When Grief is not possible
A/N: I do not own the Moulin Rouge, nor the characters.
Harold Zidler has the difficult task of keeping the Moulin Rouge alive after death.
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I could do nothing more than stare down upon them and cry. My make up was crawling down my face, leaving nothing more than vague sweeps of black and white. As his first cries of pain reached my ears, I shrunk down inside. I wanted to hide away from it all. To be able to not face the pain I was about to receive. It lasted for five minutes. Five soundless minutes. It seemed as if the audience, which was still cheering endlessly, had never existed at all. No one there behind the curtain seemed to hear them, yelling for more and clapping their hands to get us back on stage. Back on stage for the curtain call. I was paralyzed. I could barely breathe as I watched him kissing her forehead, whispering to her that it would all be fine, all was well now. Then someone whispered in my ear. We had to get back on stage, the audience was going mad. I looked at the people surrounding me. Everyone was in a state of shock. I met Mimi's gaze and she looked so helpless. I stared at the limp body in his arms and I cleared my throat, trying to say something, anything, but I couldn't get the words past my lips. They shattered before they were able to leave my mouth. I simply turned around hastily and stepped further backstage, while dressers ran past me and tried to fix my face, my hair. I stopped crying because I knew what was important: the Moulin Rouge. For a moment I considered calling everyone up there, onto the stage to pretend that we were all delighted because of the new show with such a fabulous ending. Only we knew that it hadn't ended quite as happily. We could just pretend that nothing had happened, and get on with the show. If only it wasn't for the newspapers… I would have been certain that they would have written all about the story of her death all over them within a week. Maybe even sooner. Then the whole world would find out the truth of her death and Spectacular, Spectacular would draw even less public because I would have lied to them. At least this way they were prepared. After a bit of new make up I stepped past the curtains and into full light. Slowly the lights turned down a bit and the cheering ceased.
"Dames and gentlemen! I thank you all for your kindness and appreciation of our show." There was some cheering from a corner. "Thank you, thank you." I smiled as I stretched my arms above my head. "It has been a wonderful experience for us all. We are delighted…" My voice went on but in my head I was screaming. I heard myself babbling on about the show and the possible reviews we would get, and the show that would follow next week. I was talking for a few minutes already, a talk without an end, when someone interrupted me. "We want Satine!"
"Where is the cast?" And I heard shouts like that from all around the audience. I felt hot drops of fluids on my forehead and my breathe control seemed to stop. When I opened my mouth to speak, I was stuttering. "Dames… Gentlemen…" I looked from the right side of the hall to the left, unsure where to begin. "I-I'm afraid that there has been a terrible incident. Mademoiselle Satine has fallen ill." There was an immense protest coming from nearly everyone in the hall. I pulled my tie. "Without Satine, a curtain call is… is useless." I whispered the last words, afraid of the verdicts which would come. I wanted to say more, but I couldn't. I shut down completely. Nailed to the stage. I began to stutter even more and my legs began trembling beneath my heavy body. I had to get away from there. Now.
I sat down on a chair, still breathing heavily. The big Negroid man had helped me get past all the people backstage while I was nearly passing out. I couldn't believe it. The shock had finally reached me. My business had fallen. The star of the Moulin Rouge was dead. I had lost my income. Would the Moulin Rouge still be great without her?
When I got back to my positives I stood from the chair and went to my room. It was a half an hour after Satine's death. I could still hear the boy crying. The tumult of the people leaving the great hall reached my ear also. An unpleasant sound. I started walking towards the spot where Satine had fallen. The dwarf pulled the boy away while a few of the girls drifted around Satine endlessly. Marie closed Satine's eyes and then looked up at me. She looked like a mother who had just lost her child. I sighed and walked up to her. She stood up and I brought my mouth to her ear.
"Bring her to her room. Get it ready." I knew that she would understand me without needing any more explanation. She would take Satine's cooling body to the girl's dressing room, where the soulless body would remain for a few days, until I had arranged something with the grave digger. I would make sure that she'd get a spot on the graveyard, something not too expensive. After all, she had been a poor whore. A courtesan, yes, but still a whore. The word courtesan was only created to make the profession seem nicer. Softened, but never easy.
Now I had to face the boy. I walked up to him but he was barely capable of doing anything, let alone face me. He weighed heavily on poor Toulouse. The dwarf seemed barely capable of controlling his own senses himself. "Toulouse, take him home." I tried to sound calm. Toulouse looked up at me with watery eyes. He had always been a person without control over his emotions. He tried to answer me when the boy reached out. "No! No I want to stay here! W-with S-Satine." He let out a sob between every word. I did feel pity for this young man. I knew that he had cared for her, and she for him. But that was already in the past. I had to go on, so did Toulouse and so did he. For them, life in the Moulin Rouge was over. I had to take care of it now, and immediately.
I shook my head. "Boy, you seek nothing here, unless you seek pain. The Moulin Rouge has closed its doors." Well, to him anyway. I made a gesture to Toulouse and turned away. I heard the boy resist as Toulouse tried to get him away and I nodded to the Negroid man to help them if necessary. The only thing the boy could do is see her at her funeral. Something I had to arrange quick. There was no room for a dead body. Not here in the Moulin Rouge, where shows had to go on.
And whilst a hole was cut out from the clay and heavy sand, new girls were selected at the Moulin Rouge. I was there personally and watched how they nervously came in. I saw how Marie questioned and examined them. The motherly figure was still rather silent. I hoped that she would recover from that soon. We had to carry on.
Finally, five days after her death, the stiff surroundings of Satine's once beautiful spirit were carried outside. Her body was placed on a wooden cart and driven to the cemetery. I had arranged her burial to be in the poorer area; but not too poor. There was little attention for her burial. The young star had been forgotten easily. A slut to them, nothing more than simple entertainment. The only one standing there beside her grave and did show his grief openly was the boy. It wrenched my heart and even my dry eyes didn't last. She had been my little angel, my sparkling diamond.
And that same night, a new Sparkling Diamond attended the stage.
The show must go on.