Mountains of Things

Val Morgan

Disclaimer- Yes, I know songfic is done but I couldn't resist.

Rated PG-13 for sexual innuendo.

The dressing room was nearly silent.

The main dressing room of backstage Moulin Rouge was usually a hot, crowded bedlam, teeming with gossip whispered from girl to girl and so loud one could hardly hear herself think.

 Now it was nearly empty, and surprisingly cool. Few had begun to prepare for the night ahead yet, and somebody had opened a window to let the breeze in.

A few dancers were awake already, milling about, applying makeup or still trying to shake off hangovers from the night before.

Satine had been awake since mid-afternoon. The routine was her normalcy now. Bed around sunrise, sleep through the morning and breakfast with Harold around noon. Or was it lunch?

Today she had slept in, after spending most of the morning unable to sleep, feverish and coughing, struggling to fight off a cold that had moved from her head to her throat, down to her chest, where it seemed to have taken up lodging. What she really wanted was to crawl back into her bed, under her soft silk sheets and down comforter, and sleep until the stars fell from the sky.

"Bloody cold." She murmured, as a familiar tickle began in the back of her throat. She had to cough again, the last thing she wanted to do. Her ribs already hurt from the coughing fit that morning. It had lasted what seemed like an hour, but was more like five minutes, and it had left her nearly unable to crawl out of bed.

Satine reached blindly into her drawer, burying her face in her sleeve as the coughing began again. 

"Where's my…hand…handkerchief?" She managed. The giggles of the dancers behind her gave Satine her answer.

"Nini, that's…not funny!" She turned to face the petite girl standing behind her, hands on her hips, her head cocked to one side and a wicked grin on her face. The crumpled handkerchief was tucked into the waistband on her skirt.

"You want it, here it is." Nini held it out, chuckling as Satine snatched it out of her hand.

"You stop borrowing my things without asking, whore." The coughing was beginning to subside, fading into a dull ache in Satine's breastbone.

"You as much as me, angel." Nini shot back.

"I'm not a whore." Satine replied cooly. She set the handkerchief down on the vanity, and picked up a hairpin, carefully adjusting her already perfectly arranged updo.

"Oh, come off it," Nini snorted.  "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"That's enough." 

"Now who's the princess ordering her loyal servants about? Come down off your high and mighty trapeze, princess and face what's real. You're a gutter walker like the rest of us." Careful that nobody heard, Nini bent down beside Satine, her lips almost brushing the dancer's ear.

 "The difference between you and me is I never had to put my head in Harry's lap to get a spot up front. Isn't it?"

"I said that's enough, Nini!"

Satine spun around and gave Nini a hard shove. The dancer stumbled backwards, her head cracked against a heavy mirror that hung on the wall.

The mirror came crashing down and shattered as it hit the ground.

 Several dancers yelped and jumped, scrambling to avoid what was about to come.

"What happened here?" An outraged voice cried from the doorway.

The noise had gathered someone else's attention.

 "She's got what's coming, Marie." Satine replied without breaking her gaze away from Nini's. Satine recognized the voice without even looking away.  "She's got what's coming to her."

Marie grabbed Satine by the shoulders and yanked her away. "Sit." She commanded. Satine obeyed reluctantly, still glaring ice at Nini.

"Our little swan had a temper tantrum." Nini said. "Maybe you should give her some more laudanum, that should calm her down."

"I swear I'll-" Satine struggled to stand again, as another fit of coughing threatened to overtake her. Marie placed her hand on Satine's shoulder.

"Easy, girl." Marie soothed. "You're not up for a fight." She looked up at Nini with an annoyed glare. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed?"

Nini, defeated, backed away.

 "Wouldn't be bothered with the likes of her anyway." She mumbled as she slunk off, turning back at the doorway to give Satine a scalding look. 

"That goes for all of you too." Marie said. The dancers who hadn't fled stood frozen, watching the scene with a mingled horror and delight. At Marie's order they slowly began to disperse.

Marie stepped away from the girl, and after a moment of silence, she turned and walked out.

Satine was alone.

The slivers of glass picked up the glimmering of the setting sun. Smiling a little, Satine bent down and picked up a chunk. Like a diamond, she thought as she leaned forward out of the open window, rolling the glass between her fingers and watching the light dance off it.

It slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground outside. Satine made no effort to reach for it.

The warmth of the sun felt good against her skin. She was always so cold…She began to hum, a wavering toneless tune at first, slowly growing stronger as the words began to come to her. 

The life I always wanted

I  guess I'll never have

I'll be working for somebody else until I'm in my grave

I'll be dreaming of a life of ease

and mountains and mountains of things

The shabby dressing room was hardly a relfection of what Satine lived, day in and day out. She was the only one with her own bedroom, her own private bathroom. A far cry from the rundown shack she had grown up in, sharing a bed with three siblings and a sick mother.

have a big expensive home

dragging my furs on the ground

have a maid I can tell to bring me anything

everyone will look at me with envy and with greed

I'll revel in their attention

And mountains and mountains of things

Her mother…Satine shuddered at the memory. Barely eight and she had watched the woman waste and die in bed beside her. Never to fulfill the dreams she had talked so excitedly about. She had filled her children's heads with fantasies, fantasies Satine had long realized were nothing but nonsense. Dreams of a life out of the English slums, dreams of a house with bedrooms for every child and food every morning and every night.

I hardly dared to dream for half of what I've become…Satine thought.

Sweet lazy life

Champagne and caviar

Hope you come and find me

You know who we are

Those who deserve the best in life know what our money's worth

And those whose sole misfortune was having mountains of nothing at birth

They tell me

Still in time to save my soul they tell me

Renounce all

Renounce all those material things you gained by exploiting other human beings

The sharp pain in between her ribs made her wince with pain, and broke the daydream of her song. Satine swallowed hard and took a ragged breath, closing her eyes as she felt the last of the warm daylight slip away, the dark shadows of dusk spreading across the Paris sky like ink spilling across fine silk.

Dying I'll lay…

And have it all prearranged

With a grave that's deep and wide enough for me and all my mountains of things

Marie was out in the courtyard, sitting beside Nini and another dancer Satine did not recognize. Marie, always trying to smooth things over. Good, honest Marie.

Mostly I feel lonely

Good good

good people are only

My stepping stones

Satine smothered another cough into her handkerchief, the ache was becoming more and more. How much longer would it go on, she wondered as she was forced to back away from the cool breeze of the window, back into the safety of her dim dressing room.  A chest cold shouldn't last this long. Something lying on the edge of her dresser caught Satine's attention. It was a half eaten chocolate from the box beside her bed. Fine chocolate from her latest customer. Satine smiled a little, and set it back down. Chocolate, fine silk…the diamonds in her ears were a gift too. From who? She hardly remembered.

It's gonna take all my mountains of things to surround me

Keep all my enemies away

Keep my sadness and loneliness at bay…

Satine sighed. It was time to get dressed. Time to start again. Work through the night. Sleep through the morning. Breakfast with Harold and sleep through the afternoon. And tomorrow she would do it again. And tomorrow, perhaps she would dare to drem one last time.

I'll be dreaming dreaming dreaming…

Dreaming…