Premise: If you've seen Moulin Rouge you'll know it's very much based on song snatches. You will find some here, it's only natural.

Chanson D’amour

by Elvichar

Satine was dead. The pearl of perfection, the diamond, the only woman I would ever love. Her memory will never fade.

But my loneliness is killing me. And I - I must confess - I still believe.

So what am I to do? Am I to be condemned to a lifetime of lovelessness? I can't believe fate would be so cruel.

It has been over a year since I felt the touch of another. In that time my grief over Satine's death has kept me occupied, but now I have told our story the weight of the loss has lessened. it's never going to go away but still...

Is it a betrayal, to want someone else? I have to believe Satine would want me to be happy.

The Argentinean warned me not to fall in love with a woman who sells herself. At the time, although I took it to heart, I had no idea why he was so concerned. It was not his business. Yes, the Moulin Rouge was in jeopardy if Satine did not consume her relationship with the Duke, but there was no reason for Juan to concern himself personally.

Juan, it's not his name, yet to keep calling him the Unconscious Argentinean would be a silly affectation.

It was he who brought me to this place in my life. If he had not fallen through the ceiling and into my room none of it would have happened. I suppose I should accept he was always my destiny.

When the Moulin Rouge closed he went back home - but something drew him back here.

He was in my room just this morning - he came through the door this time.

And, something changed. I said to him: "I wrote this song two hours before we met. I didn't know your name, or what you looked like yet"

He replied, "That is ridiculous."

Undeterred, I continued, "Isn't it ironic?Don't you think?"

He looked confused, so I explained, "Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when everything's OK."

He agreed that was indeed quite ironic, but he still didn't see the relevance. It was like my courtship of Satine all over again only this time I just couldn't find the right words. He shook his head and was about to leave.

"Don't go," I said suddenly,"Stay. This time."

He looked at me quizzically. I continued .

"I thought I'd live forever, but now I'm not so sure and...I missed you. Yeah. I missed you."

He grinned, "I just came down to invite you upstairs. Toulouse is having a little, um, poetry reading, and we thought it might do you good to get out of your room for a while."

What a fool I'd been to pick such a moment to fall in love. But it only takes a minute.

*******

Upstairs Toulouse was holding court, propped up by satin cushions and surrounded by painted creatures of all descriptions.

He was universally known as the tripod, and the reason for his nickname was obviously well known by all those who flocked around him now.

I overheard snatches of his conversation as I passed, "...I'm poor but I'm kind, I'm short, but I'm healthy..." Everyone laughed. A gangly woman whooped and grabbed at Toulouse's crotch in a quite unseemly manner. I could see her put one hand in his pocket.

I glance at Juan. He must have caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, because he chose that exact moment to turn around and look straight at me.

"Christian. It has been a year since she died. You still live. Perhaps you should find some way to ease your pain."

Harsh words, but true. I wondered if i should pick this time to tell him I already had found someone. Instead I sighed, and as I turned to get a better look at the room I noticed La Goulou dancing with a young man. She was using the steps the Argentinean had taught her. It was a painful reminder.

"Ah, she does it all wrong - not enough passion," Juan shook his head.

"I should like to learn that dance," I said.

Juan laughed, "You're in love with her now then?" He gestured towards La Goulou, "You going through all the dancers from the Moulin Rouge? Next it will be Chocolat eh?"

I couldn't help laughing too. Then he said: "Then perhaps it will be me?" And I stopped. It must have been too sudden because he guessed the reason right away.

"Oh, I see. It's like that is it?" he muttered, but not angrily I fancied. Then unexpectedly he started to laugh. "Hah, if you had decided this a year ago I might still have a job."

"What?" I was confused. This wasn't the response I had expected.

"Come, I will teach you the dance now," he held out his hand and led me, dazed, into the centre of the room. Some people looked up from what they were doing but we weren't the only men dancing together.

There was something about the rhythm of the night. We started to dance and I gasped. I could fell the passion building. By then I was aware that people were staring, but it was too late to stop.

"The look of love is in your eyes," he whispered. "You are a natural at this my friend."

Then we kissed. The moment was right. I had never kissed someone with a beard before - in any sense. I was a smooth cheeked boy when I met Satine. Now I was unshaven. Juan's beard was well trimmed, it gave him a devilish look. I would have expected it to tickle, but my beard against his formed a sort of cushion. It was a new experience, not unpleasant, but I think I would have preferred one of us to be unshaven. Then again, this was so different to my experiences with Satine that it felt nothing like a betrayal. I am sure she would understand. Although to be thinking of Satine at such a moment could be seen as a betrayal of my new Argentinean lover.

I pulled away from the kiss and into another.This time my thoughts would remain with Juan.

I nibbled on his ear and whispered "Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?" Aware that my grasp of the French language was not getting any better.

He smiled.

It was time to find a new song to sing.

End