When they got to Christian's apartment, the same old suite in the Hotel Meublé that had once been cheery but now was dreary (from one of Christian's poems), he laid Satine down on the small bed and went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea. When he returned with a mug for her, she was awake, but seemed quite lifeless. Her eyelids fluttered in that beautiful way he remembered so well from the days they'd spent there in the hotel.
"This place holds so many memories," Satine mused as she took the cup from him and blew across it to cool it down. Her fiery red hair was fanned out around her face, and she looked more beautiful than Christian had ever known her to. "Do you still remember our song?" Her crimson lips turned up into a smile. "Our secret song."
Christian nodded and brushed a hand across her porcelain face. "I sing it to myself every day, every time I'm not entirely sure you're still out there. Even after I accepted your death, I believed you were in the world somewhere, in another person's body, and that someday, I would find you."
"You're lucky," Satine told him playfully. "You found me, and I'm still in the same body. Or maybe you were expecting me to reside within a pretty girl from one of those leg shows?"
Christian curled a strand of her hair around his finger. "I don't think it would be possible for you to have landed in a prettier body than this. And I'm sure no girl from a leg show would ever care about anything besides looks."
Just then, there was a loud knock at the door. Christian stood up to get it, but Satine gasped, "No! It's them! They've come to take me from you! Don't open the door!" Christian sat back down on the bed, and both of them watched the door as the person on the other side continued to knock. Finally, a note was slipped underneath, and footsteps sounded, getting quieter as the person left the hotel. Christian bent down and picked up the letter, opened it, and read it aloud.
"Dearest Satine and company. We await your return, and hope that you are not going against our orders. Come back; we miss you dearly. From the people who are your home." He glanced at Satine, who had covered her eyes with one hand. "What does this mean? Who are these people?"
Satine sighed and sat up so that her face was mere inches from that of her love. "The truth is, that letter is from the people who forced me to pretend to die. The people who wanted me to marry the duke and live happily ever after. But don't you see, Christian? I have to go be with them, or they will kill you and take me. I will suffer in agony for the rest of my life, missing you, and you will never see me again. It will be painful for the two of us. That is why I cannot stay."
Christian leaned under the bed and pulled out a couple of suitcases. He went to his closet and removed all of Satine's old clothes, the ones he had kept. "Your best dresses, from our old life together," he explained softly, and packed them all into one of the suitcases. Into the other one, he carefully folded as many of his own clothes as he could fit. "We can still leave Paris, Satine. When I returned our tickets to England after I thought you had died, I explained my story, and the airport granted me two free tickets to England for whenever I pleased." He reached out a hand for Satine to take in her own. "Come with me. We will never have to worry again. I have lived in your home; now it is time for you to come to mine."
"This place holds so many memories," Satine mused as she took the cup from him and blew across it to cool it down. Her fiery red hair was fanned out around her face, and she looked more beautiful than Christian had ever known her to. "Do you still remember our song?" Her crimson lips turned up into a smile. "Our secret song."
Christian nodded and brushed a hand across her porcelain face. "I sing it to myself every day, every time I'm not entirely sure you're still out there. Even after I accepted your death, I believed you were in the world somewhere, in another person's body, and that someday, I would find you."
"You're lucky," Satine told him playfully. "You found me, and I'm still in the same body. Or maybe you were expecting me to reside within a pretty girl from one of those leg shows?"
Christian curled a strand of her hair around his finger. "I don't think it would be possible for you to have landed in a prettier body than this. And I'm sure no girl from a leg show would ever care about anything besides looks."
Just then, there was a loud knock at the door. Christian stood up to get it, but Satine gasped, "No! It's them! They've come to take me from you! Don't open the door!" Christian sat back down on the bed, and both of them watched the door as the person on the other side continued to knock. Finally, a note was slipped underneath, and footsteps sounded, getting quieter as the person left the hotel. Christian bent down and picked up the letter, opened it, and read it aloud.
"Dearest Satine and company. We await your return, and hope that you are not going against our orders. Come back; we miss you dearly. From the people who are your home." He glanced at Satine, who had covered her eyes with one hand. "What does this mean? Who are these people?"
Satine sighed and sat up so that her face was mere inches from that of her love. "The truth is, that letter is from the people who forced me to pretend to die. The people who wanted me to marry the duke and live happily ever after. But don't you see, Christian? I have to go be with them, or they will kill you and take me. I will suffer in agony for the rest of my life, missing you, and you will never see me again. It will be painful for the two of us. That is why I cannot stay."
Christian leaned under the bed and pulled out a couple of suitcases. He went to his closet and removed all of Satine's old clothes, the ones he had kept. "Your best dresses, from our old life together," he explained softly, and packed them all into one of the suitcases. Into the other one, he carefully folded as many of his own clothes as he could fit. "We can still leave Paris, Satine. When I returned our tickets to England after I thought you had died, I explained my story, and the airport granted me two free tickets to England for whenever I pleased." He reached out a hand for Satine to take in her own. "Come with me. We will never have to worry again. I have lived in your home; now it is time for you to come to mine."