AN: Probably won't be updating as often. Kinda been rushing the story lately because of my lack of time to write, and yeah... thanks again to the reviewers.

Chapter 8. Move On

She was beautiful. Magnificent. As beautiful as a Goddess. Never in my life had I seen a girl more breathtaking… who could steal me away with only one glance. One contact with the eyes. A smile.

Her offhand way. How completely oblivious she was to my glances, blushing as if I was the only man who looked at her like that. Did she not see that every man in Paris thought her to be gorgeous?

"It seems that you had a good day yesterday, Christian." Toulouse remarked upon entering my home. "Did you and Isabel get along?"

"Well enough, Toulouse."

"I have not seen you grin in so long, Christian! Did you allow your passion to come?"

"Passion?" I raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Isabel and I have no passion, Toulouse."

"She brings enough passion in the men of Paris, oui." Toulouse nodded. "But not in Christian?"

"She is sweet. A child."

"Not much younger than you."

"But still young enough."

"Do not use age as an excuse, Christian. Remember? Truth. Is that not one of the Bohemian values?"

"Who does not value truth?"

"Those who do not want to hear it?"

Could I be denying the truth?

What was the truth of the situation? Isabel had changed since I've known her. Besides prancing around like a Prima Dona and certainly looking the part, she seemed to possess a new confidence in herself. Before, she held her head high in a challenge to all. Yesterday, she held her head up because she knew she was something. She might not know what it was she was, but there was one thing for certain… she was beautiful.

"Never knew I could feel like this. Like I've never seen the sky before." (1) I whispered the words to myself, remembering how vulnerable she had looked at me after jumping into that wash-pool.

There was no doubt that Isabel was falling for me. When I had sang to her words that I had nearly forgotten I knew, I thought she would be in tears by the end of the night. How could I deny the new feeling within her when she looked at me? How I wanted to take her as my own, but she… I… I could not love her.

But when she had sang back…

Her voice seemed to grow stronger with each of our meetings. I did not know if she was practicing her vocals or if she had finally found reason to sing and be heard, but her voice was just as pleasant to the ear as those of long-pronounced singers I have met throughout Paris. A voice I could sing along with…

Almost as melodious as Satine's…

"Satine…" I covered my face with my hands, wanting to look up and see she's still there. That I was not sitting upon a stool writing nonsense without my muse.

"Let her go, Christian."

"I… can't."

"It is not fair, Christian. It is not fair for Isabel or you or Satine. Why can you not move on?"

"Toulouse. I just… I can't move on. Not now. Not yet. I'm not sure if I ever can."

"But… Isabel..."

"Isabel is a child, Toulouse. Nothing shall happen. I have already made certain of that."

"You have made… certain?"

"I let her go, Toulouse. I could not do it."

But how I had wanted to!

"Why?"

"I love Satine."

"What is wrong with Isabel? She is beautiful. She is pure, I am quite sure. She is not a child."

"She is… she's…" I sighed. "No. I just can't, Toulouse. She's… she is better off without me."

"Oh Christian…" Toulouse shook his head before leaving me to my loneliness once more. "What have you done?"

"Forget about him, Isabel." Cecille cooed, rubbing my back as I cried. "All men are rubbish. Just remember that. Us women… we need to just go off. Go on an adventure. Who needs men?"

"I thought maybe things would be different, Cecille." I cried. "I thought… I don't know exactly what I thought… but when I saw him… I can't describe it. He was everything I could want."

"And then he had to turn into some evil, nefarious bastard."

"It was pathetic of me to expect anything out of this relationship," I wiped my eyes. "I mean, we had only seen each other a handful of times. Could I expect him to love me after only a few memories… a few times together? He's a grown man. I'm just some silly girl. Why would he have need of someone like me? It was ridiculous of me to think that he, of all men in the world, would possibly be interested in me."

"Don't let him of all people put you in this condition." Cecille went to grab a brush and proceeded to untangle my hair. "You are gorgeous, Isabel. If he cannot see that, then he can just go to his pubs full of drunken bastards like himself and…"

"He isn't that horrible, now." I laughed at Cecille's anger.

"But he is! The lot of them! All complete idiots. You try to turn a guy away and he just follows you more. You try to make a guy fall in love with you and he pushes you away. Wherever can a girl have a chance to do something right for a man, may I ask? It seems near impossible to me."

"That's just because you haven't met the right man."

"What an understatement."

"No need to be bitter. It is not like I have either."

"Perhaps you have, but the fellow is too much of a bastard to admit it?" Cecille suggested.

"I did not come to the Moulin Rouge to draw fancies for some penniless writer." I shook my head, trying to gain back my sensibility. "Harod brought me here to marry some man. He is to visit on my nineteenth birthday."

"So Harod has told me," Cecille nodded. "Do you think he will be a dud?"

"It is very probable." I answered, grinning at how I was upset only a few moments ago, yet was freely talking of another man without a worry in the world. "If Harod arranged it, I believe it to be. But, at the moment, I am hoping that I am wrong."

"Join the club. Now you're truly one of us single women in Paris hoping that they shall meet their man any day now." Cecille continued brushing and went off on one of her tangents. "Take me for instance. I have spent a day or two with a different fellow for the past few months. Each time I pursue them only for the sake of being loved and finally finding someone. But, of course, luck is never on my side. In the beginning, he might find me superb and worth his time, but soon he grows tired of some voluptuous girl that comes at his every beck and call. Sadly, that is only after a few days. Then my search begins all over again. Perhaps the Moulin Rouge is not such a bad place for a woman like me… just ready to pounce upon an opportunity to find someone…"

"Never knew I could feel like this…" I closed my eyes, forgetting Cecille's talk and my hopes of another man, and feeling the tears coming. "…like I've never seen the sky before."

"Isabel?" Cecille ceased her brushing and turned to face me. "You okay, honey?"

"And I don't even know his name!" I shouted before welcoming the tears and allowing my sadness from minutes ago to take over.

1) Ewan McGregor & Nicole Kidman "Come What May"