Chapter 4: Toulouse Lautrec

Christine followed Giselle up the spiraling stairs of the backstage of the Moulin Rouge. She hugged her things close to her body, making sure not to trip over her skirts.

"Ye'll be very hapee 'ere. Nobody bothers anybody, an' ye're free to do what yeh wan'pri'r much anyway. There are o'ly three rules: One, yeh can't fall in love, thas the mos' impotan' one. Two, on'y give em' wha' their moneys wo'th. An' three, hav' fun with it."

Christine wondered if Giselle was drunk all the time or she just slurred on purpose. She decided that she must be doing it on purpose, because the next thing that came out of her mouth would prevent her from getting drunk.

"Oh, an' it's best you don' get drunk. Bad stuff usually happens to the gi'ls tha' do." She turned right after climbing the stairs, then took another right farther down the hall. She stopped outside a door with a poster of a can-can girl on it.

"This 'ere is my room, yer sharin' wit me, righ'?"

Christine nodded and Giselle opened the door.

Christine almost yelped with joy, the room was almost an exact replica of her dressing room at the Opera House. There were two beds made of wood, one was covered with a colorful beaded blanket and pillows. There was a vanity with little bits and bobs all over it. Half of the shelves were lined with beautiful things, even some priceless jewelry that Christine figured to be spoils from customers. There was even a little bird cage with a sweet singing budgie in it.

But one thing attracted Christine's attention right away.

In a corner, on her side of the room, there was a built in full length mirror. Exactly like the one that Erik used to come and take her into his and her haven beneath the Opera a funny feeling came over her, was it loneliness? But she was lonely with Raoul, so it must be…

"Erik." She whispered, going up to the mirror and feeling the cool glass on her fingertips.

"Wha'?" Asked Giselle, a little confused.

Christine snapped back to reality. "Nothing."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Erik ran his hands through his pitch black hair. He did this when he wanted something very badly. In this case, it was to see Christine. He looked around the at the walls that surrounded him. Again he was underground, shielding himself best he could from the world, the walls were decorated with things he had salvaged from under the Opera, some things were from his storage that he kept across from his old home. His new lair was just as lavishly decorated with many beautiful and foreign furnishings as his old one.

Right now he was at his organ, trying desperately to erase Christine from his mind. But every time he tried to forget about her, he just ended up longing for her even more. He had learned to control his anger a long time ago, but that didn't keep him from being angry with himself, which resulted in his pounding of the keys.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christine looked through all the blankets, trying to find one that was a little easier on the eyes than Giselle's. She found a velvety cream colored one, lined with beads. Christine sighed and looked for the matching pillow.

Giselle climbed the stairs to the storage, holding a decent but colorful costume for Christine to wear.

Christine turned and emitted a small gasp of shock. "Oh Giselle, you frightened me."

Giselle chuckled. "Sorry Love, didn' mean to startle yeh, jus wanted to give yeh yer cos'ume fer tonigh'. Tha' is, if yeh wan' to work tonight.

Christine thought about it, after all, it would take her mind off of Raoul, and Erik. "I suppose, but I can't dance."

"Don' worry love, ye'll be doin' the tables." She handed Christine the costume.

Christine looked at the dress and decided it was the next best thing to decent. "Thank you Giselle."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Toulouse Lautrec was not one for love that was not real. He was merely a "Child Of The Revolution" as many put it. Or in other words, an artist. Tonight he was in need of some freedom and decided upon the Moulin Rouge, even though it was the birth place of un authentic love. He had asked for a companiess to keep him company of course, and was expecting her soon. He watched the dances with the look of slight disgust on his face.

"You asked for a companiess Monsieur?" A sweet voice said from his right.

He looked up, a young woman of twenty or so, stood before him. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he wondered what she was doing in such a place as the Moulin Rouge.

"Yes, yes I did." He motioned for the girl to sit down. "What's your name?"

"Christine." She stuck out her hand like Giselle had done and expected him to shake it, instead, he kissed it.

"That's a very pretty name Christine, where are you from?" He adjusted his spectacles to see her better.

"Paris, I was born and raised there. What about you, Monsieur?"

Toulouse smiled. "Please call me Toulouse, and the same as you Christine born in Paris, however, not raised. That happened in the country."

Christine nodded and turned to watch the dancing.

Toulouse could tell that she was nervous. "Must be her first night," He thought to himself, examining Christine. She was very pretty, but then again they all were. There was just some type of innocence about her that attracted him. "what was she doing before the Moulin Rouge?"

Toulouse picked up his piece of charcoal, and started to draw Christine, right on the tablecloth.

She caught him doing so, out of the corner of her eye and turned to gape.

"Christine, it makes it very hard for me to draw you if you keep moving and making such unflattering faces." Said Toulouse, without even looking up.

Christine closed her mouth and returned to her former position. She tried very hard not to move for the next fifteen minutes, and soon became very tense.

"Almost finished." Said Toulouse, sensing her discomfort. He put a few finishing touches on it and spoke to release Christine from her pose. "Done."

Christine's muscles relaxed, she stood and walked around the table to see the sketch. It was amazing, like Toulouse had created an exact living replica of her.

"Do you like it?" Toulouse asked eagerly.

"It's breathtaking." She exclaimed.

"Good." He thought for a moment. "Christine?"

"Yes?" She was still marveled by the drawing.

"What did you do before the Moulin Rouge?"

Christine's face fell.

"I'm sorry, I should not have asked." Toulouse had instantly regretted asking.

"No, it's alright, I suppose I could tell you. But you must promise not to tell anybody."

Toulouse nodded.

Christine took a deep breath. "I worked at the Opera populaire."

Toulouse's eyes widened. "Are you Christine Daae?"

Christine put a finger to her lips and nodded.

"Then she mustn't know," Toulouse again talking to himself inside his head. "she mustn't know." Then he had an idea.

"Mademoiselle, follow me." and he stood, revealing to Christine his true height. He was a dwarf, only slightly taller than Christine's waist. A gasp escaped her lips, and she instantly clasped her hand over her mouth. Toulouse turned to her.

"What is it my dear?" Although he knew perfectly well knew what it was.

Christine uncovered her mouth. "It's just all the pain you must have gone through, Monsieur."

Toulouse could tell by listening to her voice that she was telling the truth. No one had ever been this kind to him about it either.

"Come my dear." He said with a faint smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They arrived at Harold Zidlers office, and Christine panicked.

"You're not going to have him fire me, are you?"

Toulouse looked at Christine with an amused expression on his face.

"No mademoiselle, I would never have Harold fire you." He knocked on the door. "However I have every intention of telling him that you're a singer."

Christine gasped.

"But," He said before she could accuse him, "not that you worked at the Opera."

Christine was still confused, but decided to hold her tongue, and just nodded weakly.

Toulouse smiled and opened the door.

"Ah, Monsieur Lautrec." Harold looked over Toulouse and added, "and mademoiselle Christine."

Christine hadn't noticed that Harold office had been much like Erik's lair, surrounded with amazing and even mysterious objects, except no instruments.

"Bonjour Harold, I just came here to inform you of something."

Harold leaned in closer to Toulouse and threw a suspicious glance at Christine.

Toulouse ignored the glance however, and continued. "As I understand it, you have no lead act, and as Christine has informed me, completely by accident, that she is a singer."

Harold's eyes lit up and he turned to Christine. "Why did you not inform me of this earlier?" He went over to her. "Are you frightened of me?"

Christine nodded truthfully.

"You have no need to be frightened of me," He stroked her cheek "I can make you a star. Now lets hear you sing."

Christine thought, she obviously couldn't sing Opera, so she decided upon a song that the chorus girls used to sing on their night off. She cleared her throat, and began.

"A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental, on your humble flat, or help you feed you obese cat. Men grow cold as girls grow old, and we all lose our charm in the end, But Diamonds are a girls best friend."

Harold and Toulouse just stared.

She stared back, the rush that singing gave her had subsided by now.

Then they applauded.

"Magnificent! We'll have you start tomorrow night!" Harold quickly retrieved a new contract, and threw the other one into the fireplace.

Toulouse just watched proudly, like a father would.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Erik stopped and stood very still, trying hard not to breathe.

Singing, her singing.

"That's impossible idiot! She's with Raoul!" The singing stopped and Erik passed it off as his imagination going against him.

His new lair was under the Moulin Rouge, why in the world would Christine be there?

And so he returned to playing his piano, furiously pounding each key so they emitted a strange yet beautiful music.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christine stopped at the stairs and listened hard, trying not to breathe.

Toulouse recognized the music immediately and turned to Christine, she too had frozen and was listening very hard.

And all of a sudden, she sank down crying.

"Why won't he get out of my head?" she said to know one in particular.

Toulouse sat down beside her and just waited for the tears to subside. When she was finished, he handed her a hankerchief. She dried her eyes and looked down at the ground, regretting what she had said.

"Whom is it you cannot get out of your head?" But again, Toulouse knew exactly who it was.

"Erik…." She whispered to herself, then to Toulouse she whispered, "Nobody."

Toulouse nodded, then got to his feet. "Christine, I think it would be wise for you to go to bed, seeing as you have a big day tomorrow."

Christine stood and smiled. "Thank you Toulouse." She kissed him on the cheek and made her way to her dressing room.

Toulouse sighed. Then he had another Bohemian idea, this one about love.

He made sure that no one was looking, then went over to one of the candelabras on the wall, and pulled on it. A trap door opened, and Toulouse walked right in.