Chapter 7 -

A/N – I have FINALLY finished the next chapter of Olivier's Story. Goodness, it took me long enough, eh? Well, I hope I didn't lose all my readers! :) Feedback is always great. Everything Moulin Rouge-ish belongs to O Great Baz and well, you'll see what belongs to me. *grins widely*

Eleven years later...

Olivier James walked slowly on his way home from school.

It was a very gray day, like many in London but something else was in the air. Olivier knew what it was; it was quite obvious to him.

Today was Satine's, his mother's, birthday, which is also the reason for his procrastination. He knew that if he took a long enough time, his father would make his way to his mother's cemetery without him.

His father, Christian James, was a mess.

Every night, when Olivier would be studying, Christian would go out and drink his sorrows away at a nearby pub.

Absinthe was a name Olivier spat upon.

There were only three days of the whole year where Christian would go out of his way to be completely sober. Satine's birthday, death day and their anniversary of meeting.

For the last five years, Christian has forgotten Olivier's birthday completely.

He was seventeen years old now.

As much as Olivier hated to admit it, he despised visiting his mother. Christian would huddle at her gravestone, muttering words that only existed with Satine, he would sing her songs, read her poetry.

And Olivier would just stand there and watch his father's life float away with every tear.

So, instead of walking down the road his school was on, taking a left, then an immediate right to get to his house, he decided it was best to make walk on by the library, which was three miles west of his house.

Olivier slung his bag stuffed with schoolbooks onto his shoulder and put his hands in his pockets. The library was a place where he could read and read and read without shame. For some reason, he had a problem about that at school.

Olivier was known at school for his dry sense of humor and that was about it. Although his grandparents were paying for tuition, he barely had enough money for supplies and Olivier was teased endlessly about this.

Also, unlike most boys his age, he was not physically talented at all. Olivier would much rather read endlessly at the library, which was a rare moment for him at school. He always seemed to find solace at this library.

But as Olivier turned the corner he saw there was a crowd surrounding the entrance to the library. There was a woman at the door handing out fliers to the men who were there.

"Women have as much right to read in this library as you do!" A female voice rose above the crowd. "Sign and you can help women earn that privilege!"

Olivier pushed to the front of the crowd and a flier was forced into his hand. The woman protesting waved a pointed finger in his face. "Do you think women have the right to enter this library as a civilian?" she demanded. Her blue eyes flashed and her already red cheeks flushed as a crumpled up flier flew through the air and hit her right on her forehead.

She just brushed it away and kept handing out fliers. "Help women earn -" She let out a cry as a book hit her on the side of her head.

People laughed as more books went flying through the air, bombarding the girl. She hid her face with the stack of fliers as people kept throwing books. Another man handed Olivier a thick, black one. "A shilling if you hit 'er on 'er nose!"

Olivier dropped the book in disgust before dashing out of the crowd and pulling the girl by the hand, dragging her out of the way. Men grabbed at her skirt as Olivier pushed their way through the crowd.

"Get your hands off me!" she screamed, throwing what was left of her fliers at Olivier. He made sure they had gone passed the corner.

"Who do you think you are?" She smoothed her green skirt and patted her short, light brown hair. "I had everything under control!"

Olivier snorted. "Hmm, that's odd. Because I thought I saw you being bombarded with books, of all things!" He shrugged. "But I've been know to be incorrect."

She glared at him. "Are you always that mean to people you rescue?"

"I wouldn't know!" he said. "I've never rescued anyone before!"

She smiled grimly. "How lucky for me."

Olivier bent down and picked up a few stray fliers. He looked up from where he stood and saw her rubbing her arm self-consciously. He then stepped back in surprise, realizing how tall she was. She had to have been a good two inches taller than him.

"You're pretty tall for a girl, aren't you?" he commented.

Her eyes flashed like they had earlier and she turned on her heel and stomped off in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" Olivier called, running after her. "Let me at least walk you home!"

"Why should I?" she instead.

"I rescued you," he said.

"What does that have to do - "

"Nothing whatsoever." He stuck out his hand. "Olivier James."

She looked at him suspiciously, but shook his hand. "Rebecca."

"What a pleasure rescuing you, Rebecca," Olivier grinned.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine!" she said sarcastically. She pointed down the street. "I live this way."

"So, Rebecca," Olivier said. "What were you doing, protesting at the library for?"

Rebecca crossed her arms tightly and her face flushed. "Did you know that women are not allowed in that library without an older male escort?"

Olivier raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes!" she shrieked. "Women deserve the right to enter that library as civilians just like the men!"

"You're absolutely correct," Olivier agreed.

Rebecca stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really! They have as much right as everyone else to read!"

Her jaw dropped. "You're the first man who has ever agreed with me on that…"

Olivier bowed. "I'm honored!"

Rebecca turned and kept walking. "We turn this corner here."

Olivier walked a bit faster to keep up with her. "Do your parents approve of all this protesting you've been doing?"

"My parents are dead," Rebecca said shortly.

He felt his cheeks turn red. "I'm sorry."

Rebecca just shrugged and quickened her pace. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Why not?" Olivier said in surprise. "My mother's dead…"

"At least you have a father," she said bitterly.

Olivier shook his head. "Not really…"

Rebecca gave him an odd look. "What do you mean?"

He just shrugged. "Never mind."

"So, does your father approve of you rescuing stubborn feminists from riots?" Rebecca asked with a smirk.

"My father wouldn't care one way or the other," Olivier said, his lips tightening.

There was a pause.

"How old are you, Olivier?"

"Seventeen."

"How convenient," Rebecca said dryly. "So am I."

"We seem to have a lot in common," Olivier pointed out. Rebecca just shrugged.

"Oh, this is where I live," Rebecca stopped at a small shabby bookshop with a sign that read "Myers Books."

"You live at a bookshop?" he asked.

"No, I work at the bookshop," Rebecca said. "I live upstairs in a two room apartment." She walked over to the door and put her hand on the doorknob. She paused and turned around. "Thank you, Olivier, for what you did today..."

Olivier blushed slightly. "Anytime, Rebecca." He took a step towards her. "I'm really glad I met you, and... I hope I see you again sometime."

"I'd like that," said Rebecca. She smiled, for the first time today. "Good-bye, Olivier."

As the door shut, Olivier felt his heart soar. He turned around and with a burst of energy ran down the street, and ran all the way home. All the while, grinning like a fool.