Hello, all. So happy to get all the reviews, they just MAKE OUR DAY
*sniffle*. No, really, it's honestly all we talk about. You know, like
"OH YEAH! Did you see so-and-so's review? We're so loved!" Thank you so
so so so so much. You have no idea how much taking a few seconds to type a
lil' note to some penniless writers means to us. Keep them coming! *wink
wink*.
Okay, so, hopefully you've read a little, laughed a little, cried a little, reviewed a little, and hoped and wished and dreamed and crossed your itty-bitty fingers that Chapter 6 of Plan on Forever by RougeChic and Diamond Dog would finally be posted. Yeah right. So, here it is, what you've all been waiting for. . . .CHAPTER SIX!
Crickets: Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
Awww, come on! Show a little love!
No? Ah, well. Here goes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next morning, Satine woke slowly from a deep sleep, a giddy smile curving her lips. She sat up, sighing wistfully- her dream had ended too quickly.
There had been a poet in her dream, a poet with the sunshine pouring gently out of his stormy eyes, boyishly handsome and naïve. He sang to her, the sweet melody flowing out of his mouth straight from his heart that he was so willingly giving to her . . . and she was in love. . .oh, if only it were true. Suddenly, Satine jerked fully awake. Christian! The writer . . .for the show . . .it was all coming back to her now. . .
Including the part where he had left her all alone.
Satine had not gone to the party at Toulouse's that night, choosing instead to walk through Montmartre, lonely with her thoughts. The brisk night air mingled with the sweet yet bitter smells of the city, gentle and corrosive. Not-so far off lights glowed neon through the darkness- the Moulin Rouge.
The night had calmed her frazzled mind, and she took the opportunity to think. Christian had said he came from London, a place of her past that she had chosen to forget, and had successfully done so. But there was something about him that seemed so familiar, and yet she couldn't put a finger on it. And now that he had sung his sweet song to her, she was beginning to feel . . . funny . . . giddy . . . light. . . like nothing could harm her. . .
No! She could not fall in love with him. He did not love her. And besides, what of the consequences? There would have to be consequences . . .
She had returned home in the late hours of the night, falling into her welcoming bed without a word to Toulouse or the others. There had been just too much on her mind.
Satine got up from her bed, stretching her arms to the cracked, yellowing ceiling. They were to go to the theater to meet the Duke that day, and no thoughts should be plaguing her. She needed to concentrate. No, she would not let this writer get in the way. Without another thought on the subject, she moved to get dressed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Christian woke slowly that morning, still stuck in a wonderful dream and wanting to stay there . . . with her. . . the beautiful redhead with a velvet voice . . . creamy skin . . . soft, sparkling eyes . . . and he was feeling so- happy . . .
But the light of day was pouring in his window fast, and he slipped reluctantly from the fading dreamland . . . and the woman he loved . . .
He sat up.
Love?
Sighing, he thought back to the previous night, where he had left Satine all alone. After the song he could not control left his lips, he had felt so connected to the woman in front of him that it scared him. Scared him so much that he left and cooped himself up in his garret all night, staring blankly at his idle typewriter while he sat, stuck in the moment. Christian had not gone to Toulouse's to celebrate.
Her eyes had lit up briefly when he had said "London". . . what could that have meant? And she was so perfect, and so beautiful . . . but what scared him the most was not deja-vu. It was that funny feeling making his heart seem fit to burst . . .
Christian was in love, and somewhere deep inside him he had known it all along, and he was always one to trust his intuition. But this was no silly infatuation- this was deep. And it scared him into making the worst decision of his life: He had left Satine dazed, confused, and alone, and blown his only shot. He was just so terrified that she didn't feel the same way. But all the same, he had ruined it, and now there was nothing he could do . . .
Wait.
Christian smiled. Of course there was something he could do! They were to meet the Duke that day, and he would see her again. That was it! He would tell her.
Tonight.
"My gift is my song . . ." he sang quietly, a goofy grin on his face as he stretched his feet to the floor to begin getting dressed. . .
So why was he so nervous?
"And this one's for you . . ."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Christian, Satine, Toulouse, Satie, the Doctor, and the Argentinean stood staring up at the looming building.
"This is it?" asked Satine
"This ith it," confirmed Toulouse. They all looked slightly overwhelmed by the richness of the place. Not only the building, but of all of the city surrounding them. Never having been exposed to such grandeur and propriety, the bohemians in their worn clothes looked almost incongruous with luxurious Paris.
"Well, let's get a move on, then," said the Argentinean, smiling halfheartedly and taking the lead into the theater.
Making their way in through the immense doors, they had barely gotten inside before they were accosted by a large man. Bald and brawny, he stood menacingly over them, face impassive.
"My deaw siw!" cried Toulouse, hobbling forward. "It's a pweasure to meet you at last! You must be the Duke."
The man remained silent.
"Uh . . . uh, yes, I am Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse Lautrec Montfa, and this is Satie, and-"
"No need for introductions, I know perfectly well that you are all bohemians not worthy of being known by name," a nasal voice said from somewhere unknown. "This is my manservant, Warner." All of a sudden, a mousy man appeared, his greasy hair dangling off to the sides of his pallid face. He gave the impression that he hadn't seen sunlight in a long, long time.
"Ah, except for you, mademoiselle. You must be Satine." He clenched his teeth into a crooked, yellowing smile. It was really quite repulsive.
"Yes, monsieur, it's- it's a pleasure to meet you at last," she said, plastering on a fake smile. She daintily reached out a hand to shake his, and was immediately nauseated when he took the opportunity to kiss it repeatedly. Clearing her throat softly, she glanced to the others for help. Christian jumped on it.
"Um, sir, I - I am going to . . . to be the writer of- of this show . . ." Christian said shakily. The Duke looked up abruptly, dropping Satine's hand. He wrinkled his nose at the boy, not noticing how Satine turned away to furiously wipe her hand on her skirts.
"The writer, huh? All I can say is that this better not be some typical bohemian show unworthy of mine or Mademoiselle Satine's time." Christian blushed, looking down at his feet.
"Oh, no, monsieur," said Satine, hiding her anger. How dare he insult Christian like that? "Christian is a wonderful writer, and very talented, I must say." Christian's face grew even more red.
"Yes, yes, of course, whatever you wish. Now, while the rest of you do . . . whatever it is you bohemians do, Satine, I would like to speak with you privately." He offered his arm to her, and she reluctantly took it. 'Thank heavens he's just the financier,' she thought, glancing at his smirking face.
The others took a seat in the empty theater, talking and passing the time until Satine would return. Christian, however, was uneasy. He had seen the way the Duke had let his eyes wander hungrily over Satine's body, focusing on her slim waist and beautiful curves like they were possessions. Now, Christian was not experienced in the ways of lust and love, but what he did know was that no one, especially someone as wonderful as Satine, deserved to be treated like a possession. The Duke was a suspicious person, all right, and he would just have to keep an eye on him.
*~*~*~*
As Satine sat down in a random chair set up backstage, she could tell there was something shifty about the Duke-she didn't know if it was because of the way he treated her friends, or the strange look on his unsightly face, but there was definitely something there that shouldn't have been.
The Duke sat across from her, taking the hat from his head and placing it in his lap. Satine noticed that he was shaking a bit. Why would he be nervous? He finally spoke. "My dear, you are probably wondering why I wish to speak to you privately." Satine nodded, and the Duke continued, "Well, you know that this whole extravaganza is costing me a fantastic sum of money."
"Oh yes, dear Duke, we are all so thankful, and so fortunate that someone like you-"
The Duke held his hand up, signaling for her to stop. He shakily stroked the hat in his lap. "Mademoiselle Satine, I have the power to make you a star. But that is only if you . . ." He looked down, his face looking more like that of a rat's every moment that passed.
"Yes, monsieur?" Satine said.
"You will be mine, Satine," he snarled.
"Excuse me?"
"DON'T think that I am naïve!" The Duke roared, shaking with rage. "I will have you, if you want this silly little show to be a reality for you- you bohemians!"
Satine looked at him with disgust. Was he insane?
She sat up straight, then shaking her head, said to him, "Dear duke, I must decline your-"
"SILENCE!" he yelled shrilly. A scornful glower spread across his face. "You may go tell everyone out there that the show has been cancelled- and it's all your fault. Forget about becoming anything more than the worthless little thing you are. I was the only one generous enough to make this offer; I was your only hope. Go on, go!" he sneered, his face contorted with mingled fury and glee.
Satine stared at him, her face stolid while thoughts swirled and twirled in her head like a merry-go-round. How she had dreamed of this day, when she would be given the offer of all of her dreams coming true! And yet, the only way was to sleep with this man. She was born to be center stage, and had never let go of that ambition. One thought stopped her.
Christian . . .
'Oh no, no you don't, Satine! You will never let a silly thing like ridiculous infatuation stop your dream!' Satine was a determined woman. Who said she even liked this . . . this writer? No, she would become an actress. That was final. She took a deep breath.
"I'll do it."
The Duke smiled a crooked, weasel-like smile. "Good. Now that we have an understanding, all you have to do is sign your name right.here," he said, pointing to a piece of paper triumphantly- her contract. It would bind her to him.
She signed it.
"Well, my dear, my work here is done. Here is my address," he said, holding up what seemed to be a business card, "Rehearsals start . . . oh, I don't know . . . this Friday, I suppose?" he said nonchalantly, "But I expect you to be at my residence tomorrow at 8 o'clock sharp for . . . dinner," he added, smiling wickedly, and handing her the card.
"Yes, of course, dear Duke," Satine replied, giving him a forced smile as she pocketed the card. He left the room.
Satine stayed in her seat, sitting quietly, her head swarming with a cacophony of troubled, urgent thoughts. How was this happening to her? The only way to live out her lifelong dream was to sleep with this wretched man . . . and she could forget about ever falling in love.
'And about Christian,' a voice in her head said.
"I don't love him," she whispered fiercely.
'Oh, yes you do,' the voice cackled, 'and now you must choose between him and your dream. . .'
"No!" she whispered, rubbing her temples. "No. I am going to do this. Nothing can stop me. Certainly not love . . . oh for god's sake, I'm not in love!" she whispered again, standing up and beginning the walk back to the stage and seats, where everyone was anxiously awaiting her arrival.
"Satine! We wewe so wowwied!" exclaimed Toulouse as she came into view. "Well, what happened?" Satine smiled brightly.
"He's going to do it." She said.
"Oh, wondewful!" Toulouse cried, the others whooping for joy. He ran to throw his arms around Satine's legs. Backing away, he said suddenly,
"No strings attached?"
Satine shifted uncomfortably.
"R-right. N-no strings attached."
"Excellent!" growled the Argentinean.
"This is wonderful!" cried Satie.
They slowly began to leave the building, chattering happily the whole way.
Right before she got to the door, Christian put his hand on Satine's arm. "Um . . . ah, Satine," he said, "I wanted to- to tell you s- something," he stammered. Toulouse looked back.
"Awe you guys coming or what?"
"That's okay, Toulouse," Satine said. "You go ahead. We'll meet you back at home later."
"All right, then," he called back. Satine let the door close.
And for the second time in two days, Christian and Satine were alone.
"Well, what is it?" she said impatiently. She had a lot on her mind, and was not in a good mood as a result.
"Well . . . I . . ."
She softened immediately at the adorably embarrassed expression on his face. How could she resist?
"Well," Christian started, uncomfortably shifting his feet, "I know that I have only known you for- for a day, but I h-have never had such a . . .a . . . c-connection with anyone in my life before. And when I met you . . ." he paused, staring at her eyes that seemed so far off.
Satine's head and heart were in a fierce battle inside her mind. Her head was telling her to focus on her career, which was far more important than this silly boy, while her heart was telling her otherwise . . . to follow her instincts . . .
Her heart was the louder voice.
"No," she whispered.
"S- s- sorry?" said Christian, the worry evident in his voice.
Satine's head would not let her let go of her dream so quickly, and neither would she. Fame and fortune won. Her heart was silenced.
"Christian, no. Don't do this. I am an actress. Fame and fortune is my destiny, and nothing must get in the way of that."
Poor Christian was at a loss for words. Satine's heart silently wept for her folly.
"What does that have to do with . . . with love?" Satine began to walk away slowly down the aisle of the theater, ignoring the unshed tears in her eyes.
"A lot," she said quietly. "I can't fall in love with anyone," she announced, her voice becoming stronger as she turned to face him.
"C- can't fall in love? But- a life without love, that's terrible!"
"No, being on the street, that's terrible," she retorted. She had to keep this façade up.
"No! Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!"
"Please, don't start that again."
"All you need is love!"
"A girl has got to eat . . ."
"All you need is love!"
"She'll end up on the street!"
"All you need is love . . ."
"Love is just a game . . ."
If you are reading this, and you do not know the Elephant Love Medley, die. Now. No, we're just kidding. We'll skip to some good parts, okay? Sometimes, people's hands just don't hold up that long on the keyboard typing up song lyrics.
"Just one night, give me just one night."
"There's no way, 'cause you can't." Satine was stuck. Why oh why did she have to be an actress, and not a writer?! 'Umm . . .' she thought, 'stay, stray, play, lay, papier mache. . ." Her face was screwed up in concentration. 'There's no way 'cause you can't. . . pay? NO! I'm not a whore!" Finally, grinning triumphantly, she sang to Christian,
"There's no way, 'cause there's no way!"
Christian laughed.
"In the name of love, one night in the name of love. . ."
And so they sang the infamous Elephant Love Medley, that was not really infamous to them, since they were the ones making it up in the first place, and it's infamous to us because we ALL know the movie and soundtrack by heart (right?), and they were in 1899 when there were no such things as movies or CD's, and it's not really the "Elephant" Love Medley because they're in a theater, so it's more like a "Theater" Love Medley, and . . .yeah.
Anyways.
"We could be heroes!" Christian sang out, a few random lines from famous love songs later, "Just for one day."
"You, you will be mean," Satine sang, making her way backstage, meandering around the curtains as she fled from Christian and her heart.
"No I won't!"
"And I. . ." she began, trailing off as she grew desperate for an excuse. Her heart was growing louder. . .
"I'll drink all the time!" She ran up the stairs to stand on the stage, where she gazed out on the rows and rows of deserted seats.
And then he said it. The one line that gave her heart even more power and made her freeze in her tracks.
"We should be lovers!"
Her breath caught in her throat.
"We can't do that," she sang in a forced whisper. Her head's voice was quieter and weaker as it escaped her lips.
"We should be lovers, and that's a fact," he sang confidently, a nervous smile spreading across his face as he made his way towards Satine's spot center stage.
"Though nothing will keep us together. . . ."
"We could steal time . . ."
And then she knew that the fierce battle between her head and her heart had been won.
"Just for one day," they sang out.
And her heart was the victor.
"We could be heroes, forever and ever . . . we could be heroes . . . forever and ever . . . we could be heroes . . ."
Christian found himself standing inches from Satine. She was so close . . . so close . . .
"Just because I will always love you . . ."
"I can't help loving . . ."
"You . . ."
"How wonderful life is . . ."
"Now you're in the world . . ."
And then their lips met.
Lost in their kiss, neither noticed the lone light in the darkness illuminating them and only them, a luminous glow in a world of black that was the theater.
A spotlight.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
That was a fucking long chapter ('scuse my French. . . though we DO love French. . . .). Hope we didn't bore you to death. Anyways, THEY'RE FINALLY TOGETHER! FINALLY!!!!!
Readers: Took you long enough!
RougeChic: SORRY! So so so sorry, Jess wanted drama.
DiamondDog: Drama IS more exciting than fluff.
RougeChic: Oh, no you don't. . .
DiamondDog: Oh yes, Anna, I DO. Too much fluff is a no-no.
RougeChic: Oh REALLY? Well let's ask THEM! *points to Christian and Satine*
Christian: Wha. . .? *is covered in lipstick like that one scene in the movie when. . . oh nevermind*
DiamondDog: Let's not.
RougeChic: Just review, kay? Kay.
DiamondDog: Buh-bye!
RougeChic: Au revoir!
Oh, by the way, "Your Song" (as seen in Chapter 5) and "Nature Boy" (as seen in a bit of text in Chapter 4) the "Elephant Love Medley" plus all those other lovely songs within it, (as seen in Chapter 6) and the bits of script we, um, BORROWED from "Moulin Rouge!". . . we don't own them. So don't sue. Merci.
Okay, so, hopefully you've read a little, laughed a little, cried a little, reviewed a little, and hoped and wished and dreamed and crossed your itty-bitty fingers that Chapter 6 of Plan on Forever by RougeChic and Diamond Dog would finally be posted. Yeah right. So, here it is, what you've all been waiting for. . . .CHAPTER SIX!
Crickets: Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
Awww, come on! Show a little love!
No? Ah, well. Here goes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next morning, Satine woke slowly from a deep sleep, a giddy smile curving her lips. She sat up, sighing wistfully- her dream had ended too quickly.
There had been a poet in her dream, a poet with the sunshine pouring gently out of his stormy eyes, boyishly handsome and naïve. He sang to her, the sweet melody flowing out of his mouth straight from his heart that he was so willingly giving to her . . . and she was in love. . .oh, if only it were true. Suddenly, Satine jerked fully awake. Christian! The writer . . .for the show . . .it was all coming back to her now. . .
Including the part where he had left her all alone.
Satine had not gone to the party at Toulouse's that night, choosing instead to walk through Montmartre, lonely with her thoughts. The brisk night air mingled with the sweet yet bitter smells of the city, gentle and corrosive. Not-so far off lights glowed neon through the darkness- the Moulin Rouge.
The night had calmed her frazzled mind, and she took the opportunity to think. Christian had said he came from London, a place of her past that she had chosen to forget, and had successfully done so. But there was something about him that seemed so familiar, and yet she couldn't put a finger on it. And now that he had sung his sweet song to her, she was beginning to feel . . . funny . . . giddy . . . light. . . like nothing could harm her. . .
No! She could not fall in love with him. He did not love her. And besides, what of the consequences? There would have to be consequences . . .
She had returned home in the late hours of the night, falling into her welcoming bed without a word to Toulouse or the others. There had been just too much on her mind.
Satine got up from her bed, stretching her arms to the cracked, yellowing ceiling. They were to go to the theater to meet the Duke that day, and no thoughts should be plaguing her. She needed to concentrate. No, she would not let this writer get in the way. Without another thought on the subject, she moved to get dressed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Christian woke slowly that morning, still stuck in a wonderful dream and wanting to stay there . . . with her. . . the beautiful redhead with a velvet voice . . . creamy skin . . . soft, sparkling eyes . . . and he was feeling so- happy . . .
But the light of day was pouring in his window fast, and he slipped reluctantly from the fading dreamland . . . and the woman he loved . . .
He sat up.
Love?
Sighing, he thought back to the previous night, where he had left Satine all alone. After the song he could not control left his lips, he had felt so connected to the woman in front of him that it scared him. Scared him so much that he left and cooped himself up in his garret all night, staring blankly at his idle typewriter while he sat, stuck in the moment. Christian had not gone to Toulouse's to celebrate.
Her eyes had lit up briefly when he had said "London". . . what could that have meant? And she was so perfect, and so beautiful . . . but what scared him the most was not deja-vu. It was that funny feeling making his heart seem fit to burst . . .
Christian was in love, and somewhere deep inside him he had known it all along, and he was always one to trust his intuition. But this was no silly infatuation- this was deep. And it scared him into making the worst decision of his life: He had left Satine dazed, confused, and alone, and blown his only shot. He was just so terrified that she didn't feel the same way. But all the same, he had ruined it, and now there was nothing he could do . . .
Wait.
Christian smiled. Of course there was something he could do! They were to meet the Duke that day, and he would see her again. That was it! He would tell her.
Tonight.
"My gift is my song . . ." he sang quietly, a goofy grin on his face as he stretched his feet to the floor to begin getting dressed. . .
So why was he so nervous?
"And this one's for you . . ."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Christian, Satine, Toulouse, Satie, the Doctor, and the Argentinean stood staring up at the looming building.
"This is it?" asked Satine
"This ith it," confirmed Toulouse. They all looked slightly overwhelmed by the richness of the place. Not only the building, but of all of the city surrounding them. Never having been exposed to such grandeur and propriety, the bohemians in their worn clothes looked almost incongruous with luxurious Paris.
"Well, let's get a move on, then," said the Argentinean, smiling halfheartedly and taking the lead into the theater.
Making their way in through the immense doors, they had barely gotten inside before they were accosted by a large man. Bald and brawny, he stood menacingly over them, face impassive.
"My deaw siw!" cried Toulouse, hobbling forward. "It's a pweasure to meet you at last! You must be the Duke."
The man remained silent.
"Uh . . . uh, yes, I am Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse Lautrec Montfa, and this is Satie, and-"
"No need for introductions, I know perfectly well that you are all bohemians not worthy of being known by name," a nasal voice said from somewhere unknown. "This is my manservant, Warner." All of a sudden, a mousy man appeared, his greasy hair dangling off to the sides of his pallid face. He gave the impression that he hadn't seen sunlight in a long, long time.
"Ah, except for you, mademoiselle. You must be Satine." He clenched his teeth into a crooked, yellowing smile. It was really quite repulsive.
"Yes, monsieur, it's- it's a pleasure to meet you at last," she said, plastering on a fake smile. She daintily reached out a hand to shake his, and was immediately nauseated when he took the opportunity to kiss it repeatedly. Clearing her throat softly, she glanced to the others for help. Christian jumped on it.
"Um, sir, I - I am going to . . . to be the writer of- of this show . . ." Christian said shakily. The Duke looked up abruptly, dropping Satine's hand. He wrinkled his nose at the boy, not noticing how Satine turned away to furiously wipe her hand on her skirts.
"The writer, huh? All I can say is that this better not be some typical bohemian show unworthy of mine or Mademoiselle Satine's time." Christian blushed, looking down at his feet.
"Oh, no, monsieur," said Satine, hiding her anger. How dare he insult Christian like that? "Christian is a wonderful writer, and very talented, I must say." Christian's face grew even more red.
"Yes, yes, of course, whatever you wish. Now, while the rest of you do . . . whatever it is you bohemians do, Satine, I would like to speak with you privately." He offered his arm to her, and she reluctantly took it. 'Thank heavens he's just the financier,' she thought, glancing at his smirking face.
The others took a seat in the empty theater, talking and passing the time until Satine would return. Christian, however, was uneasy. He had seen the way the Duke had let his eyes wander hungrily over Satine's body, focusing on her slim waist and beautiful curves like they were possessions. Now, Christian was not experienced in the ways of lust and love, but what he did know was that no one, especially someone as wonderful as Satine, deserved to be treated like a possession. The Duke was a suspicious person, all right, and he would just have to keep an eye on him.
*~*~*~*
As Satine sat down in a random chair set up backstage, she could tell there was something shifty about the Duke-she didn't know if it was because of the way he treated her friends, or the strange look on his unsightly face, but there was definitely something there that shouldn't have been.
The Duke sat across from her, taking the hat from his head and placing it in his lap. Satine noticed that he was shaking a bit. Why would he be nervous? He finally spoke. "My dear, you are probably wondering why I wish to speak to you privately." Satine nodded, and the Duke continued, "Well, you know that this whole extravaganza is costing me a fantastic sum of money."
"Oh yes, dear Duke, we are all so thankful, and so fortunate that someone like you-"
The Duke held his hand up, signaling for her to stop. He shakily stroked the hat in his lap. "Mademoiselle Satine, I have the power to make you a star. But that is only if you . . ." He looked down, his face looking more like that of a rat's every moment that passed.
"Yes, monsieur?" Satine said.
"You will be mine, Satine," he snarled.
"Excuse me?"
"DON'T think that I am naïve!" The Duke roared, shaking with rage. "I will have you, if you want this silly little show to be a reality for you- you bohemians!"
Satine looked at him with disgust. Was he insane?
She sat up straight, then shaking her head, said to him, "Dear duke, I must decline your-"
"SILENCE!" he yelled shrilly. A scornful glower spread across his face. "You may go tell everyone out there that the show has been cancelled- and it's all your fault. Forget about becoming anything more than the worthless little thing you are. I was the only one generous enough to make this offer; I was your only hope. Go on, go!" he sneered, his face contorted with mingled fury and glee.
Satine stared at him, her face stolid while thoughts swirled and twirled in her head like a merry-go-round. How she had dreamed of this day, when she would be given the offer of all of her dreams coming true! And yet, the only way was to sleep with this man. She was born to be center stage, and had never let go of that ambition. One thought stopped her.
Christian . . .
'Oh no, no you don't, Satine! You will never let a silly thing like ridiculous infatuation stop your dream!' Satine was a determined woman. Who said she even liked this . . . this writer? No, she would become an actress. That was final. She took a deep breath.
"I'll do it."
The Duke smiled a crooked, weasel-like smile. "Good. Now that we have an understanding, all you have to do is sign your name right.here," he said, pointing to a piece of paper triumphantly- her contract. It would bind her to him.
She signed it.
"Well, my dear, my work here is done. Here is my address," he said, holding up what seemed to be a business card, "Rehearsals start . . . oh, I don't know . . . this Friday, I suppose?" he said nonchalantly, "But I expect you to be at my residence tomorrow at 8 o'clock sharp for . . . dinner," he added, smiling wickedly, and handing her the card.
"Yes, of course, dear Duke," Satine replied, giving him a forced smile as she pocketed the card. He left the room.
Satine stayed in her seat, sitting quietly, her head swarming with a cacophony of troubled, urgent thoughts. How was this happening to her? The only way to live out her lifelong dream was to sleep with this wretched man . . . and she could forget about ever falling in love.
'And about Christian,' a voice in her head said.
"I don't love him," she whispered fiercely.
'Oh, yes you do,' the voice cackled, 'and now you must choose between him and your dream. . .'
"No!" she whispered, rubbing her temples. "No. I am going to do this. Nothing can stop me. Certainly not love . . . oh for god's sake, I'm not in love!" she whispered again, standing up and beginning the walk back to the stage and seats, where everyone was anxiously awaiting her arrival.
"Satine! We wewe so wowwied!" exclaimed Toulouse as she came into view. "Well, what happened?" Satine smiled brightly.
"He's going to do it." She said.
"Oh, wondewful!" Toulouse cried, the others whooping for joy. He ran to throw his arms around Satine's legs. Backing away, he said suddenly,
"No strings attached?"
Satine shifted uncomfortably.
"R-right. N-no strings attached."
"Excellent!" growled the Argentinean.
"This is wonderful!" cried Satie.
They slowly began to leave the building, chattering happily the whole way.
Right before she got to the door, Christian put his hand on Satine's arm. "Um . . . ah, Satine," he said, "I wanted to- to tell you s- something," he stammered. Toulouse looked back.
"Awe you guys coming or what?"
"That's okay, Toulouse," Satine said. "You go ahead. We'll meet you back at home later."
"All right, then," he called back. Satine let the door close.
And for the second time in two days, Christian and Satine were alone.
"Well, what is it?" she said impatiently. She had a lot on her mind, and was not in a good mood as a result.
"Well . . . I . . ."
She softened immediately at the adorably embarrassed expression on his face. How could she resist?
"Well," Christian started, uncomfortably shifting his feet, "I know that I have only known you for- for a day, but I h-have never had such a . . .a . . . c-connection with anyone in my life before. And when I met you . . ." he paused, staring at her eyes that seemed so far off.
Satine's head and heart were in a fierce battle inside her mind. Her head was telling her to focus on her career, which was far more important than this silly boy, while her heart was telling her otherwise . . . to follow her instincts . . .
Her heart was the louder voice.
"No," she whispered.
"S- s- sorry?" said Christian, the worry evident in his voice.
Satine's head would not let her let go of her dream so quickly, and neither would she. Fame and fortune won. Her heart was silenced.
"Christian, no. Don't do this. I am an actress. Fame and fortune is my destiny, and nothing must get in the way of that."
Poor Christian was at a loss for words. Satine's heart silently wept for her folly.
"What does that have to do with . . . with love?" Satine began to walk away slowly down the aisle of the theater, ignoring the unshed tears in her eyes.
"A lot," she said quietly. "I can't fall in love with anyone," she announced, her voice becoming stronger as she turned to face him.
"C- can't fall in love? But- a life without love, that's terrible!"
"No, being on the street, that's terrible," she retorted. She had to keep this façade up.
"No! Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!"
"Please, don't start that again."
"All you need is love!"
"A girl has got to eat . . ."
"All you need is love!"
"She'll end up on the street!"
"All you need is love . . ."
"Love is just a game . . ."
If you are reading this, and you do not know the Elephant Love Medley, die. Now. No, we're just kidding. We'll skip to some good parts, okay? Sometimes, people's hands just don't hold up that long on the keyboard typing up song lyrics.
"Just one night, give me just one night."
"There's no way, 'cause you can't." Satine was stuck. Why oh why did she have to be an actress, and not a writer?! 'Umm . . .' she thought, 'stay, stray, play, lay, papier mache. . ." Her face was screwed up in concentration. 'There's no way 'cause you can't. . . pay? NO! I'm not a whore!" Finally, grinning triumphantly, she sang to Christian,
"There's no way, 'cause there's no way!"
Christian laughed.
"In the name of love, one night in the name of love. . ."
And so they sang the infamous Elephant Love Medley, that was not really infamous to them, since they were the ones making it up in the first place, and it's infamous to us because we ALL know the movie and soundtrack by heart (right?), and they were in 1899 when there were no such things as movies or CD's, and it's not really the "Elephant" Love Medley because they're in a theater, so it's more like a "Theater" Love Medley, and . . .yeah.
Anyways.
"We could be heroes!" Christian sang out, a few random lines from famous love songs later, "Just for one day."
"You, you will be mean," Satine sang, making her way backstage, meandering around the curtains as she fled from Christian and her heart.
"No I won't!"
"And I. . ." she began, trailing off as she grew desperate for an excuse. Her heart was growing louder. . .
"I'll drink all the time!" She ran up the stairs to stand on the stage, where she gazed out on the rows and rows of deserted seats.
And then he said it. The one line that gave her heart even more power and made her freeze in her tracks.
"We should be lovers!"
Her breath caught in her throat.
"We can't do that," she sang in a forced whisper. Her head's voice was quieter and weaker as it escaped her lips.
"We should be lovers, and that's a fact," he sang confidently, a nervous smile spreading across his face as he made his way towards Satine's spot center stage.
"Though nothing will keep us together. . . ."
"We could steal time . . ."
And then she knew that the fierce battle between her head and her heart had been won.
"Just for one day," they sang out.
And her heart was the victor.
"We could be heroes, forever and ever . . . we could be heroes . . . forever and ever . . . we could be heroes . . ."
Christian found himself standing inches from Satine. She was so close . . . so close . . .
"Just because I will always love you . . ."
"I can't help loving . . ."
"You . . ."
"How wonderful life is . . ."
"Now you're in the world . . ."
And then their lips met.
Lost in their kiss, neither noticed the lone light in the darkness illuminating them and only them, a luminous glow in a world of black that was the theater.
A spotlight.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
That was a fucking long chapter ('scuse my French. . . though we DO love French. . . .). Hope we didn't bore you to death. Anyways, THEY'RE FINALLY TOGETHER! FINALLY!!!!!
Readers: Took you long enough!
RougeChic: SORRY! So so so sorry, Jess wanted drama.
DiamondDog: Drama IS more exciting than fluff.
RougeChic: Oh, no you don't. . .
DiamondDog: Oh yes, Anna, I DO. Too much fluff is a no-no.
RougeChic: Oh REALLY? Well let's ask THEM! *points to Christian and Satine*
Christian: Wha. . .? *is covered in lipstick like that one scene in the movie when. . . oh nevermind*
DiamondDog: Let's not.
RougeChic: Just review, kay? Kay.
DiamondDog: Buh-bye!
RougeChic: Au revoir!
Oh, by the way, "Your Song" (as seen in Chapter 5) and "Nature Boy" (as seen in a bit of text in Chapter 4) the "Elephant Love Medley" plus all those other lovely songs within it, (as seen in Chapter 6) and the bits of script we, um, BORROWED from "Moulin Rouge!". . . we don't own them. So don't sue. Merci.