Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge or any of the characters in this chapter.

A/N: There is one more chapter after this and then I go on vacation. Just thought I'd inform anyone who cares. I have corrected myself and realized that the song in my last chapter is Creed 'One Last Breath'. Thanks sooo much to my reviewers, you guys keep this story going. Enjoy!



The only recognizable emotion in Toulouse as he wandered around backstage was confusion. He was confused. Confused why Satine had done what she had done, why Christian had so easily accepted her deceit, why the hell the Duke had to be involved in their lives and the most mind-boggling one of all; why hadn't love prevailed.

He believed that the only thing that could keep you breathing was love. Love for anything, it didn't really matter what. Just love. And Christian and Satine had had love, real true love. The show being only an hour away, Toulouse was in costume and relatively ready to perform. He just had to remember his one line, but when the green fairy was your most loyal houseguest, that could be a very difficult task.

Even through that thick green fog, however, was the confusion. And with that confusion he set to wandering, which put him in his current state of motion. As he was wandering the halls behind the now-theatre dancers scurried searching for lost costume pieces, crew prepared for the worst that could happen, and it was generally alive and buzzing with activity backstage. Except for one person: Satine. Toulouse knew that she must feel guilty for what she had done, anyone would be! He just hoped she wouldn't do anything drastic; the same he hoped for Christian. The bottom line was, he was worried about her.

Toulouse walked up to Satine's dressing room door and after pausing for a moment knocked on the heavy wood.

"Satine?" he asked and knocked again, "Satine, its Toulouse, are you all right?" He didn't have much of an idea of what possessed him to speak those words to her, after all, before Christian they barely had had any contact. He stood there thinking, and realized that she hadn't responded. He had a feeling that something wrong, and he jumped on it.

Toulouse opened the door, where the grief-stricken Satine was sitting on her floor in deep thought. Hearing the door open, she jumped up and ran out of the door, knocking over a glass of water in the process, and running past Toulouse. He stared after her startled and tried to slow her down by yelling her name, but to no avail. Toulouse peered into her dressing room and saw the spilled water, and overturned glass among many other scattered objects. His heart told him to go in, so he did. That was all the explanation needed.

He closed the door softly behind him, and felt the darkness in the room. Albeit, it was night, but the room held a grimness of it's own. A grimness which made his skin crawl. He saw an extremely melted down candle, which shown pale light on the objects of the room. He saw a worn velvet chair, make-up, jewelry, scarves, the overturned water glass and an object which shouldn't fit in the room.......a bottle of pills. Taking a second look he noticed another detail. It was an empty bottle of pills. Toulouse picked up the bottle and read what he could of the label. Regardless of the rest of the words that were printed on the label several stood out to him. CYANIDE. EXTREMELY POISONOUS. He frantically glanced around the dressing room, looking for an explanation. He gasped when his mind found a connection. The glass. The glass had been sitting on the desk next to the pills when he had startled Satine. "No, no, it can't be...she can't..." he mumbled frantically. His mind was filled with many thoughts, the fog of Absinthe lifted. Again, his heart led him somewhere. He wasn't sure why, but he looked to the corner of the dark wooden desk, where a small envelope laid. He picked it up and ran his hands over the front and the still damp ink. Written on it was the word 'Christian'. There was no doubt in his mind that this had been her suicide note, he had written several in his time. Absinthe may cause you great joy and happiness, but it brings you down hard. One solitary thought remained in his head as he heard, "Ten minutes till curtain!" Toulouse fell to his knees, and whispered weakly "She couldn't have..."