There she was, right in front of him. Her auburn locks fell gracefully across her delicate pallid skin, skin that appeared translucent in the hushed moonlight. Her vibrant cobalt eyes appeared different somehow, revitalized perhaps. He could see her scarlet lips forming empty words, and he strained to hear her saccharine voice echo through the desolate space that occupied his mind. The silence tore at this heart, and he watched helplessly as her slender figure retreated into the darkness. She made no effort to hold on, and soon he was left alone with the vacant darkness and his bitter thoughts.
His eyes opened suddenly, blinking in the dim evening light. It only took moments for reality to settle comfortably back into Christian's bones. He had been seduced by an image of Satine, and cursed himself for sinking into the darkness. An abrupt pain ran through Christian's cheek bone and the memories of the last twelve hours came rushing back to him. She had left him there, lying there against the wintry ground. Angry rain had fallen down upon him, originating from the lonely gray sky, crawling under his skin and creeping into his veins until his heart was pumping the chilled liquid. Only with the help of Toulouse and the humble bohemians had he reached his now deserted garret. He had fallen into a restful sleep, relishing in the calm wind that accompanied his dreams.
Now he sat in the same place in which his beloved had sat so many days, soaking up the delicious sunlight and watching the pigeons as they perched atop the balcony. Christian's garret, which once had been filled with vibrant declarations of love and longing, was now cold. The air had turned dull with the light, and it seemed that the walls had begun to crumble around him already.
Christian wanted to lie there, surrounded by his own desolation, but he knew he had to finish it. He had to know the truth. He stood up, every inch of his body wallowing in a dull ache, and walked to the balcony. He clutched the rail tightly as a fresh set of tears fell from his youthful eyes. His pure love for Satine, which once seemed like a blessing, now revealed itself as a curse. He had bared his soul to a woman who was interested in nothing more than her own success, and now he felt polluted.
Christian grabbed a heavy winter coat and tightened it around his chilled body. He reached for the door knob, but was stopped by yet another set of tears that wracked his body and broke his soul. He stumbled back onto the bed, sitting on the edge and attempting to regain his stolen breath. Soon enough, he had given up, falling back into the tangled sheets.
Just below, in the isolated streets of Montmarte, Satine was running to her poet. She breathed sporadically, stopping ever so often to capture her violent cough inside her stained handkerchief. The clouds above seemed to mock her struggle, their judging glare following her every move. Satine had fled from the Moulin Rouge, and Harold had watched her go, understanding in that rare moment. His only regret was that he had not let his little sparrow fly away sooner, and now that the doors of her golden prison had been opened, Harold felt a jarring sense of relief.
Satine had left with just a single suitcase containing the bare necessities, and the clothes on her back. She wore a pale blue dress that billowed in the harsh wind and blew about her tiny form. The dress was accompanied by a pair of painful heels that blistered her delicate feet.
She could see the door to Christian's garret now, just yards ahead of her. As she neared the door, she hopped up and down on the damp ground to remove the shoes which had now become excruciating. She climbed the stairs to Christian's room with a renewed fervor and reached the door in seconds. She stopped to tend to a fit of coughing once again, reaching into her bag to retrieve her handkerchief. Her head began to swim and brilliant colors filled her eyes as the heated coughs tore her body.
Inside Christian lay still on his bed. His eyes remained open, studying the patterns on the ceiling. Suddenly he was torn back into reality by a startling set of coughs that emanated from the other of the entrance to his flat. He jumped from the bed, running to the door, and opening it hastily. Christian could not believe what he saw on the other side. He felt immediately as if he was looking into some other world, a view of the future, the past, anything but the present. There stood Satine, radiant as ever, her dress clinging to her wet skin. It took several moments for Christian to realize the pain that Satine was in, her fragile body shaking from the cold and the sickness that seemed to have taken her over. Christian picked her up hastily and took her to the bed, setting her down upon the mangled sheets. He sat down on the bed beside her and placed a hand on her chest, attempting to regulate her breathing. Soon enough, the cough subsided and she sucked in deep breaths to make up for the stolen oxygen.
Suddenly Christian stood up and crossed the room, remembering just what Satine had done. He had been caught up in the moment, focused only on Satine's well being. Now he stood in the corner near the window, staring coldly at her. He watched as she stood, still shaking, and walked towards him.
"What is it that you want from me?" The look in Christian's eyes pierced Satine's heart, and she couldn't believe that she had done such a thing to the man she loved.
"Christian, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry…" Tears formed in Satine's eyes, as she attempted to form the words which had plagued her since that morning. "Christian I love you, I love you. I lied to you. I lied, the Duke, he was going to kill you, I lied. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't let you come for me, I couldn't let that happen." Satine dropped to her knees, her face buried in her hands.
Within moments of her speaking Christian had understood. He dropped to the floor in front of her, his knees hitting the wood with a thud. "Darling, darling." Christian wrapped his arms around Satine, tears beginning to form in his own eyes. He kissed her delicately on the forehead, over and over again. He kissed her tear-stained cheeks and her quivering lips.
"I'm so sorry, I never meant –" Satine was sobbing now, struggling to speak through her tears.
"My sweet Satine, I understand. I understand. I love you so much." Christian took her hands in his and proceeded to kiss each of her delicate fingers.
"Please don't leave me Christian, please don't leave." She looked him straight in the eye, in disbelief of her current reality.
"Never, never." Christian pulled Satine back into his welcoming arms, and they sat like that for many minutes, holding each other.