(*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Just to avoid confusion, only the very first section in each chapter is the present. All the rest are flashbacks in Christian's mind. Also, these chapters may be a bit fewer and farther between for a while. I have a lot of commitments right now, but I will definately work on it when I can.)
The curtain went up, and there was Sarah. He gasped, looking at his beautiful daughter, the very picture of her mother. He sighed, and looked over at his wife. She turned to him and grinned. "Christian, it'll be aright. She'll do the part justice."
"She's like her mother." He told her, and smiled back. They turned back to the play and watched the story unfold.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
The kiss ended abruply as Christian pulled away from her lips and backed away.
"Christian - "
"No, Satine, no. You don't understand. When you left, I . . . I wanted to die. But then I moved on, and I grew up and now I'm engaged, and I'm just not the same man- same boy, really- that you knew. I don't love you anymore. I love her. I love Diana, she is my fiancee."
"No. You... you can't." Satine said, crushed. She had been longing for this moment for too long, willing it this way, imagining how it might go and how she would win him over as he had won her over atop the Elephant in the gardens of the Moulin Rouge. This moment had become her obsession, and now he was ruining it.
"But I do, Satine." He said, turning away from her, toward the window that looked out upon the starless London sky.
"I love you, Christian." She turned, and was out the door before he could even reply.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
"That was marvelous, Satine. Very powerful." Satine looked out at the nearly empty theatre, the only seats filled containing crew members and other cast who weren't in the final scene. "After that, it will be curtain call, you all know your places for that, and then we're done." Tom was calling out, but Satine barely heard him. She was looking at the seat that Christian had occupied before their break. It was empty.
"I want everyone here at five tomorrow night for last minute preparations. Goodnight."
She left the theatre, alone again, more alone than ever before. All her life seemed wasted. She had lost the only love she'd ever felt to become an actress, and now she was giving the reputation she had fought so hard to keep for a love that had burnt out two and a half years ago. She was as lost and naive as he had been back then. She walked into a pub on the corner, and sat at the bar. She drank a gin and tonic neat, and remembered him. Just remembered.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
"No, no, no! That's not the line, Satine." Christian had called to her. This had been on the set of Spectacular Spectacular. She'd intentionally flubbed a line in order to create an excuse to meet with Christian.
"Christian, I need to speak with you. The line you have just doesn't make sense to me. Perhaps we could discuss it later? You promised to help me learn my lines anyway."
He had grinned. "Of course, Miss Satine. Anything you ask."
"But darling, we were supposed to attend a dinner this evening, and I just can't-"
"Dear Duke, it simply isn't possible for me to attend a dinner in good conscience while there is work to be done." She'd said, barely able to conceil her grin.
"As you wish, my dear."
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
"Satine, no. It has to work out for them. The courtesan has to choose the penniless sitar player in the end." She had broached the subject once, just once, that perhaps the play - and their love- should end differently.
"But I just think that if the courtesan married the sitar player, she might spend her entire life wondering what she might have been." She's replied, speaking cryptically so that the Duke, sitting, bored, at her left while she argued with Christian, who was seated diagonally to her right.
"Ah, but that's the catch. If she throws away her love for the sitar player, she'll spend her entire life wondering what they might have been." He'd grinned, thinking that he had won.
"But what if she's wrong? What if she leaves the Maharaja behind, marries the sitar player, and then realizes it wasn't really love at all, but some twisted kind of lustfull enfatuation?" She had replied.
"But what if she isn't, and she chooses the Maharaja? She might not become as all-powerful as she thinks."
"And why wouldn't she?" Satine had demanded, taking Christian's comments personally.
"Well, sometimes, things don't go quite the way they're expected too." Christians reply had been quick. "The Mahraja might break his word once he has what he wants from her, for example. Or maybe her talents aren't enough. I mean, she's certainly lovely, and she's obviously good at what she does, but sometimes you just strike out."
"I still think you should consider the concept that she might-"
"She isn't going to choose the D- the Maharaja. She loves the sitar player. That's all that matters." His voice as he said this was calm, deathly quiet, and he grinned.
"Yes, I suppose it is all that matters." She had answered, meeting his grin with one of her own.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
In the bar, Satine sighed. She looked around the room, then looked at the empty glass in her hand, and the three on the bar in front of her. She belched, and nearly fell off her stool. It had been a long time since she'd had four doubles in a single night. She giggled. Then the music came on. The band- a trumpet, a clarinet, and two violinists with a vocalist- had been playing quietly, but she recognised the song even across the loud, smoky room.
"Never knew, I could feel, like this . . ." She sang along quietly, letting the warm tears spill over her cheeks. In her grief, she didn't notice the man who walked into the bar behind her until he spoke.
"Satine?"
The curtain went up, and there was Sarah. He gasped, looking at his beautiful daughter, the very picture of her mother. He sighed, and looked over at his wife. She turned to him and grinned. "Christian, it'll be aright. She'll do the part justice."
"She's like her mother." He told her, and smiled back. They turned back to the play and watched the story unfold.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
The kiss ended abruply as Christian pulled away from her lips and backed away.
"Christian - "
"No, Satine, no. You don't understand. When you left, I . . . I wanted to die. But then I moved on, and I grew up and now I'm engaged, and I'm just not the same man- same boy, really- that you knew. I don't love you anymore. I love her. I love Diana, she is my fiancee."
"No. You... you can't." Satine said, crushed. She had been longing for this moment for too long, willing it this way, imagining how it might go and how she would win him over as he had won her over atop the Elephant in the gardens of the Moulin Rouge. This moment had become her obsession, and now he was ruining it.
"But I do, Satine." He said, turning away from her, toward the window that looked out upon the starless London sky.
"I love you, Christian." She turned, and was out the door before he could even reply.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
"That was marvelous, Satine. Very powerful." Satine looked out at the nearly empty theatre, the only seats filled containing crew members and other cast who weren't in the final scene. "After that, it will be curtain call, you all know your places for that, and then we're done." Tom was calling out, but Satine barely heard him. She was looking at the seat that Christian had occupied before their break. It was empty.
"I want everyone here at five tomorrow night for last minute preparations. Goodnight."
She left the theatre, alone again, more alone than ever before. All her life seemed wasted. She had lost the only love she'd ever felt to become an actress, and now she was giving the reputation she had fought so hard to keep for a love that had burnt out two and a half years ago. She was as lost and naive as he had been back then. She walked into a pub on the corner, and sat at the bar. She drank a gin and tonic neat, and remembered him. Just remembered.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
"No, no, no! That's not the line, Satine." Christian had called to her. This had been on the set of Spectacular Spectacular. She'd intentionally flubbed a line in order to create an excuse to meet with Christian.
"Christian, I need to speak with you. The line you have just doesn't make sense to me. Perhaps we could discuss it later? You promised to help me learn my lines anyway."
He had grinned. "Of course, Miss Satine. Anything you ask."
"But darling, we were supposed to attend a dinner this evening, and I just can't-"
"Dear Duke, it simply isn't possible for me to attend a dinner in good conscience while there is work to be done." She'd said, barely able to conceil her grin.
"As you wish, my dear."
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
"Satine, no. It has to work out for them. The courtesan has to choose the penniless sitar player in the end." She had broached the subject once, just once, that perhaps the play - and their love- should end differently.
"But I just think that if the courtesan married the sitar player, she might spend her entire life wondering what she might have been." She's replied, speaking cryptically so that the Duke, sitting, bored, at her left while she argued with Christian, who was seated diagonally to her right.
"Ah, but that's the catch. If she throws away her love for the sitar player, she'll spend her entire life wondering what they might have been." He'd grinned, thinking that he had won.
"But what if she's wrong? What if she leaves the Maharaja behind, marries the sitar player, and then realizes it wasn't really love at all, but some twisted kind of lustfull enfatuation?" She had replied.
"But what if she isn't, and she chooses the Maharaja? She might not become as all-powerful as she thinks."
"And why wouldn't she?" Satine had demanded, taking Christian's comments personally.
"Well, sometimes, things don't go quite the way they're expected too." Christians reply had been quick. "The Mahraja might break his word once he has what he wants from her, for example. Or maybe her talents aren't enough. I mean, she's certainly lovely, and she's obviously good at what she does, but sometimes you just strike out."
"I still think you should consider the concept that she might-"
"She isn't going to choose the D- the Maharaja. She loves the sitar player. That's all that matters." His voice as he said this was calm, deathly quiet, and he grinned.
"Yes, I suppose it is all that matters." She had answered, meeting his grin with one of her own.
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
In the bar, Satine sighed. She looked around the room, then looked at the empty glass in her hand, and the three on the bar in front of her. She belched, and nearly fell off her stool. It had been a long time since she'd had four doubles in a single night. She giggled. Then the music came on. The band- a trumpet, a clarinet, and two violinists with a vocalist- had been playing quietly, but she recognised the song even across the loud, smoky room.
"Never knew, I could feel, like this . . ." She sang along quietly, letting the warm tears spill over her cheeks. In her grief, she didn't notice the man who walked into the bar behind her until he spoke.
"Satine?"