To Be Rewritten

Chapter Three

La Premiere

A/N: Thanks for the wicked awesome reviews! Special thanks to The 8th Beatle for being so enthusiastic about the story and keeping me on my feet. Please forgive the long delay. Kind Regards

Sharon Mahoney

"Andre," Christian wasn't necessarily eavesdropping, but he was standing there doing nothing that made noise, so the two Parisian's conversation was impossible not to hear. "Que'est-ce qo'un fait ce soir?" Andre, what are you doing tonight?

"Ah, ce soir, je vais aller a La Moulin Rouge." Andre replied. "Et toi, Sebastien?" Ah, tonight I'm going to go to The Moulin Rouge. And you, Sebastien?

"Je ne sais pas. Pourqoui vous etes aller a La Moulin Rouge?" I don't know. Why are you going to The Moulin Rouge?

"Ce soir est la premiere de Spectacular, Spectacular, mon ami." Tonight's the premiere of Spectacular, Spectacular, my friend.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" What's that?

"Un show de magnifiquance!" A show of magnificence.

Christian smiled softly, yes, it would be a magnificent show, the machinery had been finished and the electricity worked, not to mention Satine, and the other performers were in good voice. With the combined talent of his writing and the cast's skill, the show was to be a surefire hit. Zidler, after peeking around, led him to an empty area of machinery, where he could see and hear ok, but it was better than being dead.

"Remember, no matter what happens, do not move from this spot!"

Everything passed magnificently. Satine was wonderful, as he very well could expect, considering that the past week or so she'd had the stomach flu, at the very end, the curtain came down, Satine took a breath and fell into a dead faint. Zidler and the others rushed over, and Christian wasn't far behind, but the moment he was spotted by the still costumed entrepreneur, he was shunned away. "Are you mad? The Duke will be back this way, hurry, hide!" He turned to Nini. "Fetch the doctor!"

Toulouse pulled Christian behind a drape concealing some janitors quarters, and they watched the doctor hurry over to the fallen star and begin speaking with Zidler, at this distance, though, the conversation was inaudible. Christian stood helplessly with his good friend, waiting for some sign that she was all right.

Back over by the curtain, the Doctor looked up at Zidler with concern. "Ill, you say?"

"Yes."

"Beg pardon? How do you mean, 'ill'?"

"Well, sick, she's gotten sick, vomited a couple of times this week."

"Mmhmm, and this illness, no sign last week that she would be ill? Chills, nausea, anything of that sort?"

"No sir."

"How tight's her corset today?"

"She's not wearing one at all, we figured the dress would kill her if we made her wear a corset, it's quite tight, you see." Marie interjected from her place near the backstage stairwell. The doctor frowned more and pressed his hands over Satine's diaphragm, felt her breathing beneath him, moved his hands down just a bit, his furrowed. "Huh, strange."

"What? What's was that?"

"I said 'strange'."

"Well I know what you said, I meant to ask why!"

"Well her abdominal wall, it's unusually . . . Stiff."

"Stiff?"

"Hardened." Still not quite the right word, he frowned more. "Uh, blast it, I can't describe, it's just the way her abdomen is, it's usually softer, especially on a woman but her's is . . . Harder."

"Well, what does that mean?"

"Well it could mean one of two things, she's had some extra strain placed upon it regularly, causing strengthened hardened muscle, which I doubt, or, the reason I think is most likely, Mlle. Satine is with child."

Just as Nini came with smelling salts from the doctors bag, Zidler fell over in a dead faint, and the Duke marched up to them with Warner.

"Zidler where is . . ." He looked at the two unconscious people. "Foul play?"

With child, with child, with child, with child, with child.

The words played through Christian's head as he sat by the window of the train headed for Normandy, where they would catch a boat to Liverpool. If what the doctor had said back in MonteMarte was true, he was in deep trouble with his family. He looked to Satine, who was sleeping coyly, curled close to him, latched to his arm like he were a ragdoll and she a small girl. She made him so happy, he didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

. . . He decided it would be best to marry her before they arrived in London. . . .

She stirred and looked to him, smiled. "Why are you gazing at me so?"

He grinned sheepishly. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She frowned, knew the look all too well. "Christian . . ."

"Argh, I'm just so worried." He moaned, looked back to the window. "If they know about your . . . condition and that we aren't married they'll tear you to shreds and I don't want you to be hurt, Satine."

She kissed his cheek, made him look at her. "Then what do you suggest, my love?"

"Well," he shrunk in his seat a bit. "We should get married, before we catch the boat, on the boat even. I want to protect you, Satine." He slowly, almost shyly rested a hand on her flat abdomen. "Both of you."

"If it's for the best you know I will, Christian."

He nuzzled her nose with his, kissed her gently and held her close. "Yes, I know."

"Rest, we've a long journey ahead of us."

Long indeed.