Chapter 2

A/N: Well I would give you all your Ewan clones but I have a bit of a problem... the toaster (my cloning machine) unfortunately gave me numerous Michael Jackson clones, and I'm sure none of you want a Michael Jackson clone, but don't worry I still have plenty of appliance's which can be made into cloning machines like.... the Microwave. Hehehe please don't maul me! Seriously though thanks for all the nice reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge, or any of the songs used.

True to his word Christian wrote to Satine everyday. His letters were detailed accounts of life in the barracks; he spoke of his brothers in arms, of the strict Lieutenant Colonel, of terrible food, and of the regiment's detailed history. He would also write her beautiful poems filled with love and longing.

However, when basic training was over, and Christian had experienced the horrors of battle, the letters became less frequent, and more disturbing.

August 16th 1902

My darling. I do not know how much more of this I can bear. Battle is the most horrific and terrifying thing I have witnessed in my life. I will not trouble you with the details. Why must all this bloodshed be necessary? Oh love, I miss you so. I pray that this retched war shall end soon and that I will return to you.

With all the love in my heart, as always,

Christian.

When Satine read this letter, she finally understood why Christian's father had sent him to war. It was to show him, love cannot overcome death, and that humans are capable of doing terrible things to each other.

With each letter, Christian seemed to be growing more depressed and pessimistic. Satine worried for him every hour of every day.

"It must be extremely hard for him, because as you know, he is a sensitive soul." Satine wrote in one of her letters to Christian's elder sister, Amelia, with whom she kept in touch with almost as regularly as she did Christian. Satine however, told no one, not even Christian, of her recurring nightmare.

Every night it was the same. First there was nothing, but blackness, and a loud ear piercing noise. Once she realized the sounds she was hearing were the sounds of a battlefield, of agony, of pain, and of death, the blackness receded and a terrifying scene played out before her. Men lay dead on the field, while other's slowly wasted away. Some were split in half, with their innards, spilling out, and some were so terribly mangled it was hard to even identify them as a human being. Then she saw Christian, and what was left of his regiment, firing at the French, who fired back, neither side willing to surrender. A bullet, then sped from some unseen place and penetrated Christian's chest, tearing through his body, and exiting out his left side Christian then sank to the ground, blood soaking his uniform. The last thing Satine heard before she was pulled back into consciousness, was Christian's agonized cries.

She was always sobbing when she awoke, it would take a few moments of gazing around the darkened room to realize Christian was all right. It was just a dream, just a terrible, terrible dream.

"Damn this war..." Christian whispered. It was the middle of the night and he had not gotten a moments rest. For each time he closed his eyes, he could smell the putrid stench of rotting bodies, could hear the terrible blast of an explosion, and could see the men he killed before they died.

The men he killed. With each passing day he thought of them more and more, as the guilt gnawed away at his heart. What were their names, their dreams and ambitions? Did they leave behind women that loved them? Women like Satine? Or children? With rosy cheeks and chubby tummies. What were their fondest memories, and deepest regrets?

In basic training Lieutenant Colonel Stanton told them not to think such things of the enemy, and told them to focus only on exterminating them, as they were not human, they were animals. But the Colonel was wrong. They were humans, ordinary people, ordinary people just like Christian. Ordinary people who did not deserve to die.

Christian pulled from his coat pocket a photo of Satine, and him in his garret. As he did every night he kissed Satine's face. Hot wet tears trickled down his cheeks and splashed the photo's surface. How Christian wished he could hold his beloved again. He also wished he was as strong as her, maybe then this terrible war would not be so traumatic. He sighed heavily and tucked the photo back into his pocket. Tomorrow the troops were moving out to a small French city, near Pairs. How many more must die before the war ended? And would he, Christian, suffer the same fate as those before him?

Satine shifted her small bundle of groceries to her left arm as she checked the mailbox. Still nothing.... Satine bit her bottom lip as a wave of anxiety overcame her. Why had she not received a letter from Christian? Was he all right? Or was he... no she couldn't think like that, his letter probably just got lost in the mail.

As she carried the groceries in side, she remembered her nightly dream. What if the dream was reality? Nonsense she told herself, as she stuffed a loaf of bread into the pantry.

A loud knock on the door startled her. Behind the door stood a nervous looking man in a British uniform. Her heart began to pound. She had overheard woman talking to one another, saying that when they were informed of their husband's deaths this was exactly what happened. With some hesitation, she opened the door.

The man looked a little bit older than Christian. She at first wondered why this man was doing work like this when other men lay dying on the battlefield. Satine then noticed the man was without a right arm. "Did he lose it in battle?" She asked herself.

"Good day Mrs. James" He said with a forced smile.

"Good day..." Satine returned, was it really a good day? No it seemed that this would be the worst day of her life.

"Ma'am I regret to inform you," He paused for a moment, and sighed deeply. "Mrs. James, I'm sorry, but your husband is dead, well at least... We didn't find his body, but... We did find this," He then pulled a small photograph from his pocket, and handed it to Satine, who took it with a shaking hand.

She recognized the photograph instantly. It was a picture of the two of them that Toulouse had taken. They were in Christian's garret, sitting on his bed, Satine was wearing her pink robe, and Christian wore plain everyday clothes. He had his arms around her waist, and his head was resting on her shoulder, his eyes were sparkling as he smiled at the camera. On the bottom right hand corner of the picture, was a bloodstain, which Satine tore off, not wanting a reminder of her husband's death.

"I'm sorry Mrs. James." The man said again. "I knew your husband, he, he actually saved my life, in the same battle that I lost my arm... he um, well he was a good man, a good friend too. He spoke of you often, and well he loved you very much, that was obvious, his eyes always lit up when he spoke of you, and he would smile the biggest smile I have ever seen. It was nice to see him smile, none of us smile very much anymore." He paused, and looked at Satine's pained face. He was at a loss for anything else to say. "Good day Mrs. James, I'm sorry for your loss, terribly sorry." With that, he left.

Satine gazed at the picture. "He loved me, so much, and I loved him. He told me everyday how much he loved me, he wrote me songs and poems to express his love, but how many times did I tell him I loved him? What lengths did I go to, to show him how much I cared? Now he's gone, and I'll never ever get to make up for it. Oh Christian!" She wailed and sank down to her knees.

Today was the day, when dreaming ended.

A/N: I'm sorry! I didn't mean to kill Christian, well actually, I did. There will be more chapter though, well that is to say, if you review. Well so long for now!

Oh and sorry for how short the chapter is.