Marie was put in quite the awkward position, to say the least. An attempt at interpreting the expressions on Satine and Christian's faces wouldn't have done justice to the mixed emotions each of them portrayed as they blinked at her, frozen like deer in headlights.
Finally, Satine turned her head slowly back to Christian, and said softly, "Give us a moment, Marie."
Sensing the intensity in Satine's voice, and with no particular desire to do otherwise, Marie consented and left the room. But she had to stay nearby—the Duke was waiting, and nowhere near as patiently as she herself now was. Marie shifted uncomfortably at what she overheard through the inconveniently thin walls.
At first, all was silent for a moment. "…Christian…sweetheart, you know I can't."
"I also know that you want to."
"I do. Oh, I do…but Christian, I can't…."
"Why not, Satine? What's holding you here? Fly away with me…we'll make it through! 'From he who is penniless can come great things,' remember?"
"This isn't a play," she said after a moment, slowly and tearfully, "There isn't always a happy ending."
"We can make it a happy ending! Our play isn't finished yet!"
"Christian…this one isn't for you to write."
Finally growing impatient, Marie knocked stiffly on the door.
"I'd…I'd better go, Christian. … I'm sorry…. …Listen, I'll think about it, I'll…" Satine opened the door partially, then went back to Christian, obviously torn. She pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss, then left the room wordlessly, closing the door behind her.
"Oh, Marie…." Satine burst into sobs as soon as they were out of sight from the window of Christian's garret, and leaned heavily on the older woman. "I…he…."
Marie patted her shoulder gently. "It's all right, dearie, I know."
Satine didn't question this, only assumed the woman knew all that had happened. "W-what should I do?"
Marie was silent until they arrived at Satine's dressing room, after some careful consideration on Marie's part, as to their destination. A very anxious Toulouse was waiting at the door.
His face lit up the moment he laid eyes on Satine. "Ah, you found hew! Satine, evwyone's been wooking fow you! Whewe did you—"
"Shush, Toulouse, I didn't find her." Marie gave Toulouse a meaningful look.
But Toulouse was too busy blinking and staring at an apparently living, breathing Satine to notice. "Didn't find hew? But she's wight—"
Marie shut and locked the dressing room door. Just then, the two heard a slight gasp and a drawn out "Ohhh…" of realization from the other side.
Noting her cautious actions, Satine asked, "Why am I 'not' here, Marie? What's all the secrecy about?"
"You're supposed to be seeing that Duke right now," Marie explained, as she began digging through the room's wardrobes and tossing several of the less grandly embellished garments on a nearby chair.
"I got that impression," said Satine softly, frowning slightly, "…but Marie, w-…what am I doing?"
The woman stopped her hunt and emerged to speak squarely to Satine. "I think you should go with Christian."
"Do you?" Satine asked incredulously. As long as she'd been employed at the night club, Marie had been the one she'd looked to for sound, honest advice. Such a suggestion from the mouth of her friend was enough to enlarge her eyes a good size or two.
Marie gave a sincere nod, then proceeded with her activity. "As soon as the show is over. And from what I hear, that could be soon, indeed."
"What do you mean?"
There was a knock at the door.
"Into the closet—that's a good girl." Marie saw first that Satine was hidden, then answered the door. "Yes?" Seeing no one at her eye level, she made to shut it again, before feeling a tug on her skirt.
"Mawie—I thought you might want to know—the Duke just sent Wawnew hewe fow Satine."
Relieved to see only Toulouse, but anxious over the reliability of his tongue, Marie asked sharply, "What did you tell him?"
Toulouse beamed with self-satisfaction. "I said that you wewe hewping Baby Doll get weady for an especiawwy big night tonight."
Satine had timidly emerged from the wardrobe, and now looked over Marie's shoulder at the little man. "Did he say anything?"
Toulouse shook his head. "No. As usuaw."
"Now pray they don't see Baby Doll out and about," Marie murmered.
"Ohh, Diamond," Nini snickered to herself as she slowly made her way in the general direction of the sick room, "you've outdone yourself." She would get to the room eventually; there wasn't any hurry. After all, she had waited six years for this. For six years now, Satine had stolen everything from her and the other girls. Who could resist but help this unfortunate predicament the sparkling star had gotten herself into? "'Did he say anything?' Seems to me everyone's favorite courtesan will have a little explaining to do when the Maharaja finds out…."
"What did you mean, the show won't run long?" Satine followed the older woman in circles around the room, as items were being tossed about.
"I mean that writer boy hasn't been sitting on his rear end all this time. I mean he's sold his play to a big theatre in Paris—one that can top our Duke's finances before you can say 'Spectacular.'"
Satine gasped. "You're saying…that we've lost our audience?"
Marie glanced at the girl sympathetically. All her hopes were tied up in this show. And for a soul with such little hope left, the last thing she needed was for someone to cut that string. "'Fraid so, dearie. Christian only agreed to sign once they promised to run their show only after ours, but it wasn't any use. We've sold a third of our seats. That poor Duke's going to go bankrupt by the time it's through…."
Satine nodded slowly in understanding. "Ah, so this explains why I should accept Christian's offer, rather than the Duke's."
"Exactly," affirmed Marie. "The tables are turning, girl, and we'll soon enough have a penniless Duke and a Maharaja of a writer."
Satine shivered at the thought. Naive, innocent Christian becoming….
Christian sat, slumped in his chair at the desk, staring outside. A slight breeze breathed through the nearby window, sending typewritten pages fluttering to the floor.
He sighed and knelt to reorder them. Spectacular Spectacular had been written and printed for weeks now—he'd had altogether too much time on his hands lately. He supposed they would find out sooner or later that his work had been published—he'd already received his advance, and the royalties would begin coming in soon enough. But it shouldn't interfere—with Satine as the star, how could their theatre not sell out entirely?
…Satine. His heart couldn't stand to think about her, but his mind absolutely refused to do otherwise. And as for her parting gesture…Christian was utterly confused.
Gently replacing a now tidy play script on the desk and setting a weight on top of them, he fed a clean sheet of paper into his typewriter. As Satine herself had said that very first night—so long ago, now, it seemed—something about Satine had always struck Christian as poetic.
With yet another despondent sigh, he softly began to sing.
"She says she'll think
How can't she know?
My pain, my hurt
Has got to show.
I can't go on
No use turning back
Without her, my life
Feels so off track."
From outside his window, even the birds silenced to cock their heads and admire the song that drifted out, smooth and faultless over the clatter of his typewriter.
"But there's nothing I can do
About it now
And there's nowhere I can turn
Without her now.
Either take my hand
And lead the way
Make darkest night
To brightest day...
Or leave me here,
Alone to die
Else, never 'll I
Be satisfied."
"Oh no, girl, not now!"
Satine's entire frame shook as her breathing suddenly shortened, and she stumbled to the couch, falling upon piles of selected cloth and glamorous costumes, strewn about in haste with their abandonment.
She wasn't sure how long she was out of consciousness—it felt like hours, but was probably only minutes—but she could only sit herself up for long enough to determine that she was alone before dizziness overtook her and she laid back down again.
Satine sighed, gently fingering the sequined gown next to her head. Marie—wherever she had gone—had filled her mind with questions in their brief discussion. Oh, why was her life so complicated? Clearing the blood from her throat, she opened her mouth and sang in a strained voice, just above a whisper.
"Which voice to hear,
Which call to take?
Which soul to hold,
Which heart to break?
Oh, if I knew
If I could see…
The choice that's mine
Is breaking me."
She swallowed heard. These events—her sudden spells—had become so commonplace over the past few weeks that they were now a mere annoyance. Satine's mind was elsewhere. She knew perfectly well that it wasn't helping her to be singing, but sometimes she felt that was all she had left.
"And everything's
Upon me now
Nowhere I turn
Will help me now.
Someone take my hand
And lead the way
I need the night
Can't stand the day...
Just leave me here,
Alone to die
Else, never 'll I
Be satisfied."
Christian stopped short, his fingers frozen. For a split second, he though his ears had caught another melody—one eerily similar to his own. Then he shook his head, disdainful of his own silly fancies.
"If her goal is for
My heart to break
If she wants to leave,
My love forsake...
She's on that road
Just journey on
My shattered hope
My hope that's gone."
Moments later, his fingers caught up, and he yanked the page from his typewriter, reading it over with a cynical air. Oh, how pathetic he sounded. He could see his father's sneer now—the man's eyes would shine as he threw back his head and laughed—absolutely roared…. It was just as his father had said; Christian was defeated by his own very theory.
"But there's nothing I can do
About it now
And there's nowhere I can turn
Without her now.
Either take my hand
And lead the way
Make darkest night
To brightest day...
Or leave me here,
Alone to die
Else, never 'll I
Be satisfied."
Marie strode purposefully towards the sick room, her brow knit with concern. It worried her immensely that something—anything—would interfere now, while she was trying to keep the girl from the Duke, and, looking ahead, with tomorrow being opening night….
She quickly stepped behind a curtain. Crossing her path was Nini, chortling with pleasure and singing to herself.
The Duke sat up in his bed, feeling considerably healthier for his short rest. However, his lack of success in summoning Satine caused him to express a look of profound distaste. He was boiling inside, and nearly ready to leap out of the bed and find Zidler—or Satine—himself.
Irked beyond other means of expression, he released his pinched lips and began to sing, his voice low and his tone quivering.
"This oughtn't take
Too much regret
Her love is mine
I paid her debt.
It's obvious—
Why can't she see?
Her only way out is
With me."
"And there's nothing she can do
Without me now.
And there's nowhere she can turn
Besides me now.
I will take her heart
I'll lead the way
Take her from the dark
Show her the day...
Or she'd be here
Alone to die
Else, never 'll I
Be satisfied."
It was all Nini could do to keep from dancing as she neared the sick room. Ah, how sweet was this revenge! Ho, she knew her day would come eventually. And this—this was the best entertainment she'd had in years.
"She took my light
She stole my fame
For any wrong
I've her to blame.
It's finally time
To show to all
This sparkling star
Is gonna fall."
"Duke," she stated the minute she turned into the room, "I've been hearing some pretty interesting things 'round here."
"Interesting things?"
Marie briskly stepped behind Nini's back, retrieved the small bottle of medicine, and left again, mad inconspicuous by her casual air. The two continued their talk in low voices as Marie headed back towards the dressing room. While in their presence, Marie had attempted to catch what they were speaking of—the information would have undoubtedly been valuable—but the risk was too great. After all, Baby Doll was supposed to have a big night.
Meanwhile, back in her dressing room, Satine was entirely unaware that her voice was concurring with several others' at the moment.
"If I was torn
How would they know?
It's all inside
Never to show.
My heart could break
He'd turn his head
For all he cares
I could be dead.
The other comes
Too good for true
And yet my heart
Knows naught to do."
The doorknob turned, and Satine froze. Then it opened quickly. "Oh, Marie…" Satine sighed.
"You shouldn't be singing, you know that. Now here, take this." Marie helped pour the liquid down Satine's burning throat.
Satine winced only slightly at the familiar sensation, but wasn't daunted by Marie's words. As soon as the initial tingle was over, she continued.
"And everything's
Upon me now
Nowhere I turn
Will help me now.
Someone take my hand
And lead the way
I need the night
Can't stand the day...
Just leave me here,
Alone to die
Else, never 'll I
Be satisfied."
Marie shook her head sadly. "You've really got some talent in you, honey. You deserve better than this."
Satine chewed her lip. She'd wanted better her whole life. Now she wasn't sure she wanted anything at all. Now she wasn't sure anything was possible. Too much was changing; she wasn't sure who to believe.
"Here you go." Marie hefted over a large trunk, now packed by her own expert hand. "As soon as this show is over, you and your writer need to fly away from here, just as fast as you can."
"Thank you, Marie." Satine stepped towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
Satine shrugged. "Back to my Red Room, I suppose." Then she smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."
But before Marie could object, Satine had all but tripped over the Duke, who was waiting just outside the door.
"Why Satine, what a surprise," he said through his teeth, and with a false smile.
Satine yelped. The trunk dropped to the floor with a thud, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh! Dear Duke, I was just…coming to see you!"
The Duke was obviously not convinced. "Is that so?" He indicated her trunk with his foot, "And what, may I ask, is this for?"
Satine's mind raced, her mouth open and ready to improvise an excuse, but Marie cut in for her. "I was helping Satine prepare for her big evening with you tonight. It took a bit longer than expected, as she fell i-…she soiled her stockings and skirt in the road on the way over. We wished for her to be suited appropriately for dinner."
It was at this mention of clothing that Satine noticed for the first time the Duke's loose-fitting robe (he had, after all, come from the sick room), but wisely chose not to mention it.
The Duke was fuming. "How dense do you think I am?" he burst, eyes darting, hair flipping wildly as he cried hysterically, "I've been seeing this woman for three months, and you expect me to believe she's taken this long primping in front of a mirror?"
Satine swallowed hard, eyes cast downward. After a moment of silence, she said softly, "Actually, dear Duke, Marie was…advising me, in regards to my future."
"What?" the Duke asked suspiciously.
"She…she suggested that I accept your proposal."
Disclaimer: The names of the characters, the setting, the entire Moulin Rouge story belongs to a brilliant genius named Baz Luhrmann, (and a bunch of other people, companies, etc. I'm sure…).
My song again. This one isn't going on FictionPress, as it's too connected with the characters…just…nobody steal it, and we'll all be happy. ;o) Ever noticed how much easier it is to write songs for a character? Fun, fun. Anyway.
Author's note: I know what I'm talking about. Through the entire story. Really. ::Coughs.:: Ah, well.
Hmm, on a side note…I think I need a beta reader. As I have mentioned to some people, I discovered recently that my computer had changed "Montmartre" to "Mutant" without my consent, and I had it posted that way for a while. Grr….
I looove all you wonderful people who are kind enough to review and make my day. :o)