Title: The End?
Author: PhantomKat
Genre: Angst/Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters: Primarily Christian, with a bit of Satine and Toulouse.
Setting: After the film.
Summary: Christian finishes his story and is touched in a very extraordinary way.
Disclaimer: If it was in the movie, it's not mine

Christian sat looking at the dead, empty shell that was the Moulin Rouge. The Duke had closed the nightclub soon after Satine's death. To him it only was his way. The dancers, whores, and other workers had fanned out over the city, disappearing into the underworld of Paris. Christian tore his eyes form the cold streets of the Montmartre and focused on the last words he had typed.

The End.

He'd finally done it. Their story was on paper – immortal for all time. Sighing, he pushed away his chair, turning away from his past. A glass bottle of Absinthe sat next to his bed. The bottle that held his addiction was almost empty. He drank the last of the green liquid. It no longer burned his throat like his first glass had. Also the Green Fairy no longer appeared; instead an image of Satine flashed in front of his eyes. Slowly she faded away, but after she had gone Christian still stared off into the distance, lost in memories.

His blue eyes were no longer bright and filled with enthusiasm. After the tragedy, the youthful spark left his eyes, and they changed into those of a much older man. They were tired; full of sorrow and regret. His body was the same as his eyes, just as tired and racked with pain. He'd become like a hermit, never leaving his rooms.

The creak of the door opening jolted him back to the present. A face appeared around the wooden door.

"Hewo Chwistian."

Christian neither replied nor showed any indication that he'd heard. Toulouse merely shrugged at the normal behavior of his friend. He dropped a bundle on the floor and scooted out to let Christian have his solitude. Christian moved to the bundle once he was sure Toulouse was gone. He rummaged through the bundle, pushing food out of the way to find the Absinthe.

Every week, without fail, Toulouse brought him food, but Christian usually ignored the food in favor of his alcohol. He only ate enough to stay alive. As a result, Christian had become much thinner, gaunt and sunk deeper into melancholy.

Finally, he found the bottle, quickly opened it, and took a swig, wishing he could erase the pain with alcohol. He glanced back to his typewriter. Just as he'd promised, he'd finished their story. So now what happened?

"It's not like she's going to come back now that you've finished," taunted a small voice inside his head. "This is reality, not a fairytale."

"Shut up," he growled.

Satine and even the Argentinean had said that the jealousy would drive him mad, but it was the life without her that truly finished the job. He wanted it to end. All the pain, sorrow, tears; he wanted it all to go away.

"There is a way," whispered the voice.

Christian glanced to one of the open archways that lead to the outside.

"An easy way."

He walked to the edge, closed his eyes and summoned the courage to fall.

Suddenly a strong, cold, sweet-smelling wind pushed him backwards. He heard Satine's voice in his head.


It was just as sharp and scared as it was the time he had acted like he was going to jump from Toulouse's studio.

The wind surrounded him, pushing him back inside. He breathed in deeply. Satine's scent circled him with the wind.

"It is not your time."

Just as sudden as it had come, the wind vanished, but the sweet scent lingered for a moment before fading and leaving Christian standing bewildered in the center of his garret. Perhaps this wasn't "The End" after all.