A Passer-by
The roses are starting to wither. She's playing carelessly with the fallen petals, watching the way they shatter in her fingers. Outside, the rain is desperately trying to purify this little town, wipe every single one of its sins away. The walls shelter her from the rain, and because of this the roses will die and she will stay tainted.
The Sparkling Diamond. The star. The embodiment of dangerous beauty, wrapped in velvet, silk, satin and jewels.
What's left of her now?
An empty core and a fever that will burn everything down. What is she worth?
Now she has had her share of silly love songs and stolen kisses. Of that strange intoxication and sense of completeness. She did learn how to love. And now she wonders if it was worth it after all. She knows that her life would have been vain, she'd have died for nothing. But dying like that would have been easy, she could have just slipped away.
She laughs bitterly as it occurs to her that she's worth nothing. People won't cry just because she will be gone. Harold and Marie may shed a few tears for their Sparrow, but she's not the first to be lost to consumption. She's not the first star to burn out.
As she finally realizes that she's only anxious, that even the bitterness is gone, it's already too late to escape from the rain. She thought it couldn't reach her, but actually it's washed away, not her sins, but all that was within her. It's suddenly so silent, and she waits, restless.
It feels like the world – the Underworld – would be holding its breath, waiting for something to come. But what? Perhaps a change, perhaps an end.
She was blinded for a long time, but now she hears how strained their words are, sees how they turn away from her. They've known it all along, and now see how death envelopes her in its embrace.
She broke their rule and that made her human. The creatures of the Underworld leave with glitter and drama, burn out just as violently as they have lived. For her, it won't be like that. Because of her failure, she is now destined to die in a tiny dressing room, between moments. It'll be easier than changing her dress. Or just like that. She will put on the dress of death, and it's done.
There is nothing to do anymore. Perhaps she'll just sit here, waiting for the end. A soft smile dances on her lips, and it's stained, as it has always been. She kisses her fingertip, blows the kiss to the air. It floats there for a moment, and never reaches the one it's meant to reach. She wonders if she saved Christian, but is too tired to think.
She can't feel her own heart beat and doesn't remember when was the last time she could. She's seen many rainy days like this, countless, and finds no great reason for that rain, no great reason for her life. She was a passer-by. When Christian stepped in, she had already her hand on the doorknob, she was already about to leave.
It's so silent, and this is just like any of those other rainy nights she dreamt of freedom. She glances at the Underworld for the last time, and a feverish thought crosses her mind.
Could a cage bird like her ever have survived in freedom, after all?
Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge doesn't belong to me.
A/N: As you probably noticed, this was an alternative ending for MR. Thank you to everyone who had the time to read this, and thank you so much to everyone who have ever reviewed my fics. Please notify me of all the mistakes.