"You have any family in Paris?" the man with three shades of red hair asked.

She put her hand to her head. Whenever she tried to think about the questions they asked her, her head started to throb. "I don't know."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

She winced with pain as she thought and whispered, "I don't know."

"Well, do you have a name, duckling?"

The girl scratched at the edge of the thin blanket wrapped around her slender body. She opened her mouth, and without thinking, said, "Satine."

The man's eyes twinkled like Santa Clause. "Beautiful name. . . a great stage name. The men would love it."

A woman with heavy makeup and wavy, pulled back blonde hair poked her elbow into his side. "Harold, don't do this to her now."

"I was just saying-"

"Enough." She turned to Satine and held out her arm, smiling. "I'm Marie, sweetie. Come on, deary, lets find you some clothes to wear. That dress of yours is so thin for winter."

Satine nodded, slowly following her.

Marie led her out of Harold's office and took her backstage. Women with heavy makeup peaked at her from their bunk beds as they walked past, whispering 'Who's she?'

They finally reached a small oak door and Marie led her inside and sat her down on a small stool. Satine held her breath as she scanned the room, where every inch of the walls was covered with racks holding dozens and dozens of clothes.

"What is this place?" she whispered to herself.

"It's the costume room," Marie said, picking out an emerald dress. She held it up to Satine, then shook her head and disappeared behind a ruffly rack.

Satine gripped her hands in her lap. She felt if she looked up into the many colors and fabric dresses, she would lose herself. There was a silent voice calling to her to them, to the stage. . .

Marie took her arm and Satine stood, Marie holding up a long sleeved violet dress up to her. "That's the one," she whispered, handing it to her. "You must be exhausted. . . you can sleep in my room tonight. I need to check on something right now. . . I'll be right back."

She smiled slightly and left out the door.

Satine held the dress up and examined it. It was made out of a thin cotton- like material and there was black-mesh around the neck. She pressed it to her nose and smelled of talcum powder and stage makeup.

She scanned the racks, running her fingers feeling a history in each of them, and ventured over to the back corner. She was startled by something moving, and laughed when she realized the small mirror.

"It's just. . . you, who ever you are," she whispered. She touched her face, her pale ivory face and her flushed cheeks. She ran her fingers through her wavy red hair and down her thin figure. "Who are you? Who is Satine? Where is this place you left me?"

She laughed, she actually hoped she would receive an answer out of her reflection, and touched her dress. It wasn't much - a plain sleeveless gown of white silk. As she looked in the mirror, she felt alone. Wherever this place was. . . it was so foreign to her, or at least it felt that way.

She felt cold. Her legs were week. . . all she wanted to do was sleep. With the violet dress in her hand, she went out to meet Marie, only to see she wasn't there.

Satine bit her lip, not knowing what to do.

"So look who the cat dragged in," said a cold voice with a dulled accent. Satine turned her head and met an icy stare.

"E. . . excuse me?"

The woman had raven-dyed hair, pulled back so tightly that her face looked stretched. She wore only a corset, fishnets, and a small skirt. "Everyone wants to know, princess. . . who are you?"

"I. . . I. . ."

"I-I? That's your name?" A few girls had joined behind her and started laughing.

"Satine," she whispered, straightening up.

"Satine, huh?" she said to herself. "Why are you in here?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You a prostitute? You a runaway? What's you're story?" She placed her hand on the wall next to Satine, preventing her from running away if she wanted.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I MEAN, what's your story? Everyone has one. Harold never lets just. . . anyone come here."

"What's. . . your's?" Satine asked, sinking backward, away from the woman's leering face.

"Everything," she whispered, beaming. She reached down and flicked the small straps on Satine's dress. "This is my place. . . my home. I run the show here. . . stay out of my way."

"Nini," someone growled behind her. "Stay away from her."

The woman with the tight face flashed her eyes as she sank away.

Marie glared at Nini until she disappeared completely. "I swear, that girl. . ."

"Who was she?" Satine asked.

"No one. Just stay away from her. . . she's trouble."

"M. . . marie?"

"Yes?" the older woman asked.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I don't know. Maybe you'll be a lucky one. . . fly away from here."

"Fly?" she whispered to herself. The idea of soaring through the blue sky sent a smile to her lips. "What is this place? What's. . . the Moulin Rouge?"

Marie smiled for a moment. "A Dance hall. But that's not important. You must be exhausted. . . lets get you to bed. You can sleep in my room tonight."

She extended her arm again and led Satine past more bunk beds and whispers until arriving to another small room.

"It's not much. . ." The single bed filled up half of the room. "But it's home." She smiled sadly. "Do you need anything else? I need to get going. . . the show is starting soon."

"What year is it?"

"1897. November. We had an early snow. . ."

"1897. . ." she whispered.

Marie patted her cheek. "I have to get going. Good night." She kissed her on the cheek and hurried out of the room.

Satine shut the door slowly and looked around the small cramped room.

"Is this home?" she whispered. "Never dreamed that a home could be so. . . dark and cold. Is this what I must learn to believe in? Try to find something good in this tragic place, just in case I should stay here forever, held in this empty place? Am I here for a day or forever?"

She heaved a sigh as she sat down on the bed. For the first time that day, she felt tears starting to come out. Her mind was an empty box, with only the small memory of her name to fill it.

"The past is now another land," she sang, the words suddenly landing on her tongue, "far beyond my reach. Invaded by insidious foreign bodies, foreign speech. Where timeless joys of childhood lie broken on the beach."

She looking at her somber face in a small painted hand mirror. What was to happen to her? No recollection of family, friends. . . anything. Where was she to live? Would Mr. Zidler let her live here? Would she want to? "The present is an empty space between the good and bad. A moment leading nowhere, too pointless to be sad. But time enough to lay to waste every certainty I had."

Her chin quivered as tears started to roll down her cheek. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. "The future is a barren world, from which I can't return. Both heartless and material, its wretched spoils not my concern. Shining like an evil sun as my childhood treasures burn."

She jumped at a knock at the door, and without saying a word Harold opened the door. He clasped his hands, his eyes becoming wide.

"Oh my goodness. . ." His smile was growing into his shadowy eyes. "I was looking for Marie. . . was that you singing?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, putting down the mirror and climbing to the front of the bed. "I was just going to bed. . ."

"What, at this hour? It's just 11:30! The show is about to start!" He reached out his cold hand and clawed it to her arm, pulling her with him out into the hall.

"But sir-"

"Now, nothing. I see talent when I see it. You do want to be an actress, don't you?" He stopped suddenly and pushed his face closely to hers. "Travel around the world. . . meet new people. . . make thousands of dollars." He flashed his smile again. "Who wouldn't want to be involved? Showbiz. . . that's the only life for me. And you, too, it seems."

He dragged her along further. People in corsets and big flashy petticoats rushed along backstage.

"Yes, there is nothing better in the world then show business."

"Even better than love?"

He stopped suddenly and his grip on her loosened. His hand fell at his side and he breathed slowly. "No laws, no limits, only one rule: never fall in love." He turned to her, the smile gone from his face and only a cold stare as he pointed his finger at her. "You want to live. . . you go by that. You step out of it, and you'll be on the streets with nothing, living a useless dream. You hear?"

Satine gulped as she slowly nodded. The question was on the back of her mind. . . she had no clue what love was. But somehow, she knew it was important, the most important thing in this world-

She shook her head. 'Remember what Monsieur. Zidler said. . . a useless dream. You need to find out who you are, Satine, not destroy it.'

"So. . . you ready to go on stage?" he asked her, interrupting her thoughts.

"S-stage?" she gasped, ripping her hand out of his. "What?"

"You do want to be on there, don't you?"

Satine balled her hand into a fist and pressed it to her heart. It was beating so fast. . . is this what it feels when you know you want something? "But I don't know what to do."

"Just. . . sing something. The men'll love you!" He turned her around to face the stage and hugged her shoulders. "You'll do great!"

Their voices of the performers on stage seeped through the red velvet curtain. "Lovely ladies, waiting for a bite. Waiting for the customers who only comes at night. Lovely ladies, waiting for the call. Standing up or lying down or any way at all. Bargain prices up against the wall."

Zidler leaned over and yelled about the noise, "I'll tell the orchestra to wrap it up. . . give you an entrance that you deserve."

Satine opened her mouth, but he was already gone. She smoothed her silk dress - practically a night gown, and frowned. This place was classy. . . how she go on in a nightgown and no clue of what to sing? Biting her lower lip, she inched closer to the curtain and peaked through and was surprised at what she saw.

There were women in flashy costumes and bright, heavy makeup. They kicked their legs up high in the air, showing off multi-colored petticoats. They touching men, fell on them, pushing their head in their dresses. . . She suddenly felt very OVERdressed

"Lovely ladies, waiting in the dark," they sang. "Ready for a thick one or a quick one in the park."

Long time, short time, any time my dear," an Aisan-looking girl with dark hair sang, flashing up her skirt. "Cost a little extra if you want to take all year!"

"Quick and cheap is underneath the pier!" they sang together as they moved through out the crowd, flipping up their skirts more as men in tailcoats and top hats cheered.

Satine turned away from the curtain. "I can't do this. . ." she whispered.

"Old men, young men, take 'em as they come," they sang. "Harbor rats and alley cats and every type of scum. Poor men, rich men, leaders of the land. See them with their trousers off they're never quite as grand. All it takes is money in your hand! Lovely ladies, going for a song. Got a lot of callers but they never stay for. . . long. . ."

The band stopped playing and the lights suddenly dimmed, except for one white spotlight on the center of the stage.

"That's you!" Harold hissed in her ear, making her jump. "Go!" He pushed her out toward the spotlight.

Satine stumbled out from behind the curtain, staring at the wooden floor of the stage. Everything was so quiet. . . for a moment she thought everyone was gone and she took her chances to glance up through her lashes at the crowd. Around the glare of the light she caught a glimpse of white shirt collars facing the stage, unmoving. The dancers that they were once so captivated by shrank away into the darkness.

"Spend all your time waiting," she said softly, looking back down at the floor, "for that second chance. For a break that would make it okay. There's always some reason to feel not good enough. . . and it's hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction. Oh, beautiful release. Memories seep from my veins." She glanced up at the crowd, and was amazed that these were the same ones who were chasing after the scantly-clad dancers. "Let me be empty and weightless, then maybe I'll find some peace tonight."

She wrapped her arms around her body as she moved across the stage, her bare feet and wispy breaths the only sound. "The only in the arms of the angel, far away from here from this dark, cold hotel room and the endlessness that you feel. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie." She reached her hand up to the heavens, where a warm light was drawing her in. "You're in the arms of the angel. . . may you find some comfort here."

She pulled her hand in to her chest as the words continued to flow off her tongue. "So tired of the straight line and everywhere you turn there's vultures and thieves at your back. The storm keeps on twisting. . . you keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack." The orchestra played a few low, slow notes and she cocked her head toward them and smiled. "It don't make no difference, escaping one last time. It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees."

She closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth of the spotlight. She felt complete, felt that this was who she was. "In the arms of the angel, far away from here from this dark, cold hotel room and the endlessness that you feel. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. You're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here." She looked to the side, to no where in particular, and smiled. "You're in the arms of the angel's. . . may you find some comfort here."

It was so quiet. . . the only sound she heard was the sound of her breath and she slowly turned. She froze in her tracks when someone in the crowd clapped once, slowly. Then again, then again, and again, picking up speed.

Others joined in, and before she knew it, the whole house was applauding and cheering.

Harold joined her at her side. "Not too shabby for you're first time. . . we'll work on another song for next time."

Satine, with a tear in her eye, looked at Zidler.

"You do what to sing with me, don't you?"

She could do nothing but nod.

Zidler smiled and hugged her shoulders, turning her around. "Satine! Satine!" he chorused, the only men joining in.

Satine smiled widely, as behind the stage Marie broke down into sobs. . . another star was born, another dreamer's wings were clipped.

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Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.

A/N: Wow. this took me SUCH a long time. I don't know if it was writers block or I was just so busy. . . I think it was all. Thanks for being patient, everyone. I hope you enjoyed this!

Songs used: 'Home' from the Beauty and the Beast musical, 'The Past Is Another Land' from Aida, 'Lovely Ladies' from Les Miserables, 'Angel' by Sarah McLachlan