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OMFG. I just finished chapter 4. I'm so happy. It's a relief to get this one off my back, because now I can close everything off.
The song that appears in this chapter is Stuck in a Moment by U2.

Chapter 4: Scarlet and Black

The Moulin Rouge still was a prominent building in Montmartre, but for different reasons now that it was closed. It was a place full of nothing but memories. The Moulin Rouge was dilapidated and decrepit now. Thieves and plunderers, a common find in the streets on Montmartre, had raided it. The foundations fell around it. The once proud elephant was destroyed, and the items within it removed. The windmill no longer lit up the sky, it’s lights dimmed and cracked.

It stood, broken and despondent, but the memories stood with it. It still held its pride. Memories couldn’t be destroyed, but they could be hidden.

~V~


Christian was nothing but a remnant of the man he once was. A scruffy beard covered his once handsome face. His hair was a greasy, disheveled mop; his eyes no longer held their clear sparkle. He looked old beyond his years.

He lived in squalid conditions. Soiled clothes littered the floor, and filthy plates, stuck with small bits of food lay scattered everywhere. Broken glass and empty bottles lay strewn on the floor. Here and there, a spatter of blood could be found on scraps of paper or on the bed.

There was a time when finishing a bottle of Absinthe would leave one passed out on the floor. But now the Green Fairy visited rarely, as if bored with his company. The effects of Absinthe were not as strong as they once were, and Christian was left to find other means to take his mind off his heart. So he cut himself. Often. He loved the feel of slick red blood sliding down his arm. His disease didn’t help. When he felt the liquid come up his throat, he would bring glass to his skin. The physical pain blocked out any thought of Satine.

~V~

His mind cloudy, and his arm dripping, Christian stumbled across the apartment. Today was one of those rare days when she was with him. She sat in the back of his mind. He could feel her presence, even if he couldn’t hear her. He didn’t like it when she sang. Her voice was nothing but a reminder of better days, so he preferred her silence. He made his way to his corner. There was a silk blanket standing on a chair, and Satine’s red dress lay on the dresser. They were the only two items in the garret that were unspoiled. He sat on the floor and coughed a little, small flecks of blood covering his chapped lips. His mind felt faint. He glanced at his arm, his vision cloudy. The blood was flowing steadily, and he realized that he must have made the cut deeper than usual. He lifted an unsteady hand and placed it on his arm.

“Look what you’ve done now Christian.” The fairy began to talk to him, her voice soft, and comforting.

“I din’ mean to,” he mumbled to himself.

“It’s ok darling. Why don’t you come to me? I’ll help.”

Christian nodded weakly. He trusted her. She was always there for him when he really needed her. He let his mind slip into the blackness that threatened to overtake him.

~V~

A pair of oceanic blue eyes stared sadly at Christian’s lifeless form. A small silhouette shook its elegant head. Pretending seemed to be the only way to get through to him. A dainty foot crushed a bottle lying near the man’s head. She was no Green Fairy, she was an actress, but that fairy seemed to be the only being that he would listen to. And she had desperately needed to be heard. Before it was to late for Christian.

A shadow crossed the darkened room; the curtains blew slightly in a breeze, and the mysterious figure disappeared into the night.

~V~


Christian opened a blurry eye. Nothing but a bright red light filled his eye, and he quickly closed it again. He eyes adjusted behind the lid, and he slowly opened it again. He could only see a hardwood floor. He wondered why his apartment was so bright, for he usually kept the curtains closed. His head felt unusually clear. He lifted it, and opened his eyes wide with surprise. He was no longer in his apartment; he was lying at the end of the dance floor of the Moulin Rouge. The walls shined like new and smelled of fresh paint. Mirrors reflected light across the room from the far side of the hall. It was the Moulin Rouge as it was when it was new.

Confused, Christian lifted his head further. He got up slowly on shaky legs and walked towards one of the mirrors. His eyes flew open in shock. His face no longer sported the dark, shaggy beard. It was clean-shaven. And he wasn’t wearing his dirty old undershirt anymore. He was clothed in black trousers, and a crisp white shirt. His hair was clean again, and his arms were free of blood. He stared at his reflection, wondering what as going on, when he heard the faint click of heels coming towards him. He turned around. What he saw made his mind feel like lead. He backed away. “Oh my God. Satine?”

Satine, dressed in a simple black Bosque and black skirt, was coming toward him. Her hair was done up in a frizzy chignon. She looked relaxed and elegant at the same time. “It’s alright, Love,” she whispered, continuing on her path towards Christian.

“You’re dead. You died in my arms. You’re not here. This isn’t real.” He shook his head in disbelief. He sat, and pulled his knees up to his chest. He shivered. Tears flowed down his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t cry, Love. You’re right, this isn’t real.” She sat down beside him. “Look at me, Christian.” He didn’t raise his head. She put her arms around him, and he clung to her, afraid to let go.

“You left me.”

“Shhh. It’s ok.” She pulled Christian further onto her lap. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. Why won’t you listen?”

“It hurts,” he said simply, his head cradled in her arms.

“You’ve got to move on Christian. You can’t keep blocking me. I feel caged. Having memories isn’t a bad thing, Love. I want to be remembered. I want you to remember me. I don’t want to see you like you are. That hurts me.”

Christian breathed deeply. He kept his eyes closed, as if afraid to look at the woman holding him.

“What’s wrong Christian? Why must you labour under that false idol?” She rocked him, back and forth, as he had once done to her.

He remained silent for a moment, shivering. He pulled her tightly to him. He knew he was dreaming, but he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to move on.

“Christian. I love you, above all things. Don’t you remember?” She hugged him close to her body. “Remember me.”

For many minutes he stayed quiet. He sounded as though he was crying. Then, without warning, he began to sing. His voice was raspy and quiet from disuse, but he sang.

I'm not afraid
Of anything in this world
There's nothing you can throw at me
That I haven't already heard

He looked up at Satine finally, his voice gathering a little strength.

I'm just trying to find
A decent melody
A song that I can sing
In my own company

He stopped. Satine looked back at Christian and smiled. She took up the chorus, her voice as strong and as beautiful as ever.

I never thought you were a fool
But darling look at you
You gotta stand up straight
Carry your own weight
These tears are going nowhere, baby

She carefully slipped out from underneath Christian and stood up beside him.

You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment
And now you can't get out of it
Don't say that later will be better
Now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it

He brought a shaking hand to his face and wiped away the tears. He felt stronger than he had in months, as if some sort of weight were being lifted off of his chest. Satine had stopped singing. She looked expectantly at Christian, as if willing him to continue the song. He took another deep breath, and sang, his heart no longer in pain.

I will not forsake
The colors that you bring
The nights you filled with fireworks
They left you with nothing

I am still enchanted
By the light you brought to me
I listen through your ears
Through your eyes I can see

Satine nodded in satisfaction. She was going to help him, and singing was the only way she knew how. It was what they had done whenever they were in trouble. His voice had grown stronger, but it was still quiet. She offered him a hand, which he took, and she pulled him to his feet. She brought up the chorus again.

And you are such a fool
To worry like you do
I know it's tough
And you can never get enough
Of what you don't really need now
My, oh my

You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it
Oh love, look at you now
You've got yourself stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it

Christian looked at her with silent determination. She was right. He had been a fool. He had labored under a false idol, hoping that forgetting her would make everything go away. And then, without warning, he was ready. He was ready to listen to her, ready to open his mind to her. He chanted the next verse, his voice returning to its old strength.

I was unconscious, half asleep
The water is warm 'til you discover how deep

I wasn't jumping, for me it was a fall
It's a long way down to nothing at all

And Satine sang the chorus.

You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it

Don't say that later will be better
Now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it

Christian looked at her, his eyes sparkling. She was so beautiful. He smiled, his face lighting up, the youthful look coming back to his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled. He supposed it must have been the last moments of Spectacular, Spectacular, just as the had curtains closed.

Satine smiled back. He was happy, and that was all she wanted. They sang the last verse together, their voices raised in harmony, complimenting each other perfectly.

And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if our way should falter
Along the stony pass

He took her hand, and they danced across the hall. In the corner, a small sulking figure crossed her arms over her chest. “I almost had you, Christian.” She spread her dainty wings and flew out the window, green dust landing on the couple below.

And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if your way should falter
Along this stony pass

It's just a moment
This time will pass

The song ended. The couple slowed to a halt. Christian looked at Satine, a smile still spread on his face. He hugged her to his chest. “I love you.” He kissed her hair, and her forehead, finally letting his lips come to hers. They held that passionate embrace for a few moments. Finally, Satine spoke.

“A memory can’t be destroyed Christian. It can be hidden, but eventually love will break through all walls. Love can conquer all, remember?”

His smile faded. “You died Satine. Love can’t overcome death.”

“Oh, but it can.” She placed a delicate hand on his face. “If you remember me, if you remember to live. Death will win if you block out life.”

Christian nodded. He guided Satine to the end of the hall, and he sat down. They cradled each other in their arms. Satine hummed Come What May to him. Christian’s eyes began to get heavy. He yawned perfectly content to stay as he was forever.

“Face life, Christian.” Christian’s eyes closed, and he slipped into a peaceful sleep.

~V~

There was a dull pounding in his ears. He lifted heavy eyelids. He groaned, realizing that his old world had returned. He felt weak from blood loss and a hangover.
He stared at his arm, covered with dried blood. He got up slowly, holding onto the dresser for support. His other hand was still holding a bottle. He looked at it angrily. “What good does Absinthe do to anyone?” He brought the bottle up to his face, and he stared at the label. The Green Fairy stared back.

He limped silently to his bed, and reached a hand under the mattress. He pulled out a couple hundred francs that had been stored there. It was what remained of his pay for doing the production. It was his share of the profits. He looked at it glumly, and took a couple bills and placed them in his grimy pocket. The rest he stuffed into the empty bottle. He walked slowly to the window. Night covered the town of Montmartre. A determined look came into his eye. The street was empty, the Moulin Rouge but a shadow in the darkness.

Christian lifted the bottle with his good arm, and he threw it has hard as he could out the window. The bottle landed on the street below and shattered into hundreds of pieces, the moon glinted off the shards. The money spread over the cobblestones. He nodded in satisfaction and yelled into the night air, “I’ve paid my whore!”

He turned and looked around his garret. He curled his arms around his chest, tears coming down his cheeks. He stared around in silence for a few moments, when a whisper from his past sounded in his mind. “Tell our story, Christian.”

Christian closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I can.”

The whisper persisted. “You promised.”

Christian open his eyes, his glance falling on his old typewriter, returned to him by Toulouse the day before Satine’s funeral. It had lain unused for many months. A firm thought came into his mind. “You’re right, I did promise, didn’t I? He sat down at the chair in front of the typewriter, tears coming down his face. But he was ready. He was ready to face life. He looked down at the keys and remembered. His hand began to type:

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.

/chapter 4

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Chapter 3 is finally done! Whoo! Now that the ending of that has been introduced the rest should be easy to write.

Chapter 3: Can’t Stand the Light

The sky had begun to lighten. The eastern horizon glowed a silvery green. Most of the world slept. But this was the time when Montmartre was at it's busiest. Whores and Prostitutes made their way home after a long night. Men roamed the streets hoping to catch some lady all alone. Sometimes a child would creep from the shadows, parentless, ready to begin another day scrapping for food, and shining shoes of passersby.


As the sun rose, it cast its orangey rays over the streets of the village. The shadows in the streets began to dissipate, and the people of the underworld disappeared along with them. Day was the time of businessmen and moneymakers. Day was no place for the unwanted whore. The world was cruel to the people of Montmartre, but that was life, as they knew it.

Across town, the sun’s rays made their way into a small apartment. A golden beam glinted off an empty bottle, casting an iridescent reflection onto the wall opposite. A soft hiss was heard.

Christian quickly covered his bloodshot eyes. He hated the light. It aggravated his headache. He got up clumsily and closed the curtains to the window. This was successful in not only blocking out the sun, but also blocking his view from the Rouge. The early morning sun made the old Windmill shine as though it was new, and Christian hated that. Most of all Christian hated being sober, as he was now. He was groggy and tired, but he was always tired. The pain in his head momentarily made him forget the pain in his heart, but he knew that pain would return soon.

He stumbled across the room, hoping to find a bottle that still held liquid. He found a small bottle of wine near his typewriter, and he sipped from it. Wine didn’t fill his need though. Wine was low on alcohol, and its effects were not strong enough to block out a person’s mind entirely. Christian indulged in the stronger drinks. Whisky, and Vodka being his drinks of choice, but Absinthe was always his favourite. No other drink let him escape from his memories like Absinthe could. And Absinthe was easy to come by. But right now, all that Christian had was a little white wine.

He finished the bottle off quickly. He shivered a little as the drink slid down his throat. He sighed. It wasn’t enough. He grunted as he walked around the apartment, kicking over stacks of paper, hoping to discover another bottle, but found nothing.

“Christian…” A voice began whispering to him, in the back of his mind.

“No, not again. I don’t want to talk to you, it hurts too much.” He put his hand over his ears. He knew whom it was who was talking to him. He needed Absinthe, quickly.

“Christian,” the soft voice called again. It was everywhere, surrounding him, within and without.

Christian screamed in anger. “NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” He kicked over a chair. “It hurts…” He whimpered a little. Christian repressed the voice further into the recesses of his mind. It didn’t speak again for quite sometime.

~V~

Toulouse woke up to the sound of screaming from downstairs. “Oh-no,” he sighed. He slowly got up, and made his way to the hole in the floor of his apartment. Christian was balled up on the floor. Toulouse could tell Christian was sober. When Christian drank, he always remained in his corner, now he was near the window, his arms covering his face from the sun peaking through the closed curtains.

Toulouse sighed again, and walked down the ladder connecting the apartments. “Chwistian, what’s wong?” He knew what was wrong, and he never expected an answer.

But Christian lifted his head and looked Toulouse in the eye. “It’s not fair, Toulouse. IT’S NOT FAIR!” He yelled at him.

Toulouse went over to his friend. In the two months since Satine had died, it was the first time Christian had spoken to him. “I know it’s not fair, Chwistian.” It was the first time Toulouse had gotten a good look at Christian since Satine’s funeral. He had obviously had neglected shaving, for heavy stubble was growing along his jaw line. It didn’t look as though he had eaten much either, because the light undershirt Christian was wearing was hanging off him, and his collarbone protruded, as if only held in place by skin. “I know you think she shouldn’t have died.”

Christian’s face screwed up in a combination of pain and sorrow. “I loved her, Toulouse. I loved her, and I want her back.” He trashed spasmodically around on the floor, as if fighting some personal demon inside his head. “I WANT HER BACK!”

For two months Toulouse had backed off and let Christian wallow in denial. He wasn’t going to leave him now. He patted Christian’s back. “Let it out, Christian.”

But Christian was done. He shook his head, and curled up tighter, his arms crossed tightly over his stomach. “Get me Absinthe, Toulouse.”

Toulouse hesitated, “Maybe you shou-“

“GET ME ABSINTHE!”

Toulouse stumbled back up the ladder to his apartment and grabbed one of the many bottles standing on his counter.

~V~

Christian swigged from the bottle Toulouse had brought him. The bitter liquid burnt his throat on the way down, but Christian didn't give a damn. He waited. She would appear soon, making all of his troubles go away. He waited. He coughed, choking a little on the strong drink. He felt a tad light headed, a sure sign that the fairy was on her way, but she didn't come. Christian coughed again. He vision blurred. His whole world became vague, black beetles skittering over his eyes. A rippling sensation traveled through his veins. The Absinthe threatened to come back up. He coughed again, bringing a shaking hand to his mouth. When the coughing subsided, he looked into his hand. A scarlet streak covered his fingers, and palm. Christian stared at the blood, resignation and acceptance of his future crawling into his mind.

/end chapter 3

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Here's chapter 2 of my story. The changes that Dani pointed out first time around have been found, and fixed. Enjoy!

Chapter 2:

~☆~

1 week later: Escaping the Pain

Toulouse watched as Christian ambled back towards his garret. He walked alone, ahead of the rest of the group, his shoulders hunched forward. The chill winds of early December made Christian’s coat billow slightly. The going was slow and there was a feeling of heaviness about the group of Bohemians. Most of them felt a sense of closure. They had just returned from Satine’s wake. The funeral had been small and simple. Satine’s figure had been clothed in her simple cream suit. Her auburn hair had fallen loose about her shoulders.

Christian had held himself well. He hadn’t spoken since her death, but as he had walked towards her casket he sang Come What May quietly to her. Everyone around him had noticed a slight change in the wording of the song. As Christian had sung it; he neglected to finish the chorus with the usual ‘until my dying day.’ Everyone had known why.

Now, as the group walked back towards their building, Toulouse attempted to talk to him. “Chwistian,” he called. Christian turned slowly toward Toulouse, but did not speak. “She died happy, you know.” Christian looked down at his friend, and again turned his back to him. Christian continued walking.

The group watched him as he walked through the front door of their dwelling. “You can’t stay wike this foweve’, Chwistian,” mumbled Toulouse as he started towards the building again.

~☆~

Inside his garret Christian sat on his bed. His coat lay shed on the floor. He stared around the small apartment, and a lone tear crept down his cheek. He felt drained, emotionally and physically. He felt desolate, separated from the rest of the world. All that was left of his youthful dreams of truth, beauty, freedom and love lay scattered about the room as pieces of paper. He just stared. He didn’t move or speak. An expression of shock crossed his face. The funeral had been painful, his heart ripped to shreds upon seeing Satine in her coffin. So delicate, so frail, so beautiful. But still, he couldn’t believe it. His heart still wanted to believe that she was alive. He could still feel her tepid, silky skin against his. His mind knew she was gone, but every other part of him screamed that she wasn’t. And Christian lived by his heart, not his head.
His bleary eyes came across a small bundle across the room. It glinted red in the light of the tiny lamp. It was Satine’s red dress. Most of Satine’s belongings had been sold when the Duke had shut the place down 4 days ago, but Christian had begged Harold to give it to him. It was what she had been wearing when they spent their first night together, and it was the outfit he felt closest to. He picked it up, and brought it to his bed. He closed it to his chest. There was still a faint smell of Satine’s perfume upon it. Christian’s breath caught, and he threw the dress down.

He began to sway again, his knees pulled up to his chest. He hugged his body. He wanted to put his arms around something; he wanted to embrace Satine again.

Christian remained like that for several hours. When he finally jerked into reality, he found that the real world was just as painful as the imaginary one he had just left. His mind was full of nothing but Satine. He saw her eyes staring back at him when he closed his own. He could hear her singing in his ear. It was torment. He had to find some way to escape. Life was too painful. He searched around his apartment, as if hoping to find some means to end his life, but found nothing. Feeling lost and hopeless he ran out into the street, snow filling his shoes and the wind whipping his dark hair. The night surrounded him. He staggered through the snow that was building up. He was without his jacket, which was still on the floor in his room, but he welcomed the cold. A few passers by stared at him as he ran through the street. He didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t care.

When he finally stopped running, he looked up to get his bearings. He found that he was only a couple blocks from the darkened Moulin Rouge, whose wings were motionless. He also saw that he was standing in front of a small, local tavern: Le Bar Absinthe. It seemed as though fate had shown him a way to escape.

Without a second thought he walked into the bar. A few of the patrons nodded in his direction as he entered. He hesitated for a moment, and went up to the bartender. “Absinthe,” he commanded.

“That’s all we sell here, Laddie,” said the bartender, and he handed Christian a glass full of the emerald liqueur. He drank it down in one gulp. The fiery liquid burned his throat, but the stinging lasted only a moment. His vision blurred as he felt the alcohol begin to take effect. In the back of his mind he heard her. Not Satine this time, but a welcomed guest. The fairy had come to visit him. He saw her dance across his mind, taunting him, and whispering to him.

“I believe you were expecting me,” the fairy mocked in his ear. And, in the same manner his last love affair had begun, Christian delved into another one, just as strong, but much more deadly.

/chapter 2