Title: After the Legend Leaves

parts - it's set up as one part, so I suppose it'll just be one continuous

fic with no breaks

Fandom - Moulin Rouge (ewan mcgregor)

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Baz owns it all, I just like to play, the new characters that

will show up here and there are mine, mwahahahahaha....

Summary: a newcomer who dreams of being an actress or at least meaning

something to someone, how Christian goes on, what becomes of the Duke, and

the fate of the Moulin Rouge is settled.

In progress, but it's nearly complete

Antoinette sighed to herself as she dabbed her makeup in place, her eyes

darting towards the doorway out of habit. Always watching, always waiting

for the other shoe to drop...that was the first thing she had learned to

do in the Moulin Rouge. That and to never let her guard down, to watch her

back.

She supposed she should feel happy that she was placed in her own dressing

room...a room that had been shut to everyone for the past year, ever since

the passing of its star attraction, the Sparkling Diamond, herself. But

she had to face the facts...the only reason she even got the room was to

keep her out of reach of the other dancers, performers, and glorified

prostitutes. Not that she was much different...well, she was, but not for

long if fate had it's way.

But she couldn't go back...couldn't and wouldn't. Pride and determination

dictated that much for her. So until somehow, someway, she became an

performer on a real wooden stage with sparkling lights and shimmering

costumes...when she would be able to lose herself in a character and

seduce an audience with a story...until that day, she would have to settle

for the loud music and low-cut costumes of the Moulin Rouge. Smiling

softly, she reached into her bodice and pulled out the folded and worn

picture of her hero...Sarah...Sarah Bernhardt...she was genius and she

wanted to be just like her with all her heart. It was her picture she

carried...not one of a family member or close friend or even a lover...for

she had none of those. It was just her...her and Sarah.

"You ready, love?" Antoinette turned quickly, her tense shoulders relaxing

instantly as the frazzled yet maternal figure of Marie came through the

door. Marie was different than the others...her and Harold both had become

something of guardians to her, even though she knew it was because of what

she could provide to the Moulin Rouge. What she could provide that no one

else could, and that would hopefully get them out of debt and keep the

place open.

She tore herself out of her reverie and nodded at the older woman, her

hands instinctively gripping the edge of the dresser as the other woman

gripped her corset strings and pulled. She whimpered slightly as her ribs

compressed, her teeth digging into her lip until the strain was over.

Looking over her reflection in the mirror, she sighed. "It will have to

do, I suppose," she murmured before turning towards Marie.

"Nonsense, you look lovely...they'll adore you, just like they have every

night before!" Harold bellowed in his booming voice as he entered the

room, his rosy grin only slipping a little at the atmosphere. Nothing had

been changed since she had been alive...no one would hear of it. True, it

was her room now...but yet it wasn't. Not really. She wouldn't touch

anything...not the furniture, not the costumes that she had to push to the

edges of the closet to make way for her own, not any of it. She had heard

that a few items had been taken away by her lover, but she knew nothing of

that. All she knew was that she wouldn't dare touch any of it. Because if

she did she just knew she'd be out on the streets for sure. And glorified

prostitution here was better than whoring on the streets any day.

"Do you think so?" she asked, more out of habit than actually needing an

answer. She really didn't believe what he tried to tell her, anyway.

Antoinette smiled in understanding as Zidler paused, his eyes taking in

the room and the memories that had been made there. Slowly he came back to

himself, his cheeks gaining their glow again and his eyes gathered their

sparkle.

"Of course!! Who wouldn't want to stare at my little...uh...at you!" he

caught himself, flashing her another smile before quickly exiting.

"Don't mind him, dear...it's just that he's still taking it hard..." Marie

told her gently and she nodded, shrugging at the girl in the mirror who

wore pale blue skirts that slit up both sides, an ivory corset with pink

and blue embroidery...her dark black hair done up in bows and curls. It

was her character and wasn't terribly hard to follow through with...it

was, after all, terribly close to home.

"I know....I know that it's hard for him...it's just that it's been a

year," she murmured and the older woman sighed.

"Things take time..." Marie replied before heading out the door. "Hurry,

love, you're on in a short while."

The featured dancer sighed before glancing to the framed picture that hung

on the wall...the only thing added to the room since Satine's passing. A

photo of the Sparkling Diamond herself, Zidler's little sparrow, her eyes

sparkling and her lips done up in a sultry pout, her hair pouring down

over one shoulder as she posed in a costume. She knew it was hard for

everyone...and that she wasn't particularly welcome by any of the other

performers. Only Chocolat, the Petit Princess, and Mome Fromage had been

nice to her...she was lucky if the others acknowledged her presence, or

decided to take out their bitter feelings on her. In truth, if Satine was

the Sparkling Diamond, then she was a mere cheap piece of glass. If Satine

was Zidler's little sparrow, then Antoinette was just a raven, or at least

that's how she felt.

Shaking her head to get herself out of the feelings that always strained

to overwhelm her, she smiled at her reflection and was pleased to see a

happy, somewhat-provocative stranger staring back at her.

"Well, you'll do," she murmured before turning on her heel and flouncing

out the door.

As soon as she exited her first instinct was to go right back in, but it

was too late. Already out in the hallway, she had come face to face with

her main adversaries. Forcing her mask to stay on, she blinked in surprise

at Nini, Arabia, and China Doll, all leaning casually against the wall of

the narrow hallway. She held her breath, attempted to pass by without

another incident. She couldn't afford another well-placed bruise, though

the insults were probably worse.

"So, Zidler's little girl out to get herself a man?" Nini asked, glancing

to the other girls with an almost manic smile on her face. "Don't fuck up

this time, eh? Eventually yer gonna hafta do more than jus' dance," she

added, smirking at the newcomer.

"Yeah...can't stay in a gilded cage forever, precious...gonna have to join

the big girls sooner or later..." China Doll purred.

"You know I'm going by what Harold wants to do...that's how he's going to

get the money to keep us in business," she retorted, immediately knowing

it was the wrong thing to say.

"Oh, so you're our savior, hmm?" Arabia hissed, raising an elegant

eyebrow. "You need to do more than look half decent and act timid before

you belong here...I still say you'll be out faster than you think..."

"S'right...we don't need you...you may think you're replacing Satine...but

yer just someone to keep the animals occupied until someone talented can

be found," Nini added, shoving Antoinette down the hall, their laughter

following her all the way.

She could hear the music throbbing beneath her, knew it was only a matter

of minutes before her number began. Calming herself, Antoinette hoisted

her skirts and climbed into the rigged cage that would lower her to the

floor. She wasn't sure she liked it, but Harold insisted that it fit her

act perfectly. After all, what more fitting for her than being a bird in a

gilded cage waiting for someone to set her free? Not that she cared

much...she'd pay her dues, help the Moulin Rouge to get money...and

hopefully turn it back into a theatre...

It was a long shot. Harold had vowed never again after the only true

performance in its history. It had been too hard for too many people and

they didn't have the funding to try it again. But maybe...

Antoinette instantly focused as the music and laughter below paused and

she braced herself as her seat began to lower down into the room below.

She let her character take over her poise and her voice and her demeanor.

Keeping herself in check, as she lowered into the spotlight she allowed

herself a moment for her pale blue eyes to search the waiting crowd below,

her anxiety leaving completely as she spied the Bohemians at their usual

table. Thank God for Toulouse. Another friend, he had provided instant

support and advice, always encouraging her dreams of becoming an actress

as well as the part of her that was a hopeless romantic. A very small part

of her, true, but a part still the same. He saw the spirit of the Children

of the Revolution burning in her, and he was determined to do another

show, to have the movement be great again.

And then she was lit up and her heart was soaring and a pure, clear voice

was coming from the depths of her heart. She rose in her cage, clinging to

the bars, singing of longing, of desire, of how she wanted someone to let

her free. Then Zidler appeared, flinging the door open, letting her spin

out to the dance floor to flirt with the crowd.

For when she was out there, she could do anything...she was a goddess that

the men begged for, threw money at, tried to touch, though she had quickly

learned to never let them. Not yet...soon though. For now she was content

to flit around, making them drool but not letting them bite, her skirts

whooshing over skin and floor as she made her way across the room. Leaning

over tables, displaying her cleavage here, showing her leg there,

Antoinette worked through the masses, pausing by a group of dancers to

catch her breath.

"Tired out already, are we?" a shrill voice sneered and Antoinette turned

to come face to face with Nini who was looking her up and down with sharp

eyes. "Go back to yer cage, ya crow, leave the real work to the girls who

know what they're doin!" she added and it didn't take long to realize that

she had more than a little alcohol in her. Grinning broadly, she sauntered

over to the younger woman and deftly reached a hand into her corset,

laughing at the howls from the watching men. She lightly plucked out the

tucked away photo and gazed at it, tilting her head to the side. "Stupid

stuff...not even a man...give up on this, dearie...yer stuck here /if/ you

can even make it here," she laughed, tearing the picture into bits quickly

before turning back to her suitors.

Stunned, pale blue eyes strained to comprehend what had just happened, and

something inside her started to snap. Her eyes narrowing, Antoinette

strode forward, right towards the table where Nini was jabbering with a

few interested men. Quickly, though, she felt a hand on her shoulder and

sighed when she looked up into Zidler's eyes.

"Not here, dear...never in front of a crowd.."

She was desperate. The very proof that she had of her dream was gone, torn

apart in an instant. "But she-"

"The show must go on..." was all the ringleader of the Moulin Rouge would

say before going back to his post to change the dance card. Sighing, she

carried out her song and dance as she sauntered back over to the cage,

waving at her adoring crowd as she was slowly hoisted back up to safety.

"You like her?" Harold was asking the audience, and by the way the cheers

were growing after each night, she had a more than decent-sized following.

"Well, you know how you can be the first to have her...that's right,

gentlemen...be the first to set our little bird free...tell me your price

and if it's right, she'll choose you!!!!!" The dark-haired lovely blew

lavish kisses before leaning back into the safety of her gilded cage,

completely missing the cold eyes that glittered hungrily that had been

watching closely from the crowd during the entire performance.

The speech provoked nothing in her anymore. She knew it was her fate that

her entrance to her full duties would be performed as soon as Zidler found

the right price. It was only a matter of time. And now she didn't even

have Sarah there to look at for comfort and hope.

Deep in her heart anger flared and it was as if her very blood burned. But

at the same time, she knew there was nothing she could do about it...Nini

had seniority over her, no matter how important she was to Zidler.

Sighing, she let herself out of the set piece and headed for the bedroom

for the female dancers. She paused as warm tears started to brim over her

eyes. "No...you've got to be strong," the young woman reminded herself,

brushing the moisture away with the back of her hand.

A hand on her arm brought her quickly back to reality and out of her own

heart, and she smiled slightly at the concerned look on Chocolat's face.

"I'm alright," she murmured softly and he raised a brow. Though he didn't

talk much, he had more heart than most of the other hardened souls that

worked here. "It's okay...I...I don't need a silly picture to keep my

dreams," she murmured, trying to drop the mask like she had seen the

others do, but not quite able to pull it off. Sighing, she touched his

offered hand gently and squeezed it. "I'm fine...you'd better go back out

there before Harold notices you're gone," she added, and with a nod and a

look from those soft, deep eyes, he was gone.

Shaking her head, Antoinette let her shoulders droop as she entered the

empty bedroom, her hands immediately tugging out the ribbons and finger

combing out the curls. Her costume was also quickly discarded in favor of

a plain nightgown and a pair of slippers. Glancing around, she slid the

present from Toulouse out of her mattress and quickly grabbed a lantern

and headed straight for the elephant. Like Satine's dressing room, it was

not open to anyone anymore, though the woman's presence still clung to

every step, every gleaming bit of the pachyderm. Sighing, she tucked a

long strand of hair behind her ear, letting the lantern guide her steps.

"And to think that's who I have to live up to," she murmured, a single

tear sliding down her cheek, the only emotional outburst against her

position that she would allow. It was for the best...and it would get her

where she needed to be, and who knew, she might just enjoy herself doing

it. Or at least that's what she told herself.

Sighing at the freedom she finally had, she threw herself on the

still-made bed, sprawling deep into the covers and setting the lantern

down so that the light radiated just enough to read by. She really didn't

need to alert anyone that she stayed there. She knew she risked such

trouble, but it was better than waking up to a dead rat in her bed back at

the dancers' rooms.

You know you really shouldn't be in here," a soft voice chided and she

looked up towards the entrance and grinned fondly at the small silhouette.

"I'll take my chances, Toulouse...though why you put up with me, I have no

idea," she sighed, closing the book to sit up and regard her friend. He

had become something of an older brother to her...not exactly a wonderful

influence, but she supposed she could do worse.

"Because the Children of the Revolution need you for our new show?" he

asked, taking a seat in a pile of neglected cushions.

"You have one?" she asked, immediately all ears.

"Well...not exactly...you see, we just need to get our playwright in

gear...he needs something to get him back into life, anyway," he added,

his eyes clouding slightly.

"Well, who do you have in mind?" she asked, resting her head on her knee,

her eyes following the random shadows that seemed to fly through the room.

She returned her attention back to him when she noticed his hesitation.

"Toulouse...are you drunk?"

"No, you know I've been good for the most part," he defended himself and

she had to agree to a certain extent. She had seen how bad he had been

before, by evidence of when she had first arrived a month ago. At first he

had been determined to be the one to teach her the ways of men, but Zidler

had deterred him from that idea quite quickly...that and his surprise that

she held no value on love and sex at all.

So he had become her teacher, to bring to her the values of the Children

of the Revolution and help guide her talent and heart towards a brighter

future. Or that was what he claimed was going to happen. She certainly had

her doubts. That had been the reason he had given her such a book for a

present, to begin with. She hadn't expected to find herself totally drawn

into the story, and the fact that it was the truth made it even more

poignant. She may not be much, but at least she could read and for that

she was eternally grateful.

"Well...you like that book, don't you?" he asked, glancing away and

ringing his hands over his cane.

"Of course I do! This is only the third time I'm reading it...it's my

favorite!" she blurted, and the little man seemed overjoyed and surprised

by her exuberance all at once. But still he looked somewhat hesitant...

"Well...that's who I want to do our play..."

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she let herself flop back onto

her back on the bed, mentally counting to ten. "Toulouse...that isn't a

good idea..."

"He's ready! I know he is...If he doesn't have something besides the

memories and that book to keep him company, I'm certain he won't last

long! This would give you your show, him something to do, and the

Bohemians a purpose again!"

She sighed, biting her lip in thought. "I didn't think he was doing well,

though?"

"True...but if you can help me, you can help him...the Moulin Rouge needs

him if they'll do another show-"

"Zidler said no more shows," she whispered sadly, rolling to her stomach

and sighing.

"But with Christian, we could convince him..." She grit your teeth and

shook her head.

"If this book taught me anything, it's that he's not going to be up for

this again..."

"But Antoinette! The book was good therapy for him...he'll be ready,

you'll see! I'll take you to him tomorrow and you can see for yourself!!"

he insisted, standing now, thumping his cane against the floor for

emphasis.

She tensed, hoping that the noise and movement wouldn't bring anyone

running. "Alright, alright...I'll go with you...you and the other Bohos

can meet me by the front of the Moulin Rouge tomorrow morning...but I'm

telling you that this is a bad idea!" she finally bit out, knowing she'd

have to go through with it to quiet him. He was irrepressible when he was

excited.

"You'll see! Sarah would be proud!" he exclaimed and her expression

darkened. "What is it?"

"Nini tore up the picture...the only real thing I have for my dreams, and

it's gone..." she sighed, forcing herself to be strong. She wasn't a

little girl, and she couldn't do what she needed to if she was going to

crumble every time things got tough. He sighed and nodded in

understanding, crossing over to her to pat her outstretched hand gently.

"Things will get better...I promise you that..." he said softly as he

smiled gently down at her.

"You shouldn't promise things you can't follow through with..." she

countered, but he was already out of the door. Smiling to herself, she

opened the novel again, losing herself in the feelings that she knew only

existed in stories, and read until her eyelids grew heavy from exhaustion.

Antoinette tried to look sophisticated and confident as she waited by the

gates of the Moulin Rouge, though she was painfully aware of everything

around her. The midmorning noises penetrated every bit of the grey sky,

and she bit her lip as she tried to look inconspicuous. Any other time

she'd touch or look at Sarah's picture for luck, but now there was no way

she even had that little bit of reassurance. Chewing the inside of her

lip, she smoothed the long green skirt of her dress before wringing her

hands absently.

"Ready?" She turned and relaxed when she saw that it was only Toulouse.

True, she had the days to do what she pleased, but she was apprehensive

just the same. Zidler had warned her that following the Bohemians around

might not be the best of ideas, and that it was safer just to leave

Christian to his ramblings and reclusive tendencies. She only knew that he

was real, not just a character conceived in an attempt to write the best

love story that Europe had ever seen. But apparently, according to

Toulouse, not even that had inspired him to change his lifestyle or even

write anything else. It was the Bohemians that had taken the incentive to

get it published, telling him that the world deserved to know about

Satine. Although in his eyes, nothing had changed. She had no clue what

she was getting into, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Where are the others?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she looked around

for the other Bohemians.

Toulouse just sighed and shrugged. "He doesn't get as angry at me for

interfering in his life as he does them. The Argentinean has told him too

often that he should have known...and Satie is more vocal about his career

than what he should be...and the doctor comes by often to check on his

health, but he isn't very appreciative."

"Then why on earth are you dragging me over there?!"she asked in

frustration.

"He might listen to you, since you're a woman...at least you can get his

attention and maybe help me to persuade him to be the voice of the

Children of the Revolution again!" he said, building in excitement as he

got each word out. Antoinette sighed and shook her head.

"I'll play along, but I really don't know, Toulouse," she murmured, biting

her lip as she followed the short man down the street to the boarding

house where Christian had taken up residence. The streets were the same as

the alleys by the Moulin...decadence trying to cover up desolation and

despair. Sadness clung to the very air and seemed to press down on her and

everything around her. Trying not to crumble under its influence, she

pushed her shoulders back and tried to stand straight and walk like a

lady, glancing up at the window of the apartment where they'd be heading.

It was dusty and the glass seemed to radiate the gloom that lurked inside.

She shivered in apprehension, biting her lip as she tried to gain the

courage to stop their mission now. It was, after all, uncalled for. He

deserved his space, and there were some things that just simply shouldn't

be done.

But her tongue seemed too big for her mouth, and when she opened her lips

to speak, no sound came out. Toulouse was so busy babbling on about how

the Bohemian mission would be resurrected, he didn't notice Antoinette's

predicament. Exhaling any thought of refusal, she continued to keep on

walking, too aware of the sound of her own footsteps as the dirty air

seemed to envelop them into its embrace.

"Here we are," he said, pausing as they approached the building to look up

towards the window that she had been gazing at earlier. "Here we go," he

added before they took the final step between the dank air and the dank

inside.

She felt her arms squeezing into her body as they mounted the narrow

staircase, careful not to let the rough walls brush against her. Toulouse

plodded up eagerly, his face somewhere between excitement and

cautiousness. He glanced back once at her before raising his fist to knock

on the door. The sound was hollow, empty, and alone inside the boarding

house.

Nothing moved inside the apartment. He tried again, the meat of his hand

thudding against the rotting wood of the door. "Christian? Christian?!

It's me, Toulousse..." he went on as Antoinette watched on silently. She

knew it would never happen. She just knew it.

Her friend knocked harder. "Christian, please, let us in!" he nearly

shouted.

Silence. Then a raspy, tired shred of a voice. "Go away, Toulousse," it

said sadly, quietly.

"Christian?!" he asked, spurred on by the sign of life inside.

"Go. Away. Toulousse." She shrugged, and they both started by the sound of

shattering glass. Toulousse immediately yanked on the door, found it to be

open, and they both rushed to get inside the room.

It was as bleak as the outside of the building, though it radiated with

sorrow. Even the sunlight filtering in through the window couldn't

penetrate the mental darkness that filled it. Leaves of paper covered the

walls, and they rustled with even the smallest hint of a breeze or draft.

Vaguely she wondered what was on them, if it was as magnificent as the

book she had come to love to curl up by each night.

And then the sound of a wrenched sob tore her attention away from the

dancing pages. She gasped softly, despite herself, and looked at Toulousse

in quiet alarm. He shrugged, as if this was a natural occurance. The only

objects of significance were in the corner of the room. On a rickety

looking table was an old, beat-up metal typewriter. She looked at it in

wonder, marveling that such a thing could produce such wonderful written

word. Although the same could be said for the man draped half out of his

chair, his arms on the table, his head buried between them. His shoulders

hitched violently, and his voice broke out in sobs, some high, some low,

all of them painful. Her keen blue eyes spotted the shattered bottle on

the floor next to his chair before letting them migrate back to the man.

He was slumped over, clothed in dirty pants and a ratty wifebeater. From

where she stood she could see his filthy, mussed dark hair that clung to

his scalp, and barely caught the hint of a grimy beard.

"Oh, Christian," Toulousse murmured, stepping forward, his footsteps

creaking loudly against the floorboards.

His head came up suddenly, and Antoinette's heart ached at the pain that

was in those grey-green eyes. Their color would have been amazing had it

not been for so much sadness there. They went from her to Toulousse in an

instant, though it seemed that he took a moment to realize who was

actually there. She guessed that it was the alcohol that blurred his

senses. "Toulousse..." he whispered in the same broken voice that had

produced those sobs. "Go away...just go away," he whispered, wiping at his

face with the back of a dirty hand, the tears streaking his pale skin

clean.

"Christian...we're here to help you," the dwarf whispered, his eyes full

of pity and remorse as he slowly approached the writer, his hands out so

he could see that he meant no harm. "This is Antoinette, she's new at the

Moulin Rouge," he added, and she twitched as those intricate eyes focused

briefly on her before they narrowed.

"What do you want?" he croaked, reaching for a bottle on the table that

still had its contents in it.

"Christian...it's time for you to get out of this...it's been over a

year..."

"I'll never get over her...never."

"Christian...that story is over...It's time for you to write something

else...something to take Paris by storm!" Toulousse paused, waiting for

the explosion, relaxing slightly when it didn't come. "A new show that

will bring the Moulin Rouge and the Children of the Revolution back

again!!" he went on, grasping at empty air with his hands as he put on a

false air of happiness. "Just think about it Christian, think of what it

could do for you-"

"TOULOUSSE!" the writer suddenly roared, thudding the bottle hard against

the table, so hard she was surprised that it didn't break. "I've told you

before...no more...just let me be..."

Concern took over Toulousse's face. "But Christian..."

"GET OUT!!!" the broken man snarled, jumping to his feet so quickly that

the chair fell over and he wobbled unsteadily on his feet.

"All right, Christian, all right..." he stammered, backing up towards the

door. "But if you need us-"

"Now, Toulousse!!" That was all it took to push the Bohemian back into the

hall, and she followed right on her heels. The door slammed back into

place, and she watched as Toulousse quickly rushed down the stairs,

murmuring how nothing was ever going to help his poor friend. She started

to follow, then paused at the sound of another loud crash followed by the

a large dull thud. Pursing her lips, she watched as Toulousse disappeared

down the stairs before tentatively climbing the few steps that were

between her and the apartment. Holding her breath, she leaned in, pressing

her ear against the wood of the door. Not a sound reached her ears and she

frowned, listening intently. Slowly, she pushed the door open a crack and

looked inside, expecting to have some random object flung at her.

Everything was still, so she slowly opened the door all the way and

stepping into the room. Christian lay crumpled on the floor, unconscious.

The chair lay across the room, one leg broken clean off the seat. Sighing,

she glanced outside to the street. She knew there were only so many hours

in a day, and that this was the only time she had to herself, but...

Muttering to herself that she was absolutely crazy, Antoinette turned and

shut the door before moving to consider the figure on the floor. Grasping

him under each arm, she winced as she tugged his weight over to the simple

bed. The mattress sagged slightly under his weight and she stood back and

assessed him briefly once he was sleeping soundly on the bed. She didn't

know what it was, but there was something about him that reached out to

her...maybe it was the way those eyes had so much hurt in them, or the way

his voice broke with sorrow. But she did know that he needed help, that he

couldn't be left alone in his own misery any longer. And she also knew she

had a hell of a lot of work ahead of her.

Glancing around at the state of the disheveled room, she sighed. "I

suppose I can start by cleaning house," she murmured to no one in

particular, heading for the pile of shattered glass.

The next few days passed somewhat smoothly, with Christian going in and

out of unconscious stupors. Antoinette found that it was easy enough to

tend to the inebriated writer during the day and have one of the

Bohemian's take over when she was working. It was easy enough to tend to

things...the apartment was small and fairly easy to clean, though she was

careful to leave the pages and various pictures tacked to the walls...she,

more than anyone knew the significance of sentimental value.

Somewhat harder was the task of cleaning up Christian, himself. She let

the Doctor do the most difficult task of bathing him, and the next day she

meticulously washed and trimmed his hair, and slowly, carefully shaved

him, as if everything in her life depended on it. As she washed the trace

of the stubble away with a damp cloth, she looked upon his face in a new

light. He wasn't the same as she supposed he had been when he had first

arrived in Paris. No, there were a few lines of experience, if not really

age on his face, though he held an innocent expression in his sleep.

Smiling, she ran the cloth down his cheek, her fingertip just barely

brushing over the soft, clean line of his cheek.

"Mmmm," he mumbled, his head shifting a bit to the side. She started and

froze, too surprised to jerk back. "Satine," he sighed, one of his hands

raising to clasp her wrist and draw her hand to his lips. Her breath

caught in her throat as the soft cushion of his lips pressed softly

against her fingertips, and then his head shifted a bit to the side, a few

strands of hair falling over his forehead as he drifted back off into

sleep. As soon as he released her hand she drew it back as if stung, and

the remaining hours she spent there that afternoon seemed to go on

forever.

She went about her regular routine that she followed as she prepared for

Toulousse to take over, though this evening it was as if she was a

mechanical toy, just going through the motions, her mind overflowing with

other things. Something about the tenderness of how he had pressed her

skin to his lips both frightened her and warmed her at the same time. She

had never thought much about love...it had always seemed too far off a

destiny for her to ever succeed in reaching. Cleaning and preparing a

simple meal for the patient when he woke up seemed to happen in a fog. As

she waited for the Bohemian's return, she walked slowly round the room,

lost in thought. Her eyes focused on a few of the pages that hung on the

walls, fluttering with the slightest hint of a breeze. She slowly traced a

fingertip over the rough texture of the pages, her eyes narrowing as she

tried to make out words in the fading sunlight. Her eyes flitted to where

the small cage hung by the window, the birds inside chittering quietly to

themselves. She was surprised they had made it this long. A small

fluttering object caught her eye and she turned her attention back to the

wall and caught herself, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a genuine

smile.

Though it wasn't exactly the same picture that she had once owned, it had

the same figure in it, the glorious woman that was her guardian angel and

muse. In her own little world, she gently took the picture from where it

was tacked, her eyes filled with wonder and security as she examined its

worn edges and slightly yellowed color, not to mention the greatness of

the figure it pictured. "Sarah..." she whispered lovingly, the temptation

to slip it into the bosom of her dress completely overwhelming. She knew

she could carry on without a good luck charm, but she missed the comfort

of knowing that the great Sarah was looking out for her. Unconsciously she

wet her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue as she stood there,

motionless, staring longingly at what to everyone but two people was an

insignificant little photograph.

"PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW!!!!!"

She jumped, gasping for breath and nearly inhaled her tongue. Whirling,

she let the picture flutter onto the table and turned to look towards the

bed. Christian was awake, and half sitting, leaning against the weight of

one arm as he glared at her with stormy, angry eyes. "Don't you ever,

/ever/ touch that again....." he growled, and she knew if he had

anystrength he would have jumped up and torn the photo away and pushed her

across the room, far from its reach. Shaken, she turned to retrieve it

from the table.

"DON'T!!" he barked and she immediately drew in her hand. "Don't touch

anything of hers," he almost snarled and she nodded, suddenly ten times

more timid than she usually was. But then her pride and anger began to

slowly thaw and suddenly flare. It was absurd, after all...here she had

taken care of him for days on end, brought him from the edge practically,

and here she was instantly obeying his every command!

"I was just interested in the picture...I-"

"Don't touch anything of hers...ever," he repeated, his hands scrunching

up ends of the thin sheet that covered him into tight wads.

"I wasn't trying to mess anything up-" she stammered, trying to collect

her wits.

"I don't care...it was hers, and it needs to stay where it was..." he

paused, his eyes narrowing anymore as he struggled to sit up. Antoinette

moved forward as if to assist him but he stopped her with a dark glare.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

Her mouth opened slightly and her fists landed on her hips. "What am I

doing here?! I've been trying to get you back to something resembling

human!!"

He paused momentarily, his brow furrowing. "What are you talking about?"

"When I found you you had passed out from despair and drunkenness...I've

been taking care of you while the alcohol was purged from your

system...I've been cleaning this place and making sure you stayed

alive...what am I doing here, indeed!" she snorted, fixing him with her

own glare, her chin rising defiantly.

Christian paused, glancing down at himself, then running a hand through

his hair and then over his smooth face before shaking his head vehemently.

"You should have left me like that..."

"But you could have died!"

"AT LEAST I WOULD'VE BEEN WITH HER!!!!" he shouted, his body moving to

jump out of bed but paused midway through, too weak and in pain to finish

the movement.

"Christian...you have to move on sometime," she sighed, exasperated and

yet sympathetic.

"No..." he shook his head vehemently. "She was the love of my life and now

she's gone..." he said, choking on the words slightly. "This was

Toulousse's idea, wasn't it..." he growled as his head jerked up to look

her in the eye.

"Not completely, no...you see he came to talk to you and I-"

"He thinks that by having one of his whore friends come to take care of me

that I'll forget about Satine!! Never...never ever..."

Her eyes widened and her skin flushed. "What did you say?!" she breathed,

too angry to shriek.

"Just because you wash me, because you cook for me or claim to be saving

me...that's not going to get me to sleep with you...what did he promise

you, a part in some stupid play once you convinced me to write it?!"

"I....I..." she spat out, the paleness of her face giving way to red

anger. Her blue eyes seemed to turn even paler as they glinted in quiet

fury. Her hands clenched in an out of fists as she glared at the

playwright.

"No matter what he promises you, I'll never give it to you...not to just

another prostitute...she was special and there's no one that can ever

touch her...ever. Now get out...."

"Why you arrogant...I stayed with you because I felt sorry for you..." she

stammered, slowly getting the will to move her feet as she walked to the

bed. "I thought you were some...some wonderful poet who would at least

appreciate someone who was trying to help him out for no reason other than

she felt pity!!! Now I see that you're just some stumbling drunk who's

living in a dream he can never recapture, but is too scared to move on

with his life...I should have left you for dead," she growled as she

stalked closer, holding his silent, angry gaze firmly.

"Get out....get out now...GET OUT!!!!" he screamed, the volume of his

voice alone urging her away. With a swish of her skirts she was to the

door, throwing it open with one angry tug of her wrist. She nearly ran

straight into Toulousse and when she saw him she just shook her head.

"You can take care of your brilliant friend," she snarled, glancing back

at Christian momentarily. "It's clear he'll never be any help to you or

himself..."and with that she pushed past him and stalked down the stairs.

"And I'm not a whore," she whispered to herself before emerging into the

street and heading towards the Moulin Rouge.

Inside, his energy spent, Christian reached around blindly by his bedside.

"Toulousse...get out...wait, get me a drink..."

"No Christian..." the smaller man said softly, shaking his head sadly.

The dark-haired man's head rose to show Toulouse his exasperated face. "I

don't have time for this...either get me a drink or get out..."

"Christian, no...it's time to get past that..."

"Toulouse, don't."

"At least stop drowning yourself with drink..."

"You're one to talk."

"Christian, you can't even walk without leaning onto something...you're so

depressed that you can't think of anything without breaking into a sobbing

fit. You know I'm an advocate of love...but Christian, there is more to

life for you to see. She would want you to go on...you know she would," he

urged, slowly advancing into the room when the other man didn't lunge for

him.

Christian sighed, his ire turning to sadness, and he ran a hand over his

face and through his hair. "I can't, Toulouse...I wrote about it, thinking

I could get it out of my system...but she's in me, in my blood...I can't

forget her..."

"No one's asking you to forget her...just to let the world back in," he

pleaded softly as he continued to approach the bed. Christian nodded

silently, his shoulders almost hitching, then lowering in a long sigh.

"It's so hard, Toulouse," he murmured and the other man nodded as he

pulled up a chair, knowing they were in for a long night.

Antoinette muttered angrily to herself as she viciously applied her

makeup. "Of all the nerve....I can't believe he thought I would be kind

just for sex....." she growled, examining her reflection coldly in the

mirror before starting to brush her long dark tresses. By chance she

happened to glance up at the wall and paused as she looked into the

laughing eyes of Satine's picture. Shaking her head as she secured her

curls, she made a face at the image of the other woman. "You can have

him...that book was written by another person entirely," she sighed,

glancing down at the dresser to the novel that she had loved so dearly.

Without another thought, she clasped the book in one hand and walked to

the closet, shaking her head as she threw it into the depths between satin

skirts and elaborate dresses. Taking another passing glance in the mirror

to assess her image, she nodded curtly to her reflection before stalking

out the door.

Somehow this last incident had pushed her to a certain conclusion: she

didn't need love...she knew that when she had decided to come to the

Moulin Rouge, and this just proved her point even more. Men were nothing

but selfish, and if they wanted to use her for entertainment, then that

was fine...she'd use them for experience until she could be a real

actress. With new determination, she strode out into the hall to where her

gilded cage waited.

"Well look here, it's the little nurse...too good to be one of us, eh

girls?" Antoinette bit the inside of her lip and turned to regard Nini

standing with the other prostitutes.

"I think I'll be able to do well enough, Nini...Just because I don't open

my legs at the sight of a man doesn't mean that I'm bad company," she said

coldly, smirking at the dark hair woman's instant expression of malice.

"We'll see, then, won't we...you'll be begging for mercy when you have

your first man and he rips you apart from the inside out," she sneered and

Mome Fromage gave her a warning look.

"Be nice, Nini...you'll only scare her," she hissed and Nini just grinned

proudly.

"Yes, we'll see if you can put your moneymaker where your mouth is," China

Doll echoed, a mock smile of sweetness on her face as both she and Arabia

stared down their noses at the most recent addition to the Moulin Rouge.

"That we will," Antoinette hissed, holding herself high as she stalked off

and got into position.

Tonight, as soon as her cage began to lower, she turned herself on and

shone, throwing herself into her song and act more than ever before. She

was shy and coy, then spiraled out of her cage with a swish of her skirts,

dazzling young and old alike as she kicked her legs up to her head and

leaned back until her hair brushed the ground. Spying the Bohemian's

table, she sauntered over, throwing herself onto the table's surface to

lean over and rub noses with the Argentinian before pulling back with a

wink and flinging herself back into her cage.

Exhaustion and exhilleration fought for control of her body as she waved,

grinning broadly to the cheering crowd. She had done it...she had finally

shown her worth...

She almost didn't hear it over the applause, but it was just loud enough

for her to make out. "Wonderful!!! A marvel...though she's no Satine,

she'll do...no one could ever be that good..."

It was almost like fingernails on a blackboard. Not like Satine...that was

all she seemed to hear lately. Well like it or not, she was here and here

to stay...

Antoinette paused as she passed by Harold's office, her thoughts

interrupted by voices inside that were quickly mounting in volume and

frustration. She frowned, wondering why Harold wasn't downstairs with the

show...that wasn't right...Holding her breath, she slowly leaned into

where the door was cracked and peeked through. Harold was at his desk,

almost standing so that he was leaning over the flat top, his expression

almost desperate. The other man sat completely straight in front of the

desk, his hands clutching and twisting at his hat and his beady eyes were

cold and fiery at the same time. He wasn't very attractive, and she

thought that his bushy mustache and hair made him look like a rodent on

two feet. She didn't recognize him at all, but she could guess who she was

by the tone the conversation was taking.

"If you'd just listen to me, Duke! I'm sure that-"

"There is no reason for me to listen to you...I've told you that my

decision is final!"

"But surely if you let us try to pay you back..."

"Pay me back? Are you insane? I put a fortune into that little show of

yours and it only ran for one night! And besides that, we both know that

you made a fool of me and went back on our original bargain...My decision

is final, Zidler...I'm closing the Moulin Rouge and there's nothing that

you can do about it as long as I possess its deed!"

Antoinette frowned, exhaling softly as she considered the situation. The

Moulin Rouge couldn't close...true, it was home to the somewhat unsavory,

but still...it was the home and only source of work that many people

had...

And when she thought about it, she really wasn't giving up that much...If

anything, she was merely speeding up the inevitable. If she had to

literally get a leg up to get a leg up in the world, she might as well do

it in a way that would provide some source of security. Her eyes widened

slightly as the Duke rose to leave she knew she didn't have any time to

spare if she was going to follow through...

Without a second thought she put on her most seductive smile and pushed

the door open and sauntered inside.

"Now gentlemen, surely there's a way that we can salvage the

situation...it would be a shame for you to part ways angrily, especially

when this whole thing can be easily resolved," she purred, glancing over

at the Duke coyly before sliding a pointed look at a somewhat startled

Zidler.

"Who is this?" the Duke hissed softly, and she wasn't quite sure if he was

still angry or trying to be alluring. She swallowed hard and tried to

smile when she spied his crooked teeth, his greasy mustache that with his

pointed nose and beady eyes made him look like a complete rodent. And he

smelled like a musty home that hadn't seen company in too many years.

"Uh...Duke...May I present one of our newest attractions...the pure,

innocent in a den of sin...the white rose in a bed of thorns..." She could

see the Duke's ire start to raise again and quickly cut off her employer.

"I'm Antoinette, your grace," she murmured, extending a small hand and

nodding as he assessed her openly before pressing his thin, too-moist lips

against the back of her hand

"Yessss...you are new, aren't you....I've seen you perform...very

nice..../very nice/..." he breathed and unconsciously she held her breath

until his equally musty breath had dissipated.

"Why thank you...now why don't you sit down," she purred, guiding him back

towards his chair. "And we can discuss this little matter..."

"Well...maybe we can settle this," he replied reluctantly, giving her an

oily smile as she perched herself on his chair arm.

"Yes, that would be for the best...wouldn't it, Harold?" she replied,

raising an eyebrow in the other man's direction.

"Yes, yes, completely for the best," he quickly agreed.

"Now then...as I see it, the solution is quite simple...Harold simply

doesn't want to close down the Moulin Rouge...and Harold, the Duke just

wants to be recompensed for the original bargain you made with him, isn't

that right?" she asked, forcing her hand to gently stroke against the

Duke's cheek. Bristly, intruding stubble mingled with oily skin. Her smile

became somewhat forced at his open leer.

"Yes, that's all I want, really...you're quite right, my dear..."

"Well, then it's really quite simple," she replied, smiling as she tilted

her head to the side. "We simply make a new deal..."

"And what would that be?" Harold asked, his face somewhat wary.

"Why Harold, don't be silly...the Duke simply hands over the deed to the

Moulin Rouge in exchange for another...charming flower that might catch

his fancy," she finished, grinning charmingly at the Duke as he blinked,

trying to digest what she had just suggested. "And since I'm of the most

worth here in the Moulin..."

"Antoinette, are you sure!?" Harold asked immediately, his usually rosy

face going slightly pale, his bushy eyebrows raising up to meet the

creases in his forehead.

"Harold...if that's what it takes..." she murmured, giving him a look and

he nodded slowly. She knew it meant the loss of much of her freedom, but

she also knew she had nothing else to lose...she would never be as loved

as Satine, that she knew...but this way, this way she could at least start

to catapult herself up to the heights of the heavens...

"Ah...are you by chance another aspiring actress?" he breathed and she

leaned in, trying not to squirm when he eyed her cleavage.

"I'm an aspiring actress who doesn't look a gift horse in the mouth..."

she replied and he chuckled, a thin, reedy sound she wasn't sure she

liked, but was sure she'd get used to it.

"Very well...Harold, I'll make a bargain with you...give me Antoinette for

my private and exclusive enjoyment and I'll give you the deed to the

Moulin Rouge..."

"Would you consider funding another play?" she whispered, hoping she

wasn't pushing her luck. The Duke's eyes flashed and his lips twisted into

something of a sneer.

"No...no more /plays/...not here...My dear, if you want to be an actress,

I can make you a star...I'm planning to leave Paris soon enough, and if

you come with me, you can have the fame you want and more..." he hissed

and Antoinette's heart stopped dead. It was wonderful and horrible at the

same time.

"Leave here? But...but I've finally found a home," she stammered and

Harold started to stand in alarm.

"Yes, Duke, I'm sorry but-"

"No but's! This time the agreement will take place on my terms...and your

home is with /me/!" he growled, looking square at Antoinette.

"Antoinette, you don't have to-"

"Harold...it's for the best," she whispered, something inside her going

suddenly numb. If there was one thing she had learned in life, it was that

sometimes emotion got in the way and it simply had to be disregarded.

"Very good...why don't we seal this deal in a few days...it will give you

enough time to say your goodbyes and pack for travel. At the end of the

week I'll return to sign over the deed to the Moulin Rouge and claim my

payment," the Duke said nodding as Antoinette rose and headed towards the

door.

"Duke...are you sure there isn't anything else you might want?

It's...she's finally found safety and comfort here-"

"And she will have those things with me. She may not be Satine, but she'll

do," he added as she moved to close the door behind her. Something inside

Antoinette's heart seemed to snap and she quickly ran down the hall,

smacking her way past the gathering prostitutes, and headed out into the

rainy evening, across the compound of the Moulin and straight for the

elephant...and stopped. Another reminder of her who she'd never live up

to...but it was her only port in the storm where she knew she'd never be

found. Sobbing quietly, her tears mingling with the raindrops, she wrapped

her arms around her and climbed into the abandoned pachyderm.

Back inside, a troubled figure that had been in the hall watched as

Antoinette had disappeared into the night. It was no secret that the walls

of the Moulin were paper thin, and what he had heard was more than

disturbing. Without a word he slipped into the shadows and headed out into

the night.

*******************

Toulouse watched as Christian obediently ate his evening meal. It had

taken much discussion, but at least he was agreeing to become human again,

though he knew he'd never get him anywhere near the Moulin Rouge ever

again. But still...get him inspired enough and maybe he'd at least write a

new play...

"She was only trying to help, Christian," he murmured and the dark-haired

young man merely shrugged.

"No one can replace her, Toulousse..."

"We're not asking for anyone to replace her...we're not even asking you to

find anyone else...we just want you to come back to life, Christian," he

sighed sadly. He knew he wasn't that wonderful of an influence...it was

all he could do to not go out to find a bottle of absinthe and pour

himself a drink.

He knew he shouldn't push the issues that were so tender to Christian

right now, but he didn't know what else to say. Toulousse simply wanted to

know when he would see a hint of his old friend again. Thankfully the

knock on the door interrupted the uncomfortable silence.

Both men were surprised when an apprehensive Chocolat entered the room

without a word, though by the look on his face, something was afoot.

"What's wrong?" Toulousse asked, frowning as the damp performer entered,

his expression as dark as his skin.

Sighing, the quiet man took the offered seat on the edge of Christian's

bed and began to relate the discussion he had overheard between Zidler,

the Duke, and Antoinette.

"Oh my...this is bad, this is very, very bad..." Toulousse exclaimed when

Chocolat was finished.

Christian frowned, sympathetic, but hesitant. "Toulousse, if it's what she

wants, just let her have it..."

"No...it's not what she'd want at all...she's just doing it because she

has this idea that there's no place for her...I thought she'd gotten

beyond that..." he muttered, sighing bitterly. Christian looked at him,

perplexed.

"She was born as Anna to a family who wanted a son. She was never really

valued within the family, and when she wanted to be an actress she became

even less desirable to them than she already was. She had to decide

between an arranged marriage and an acting career, so she was banished

from her family for choosing acting," Chocolat said softly, the memory of

many late-night conversations coming back to him.

"Yes, yes...Zidler immediately hired her in hopes of paying off the

Duke...she's a virgin and he was letting men bid on who would have her

first...but now..."

"Well if she wants to be an actress, I'm sure the Duke can make it

happen," Christian replied coldly.

"You don't understand...she would never do anything like this, but she

doesn't feel that she belongs anywhere...when she came to the Moulin Rouge

only Zidler, Marie, the Bohemians, the Petit Princess, and I would even

speak to her...to everyone else she's a joke, a child, and she's

constantly being reminded of what she has to live up to," he murmured,

nodding to the picture of Satine that sat on the table.

Christian sighed. "I suppose I wasn't much of a help, either..." he

admitted, resting his chin on his hand in thought.

"She honestly cares about Zidler...that's why she went ahead with

it...he's like a father to her...that and she has no reason not to go off

with the Duke...he'd provide for her, and she has no need, no belief in

love..."

"No belief in love? None at all?" Christian asked in disbelief. They

suddenly had his undivided attention.

"No..Christian, she has no reason to believe in love...every time she has

been in love with someone, it has never been returned...you wouldn't

believe what she has been through...that's why her parents finally tried

an arranged marriage with an older, wealthy man."

"But...surely there was someone who cared for her!"

"Christian...not everyone is as lucky to find love as you were...sometimes

it just doesn't happen," Toulousse reminded him gently.

"But to not have love...that's terrible!! Love is like oxygen...love lifts

us up where we belong, all you need is love!" he proclaimed, and for the

first time since Satine's passing he began to resemble the Christian that

Toulousse had met when the Argentinean dropped through his roof. True, he

was a little world-weary and still weak and depressed...but there was a

slight light in his eyes again. "At least I got a chance..." he went on,

Toulousse nodding supportively. "There has to be a way to make her see

reason..."

"The Duke won't be easy on her...after what he nearly did to Satine...he

wants a possession, she doesn't know what she's getting into," Chocolat

agreed somberly.

"There has to be a way," Christian murmured, deep in thought.

"Not this time, Christian...you won't convince her otherwise," Toulousse

sighed.

"Maybe not her...but maybe..." he paused, glancing at Toulousse quickly.

"Toulousse, you put the profits for my book in an account, didn't you?"

"Well yes...I was hoping that maybe we could use it for another show

someday..."

"We'll see how much is there...at least it'll be something to work

with..."

"What are you talking about?" Toulousse asked, his face complete

confusion.

"You'll see, Toulousse...though we'll have to act fast, we don't have much

time..."

*****************************

Antoinette sighed as she stepped into the gilded cage for what would be

the last time. After she thought she had finally found a home...not much

of one, but at least shehad some friends here. Tonight there were no smart

remarks, at least not to her face. She knew what Nini said about her

behind her back, that she was scared about being a real worker for the

Moulin Rouge, or that she was just in it for the money...and maybe she

was. She didn't even know for sure...she just knew that there wasn't a

point of waiting for love...it was a legend, a story, and for her it would

never come. So she might as well take the next best thing.

Sighing, she resigned herself to her fate as the cage began to slowly

lower to the dance floor. There was nothing she could do about it

now...after she finished her number she would be taken off to Harold's

office to witness the signing of the papers and then she'd leave the

Moulin Rouge forever with the Duke...She wasn't really sure what she

thought about him. She knew she could never be attracted to him, and she

was quietly afraid of his wrath if she didn't please him. Despite what the

other women had told her, despite all the talks that Marie had given her

on how to please a man, she knew she had no clue. And she knew that he

could be a man to be reckoned with when he was angry.

And suddenly she was in the spotlight, and it seemed everyone was there.

The Duke sat at a table in front, watching her with a possessive gleam in

his eye, the other performers stepped back to watch her last performace,

and the Bohemians were at their own table along with...

Her eyes squinted to make out the form in the light. Christian? She

sighed, wondering why her mind was playing tricks on her now. Pushing the

thought out of her head - for why would she be thinking about /him/

anyway? - and plastered her best grin on her face as she slid off of her

perch and onto the dance floor. Giving herself to the song, she let her

voice mold the notes to her whim, let her body bend to the dance steps,

throwing herself at the mercy of whatever twisted muse it was that guarded

and influenced the Moulin Rouge. She leaned across tables, slid her hand

over shoulders of young and old men alike, tried to get over to the

Bohemian's table but couldn't wedge through the bodies so she settled for

mock-flirting with Zidler onstage instead...in her own way she said

good-bye to them all...

All too soon it was over. She was being raised from the home, the

eccentric family she had known, and it was like she was being put up in a

cage. A cage for the Duke to keep his little pet in...but there was

nothing else good that would ever happen to her, so what was her problem?

Pushing the thought out of her head she headed for Zidler's office,

squaring her shoulders and letting the mask slip over her. She had to be

strong for this, and she wouldn't be anything less.

She entered to find that both Zidler and the Duke were already there. Both

of their heads turned as she entered and both greeted her with smiles:

Zidler with his overdone, showman grin that seemed somewhat nervous now,

and the Duke with his oily, arrogant smirk.

"There you are, my dear...now we can get down to business," he greeted

her, guiding her to stand by his side while looking expectantly to Zidler.

"Uh, Duke...I have to say that although your offer is tempting...you've

been outbid," Harold stammered, wiping his face anxiously.

The man at her side seemed to morph into a raging fire instantly. "What!?"

he hissed, clenching his hat brutally in his hand. "Who is it?! If you

agree to him, then the Moulin Rouge will close down!!!"

"Perhaps I can remedy that, as well," a soft, accented voice said from the

doorway and when she looked up she nearly fell over at the sight that

greeted her eyes.

"You!!!" the Duke hissed between his teeth.

"Hear me out first..." Christian murmured, stepping inside the door. He

looked transformed...clean-shaven and immaculate, he was dressed in a

spotless tuxedo and carried his hat elegantly with one arm. "Let me buy

the deed from you, Duke...I know I've caused you a lot of trouble...let me

make it up to you. Let me buy the deed...the Moulin Rouge will be no more

trouble to you then..."

"How can you even talk of such things? You're a pauper, you couldn't

afford it or her," the Duke sneered.

"Actually I could...the amount that I earned for my first book is quite

impressive," Christian admitted. The two stood there, glaring at each

other, communicating by eyes alone.

The Duke hissed through his teeth. "Very well. I am tired of dealing with

you mercenaries of the underworld...take it..." he snarled, taking out the

deed to the Moulin and throwing it on the desk. Christian nodded and

presented him with a handfull of bills. The other man counted them and

nodded. "This will do...what about her?"

Zidler silently held out a contract to Christian. It was the same bargain

that the Duke had been offered...the deed of the Moulin for her private

services. Startled, she glanced up to Christian, who said nothing, merely

took up his pen and signed along the line provided as if it was just some

other business transaction. She turned to regard the Duke as he headed out

of the door.

"Have fun with her...though I doubt you'll get as much out of her as you

did the first...she's lovely, but she's no Satine..." he muttered before

stalking out into the night.

Zidler relaxed noticably, sinking down into his chair. "Brilliant idea,

Christian," he murmured.

"Thank you," the writer replied softly, and when he looked up at her,

Antoinette couldn't help but feel some sort of antipathy.

"What was that about?! Did you mean to save me?" she hissed, her eyes

narrowing to slits.

"You have no idea what he's capable of...you're better off here," he

replied, brushing off her obvious harsh feelings for him.

"But I thought that no one would ever live up to her..." she shot back,

ignoring Zidler's warning looks. She didn't care if he had a soft spot for

the boy. Though she had no feelings for the Duke and didn't particularly

want to go with him, he had been key in getting to be a real actress.

"Oh, the contract...that was just so there were no loose ends for the Duke

to play with...as far as I'm concerned, you're free, go someplace far away

from here," Christian continued, and something inside her snapped.

"This is my home...the only family I've ever really had...sure, they're

not exactly what I'd like, but it's better than other things, I know...and

besides, you signed a contract...I can't and won't break it. Zidler

flashed Christian a look that said that he clearly had expected this

reaction.

The author sighed and for a moment seemed weary. "We had a feeling you'd

say that...so we came to the agreement that I'll write another play for

the Children of the Revolution and the Moulin Rouge...you can consider

taking the lead being your penance to me and still continue your other

duties within the Moulin..."

She blinked, all at once delighted and repulsed. "What? What suddenly

changed your mind...I don't need your pity, if that's what you're

thinking!!" she spat out, suddenly understanding. "Well I won't let you

make a whore out of me and then spite me for it...I plan to abide by that

contract in all areas," she shouted, stabbing at the piece of paper with

her index finger.

"As you wish..." Christian replied, holding his hands in front of him in a

peace gesture. "I'll have to meet with you a few times before rehearsals

can begin so we can work on the story...Harold, can you handle getting

this place turned into a theatre again?" the writer asked, glancing over

at Zidler.

"Of course! We'll get on that right away!" Harold agreed instantly,

shuffling out of the office to quickly start planning and to escape the

young woman's wrath.

As soon as he was gone Antoinette's sky blue eyes turned steely grey. "I

suppose you think that I'm in your debt now...that I should get on my

knees and thank you..."

Immediately Christian went on the defensive. "I never said that-"

"But isn't that what you're thinking? I bet you're pleased to have

salvaged another future whore off the streets, to have saved me from the

wrath of you nemesis, the Duke..."

"You have no idea what he would have been like-"

"No, I don't...but it was my decision...mine. I don't need the pity and

sympathy of one who just days ago didn't want me to step foot in his

apartment, even though I was only trying to do you a kind turn."

Christian's hands began to tug at the brim of his top hat, his eyes began

to narrow ever-so-slightly. "If you don't want me to interfere-"

"I have no choice...I'm yours now," she said coldly, turning towards the

door.

"You are not mine-" he started as he reached out to grab her by the arm,

but she turned back to face him, her expression viscious.

"That's right, the only one that belongs to you is your heavenly angel,

may she rest in peace, and I'm not her...If there's one thing that I am

QUITE aware of, it's that I'm not her..." she snarled before yanking open

the door and stalking out into the hall. "Let Harold know when you want to

see me in regards to the show...and I assume I'll see you at all of my

performances until then, since you are my private owner now," she added,

smiling mock-sweetly before slamming the door and disappearing in the

corridors of the Moulin.

He sighed as he slumped a bit to lean against Zidler's desk. He had every

right to be infuriated with her, after what he had done to help her. He

should be protective of the memory of Satine and turn around right now and

never enter this cursed place again.

But all he could really feel was a healthy amount of weariness and a

slight pang of amusement, as well as a slightly protective streak towards

the young woman. Shaking his head to himself he headed towards the door

and quickly navigated outside before anyone else could get him caught up

in the goings on of the Moulin.

She was headstrong and talented, of that he had no doubt. Though she was

nothing like Satine, true, she had her own charisma and charm when she

wasn't as angry as a bothered hornet. His footsteps quickened as he neared

his modest home, his mind buzzing the closer he got. He nearly tore up the

stairs and quickly lit a lamp as soon as he emerged into his room, sitting

down at his table and taking up paper eagerly. His fingers busied

themselves with setting up the typewriter again when he glanced at his

picture of Satine sitting on the tabletop. Pausing, he picked up the small

frame and looked at the image fondly, tracing over her features with a

fingertip. Her eyes still sparkled and she smiled knowingly from where her

image lay frozen in time. Slowly a soft smile appeared over his lips, and

with the blessing of his muse, he began to write and continued long into

the night.

Her heels clacked rhythmically against the pavement as she walked through

the early morning air to the run down boarding house where her first

meeting with Christian would take place. She wasn't quite sure how she

felt about him now. True, she was still angry about what had happened when

she had tried to help him out, but now suddenly the tables had turned. He

was extending his hand to her and she was suddenly filled with the urge to

bite it. But underneath that there was something about him that set her at

ease, and also something that made her extremely uncomfortable. What that

was, she didn't know.

Slowing, she picked up her skirts as she crossed a puddle, one hand

absently touching her hair to make sure that it was still put up to make

her look somewhat acceptable. Readying herself and thrusting her chin in

the air, she slowly climbed the staircase to her destination. Her small,

gloved fist had tapped on the door softly only a few times before it

immediately opened, and she blinked, still not completely able to grasp

Christian's apparent transformation. Though he still looked ragged and

weak around the edges, he was putting forth a conscious effort to at least

walk among the living again. Though he was out of the formal wear now and

dressed in simple clothes like any other Bohemian, there was no getting

around his breeding and the fact that he was quite good- looking, despite

the first time she had actually seen him. He gave her a soft, hesitant yet

sincere smile and opened the door for her, gesturing her into the

apartment. "Come in, please," he offered, motioning for her to have a seat

on the neatly-made bed as he walked to the table, picking up a stack of

pages.

"I wasn't even sure that I would be able to write anything decent, let

alone a show, but once I started I couldn't stop...I think you're going to

like what I've come up with..." he went on, looking up at her and

blinking. "Well go on, have a seat," he added, nodding back to the bed.

Pursing her lips slighlty and ignoring her hesitation, she slowly lowered

her body to sit on the edge of the bed, slightly startled when Christian

sat on the other end, leaning back against the wall, one leg stretched out

and the other bent in front of him. Antoinette had never seen him so

casual, yet so in tune to his work, and she had to admit it startled her.

"Well, I'm happy to see that inspiration is returning to you," she

murmured, glancing down at her hands momentarily before looking back up at

Christian. He shrugged, the papers ruffling softly in his grip.

"It seems my muse has returned and has decided to be kind," he offered,

glancing over at the picture of Satine on the table and smiling warmly.

Antoinette instantly bristled, not because she detested the woman, but she

didn't know how much longer she could go with the constant comparisons.

"Anyway," he continued, drawing her thoughts back to the present, "would

you like to hear what I've got so far?" he offered, looking up at her

expectantly.

"Of course...that's why I'm here, after all," she added, wincing slightly

at the tinge of coldness evident in her voice. She didn't necessarily

dislike him....but she couldn't feel completely comfortable around him.

Maybe it was because of how they had first met, or

maybe it was just that he was a constant reminder of Satine's shadow that

always seemed to follow her.

"Of course," he murmured before returning his gaze back to the pages in

his hands. "All right, it takes place in this enchanted kingdom, and

there's this young woman who's this beautiful young thing that's been

taken in by the king's harem because she had no other home...but she

hasn't officially begun to work there yet, because the king regards her as

being beyond common usage and has set her away for special purposes...."

"Interesting beginning...but what about conflict?" Antoinette asked,

swallowing hard before speaking, hoping Christian didn't see how she hung

on his every word, how he drew her in by how genuinely excited by his

story he was getting.

"Oh, well that's coming...you see, the kingdom is in danger by this evil

knight...and the only way that the king can stop him is by bribing him

with the precious new addition to the harem...she agrees because she has

nothing else to really live for, so the bargain is made and the date of

the trade-off is set. But what she doesn't know is that she's being

watched..."

"By who?!" she asked, leaning closer as his excited hand gestures and

sparkling eyes drew her in. He was clearly a master storyteller and in the

back of her mind she wondered if he had told such wonderful tales to

Satine as she fell asleep in his arms after they had given themselves to

passion. She could feel herself flush as she realized what she was

thinking and tried to push it out of her mind, though once she had thought

it up she couldn't make such thoughts go away.

"Well, one of the harem caretakers has been watching her...he's been jaded

when he had a tragic affair with one of the women in the harem before she

came...but something about her intrigues him..." he said softly, looking

up into Antoinette's eyes with a sincerity that made her breath catch in

her throat.

"Oh?" she whispered, mesmerized by the swirl of blue-green in his eyes.

"But what no one knows is that he's not really a harem caretaker, but a

prince in disguise, who wanted to live out the life of the common

people...but he knows he's the only way to save her...so he draws upon his

secret treasure and pays off the knight, sending him far away, but

accidentally purchasing the harem girl for his exclusive uses in the

process...I mean, all he wanted was to see her safe and happy, with her

own life..." he stammered quickly and she felt the corners of her mouth

tugging up slightly.

"This story sounds familiar," she chuckled. She had relaxed considerably

since she had first been seated, and now she was sitting cross-legged

facing him, her upper body leaning over in anticipation of his every word.

"Well, they say art imitates life," he chuckled, smiling slightly, his

eyes holding hers for a moment that seemed to last forever, until he

cleared his throat and looked back at his papers, his cheeks reddening

slightly.

"So, what happens next?" she asked quickly.

"Hmm?"

"Next, what happens to the harem girl and the prince in disguise?"

"Oh...well that's where I'm having trouble...they're trying to get along,

to understand each other while he and the kingdom mourn the loss of his

beloved..." he murmured quickly, and Antoinette suddenly crashed out of

the spell she had been bewitched with, her eyes following his to the

picture on the table.

"I see...well...rehearsals can start with what you've got...but there has

to be more of an ending to it...something substantial," she said coldly as

she quickly got to her feet.

"Well I know the last part's a bit weak, but I'm still working on it-"

"Good, because it needs work...lots of it," she snapped, smoothing her

skirt before turning towards the door.

"Well I was hoping that you could help me with that...give me some ideas,"

he replied, quickly catching her by the wrist as he stood. She looked at

him closely, looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a passion for his

work and complete ignorance. The fact that she was looking for something

there at all scared her more than she cared to admit, and she quickly

tugged her arm out of his grip.

"Forgive me, Christian, but I'm just not in the mood to think up ideas for

a supposedly talented writer..." He took a step back as if he had been

slapped and she instantly both regretted what she had said and yet didn't

care at all.

"Fine then...I'll see you tonight...I'm sure you need extra time to get

ready for your performance this evening," he said darkly, stalking to the

door and yanking it open.

"Probably more than your Satine needed, at any rate," she muttered and his

agitated eyes immediately glared daggers.

"Be sure that you're at rehearsal first thing tomorrow morning...I want to

make sure this show is a success..."

"Don't worry, I'm sure it will be, after all, we have your artistic

genius," she replied callously before stalking out the door and quickly

running down the stairs and into the street.

As soon as she got outside her hands went to her cheeks, which felt like

they were on fire. "Why does he get to me so much?" she sighed, slowing

down to take in the dirty alley and the lack of scenery. "And why am I

always thinking of him...it's insane," she muttered, keeping her vision on

the approaching Moulin and not giving into the temptation to turn round to

see if she could see him through his window.

From the small, dim room, eyes did look out of the window and onto the

street where the haughty young woman walked, ranting to herself. Christian

shook his head and hissed through his teeth. "I don't know why I put up

with her...after all I did for her, at that..."

/And after all she did for you..../ a small voice inside him whispered and

he sighed heavily before crossing the room and sitting on the bed again,

one hand running roughly through his hair. Absently he looked at the

picture of his beloved and shook his head softly, nearly missing the knock

at the door.

"Christian?" He turned and motioned Toulouse inside, and the smaller man

obeyed without hesitation. "What's the matter?"

"I...." he replied softly, then shook his head. "I don't know if I can

explain," he murmured and the dwarf followed his gaze to the picture.

"You don't have to...Christian...maybe it's time to move on-"

"But I promised her, Toulousse...I said I'd love her until my dying

day...and I will..."

"Yes, but you can do that and still have room for other loves in your

life, Christian...And you shouldn't ignore any feelings you might have..."

He nodded absently, and Toulousse knew if a bottle had been around

Christian would have been the first to open it. Well, the second.

"Maybe in time," Christian murmured thoughtfully and Toulousse bit his lip

in apprehension.

"Perhaps...but Christian, you really shouldn't ignore something like

this...who knows what else might happen to influence things..." he

reminded him, and the writer nodded, knowing all too well what the other

man was talking about.

******************************

"There you are!" Harold exclaimed as soon as entered the backstage area of

the Moulin. "Where were you? It's close to your performance time!!"

"Sorry, Harold, I needed some air," Antoinette sighed, breezing past him

towards her dressing room.

"How did your meeting with Christian go?" he asked, and there was no

masking the hope in his voice. She gave a tired sigh before turning in her

doorway to regard him.

"The story is wonderful...or what he has of it so far...we should be able

to begin rehearsals soon."

"Wonderful! I can see it now, it will be magnificent! The Moulin Rouge, a

theatre again...what a fitting tribute to our fallen Satine," he was

murmuring and Antoinette quickly slammed her door shut as soon as he was

clear. Without a word she opened the closet to select her outfit for the

evening, and snapped when Satine's wardrobe rushed out, filling her field

of vision.

"That's it," she growled, taking up an armload of dresses and tossing them

out into the hall. Ignoring the startled remarks of other occupants of the

Moulin, she continued to grab anything that wasn't hers and toss it out of

the room, her gaze finally raising sharply to the picture on the wall.

Without a word she silently yanked it down and threw it outside where it

hit the opposite wall, the glass shattering immediately. Her breath came

in shallow pants now, spurred on by anger and overwhelming emptiness.

Stumbling into the hall she knelt to try to pick up the mess, but let

herself fall into the pile of dresses and skirts, sobbing violently as her

shoulders hitched up and down. Her hands reached out to catch herself on

the floor, and sharp pain tore through both palms, and when she brought

them up, red lines of sliced skin bled where the glass had torn her flesh.

"Antoinette!!!!!" Marie gasped as she came round the corner and saw the

mayhem. "My God!!" Quickly she rushed to her side, gripped her by the

shoulders, and tried to haul her away from the mess. Desperately the young

woman clung to the material, sobbing incoherently.

"What's going on here!?!?" Harold Zidler bellowed as he quickly followed

the sounds of the strange goings-on, and stopped abruptly as he took in

the sight before him. "What on earth!? ANTOINETTE!!!!"

She whimpered and quieted immediately, looking up at Zidler with reddened,

tear-filled eyes. She thought he almost cried himself, but somehow he kept

himself calm and in control, though just barely.

"How could you...you know that room was to stay as it was...That was the

one thing I asked of you...." he sputtered, his face growing rosier by the

minute. "Clean yourself up and get out onstage...we'll discuss this later,

but I am very disappointed in you..." he added before stomping off.

"I'm sure he's just upset, pet," Marie whispered, though Antoinette could

still see the obvious disappointment in her eyes, the forced smile she put

on her face before ushering her into the dressing room to get ready.

Ignoring the stingin pain in her hands, she wiped her palms on a towel,

watched numbly as it changed from white to streaked with red. Almost as if

she was just a shell, she stripped down and dressed in her usual childlike

outfit, quickly fixing her hair and makeup before she rushed into the hall

where Marie was rushing to clean up the mess she had caused.

"Well, looks like the little girly has a breaking point after all," an

amused voice sneered from behind her. Antoinette whirled to see Nini

standing there, a bemused expression on her face. "Would be a shame if it

cost you your part in the writer's little show...and I'm sure he'll just

/adore/ you after he finds out what you did to his sweetheart's room," she

cackled, her laughter following Antoinette as she forced herself not to

burst into tears again and headed for the dance floor.

The people applauded as she was lowered in her cage to the floor, but they

were a buzzing blur to her. It was all she could do to collect herself

enough to put on her best show face, blowing kisses to the crowd as she

began to sing, jumping out of the cage and singing of the joys of freedom

as she circled around to the Bohemian's table. Christian sat there with

Toulousse and the Argentinian, dressed in his tux and looking as handsome

as ever...She faltered briefly when she caught herself thinking of him in

such a way, that realization combined with everything else that had

happened to her that day nearly putting her over the edge. Keeping her

performance in check, she leaned low over the table and gave a playful

wink to Christian before quickly backing away, not trusting herself to see

his reaction. Crossing back up to the stage, she joined Zidler for a

brief, playful duet, unable to not notice the steely, disappointed core

that his outer bravado masked.

After what seemed like an eternity she was back in the cage and being

hauled back up. Nearly exploding, she let herself out as soon as she had

reached safety and darted for the sanctity of her dressing room.

She stopped dead as she rounded the corner and saw Chocolat and Marie

working to clean up the mess. "I just don't see what's set her off all of

the sudden..." Marie was clucking softly. "After all, she is talented and

the crowd likes her....true, she'll never be like Satine, but she'll do,

just the same..."

She gasped softly and Chocolat looked up immediately, but by then she was

running for the night, ignoring his out-of-character shouts that she had

misunderstood.

Blindly she headed out the door, ignoring the loud tearing of the skirts

that she wore, ignoring her burning lungs that couldn't get enough air

because of the corset...ignoring the wind wipping her hair out of her

curls and beating it into her eyes and igniting the fire in her torn

hands. She needed to get away, to get out, to escape...

She paused as she looked up and saw the elephant there, as usual, standing

in all its regal glory. A small smile crept across her features. How

fitting...how perfect, after all. Without another care in the world, she

took off, charging blindly towards the elephant, quickly letting herself

in and racing towards the main room, then higher towards the roof. Her

hands painfully gripped the columns that were part of the small seat on

top of the pachyderm as she kicked off her shoes and watched them drop,

and with purpose she slowly put one foot in front of the other, heading

towards the jewel on the elephant's forehead, the perfect place from which

to plummet. It seemed no matter what she did, she would never escape

Satine...and even her death wouldn't disobey this rule.

Biting her lip, she tried not to look down, only to look ahead, and her

breathing quickened as her feet grasped the rounded surface of the

elephant's headpiece, her arms extended out at her sides. Taking a deep

breath, she looked down below her, at the lights and the happy people,

people who were easily satisfied. She could even hear the strains of music

from that high up. Slowly, she closed her eyes and sought inner calm,

tried to think of Sarah, of Toulousse, of...of Christian as she slowly

pushed her weight forward and began to tip and fall.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" a sharp, desperate voice shouted in her ear and the air

was knocked out of her as an arm caught her round the waist, stopping her

fall with savage quickness. Spots danced across her vision as she was

moved back steadily, albeit jerkily, the arms that clasped her fighting to

maintain both their owner's balance and hers. When breathing became easier

and the colored specks dissipated from her vision, she slowly let herself

take in her surroundings. She was in the seat on top of the elephant, and

the rest of the Moulin, of the night, even, seemed peaceful, unaffected.

Only then did the frantic breathing that hit her ear sink into her brain.

Trembling from slight shock, she looked down at the shaking hands that

held her tight, then realized that she was draped over someone's lap and

being held close to their chest protectively. Her teeth clasping her

tongue slightly, she slowly raised her eyes up to look her rescuer in the

face.

It both seemed totally not out of the ordinary and altogether shocking at

the same time. "Christian!!!" she squeaked, immediately trying to wriggle

out of his arms.

"No you don't..." he murmured, hauling her even closer to him, if it was

possible. "You're not leaving my side..."

"No...no, I can't..." she insisted, desperately trying to pull away.

"Why, why not??" he murmured, holding her tight as he rocked her,

desperately trying to reassure her. "Don't worry about the dressing

room...we shouldn't have expected it to stay like that forever..."

"How did you know?" she gasped, pausing briefly and looking up into his

eyes. He smiled fondly and clasped the back of her head gently.

"Nini mentioned something while you were singing...I came by there right

when you ran off...If I would have been a second later..." he murmured to

himself, shaking his head as if to ward off the thought. "Don't worry

about it...everything is going to be alright now," he murmured and she

tried to yank herself out of his strong grip.

"NO! No it isn't...and it never will be, don't you get it!?" she shouted,

her voice going raw with the volume and intensity.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, startled and she couldn't fight

the tears a second time.

"I...I can't stop thinking about you...you infuriate me and scare me and

make me smile all at the same time...But don't you understand?! I'm not

Satine...I never will be...everyone wants me to be Satine, but I just

can't," she sobbed, her face pressing into Christian's chest as her

shoulders hitched violently.

"I know...I know...and I don't want another Satine...it's taken me this

long to find that out....what I had with her was so special, and I will

love her until the end of time...but that doesn't mean that I can never

love again," he whispered softly in her ear and she looked up at him with

tear-filled, wide eyes. "You...you pulled me from the darkness...even when

I treated you badly, and I...I think I'm in love with you..." he murmured,

smiling tenderly at her shocked face, one fingertip tracing gently over

her cheek. Smiling gently, his eyes sparkling brightly in the moonlight,

he slowly began to lean his face down to meet hers.

"What...what are you doing?" she whispered, shivering in his embrace.

Christian paused halfway, his grin brilliant in the night as he gently

brushed his nose against hers, his eyes tracing a path from her forehead

to her lips.

"Only loving you," he murmured before gently, gently covering her mouth

with his in a soft, chaste kiss. She gasped softly against his lips and he

smiled as his hand pressed against the back of her head, softly urging her

face flush against his. She pulled back slightly, her cheeks flushed.

"I...no one's ever..." she murmured, her eyes darting away before rushing

up to meet his gaze again.

"I know...shhh...don't worry about anything else," he urged, his breath

warm and soft against her lips. She eeped softly as his mouth pressed

against hers again, his tongue very, very lightly tracing the line of her

lips, one of his hands cupping her face gently while the other held her

against him. All Antoinette could manage were breathy moans as he lightly

nibbled over her lower lip before guiding her mouth open with his lips.

Slowly, timidly she reached her tongue out and brushed it against his,

shivering against him as he languidly began to stroke the length of her

tongue with his. The kiss seemed to go on forever in her mind, her whole

world narrowing down to his touch, his scent, his taste, and she whimpered

softly as he pulled away.

"New memories should be made in a new place," he murmured as he tenderly

stroked her cheek, his lips wandering to kiss at the remaining signs of

her tears. With a new resolve he swept her up into his arms and descended

into the main room of the elephant, then out into the night. Setting her

down carefully on her feet, he smiled warmly at Antoinette, clasping her

hand gently before setting off towards his apartment.

"Finally found someone you can handle, eh girly?" a nasal, intrusive voice

laughed and Antoinette turned to see Nini leaning against one side of the

alley, watching her and Christian with bemused eyes, sauntering towards

them slowly. "So, the penniless sitar player finally found himself a new

piece of ass....what is she then, some regal dust collector?" she sneered,

giggling drunkenly at Christian's silent outrage. He looked over at

Antoinette, and the glint in his eyes was enough to tell her to not

react. Silently, calmly, he walked over to the prostitute, tilting his

head to the side as he regarded her.

"Does it make you happy...treating people like dirt?" he asked softly, the

smoothness in his voice coated with something very different than what

Antoinette was used to hearing.

"Gives me a laugh at least," she snickered, grinning madly at no one in

particular.

"I see...as long as it makes you feel good, is that it?" he whispered,

walking so close to her that he could smell the liquor on her breath as he

raised a finger and ran it down her cheek, pressing harder than he would

if it was any other woman. "Whatever makes Nini feel happy, that's what's

important, isn't it..." he purred, staring her right in the eye, his eyes

giving away nothing.

"So what if it is..."

"Well if it is..." he murmured, his mouth moving to whisper in her ear

softly. "Than you can go straight to hell..." he growled, one hand

striking like lightning to grab her by the throat and fling her into a

pile of filthy, slimy rubble on the alley's floor.

"Get yer hands off me!" she shrieked as she landed hard on her rear, her

face tightening at the force of the impact.

"No...this time you're mine," Christian snarled, striding forward, one

hand raising to strike. She had never seen him like that before, so

completely angry, his patience snapped in two.

"Christian, no..." Antoinette insisted, grabbing his arm and tugging back

with her full body weight. He paused upon seeing her there, his right mind

coming back to him, and his eyes narrowed as he regarded the prostitute.

"Alright..." he whispered to the woman at his side, then returned his

attention to Nini. "If you were a man, I'd strike you down with my fist as

hard as I could..." he growled before allowing himself to be drawn away by

Antoinette and led towards his apartment, his arm wrapping protectively

around Antoinette.

"I know you're angry at her...but you scare me when you act like that,"

she whispered, glancing from his profile to the pavement.

"I'm sorry...she just makes me so mad...you shouldn't be treated like

that...no one should..." he sighed before tugging himself out of the

impending mood.

"I know...but it's her way of coping...I've come to see that...and I know

Satine shouldn't have-"

"I'm not thinking about Satine now, I'm not thinking of the past," he

murmured, pausing to turn and cup her chin. "I'm thinking about

you...about us...and I can't stand to see someone I love being treated

like that," he murmured, leaning in to press his lips against her

forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips. "Now come on," he urged, leading

her again into the familiar boarding house and up the flight of stairs she

had run up and fled down so much during the past few days.

Antoinette gasped as she was quickly tugged into the apartment and fell

into Christian's waiting arms. She couldn't help but laugh at his beaming

grin that confirmed that he was quite pleased with himself. "Now then," he

purred, lowering his face to hers and covering her mouth with his. She

moaned as he tugged her closer to him, his tongue twining languidly with

hers, slowly coaxing her tongue into his mouth so he could nibble on it

gently. Slowly his hands worked over her back, fingertips circling in

small circles until his palms spread down and cupped her ass, pulling her

completely flush against him. She tensed in surprise at the new sensations

of heat that began to slowly pulse through her blood, but her eyes

flickered closed when Christian slowly began to attack her mouth again,

his face slanting slightly so he had total access to her.

She had never felt anything like it...his tongue seemed to know exactly

where to seek, how to travel over her tongue, up to tickle the roof of her

mouth, and slide over her teeth and under her lips. She soon found herself

leaning into him, her tongue slowly exploring his mouth in timid, soft

caresses, her arms winding around his neck tightly. Pulling away slightly,

Christian grinned down at her unabashedly as they stood nose to nose. She

couldn't contain her giggle as his grin beamed into her eyes. He was so

childlike in a way, yet such a complete man that it made her head spin.

"Annie..." he murmured, nuzzling her jaw softly with his cheek.

She paused, looked at him with wide eyes. "No one's called me that in so

long...Harold thought that my name wasn't fancy enough...he convinced me

to change it...

"You don't have to be anything false for me," he told her softly, hugging

her tightly to his chest as she exhaled in disbelief.

"You're so perfect...I don't deserve you," she sighed, and instantly found

a finger on her lips.

"Don't say such things...you rescued me from the abyss...we deserve each

other..." he reassured her as he slowly urged her towards his bed, though

he paused as she took a seat. Sitting down beside her, he gently stroked

a finger over her hair, smiling softly. "I don't want to rush this...I

want things to be perfect...and you've had a long day," he murmured,

searching her face for a sign to stop or go ahead.

"You'd...you'd do that for me?" she whispered and blushed as he gently

took her hand and pressed her palm against his lips.

"Of course...I'd do about anything for you right now," he replied, smiling

as her cheeks reddened even more. "Though I won't have you sleeping in

this..." he added, one hand running up the side of her body, fingers

pressing against the restrictive corset before he looked down at her torn

and dirty skirts.

"But-"

"I won't hear it...you took care of me...now let me return the favor," he

insisted, leaning in to delicately unwind the ribbons holding masses of

her hair up, slowly combing out the tangles with his fingers. Antoinette

leaned into his hands, humming softly in pleasure as his finger pads slid

over the locks of her hair to gently massage her scalp rhythmically,

lulling her into relaxation. With slow movements and soft caresses

Christian worked the dress off her, letting it puddle on the floor and

leaving her sitting on the bed in her stockings, bloomers, and corset. The

bubbling anxiousness that had been gathering in the pit of her stomach

seemed to focus even more as he reached over to take one of her legs in

his hands, fingertips gripping each stocking at her knee to peel it off

expertly. Antoinette bit her lip as his palm glided up the underside of

her calf and back down to stroke her foot before he brought it to his lips

and kissed the top of it lightly. Her breath stilled in her throat as she

watched him repeat the gestures on her other leg, completely entranced by

his sincerity. Her eyes slid closed as she cherished each touch on her

bare skin, and she jumped when he suddenly leaned over and whispered "Turn

round."

She obeyed with only a brief spark of hesitation, and soon Christian was

grumbling about how impossible it was to undo the corset. "It's

ridiculous...you don't even need something like this, why do they torture

you women so?"

"It's to squeeze in what we have too much of and push it up top so we look

like we have more of what we might not," she replied dryly, grinning at

his amused chuckle.

"Well it doesn't have to be tied so damn tight...Aha," he growled in

triumph and Antoinette gave a sigh of relief as the constant pressure on

her insides was relieved. Quickly he worked to unlace the complicated

crisscross of cord, and he hissed through his teeth when he was able to

slide it off her. "Annie," he murmured, tracing a single finger up her

spine, his eyes wide as he looked upon the welts that the corset laces had

left on her otherwise unblemished skin. Somehow he had always been too

intent on getting Satine undressed that he had never noticed such a thing

before.

"All part of the job," she sighed, running her hands over her front,

trying to inconspicuously rub the feeling back into her bosom.

"Is it painful?" he asked, running his hand flat over her back

apprehensively. She tensed a little, then shrugged.

"Nothing too bad...I'm more tender than anything after wearing that..."

she murmured, shrugging her shoulders and arching her back to work out the

kinks in her upper back. Instantly Christian's hands were on her

shoulders, gently kneading out the tension of the past few days, his warm

fingers working their way over her bare back a little at a time.

"Here, lie down," he murmured, coaxing her to lie on her stomach on the

bed. Tsking softly, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, smiling as her eyes

watched his dexterous fingers tug the cloth and work buttons easily. He

shrugged out of the crisp fabric, letting it pool on the floor before

taking a seat next to Antoinette on the bed. Instantly a genuine smile

spread over his face as he carefully ran the flat of his hand over her

back, shivering as she purred unconsciously. How long had it been since he

had heard that sound from a woman? Bending down, he softly pressed sweet

kisses over her back, the tip of his tongue flicking out to trace over the

angry welts that covered her back. She tensed instantly, gasping softly,

and he chuckled before sliding under the covers alongside her, gently

rolling her on her side so that her back faced him.

"Christian," she breathed, doing her best not to moan as his lips sweetly

caressed her shoulder blades.

"Shhhh....you need your sleep...we won't worry about anything until

tomorrow..." he murmured, a fingertip lazily drawing intricate patterns

lightly over her back before his mouth softly followed his hand.

Her brow furrowed, she turned her head towards him. "But-"

His mouth was quick to claim hers in a soft, tender kiss. "Don't have any

doubts...I love you," he whispered as he nibbled over her bottom lip.

"You're so sweet...so beautiful..." he smiled as her cheeks colored

softly. "And I want you to always feel safe with me...to feel

loved...because you are," he murmured, tucking his chin over her shoulder

and breathing in the scent of her hair deeply.

She sighed softly, then shyly pressed back against his chest, getting

comfortable, taking one his hands and wrapping his arm around her. "I love

you, Christian..." she whispered, the words sounding strange but so right

in the quiet night air. She could feel his smile in the darkness and

smiled to herself as he kissed her softly on the cheek, the jaw, the ear,

and then over her neck.

"Everything will be alright now...we've found each other and I won't let

anyone take you away...not sickness, not a duke, not Nini, not

anything..." he whispered softly into her ear, his hand rubbing up and

down her side. Secure in his touch, his scent, Antoinette slowly allowed

her eyes to close and her mind to drift into dreamland on Christian's

lilting voice.

He watched as she slowly slipped into sleep, noting exactly how her

eyelids got heavy and gradually closed, the soft smile that was on her

lips, the easy rise and fall of her chest as her breathing evened. What

was he /doing/? Here he was, completely caught up in this young, innocent

flower that was a far cry from what Satine had been...but yet he didn't

really mind. It was as if some uncontrollable force of nature kept moving

him toward its desired destination. He wanted her badly, and the strength

of that want startled him. But more than anything, he wanted to move on.

Somehow his body still had life in him, apparently Satine hadn't taken

everything when she had left him. The thought startled him, that somehow,

he had been given the chance to start again.

Christian continued to watch over her late into the night, his hand never

quite able to lift off of her soft skin. It was all so new, so incredibly

perfect. He couldn't close his eyes, couldn't bear to think that he'd miss

something, and that when he awoke, it would all turn out to be a dream. He

knew his heart wouldn't be able to bear it. Slowly his fingers slid down

her arm, over her back, until they instinctively entwined in her ebony

hair. Apprehensively at first, he leaned over and nuzzled her mane,

breathing her scent in deeply. Beneath the cheap perfume that was part of

her costume, her natural sweet yet salty scent remained, and he trembled

as it grabbed him by the heart and refused to let go. He would commit her

to memory, one step at a time. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity

of reveling in her scent and soft skin he was tugged to the land of

dreams, still holding her as close to him as possible.