Months melded into each other, and not before too long, Satine saw another
winter and 1897 retired into the darkness. As 1898 reared it's head, she
looked into it's eyes coldly with an empty heart.
She was given a new act at the Rouge along with a new costume strung fully with diamonds. The first night she appeared with it, out of the high domed ceiling, the men whooped and hollered, but all she remembered was a tear in her eye and a smile painted on her lips, whispering "Diamonds are a girl's best friend."
And she saw men. Lots of men. Harold held her true to her word 'I'll see anyone you want. . . never fall in love.'
She gazed out the heart-shaped window of her room onto the street further down. Venders peddled, painters painted, musicians sang their songs, drunks gulped from large bottles. They looked so. . . peaceful and free. She rubbed at her wrists at her invisible shackles and sighed. Oh, what would it be like to be out there on the streets. . .
She sighed, watching a young painter. He was short, and by the way he walked, was crippled. He hugged an empty canvas that was as long as his body to his chest and a green bottle of some drink, struggling with his items in the door of Hotel Blanche across the street.
She watched him everyday since she saw him with his paintbrush in the Rouge one day. His name was Toulouse Lautrec - a bohemian.
"Truth." She spouted off their ideals frequently. "Beauty. Freedom. . ."
She couldn't bring herself to say the last one - love. For nearly a year it was a curse word, and it was one she promised herself never to even speak of it. She swore to Harold she would stay away from it, but when she was alone, truly alone, she cried upon her hardened heart.
She slept with a different man every night in exchange for money. She was not only selling herself, she was selling her soul.
It was always the same old show, the same customers, the same mission every night. "Nothing changes. nothing ever will," she whispered to herself. She laughed slightly. "What's the use of praying if there's nobody who hears? Nothing changes. . ." She glanced at a diamond necklace from the nightstand - a present from last night. "Nothing ever can."
And yet, when she closed her eyes, a wonderful, beautiful world was before her. A warm, soft place with clouds and feathers. She remembered swirling clouds and seeing a little piece of heaven.
"Heaven. . ." she laughed. "That's a place I'll probably never see."
She looked over her cheek and saw a mirror, broken. She inhaled a breath - she had never noticed it before. Her face was twisted and disfigured and she smiled coldly, but it faded into nothing.
"In my twisted face," she sang softly, "there's not the slightest trace of anything that even hints at kindness. And from my tortured shape, no comfort, no escape. I see, but deep within is utter blindness." She hugged her arms around her. "Hopeless as my dream dies." She gazed out of the window and onto the street. "As the time flies. Love a lost illusion. . . Helpless. Unforgiven. Cold and driven to this sad conclusion."
How she wanted to be where the people were. How she wanted adventure in the great wide somewhere.
"Long ago I should have seen all the things I could have been." She shook her head. It was all too late. "Careless and unthinking, I moved onward."
"No pain could be deeper, no life could be cheaper. No spirit could win me, no hope left within me. If I can't love, let the world be done with me!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.
She was stunned for a moment, then clamped her hands over her mouth. Had she just said. . . love? The forbidden word?
No, it was this world, this street below. All of Paris was full of love. . . everywhere in Paris but at the Moulin Rouge. "And that's where it's going to stay," she said through gritted teeth.
She knew the truth. "A necklace is love. A ring is love. A rock from some obnoxious little king is love. A sapphire with a star is love. An ugly black cigar is love."
She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "Everything you are is love!" She yelled at the city around her. "You would think it would embarrass all the people here in Paris to be thinking every minute of love. I don't understand the Parisians, making love every time they get the chance. I don't understand the Parisians, wasting every lovely night on romance!"
This was the silliest city if she had ever remembered seeing another. "Any time and under every tree in town, they're in session two by two. What a crime with all there is to see in town, they can't find something else to do! I don't understand how Parisians never tire of walking hand in hand. They seem to love it, and speak highly of it. I don't understand the Parisians!"
Marie came into the room. "Hello there," she said cheerfully, bringing her some croissants. "They're right out of the oven. . . I thought you'd like them."
"Marie I don't understand the Parisians."
"What do you mean, love?"
"Love, exactly!" she yelled. "I don't understand them! I mean, when it's warm, they take a carriage ride at night, close their eyes and hug and kiss. And then when it's cold, they simply move inside at night. And they all think love is so miraculous and grand. They rave about it, and won't live without it." She sighed and pouted. "I don't understand the Parisians!"
"I know," she whispered, setting down the tray. "It's hard to at times. You do all you can to find love, and then it gets taken away. And broken hearts are hard to mend. But you'll meet someone new. . . he'll be strong and great and beautiful-"
"Marie," Satine hissed, "what are you saying?"
"You'll find someone new, darling, I know you will."
Satine didn't say anything for a long time, just sat back against the window and watched the people below milling around below. "I don't need love, Marie," she said, so quiet that it was almost inaudible. "I've decided that a long time ago and I'm sticking with it."
"Darling, don't believe all that Harold tells you-"
"No, he's right. He's very right."
"He's very wrong," Marie whispered, touching her shoulder. "He's just a bitter old man with only money on his mind. Everything you've been doing lately. . . seeing all these men every night. . . I never wanted it for you. That life is one for Nini, but not you! You have so much passion inside of you. You should be out there with the Parisians, not looking down at them."
Satine ran her fingers over a spot on the window as Marie sat next to her. "You should be loved by someone who knows you, wants you to blossom, always is true. You should be cherished like the first sign of springtime. You should be loved with constant devotion, heart-pounding passion flooding you through. You should be treasured like a princess, not a plaything."
She waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, Marie continued. "One of these days you will look back in shame after you've learned that this is no life. You will regret how you pushed love aside when you're old and alone. When you're misery's bride you should be loved by someone who wants you, tries to protect you, always comes through."
Satine locked cold, dry eyes with Marie. "Who would love me as I am, a part of this. . . this circus? Who could ever proudly stand beside me and love me as I am?"
Marie's heart wrenched to see her like that. "I believe that love overcomes all obstacles."
"Why?" Satine asked coldly.
"Because above all things, I believe in love."
Satine's face froze. Those words. . . they pinched her brain. Somewhere far, far away. . . she started to remember. She closed her eyes.
Where had she heard that before? A friend? Family? A poem? Yes. . . yes, that was it! A poem! "A young man. . ." she whispered.
Marie smiled broadly. "Are you remembering?"
"He was. . . so beautiful," tears ran down her cheeks as she saw his dark, midnight hair, soft blue-green eyes, and a gentle smile. "What would I give to live where you are?" she san in a whisper. "What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you, smiling at me?"
She opened her eyes and grinned, then saw Marie's happy face in front of her and remembered where she was. She brushed her hair back and murmured, "That's all."
"Well it's a beautiful memory. This young man. . . do you remember who he was? What his name was?"
Satine shook her head roughly and stood from the window and began to sift through her dresses, smell perfume, anything to keep her mind from the small memory she had just remembered.
Marie sensed this and went to the door. "I'll see you tonight on the stage," she said gently. As she was about to go, she paused. "You know, the past is nothing to be ashamed of, whatever it was."
Satine nodded and watched out of the corner of her eye, pretending to be only interested with the plate of croissants. When she left, she slammed it down and harshly ran her fingers through her hair.
The image of the man was burned on to the back of her eyelids, and there was tingles on every part of her body. She smiled suddenly at the warm, fuzzy feeling, but then covered it with her hand. However, she couldn't get it to go away and she was too tired to try.
"Where would we walk?" she sang. "Where would we run if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me and I could be. . . part of your world." She looked up at the heavens and thought, for the first time she could remember in this past year, of being happy.
-----------------------------------------
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: I know. . . I know. . . I'm always so behind with this, and, again, I am very sorry. Hey, I saw Ewan's 'Down With Love' the day it opened and it was GREAT!! Hope the rest of you saw it as well!
Songs used: 'Turning' form Les Miserables, 'If I Can't Love Her' from Beauty and the Beast(the musical), 'The Parisians' from Gigi, 'Part of the World(Reprise)' from the Little Mermaid
She was given a new act at the Rouge along with a new costume strung fully with diamonds. The first night she appeared with it, out of the high domed ceiling, the men whooped and hollered, but all she remembered was a tear in her eye and a smile painted on her lips, whispering "Diamonds are a girl's best friend."
And she saw men. Lots of men. Harold held her true to her word 'I'll see anyone you want. . . never fall in love.'
She gazed out the heart-shaped window of her room onto the street further down. Venders peddled, painters painted, musicians sang their songs, drunks gulped from large bottles. They looked so. . . peaceful and free. She rubbed at her wrists at her invisible shackles and sighed. Oh, what would it be like to be out there on the streets. . .
She sighed, watching a young painter. He was short, and by the way he walked, was crippled. He hugged an empty canvas that was as long as his body to his chest and a green bottle of some drink, struggling with his items in the door of Hotel Blanche across the street.
She watched him everyday since she saw him with his paintbrush in the Rouge one day. His name was Toulouse Lautrec - a bohemian.
"Truth." She spouted off their ideals frequently. "Beauty. Freedom. . ."
She couldn't bring herself to say the last one - love. For nearly a year it was a curse word, and it was one she promised herself never to even speak of it. She swore to Harold she would stay away from it, but when she was alone, truly alone, she cried upon her hardened heart.
She slept with a different man every night in exchange for money. She was not only selling herself, she was selling her soul.
It was always the same old show, the same customers, the same mission every night. "Nothing changes. nothing ever will," she whispered to herself. She laughed slightly. "What's the use of praying if there's nobody who hears? Nothing changes. . ." She glanced at a diamond necklace from the nightstand - a present from last night. "Nothing ever can."
And yet, when she closed her eyes, a wonderful, beautiful world was before her. A warm, soft place with clouds and feathers. She remembered swirling clouds and seeing a little piece of heaven.
"Heaven. . ." she laughed. "That's a place I'll probably never see."
She looked over her cheek and saw a mirror, broken. She inhaled a breath - she had never noticed it before. Her face was twisted and disfigured and she smiled coldly, but it faded into nothing.
"In my twisted face," she sang softly, "there's not the slightest trace of anything that even hints at kindness. And from my tortured shape, no comfort, no escape. I see, but deep within is utter blindness." She hugged her arms around her. "Hopeless as my dream dies." She gazed out of the window and onto the street. "As the time flies. Love a lost illusion. . . Helpless. Unforgiven. Cold and driven to this sad conclusion."
How she wanted to be where the people were. How she wanted adventure in the great wide somewhere.
"Long ago I should have seen all the things I could have been." She shook her head. It was all too late. "Careless and unthinking, I moved onward."
"No pain could be deeper, no life could be cheaper. No spirit could win me, no hope left within me. If I can't love, let the world be done with me!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.
She was stunned for a moment, then clamped her hands over her mouth. Had she just said. . . love? The forbidden word?
No, it was this world, this street below. All of Paris was full of love. . . everywhere in Paris but at the Moulin Rouge. "And that's where it's going to stay," she said through gritted teeth.
She knew the truth. "A necklace is love. A ring is love. A rock from some obnoxious little king is love. A sapphire with a star is love. An ugly black cigar is love."
She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "Everything you are is love!" She yelled at the city around her. "You would think it would embarrass all the people here in Paris to be thinking every minute of love. I don't understand the Parisians, making love every time they get the chance. I don't understand the Parisians, wasting every lovely night on romance!"
This was the silliest city if she had ever remembered seeing another. "Any time and under every tree in town, they're in session two by two. What a crime with all there is to see in town, they can't find something else to do! I don't understand how Parisians never tire of walking hand in hand. They seem to love it, and speak highly of it. I don't understand the Parisians!"
Marie came into the room. "Hello there," she said cheerfully, bringing her some croissants. "They're right out of the oven. . . I thought you'd like them."
"Marie I don't understand the Parisians."
"What do you mean, love?"
"Love, exactly!" she yelled. "I don't understand them! I mean, when it's warm, they take a carriage ride at night, close their eyes and hug and kiss. And then when it's cold, they simply move inside at night. And they all think love is so miraculous and grand. They rave about it, and won't live without it." She sighed and pouted. "I don't understand the Parisians!"
"I know," she whispered, setting down the tray. "It's hard to at times. You do all you can to find love, and then it gets taken away. And broken hearts are hard to mend. But you'll meet someone new. . . he'll be strong and great and beautiful-"
"Marie," Satine hissed, "what are you saying?"
"You'll find someone new, darling, I know you will."
Satine didn't say anything for a long time, just sat back against the window and watched the people below milling around below. "I don't need love, Marie," she said, so quiet that it was almost inaudible. "I've decided that a long time ago and I'm sticking with it."
"Darling, don't believe all that Harold tells you-"
"No, he's right. He's very right."
"He's very wrong," Marie whispered, touching her shoulder. "He's just a bitter old man with only money on his mind. Everything you've been doing lately. . . seeing all these men every night. . . I never wanted it for you. That life is one for Nini, but not you! You have so much passion inside of you. You should be out there with the Parisians, not looking down at them."
Satine ran her fingers over a spot on the window as Marie sat next to her. "You should be loved by someone who knows you, wants you to blossom, always is true. You should be cherished like the first sign of springtime. You should be loved with constant devotion, heart-pounding passion flooding you through. You should be treasured like a princess, not a plaything."
She waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, Marie continued. "One of these days you will look back in shame after you've learned that this is no life. You will regret how you pushed love aside when you're old and alone. When you're misery's bride you should be loved by someone who wants you, tries to protect you, always comes through."
Satine locked cold, dry eyes with Marie. "Who would love me as I am, a part of this. . . this circus? Who could ever proudly stand beside me and love me as I am?"
Marie's heart wrenched to see her like that. "I believe that love overcomes all obstacles."
"Why?" Satine asked coldly.
"Because above all things, I believe in love."
Satine's face froze. Those words. . . they pinched her brain. Somewhere far, far away. . . she started to remember. She closed her eyes.
Where had she heard that before? A friend? Family? A poem? Yes. . . yes, that was it! A poem! "A young man. . ." she whispered.
Marie smiled broadly. "Are you remembering?"
"He was. . . so beautiful," tears ran down her cheeks as she saw his dark, midnight hair, soft blue-green eyes, and a gentle smile. "What would I give to live where you are?" she san in a whisper. "What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you, smiling at me?"
She opened her eyes and grinned, then saw Marie's happy face in front of her and remembered where she was. She brushed her hair back and murmured, "That's all."
"Well it's a beautiful memory. This young man. . . do you remember who he was? What his name was?"
Satine shook her head roughly and stood from the window and began to sift through her dresses, smell perfume, anything to keep her mind from the small memory she had just remembered.
Marie sensed this and went to the door. "I'll see you tonight on the stage," she said gently. As she was about to go, she paused. "You know, the past is nothing to be ashamed of, whatever it was."
Satine nodded and watched out of the corner of her eye, pretending to be only interested with the plate of croissants. When she left, she slammed it down and harshly ran her fingers through her hair.
The image of the man was burned on to the back of her eyelids, and there was tingles on every part of her body. She smiled suddenly at the warm, fuzzy feeling, but then covered it with her hand. However, she couldn't get it to go away and she was too tired to try.
"Where would we walk?" she sang. "Where would we run if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me and I could be. . . part of your world." She looked up at the heavens and thought, for the first time she could remember in this past year, of being happy.
-----------------------------------------
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: I know. . . I know. . . I'm always so behind with this, and, again, I am very sorry. Hey, I saw Ewan's 'Down With Love' the day it opened and it was GREAT!! Hope the rest of you saw it as well!
Songs used: 'Turning' form Les Miserables, 'If I Can't Love Her' from Beauty and the Beast(the musical), 'The Parisians' from Gigi, 'Part of the World(Reprise)' from the Little Mermaid