand, and held onto it tightly, an indication that it was not so much a question, as it was a demand.
"Yes, lets," Satine shot Toulouse a helpless glance, before being pulled away by The Duke.
Toulouse sighed deeply. He wanted more than anything to help Christian and Satine, but he had no idea how. Straightening his shoulders, he turned and walked toward Christian's garret, hoping that his friend would listen when he told him the truth.
Truth. It was a word that held so much more meaning now. No longer was it simply a part of a Bohemian mantra, it seemed now to hold the fates and dreams of every person who was held prisoner by it. Truth, Toulouse laughed to himself as he ascended the steps to Christian's room, is as subjective as beauty, as rare as freedom, and as painfully sweet as love.
How ironic.
Toulouse had half expected to find his friend slumped in the corner of his garret, a bottle of absinthe dangling from his fingers hopelessly. Instead, what he found was a man filled with jealous rage, with blind passion, and filled with a love he didn't know how to control. Christian was pacing the floor of his garret, mumbling harsh words to himself, to the wall, to the sky. He did not pause, or even slow, when Toulouse entered the room.
"Christian, I--"
"I want to kill them, Toulouse, I want them gone, and I want to die too. That's how much this hurts, that's what she's done to me..." Christian spat out the words in a bitter rage, but Toulouse could see in his eyes that he was, more than anything, sad.
"Christian, I know why Satine chose the Duke."
"I know as well. He can give her everything she's always wanted," Christian mocked Satine's earlier statements to him.
"No, Christian, she loves you, I know she does. She--she did this to save you."
"To save me?" Christian stopped pacing and stared incredulously at Toulouse. "To save me from what? From myself? From my dreams? From happiness?"
"The Duke was going to have you killed if you returned to the Moulin Rouge. Satine drove you away the only way she knew how. She loves you, Christian. She hurt you, to save you."
Christian let Toulouse's statement sink in. She loved him? But...they could have just run away together. Why couldn't she see that? Christian decided that he needed to speak to Satine, as soon as possible. His mind began to whirl, and he turned to Toulouse, with a new determination set in his eyes.
"Toulouse, is the Duke attending tonight's performance?"
"Yes, I-I think so."
"Can you make sure he is not backstage before the show tonight?"
"I can try...Christian, what are you planning?"
"I'm not sure, but I need to see Satine alone. Can you help me do that?"
"For love, I will do anything," Toulouse said, his words holding dual meanings in his heart.
***
Christian woke up at dusk, coughing wildly. He shook it off, and pulled himself out of bed, despite the painful protests from his head and body. He fetched the Argentinean's suit, and dressed quickly. He was still unsure about what he was going to say to Satine, but he knew that he had to act quickly. Toulouse warned that Warner, the Duke's manservant, would most likely spend the night lurking backstage.
*
The Moulin Rouge was brilliantly lit, and shined like a beacon in the black night sky. Christian approached slowly, careful to avoid the burly guards who had tossed him into the street the night before. He slipped in unnoticed, and quickly moved toward the stage. Peering around him, he quickly walked backstage, and headed for Satine's dressing room.
*
Inside her dressing room, Satine finished applying her make-up, in a weak attempt to mask the pain she was feeling inside. Christian was angry...he had every right to be. Satine had sucked the life right out of him, and, not surprisingly, out of herself as well. She realized that she and Christian were bound souls, and that everything that happens to his soul, happens to hers as well. A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and she realized that it must be time. Straightening her headpiece, she rose, and opened the door. Her Sparkling Diamond smile faded, when she saw Christian standing on the other side.
"Christian...what are you doing here? Are you alright?" Satine noted that his bruises seemed to be slightly less noticeable, but the real difference between the Christian she'd seen last night and the one standing here tonight was in his eyes. While last night they were full of pain and anger, tonight, they seemed filled with something else...something Satine could not read.
"Satine, do you love me?" Christian whispered, as he made his way into the dressing room.
"What?"
"Do you love me?"
"I...uh," Satine wasn't sure what to say. Of course she loved him! But she didn't want him to fight for her. She wanted him away from here, safe, and alive.
"It's a relatively simple question, Satine. Either you love me, or you don't. Please. I don't care that the Duke wants me dead. I need to know that truth."
Satine looked up at Christian, shock registering in her eyes. He knew? He knew, and he came back? Just to find out if she loved him?
"Christian, I--" Suddenly, the door was kicked open, and Warner, the Duke's manservant came crashing in, followed closely by the Duke himself. Apparently, Christian had not slipped into the theatre unnoticed after all.
"Take him away from here," the Duke said blandly, as though he was bored with the entire scenario, "And make sure he never returns."
Warner grabbed a struggling Christian, and dragged him toward the door. Christian freed himself briefly, and ran back toward Satine.
"Satine," Christian cried, "tell me the truth, please!"
Satine attempted to move toward Christian, but was stopped by the Duke. Ignoring his demands for silence and obedience, she struggled with the Duke as she looked into Christian's eyes.
"Until my dying day," she yelled, as Warner grabbed Christian roughly, and pistol-whipped him into submission. Satine screamed, and began to sob wildly, as Warner dragged Christian's half-conscious body from her dressing room.
The Duke grabbed Satine again, but she pulled away, and kicked over her chair.
"My dear..." The Duke reasoned calmly. It was then that Satine remembered that she was dying...and that the Duke did not know...
"No! I swear to you, Duke, if you kill Christian, I will not live long enough to see the final curtain tonight."
As though on cue, Marie appeared in the doorway.
"They need you on stage, my dear."
Satine glanced in the mirror, wiped her tears, and breezed past the Duke airily. At the doorway, she turned to the Duke.
"My life is in your hands, Duke." With that, she spun around, and headed toward the stage door.
