Christian sat in the front row of the audience as the house lights went dim and the spotlights came on. This was Sarah's big night - her very first performance. How apropos that it should happen in the very role in the very play that her mother had made famous. He looked over to his beautiful, auborn-haired wife, and grinned. He thought how very different she was from the woman he'd known in Monmartre - softer, smarter, not as strong but just as vivacious - and laughed at how time can change a man. He thought back to the first time he'd watched the play with Satine in the role.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&
"Satine, could you put a little more into it?" Tom yelled, growing exasperated.
"Sorry, Tom." Satine answered. She looked to Christian, whose demeanor hadn't warmed any in the days since he had first arrived on the scene of The Montgomery Wives.
"Satine, sorry isn't going to cut it. Tomorrow is opening night, and you're giving me a dry, emotionless reading. This isn't like you. Take a break. I want everyone back here at six, ready to go. For real." He looked right at her as he finished the statement.
She walked out of the theatre, wondering what she could possibly do with two hours to herself. She soon found herself wandering the streets of London, and of course wound up in front of the apartment building where Christian was staying. She walked up the stairs slowly. Tom had mentioned in passing where Christian was living while he was in the city, and somehow it stuck in her mind. She looked at his door now, standing, not knocking, just standing. She suddenly remembered the last time she had knocked at a door, and had a powerful urge to turn tail and run.
She knocked.
"'Lo?" Christian said as he swung the door open. He was clad only in pants, his shirt and shoes forgotten the moment they left his skin. She looked at him for a moment. His stomach was still tight, his body toned and scattered with the barest bit of peach-like hair. She met his eyes. "Oh, you. Come in then, this was bound eventually."
As she followed him into the room, she was struck by the cleanliness of the room. It didn't fit - here was the room of a man who had gotten over pain, but he seemed so cold, so rude, so bitter. She sighed. "Hello, Christian." It was too breathy, to much of a come-on, but in times like this, she still reverted to her old social skills. Thus far, they hadn't failed her.
"Why're you here?"
No give. No break in his voice, just a solid ice wall. "I- I don't know." She wanted to cry. She felt like a fool, a stupid, greedy fool who had pushed away the only thing she'd ever had.
"This is the part where you're supposed to apologize, you know."
This, too, was said coldly, so coldly that Satine almost missed the laughter that flowed in it.
"Really. Is that in the script?" She teased.
"Not yet."
"Then I apologize. I apologize. I'm so sorry that I left and if I could take it back, I would. I would have the minute I left but I had to save face, and it's been killing me. For three years, it's been eating me away inside." She began to sob.
"Satine, I know you had to do what you did." He stepped toward her, taking her into a warm, friendly embrace. "Don't regret it. That's the way life has to be lived - you do what you have to do."
She grinned up at him, and he could feel her heart beating against his chest. "I love you, Christian." She said.
Looking into her eyes, Christian was so overcome with love that he forgot how much she had hurt him, forgot how much he loved his fiance, forgot who and where he was. He leaned down and kissed her.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&
"Satine, could you put a little more into it?" Tom yelled, growing exasperated.
"Sorry, Tom." Satine answered. She looked to Christian, whose demeanor hadn't warmed any in the days since he had first arrived on the scene of The Montgomery Wives.
"Satine, sorry isn't going to cut it. Tomorrow is opening night, and you're giving me a dry, emotionless reading. This isn't like you. Take a break. I want everyone back here at six, ready to go. For real." He looked right at her as he finished the statement.
She walked out of the theatre, wondering what she could possibly do with two hours to herself. She soon found herself wandering the streets of London, and of course wound up in front of the apartment building where Christian was staying. She walked up the stairs slowly. Tom had mentioned in passing where Christian was living while he was in the city, and somehow it stuck in her mind. She looked at his door now, standing, not knocking, just standing. She suddenly remembered the last time she had knocked at a door, and had a powerful urge to turn tail and run.
She knocked.
"'Lo?" Christian said as he swung the door open. He was clad only in pants, his shirt and shoes forgotten the moment they left his skin. She looked at him for a moment. His stomach was still tight, his body toned and scattered with the barest bit of peach-like hair. She met his eyes. "Oh, you. Come in then, this was bound eventually."
As she followed him into the room, she was struck by the cleanliness of the room. It didn't fit - here was the room of a man who had gotten over pain, but he seemed so cold, so rude, so bitter. She sighed. "Hello, Christian." It was too breathy, to much of a come-on, but in times like this, she still reverted to her old social skills. Thus far, they hadn't failed her.
"Why're you here?"
No give. No break in his voice, just a solid ice wall. "I- I don't know." She wanted to cry. She felt like a fool, a stupid, greedy fool who had pushed away the only thing she'd ever had.
"This is the part where you're supposed to apologize, you know."
This, too, was said coldly, so coldly that Satine almost missed the laughter that flowed in it.
"Really. Is that in the script?" She teased.
"Not yet."
"Then I apologize. I apologize. I'm so sorry that I left and if I could take it back, I would. I would have the minute I left but I had to save face, and it's been killing me. For three years, it's been eating me away inside." She began to sob.
"Satine, I know you had to do what you did." He stepped toward her, taking her into a warm, friendly embrace. "Don't regret it. That's the way life has to be lived - you do what you have to do."
She grinned up at him, and he could feel her heart beating against his chest. "I love you, Christian." She said.
Looking into her eyes, Christian was so overcome with love that he forgot how much she had hurt him, forgot how much he loved his fiance, forgot who and where he was. He leaned down and kissed her.