"You should probably let the music fade in, as the Maharajah finishes his final speech of the first act." Christian nodded as the conductor took note of his suggestion, then walked away from the stage. Zidler would not need him there to help with the choreography of the musical numbers now that the dialogue had been smoothed out. Christian silently thanked his good fortune for the respite from the hubbub of activity inside the newly refurbished Moulin Rouge. Shouting out stage directions to a group of would-be actors had made Christian's throat ache and as the evening wore on, he found it more and more difficult to keep his voice from dying out at the end of each sentence. The last few words he had spoken to the orchestra's conductor came out in a whisper.

Once he reached the back of the auditorium, Christian took a seat at one of the tables in the corner. Here the room was dim, and the blur of color and electric lighting was not so harsh. He had not noticed it earlier in the evening, but now, as he closed his eyes for a few seconds, Christian could feel a dull throb behind his eyes. Probably caused by all the shouting, he mused, and cleared his throat quietly. Christian could reasonably blame the headache and sore throat on all the yelling he had done that day. He could even ignore the little voice inside him that reminded him he had woken up with a scratchy throat. He could not, however, explain away the increasingly annoying runny nose. Typically the dust and paint fumes of the theatre didn't bother him beyond an occasional sneeze. Today he had to interrupt himself every few words to either sniffle or cough � actions that earned him one too many curious glances. The attention embarrassed him, even if half the looks were of sympathy.

But here at the back of the room he could fade into the background a little. At least he would not have to worry about the half concerned, half amused glances Satine kept giving him when he was up on stage. The fine dust that got kicked up off the partially constructed stage made his nose itch, and by the last scene he was muffling sneezes into the sleeve of his pullover. That, combined with frequent sniffles, had not escaped anyone's attention, much less Satine's. This sudden sensitivity of his made Christian shy, his face flushing after a chorus of blessings followed a series of sneezes he could not hold back. He could feel the heat creeping up his face now as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket of his trousers and looked around the room.

"Chshh! ChSHH! Huh-ISH!" The throb behind his eyes flared up after the last sneeze. Holding the handkerchief to his nose, Christian waited, then blew softly after the pain died down to its regular dull ache.

The music crested as the number on stage came to an end and Christian watched as the choreographer stepped down to consult with the conductor. If they decided to run through the sequence again, Christian could remain at the back of the room and watch. If a new scene were to be rehearsed, he would probably have to go back to the stage and help. A general groan of dismay sounded from the stage and the first few strains of the same number sounded from the orchestra. Christian sighed to himself and settled back into his chair. The dancers were not happy to be doing the number again, but he was quite content to sit and nurse his sore throat. And sniffles. And headache. With another sigh, Christian pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

The position became comfortable after a while as the prospect of either moving or opening his eyes lost appeal. Christian rubbed his nose into the base of his wrist a few times, but managed to keep the sneezes away by simply sniffing every so often. In fact, he almost felt warm, and the ache in his head was enough to make him want to lay his head down on the hard table. On the verge of doing just that, Christian dragged his eyes open and blinked tiredly. Although the music from the front of the room had been fading into the distance, the sound of footsteps had been drawing closer. Standing up, he cleared his throat and coughed into a closed fist.

"How long have you been sitting here, Christian?" Satine eyed him worriedly and touched his shoulder lightly. The quick, but affectionate, gesture made him smile even as he fought to shake the drowsiness. "You should be getting ready to go home."

"Not, not very long." Christian shook his head, then paused as painful dizziness clouded it. He would have to remember not to try that again. "Don't they need you? On stage?"

"You HAVE been back here too long! I finished my scenes at least an hour ago." The soft coolness of her hand rested on his cheek. "What's wrong, Christian?"

"You shouldn't�" He placed his hand over her wrist and glanced around Satine to see the stage.

"No, it's all right, he's gone. Almost everyone's gone for the night. You know we end early on Saturday night. You feel warm."

"I'm fine. Just," Christian scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned to sniffle a few times, "just a little, well, nothing really." Satine frowned. "Really. Shall I walk you home then?"

"Oh, Christian!" Satine glanced behind her, then moved closer to him. "Go to your rooms; I'll meet you back there in a little bit."

"But �"

"I can find my find my way, you know that. And be careful, dear, it's raining, and you've already taken cold."

About to try arguing with Satine once again, Christian turned his head and brought the back of his hand to his face. The tickling sensation again, deep in his sinuses and at the back of his throat, lingered for a moment. "huh� eh-Cheh! Chshh!"

"Bless you!"

Christian nodded. He cupped both hands over his face without opening his eyes. "Ishh! HuhEishhoo! IshShoo!" He sneezed softly, but more freely than he had previously. The itchy feeling that remained, both after he sneezed and cleared his throat a few times, told him Satine was right despite his reluctance to admit it. "ehkishh! KehShoo!" Rubbing one finger under his nose and holding back a groan, Christian mumbled an apology.

"Poor love. Now, go, try not to get too wet and put on something warm once you get home." She whispered and squeezed his arm before starting to walk away, "I won't be long."

"Satine, you don't have to, you know. Do anything for me."

She retraced the few steps she had taken away from him. Checking to see if they were suitably alone, Satine darted her eyes around the theatre then met his. "Christian, this is nothing compared to what I would do for you."

"Darling," he mouthed the word and touched her fingertips.

"I know." Satine moved away, smiling apologetically as he sniffled and tried not to look hurt. "Not here."

"But you'll come? Soon?"

"Of course."

With those words she turned away one last time and walked to the front of the theatre toward the corridor that led to her rooms in the Moulin. Christian watched her, more aware of the warmth filling his heart than the ache he had been enduring the whole evening. When he could no longer see Satine, Christian gathered his belongings, pulled on his coat and braced himself. He could already feel the chill that he would have to face outside now that he was without his love.

* * *

Just like she had been right about his cold, Satine had been correct when she told Christian that it was raining outside. Not just any rain, but the heavy, freezing rain of a late autumn night, that turned the sky a deep blue gray as it slanted down on a biting wind. Upon emerging from the Moulin, a sheet of rain slapped Christian in the face. Before he was halfway home, he was more than halfway drenched. The parts of his clothing that had not let in the rain were pierced by the wind. It was with numb fingers and chattering teeth that he stood before his door, cold enough to have been walking the streets of Paris all night, but having only just left the dry warmth of the theatre minutes ago. Christian fumbled for his keys as water dripped from his hair, tracing icy paths down his neck and back, finally pooling at his feet.

A few violent outbursts of sneezing had forced him to pause on the way home. He could feel the effects of those sneezes more so now as the warmer air in his chambers caused his nose to run. Sniffling repeatedly he unlocked the door, stepped inside and leaned his back against the closed door. Clumsily Christian lit one of the lamps in the room. The others would have to wait until his fingers were steady enough. He'd also have to build a fire in the room to get rid of the damp and hopefully the shivers that convulsed his body. Fine, distinct shivers that told him the cold penetrated not just through to his clothing, or under clothing, or even his skin, but bone deep. Yet, part of him couldn't be bothered. Christian entertained the thought of stripping off his outer layers and simply crawling into bed. Yawning, he raised a damp fist to his face and rubbed his nose.

"HuhTISHH!! Eiishh! Ishhah!" The sneezes rushed out before he fully realized he had to sneeze and left his throat raw and achy. "EhhKISHH! KehShoo!" Christian coughed harshly. "HuhChssh! HuhChoo!" A trickle of cold water ran down the back of his collar, etching a shivering line as it continued down his spine. Sleep would have to wait; he needed to get warm.

Quickly Christian removed his coat and shoes, placing them before the empty fireplace. He rummaged about the clothes press for a moment, pulled out a dry handkerchief and blew his nose. Wincing as he felt the ache in his head start to travel down to his sinuses, Christian took a slow breath. He was going to be congested tomorrow morning. Already the stuffiness was affecting his breathing, and, unless he was imagining it, his hearing.

"Head cold; un rhume de cerveau. It sounds a lot worse in French," he muttered to himself. No matter what he decided to call it, it was quickly making him cold and miserable. Christian knelt before the fireplace to examine the bits of tinder and wood. Leaning one hand on the wall, he directed a sneeze over his shoulder � "Ishhoo!" � but buried his nose in the crook of his elbow soon afterwards. "EhSHH! Huh�Empshhih! huhShoo!" Every sneeze made him feel a little bit more ill, a little bit colder. With sudden determination, Christian pushed the damp hair off his forehead, sniffed strongly and set about making up the fire.

He shrugged the errant strands of hair out if his eyes and sniffled again. The sneezes made his nose run, but the sniffles made his nose tickle anew. "Ehh'kishh! Shoo!" Pausing for a moment as the fire grew from a tiny flame to something strong enough to warm the room, Christian stared a the leaping orange light.

"ISHH!" Annoyed at himself for sneezing so much, he roughly pinched his nose shut and held back the few sneezes that remained. As the fire started to warm his face, he could feel his wet clothes clinging to his skin and becoming even more uncomfortable as the warmth spread to the rest of his body. Coupled with the dampness of his clothing and skin, the warmth made Christian feel oddly feverish. Cold enough deep down inside to still be shivering, while the head radiating off the flames caused him to break out into a light sweat. Christian shook his head, as if trying to shake off the feeling, and cleared his throat roughly. He had made up the fire, now he had to change before Satine arrived.

She should not be coming over here while he was ill. It would more than unfortunate for Satine to get sick. She could not afford to miss the rehearsals. And everyone would know from whom she caught the cold. Christian shivered uncontrollably, both at the thought of having someone discover their affair and from the cold air hitting his still damp, bare skin. He struggled quickly out of his clothes and into a nightshirt. Rubbing his hands over his chest, Christian sat down on the bed and forced his teeth to stop chattering. No, she should not be coming here, but he could not help but want her here with him. The soft, tender look in Satine's eyes when she realized he was not feeling well entranced him. Then she touched him, her hand so comforting against his skin. Christian had wanted to bury himself in Satine's embrace immediately, right there in the middle of the Moulin. He loved her so much sometimes it hurt. Like it hurt not to be able to hold her close before he left that evening; like it ached to not be able to be with her all the time. Christian raised a fist to his hand and coughed. He was tired, congested, and his nose was running again. It seemed the worse he felt, the more melancholic he became. A wry smile formed on his lips as the thought struck him. He considered writing it down, but opted to pull a blanket over himself and curl up on the bed until Satine arrived.

As soon as he closed his eyes, the tingling of another fit of sneezing began. Christian turned his face into the pillow, holding his breath. Anticipating the sneezes didn't seem to aid in the prevention. Instead, he lifted his head slightly and tensed up as he took a sharp breath. "EhKISHH! AhhIShh! Hishhoo!" After a stuffy sniffle, he touched the back of his hand to his nose and paused. "Hishhih!" Another sneeze, followed by a burning in his nose and throat. Christian tried to cough out the feeling, but it lingered just enough that he could still feel the annoying, tickling sensation. He coughed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "ISHH!" The tickle forced itself out with a powerful sneeze. "Ehh� uhKESHshoo! HehKshh! Ihhtshhoo! EhTshhoo!!" Relief, and a painful throb in his sinuses, made Christian sigh after the last sneeze. He slumped on the bed, too exhausted and stuffed up to do anything but rest.

Christian lay still, the sound of rain capturing his attention. The soft, irregular rhythm of the rainfall told him that the violence of the storm had subsided. Satine would probably be here soon; she would not have left when the storm was at its worst. No wonder she had told him to hurry. Sighing, unable to rest due to the worsening congestion, and curious about the storm, Christian sat up. The congestion eased somewhat as he sat upright. He could just about see out of the window from his bed. Absentmindedly rubbing his nose, Christian watched the rain trace silver paths down the pane of glass. It was mesmerizing, along with the sound of the rain and the leaping light cast on the walls from the fire. He yawned once, then twice, then sniffled wetly. The tug of drowsiness was pulling at his senses and he yawned for a third time as he scrubbed his nose into the shoulder of his nightshirt.

"EhhTishh! Ihshhih! ihhSHH!" Pressing his nose into the material, Christian tiredly let the itch in his nose continue to work itself out. "Ihh� Shoo! Shoo! Ishh!Shoo!" Something about the way his nose bothered him told Christian that he would end up sneezing more than a few times if he did not clear his nose. Thinking about leaving the leaving his bed get a handkerchief made Christian groan aloud. "EhhKishoo! Heh-shoo! uh, huh� ISHH!"

The wet, strong sneeze convinced him to pad over to the armoire, wrapped in a blanket, and hastily grab a clean handkerchief. Christian looked around the room as he shuffled back to the bed. Damp clothes were thrown over chairs. Only one small lamp helped the fire illuminate the room, and papers were strewn over his desk and the floor next to it. He should clean the place up before Satine came over. The thought, however, was halted by the sudden rush of dizziness and pain he got after blowing his nose. The straightening up, Christian decided, could wait a few minutes until after he rested a bit. Then Satine would be here, and then the cold or the headache would not be so bad. His darling Satine. Christian crept into bed and pulled the blanket as close to his body as possible. A few minutes, he could stay warm for that. Closing his eyes, Christian leaned against the headboard and listened to the rain again.

* * * * *

"Go back to sleep."

Christian struggled to sit up. His head felt heavy and it ached as if he had been hit in the back of it with a bag of wet sand. But once he felt the touch of Satine's hand on his brow, and her soft breath on his face, his eyelids had fluttered open. He would know her touch anywhere; he longed for it whenever they were apart.

"I don't want to sleep." His voice came out hoarse and quiet. The ache in his throat was still there, making Christian swallow desperately to ease it a little before Satine handed him a cup.

"Just water, Christian. Drink, slowly." She held the cup for him, carefully so he didn't spill the water on his bedclothes. When Christian finished, Satine brushed the hair from his forehead. "You look terribly sick, dear. I wish you'd sleep a little more for me." Satine kissed him softly and Christian couldn't help but move closer to her. She was so warm and soft. The heat of her skin had penetrated the sheets and blankets, aided by the fact that she wore only a thin, cotton shift. Christian sighed. He reached a hand out from under the blankets to rub the bridge of his nose. The bed probably smelled of Satine, too. Talcum powder and white roses. Not that Christian could be sure, he could hardly breathe, much less smell. Pressing his index finger underneath his nose, he took a tentative breath. No, he could not breath that way, not even to sniffle back the growing tickle there. Holding back the sensation proved just as hard. Christian leaned up off the pillow and away from Satine, clumsily, and with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Heh- Schoo!"

"God bless you!"

"Th�thanks� EhhISHH!" The sneeze felt good, as if he could breathe a little easier now, or if not that, at least he could sniffle. Which he did a few times before removing his hand from his face. "Thank you, again. I seem to be having a bit of trouble with my nose."

"Indeed. Do you need this?" Handing him the handkerchief, Satine smoothed the blankets over his chest. "I found you sleeping with it crumpled in your hand."

Christian smiled and tried to hide the slight embarrassment he felt. He HAD fallen asleep before Satine arrived. She was the one who had taken the blanket from his shoulders and tucked him into bed. Of course. Christian had not quite realized upon first waking, but now it made sense even to his sleep addled brain. She took such good care of him, his beautiful darling.

"I think so." He took the cloth, pressed it to his nose, and blew lightly. The congestion had gotten worse as he slept and made it hard to clear his nose. He should probably let the rest of the sneezes come. Christian waited a few seconds, felt his breath catch at the back of his throat, and buried his nose into the handkerchief. "HehKishh! KihhSHH! huh! ehh� huh!IhhShoo!"

"Oh, Christian, bless you! Maybe you should sit up?" Satine slid an arm under Christian's shoulders. Urging him up as he tended to his nose, she gently kissed his shoulder. When he had settled against the pillows, she kissed him there again and then on his neck. "How did you get so sick?"

"It's just a cold, love. You shouldn't worry about me."

"But I do. I can't help it, you look so pale and tired." Satine narrowed her eyes. "You have been sleeping, haven't you, the nights when we aren't together? Christian?"

"ISHH!" The sneeze pitched him forward. A burning lingered in his sinuses and faded to a dull itch. Not able to coax any more sneezes out, Christian wiped his nose on the handkerchief.

"You haven't been sleeping enough, have you?" Her hand, usually so delicate, forced Christian back until he lay against the pillows. "Don't lie to me."

"I," Christian swallowed painfully, "I sleep as much as I can. It's just been so cold, and damp, and, IhhKishhih!" Rubbing his wrist against his nose, he sniffled thickly. "EhhGheshh! EhTSHOO! oh�" The sneezes had come on too quickly and strongly for Christian to contain them. And how they made his head ache each time. Groaning quietly, he averted his eyes and gave his nose a quick blow.

"God bless you." Satine murmured. She started to stroke his hair gently. "Relax, dearest."

"I do � HuhShhih! � sorry; try and sleep, that is. I just, uhh.. ISHH! IhSshoo!"

"Shh� I don't want to fight with you. It's all right." The soft touches continued, fingers carding through his hair or petting his neck. "You're just a bit sensitive to the cold and damp."

"Perhaps." Christian mumbled into his handkerchief. He rubbed it over his nose, attempting to calm down the burning sensation before he blew his nose again.

"You are, my poor baby. You looked so adorably frustrated with yourself on the stage this afternoon."

"Adorable?" Looking over the edge of the handkerchief, he blinked. "Did you just call me adorable?"

"Perfectly adorable." Satine laughed as Christian gave her a look of disbelief. "Trying not to sneeze during rehearsal. And now, with your nose all pink like that."

"I hardly think that's adorable." Sniffling wetly, Christian wiped his nose on the sleeve of his nightshirt. Oh, god, no not again. "Excuse me." He kept his wrist near his face and twisted as far to the side as he could. "Huhh� uh� huhISHH! EhpTISHH! HuhSHOO! AhhhISHH!!"

"Bless you."

Christian nodded absently. He fumbled for the handkerchief. Nostrils pinched closed with thumb and forefinger, he managed to hold back one sneeze, then another, and another. After the third one, however, his eyes, nose and throat all itched. Immediately he clamped the salvaged cloth to his face and forced the itch out. "EhhCHOO! Huh� ISHH! Eishh! HuhRASHOO!! ugh�"

"Oh, Christian, God bless you!" Satine's fingers inched up his chest, rubbing soothing patterns. "Bless you. Come here, let me hold you."

All the sneezing had made the handkerchief too damp for further use. Christian tried to wipe his nose into it anyway, and ended up sniffling into his nightshirt sleeve again. That, he was quite sure, was about as far from adorable as he could get. "I feel like a mess."

"I know." Reaching around him, Satine took the crumpled handkerchief from his hand, kissed him lightly on the temple, and handed him a clean, dry handkerchief. Her brow creased when she looked at him. "I wanted to hold you so badly this afternoon." Lightly, carefully, and with a delicacy that matched the care in her eyes, Satine stroked his cheek. "You looked cold. So cold."

"I'm all right now," a sniffle interrupted Christian and he rubbed his nose before he continued, "I'm all right here with you, darling. Not cold."

"But you're sick."

"Only a touch of cold in my head. It's not serious." He smiled bashfully when Satine pulled the handkerchief from his hand. "I've got a sniffle."

"Yes, you certainly do. I can't understand how you spent the whole day in that drafty auditorium. You must have been miserable." She held the handkerchief to his nose, waited a few moments as he blew a few times, and patted his nose gently. "Are you too stuffy?"

Christian shook his head. "Too much sneezing."

"You sound congested." She kissed his forehead. "It hasn't spread to you chest, Christian? I could get the doctor to examine you, it might have to wait until Monday, and we'd have to get Toulouse or Satie to fetch him, but I have a few francs �"

"Satine, love, YOU sound worried." Christian let Satine draw his head to her chest. He nestled closer until the slight tension drained from Satine's body. "Shh� calm down now, I'll be better soon. I'll get some rest."

Being in Satine's arms gave Christian the same feeling it always did, one of overwhelming joy and love. He couldn't believe how much love he had found in such a short period of time. Nearly perfect, their love flooded his heart and body with warmth. If only they could spend all their days like this. He would write, plays, songs, anything, and she would perform them. But at the end, when the curtain went down, Satine would be all his. Christian kissed Satine, brushing his lips over her collarbone, and rested his head back down on her chest. Even if it was only a cold, he was too sick to make love to her. His head did ache, the congestion making it harder for him to concentrate on anything more than the warmth of Satine's body, or her touch as she petted his hair.

"You need someone to take care of you, to make sure you don't catch cold or shiver or sneeze too much."

"Oh, sweetheart." Christian looked up, then lay back down as Satine hugged him closer to her. "You take care of me. I don't need anything else." Sniffling, he held the back of his hand to his nose. It was a bit hard to be reassuring when his nose kept running. Worry had made Satine's words sound desperate and scared, but insisting that he was not ill wouldn't ease that worry. Especially not now, when he had to fight to keep back the urge to sneeze.

"I can't be with you all the time." She gave the handkerchief back to him and sighed quietly. "My poor, sick Christian."

"Not poor." A few, light, pre-sneeze breaths turned the words into whispers. He tried to move away from Satine, huddle in on himself and hold the handkerchief tightly to his nose. Only succeeding with the handkerchief, Christian took one more shuddery breath. "Ehhh� HehISHH! IhhTISHH! Ahh� EihSHOO!"

"Bless you, Christian." Her fingers smoothed back his hair. "Maybe you should sit up again? You're getting so congested."

Christian shook his head. Her touch told him that Satine didn't mind that he had not moved away from her. She just wanted him to be comfortable, but sitting up was something he could not quite manage as the sneezes kept coming. "EhhChsshh! Chhsshh! Huh� Ehh� HuhIshh!schoosh!" With a groan Christian sat up halfway. That last sneeze made his throat hurt. The cold air hit Christian's body as the blanket shifted and he shivered before he could start to blow his nose.

"That sounded bad." Satine commented as she drew the blanket back over his shoulders.

"EhhSHOO! HuhKeshhuh!" Certain that didn't sound any better, Christian cleared his throat, blew his nose, cleared his throat again and then turned to Satine. "I'm just sneezing a lot."

She gave him a sympathetic look and rubbed Christian's back. "You really need to get some sleep, dear, if you're not going to let me get a doctor for you."

"HISHH! Hih� schoo!" The dreadful tickle in his nose wouldn't allow Christian to say anything to Satine. "HuhChSHH!huh� ahh�" One more forceful, throat burning sneeze, and Christian slumped forward. He kept his nose covered with the handkerchief as another sigh of relief escaped his lips. Satine was rubbing his back so nicely, with warm and gentle circles, that it was easy to simply concentrate on her attentions. Wearily Christian sniffled and muffled a cough into his handkerchief.

"Blow your nose, dear. You'll breathe easier." Satine massaged his back as he obeyed her. When he started coughing again, she drew him into a more upright position, and rubbed a bit more firmly. "All right? Is your nose a little less stuffy now?"

Christian nodded. He placed the handkerchief on the bedside table after wiping his nose one last time. "I think so. I'm sorry, Satine, I didn't mean to get sick. And you don't really have to stay with me all night."

"Hush, silly. Of course you didn't mean to catch a nasty cold." Guiding him to lean against the pillows, Satine gave Christian's arm a squeeze. "And of course I'll be staying with you all night. I'll stay as long as I can."

"You're going to have to listen to more of this." The itch flared up in Christian's eyes and nose again. With a stuffy sniffle, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He wasn't going to get better anytime soon and that meant it wasn't going to be much fun for Satine to remain with him. "It's not exactly poetry."

The sound of a soft laugh and the touch of warm lips on his cheek had Christian turning his head. "I don't mind."

"No?"

"No."

The room grew quiet as Satine looked at Christian seriously. She brushed one finger over his lower lip. Tracing the outline of his mouth, her finger tickled his skin faintly. Christian watched her, trying not to sniff too loudly, then smiled bashfully when she touched the tip of his nose. Her eyes were a brilliant blue in the soft glow of firelight, her hair the richest shade of red. Christian gasped when Satine pressed a kiss to his lips. She was so beautiful. She was everything to him.

"I love you so much, Christian. I couldn't leave you here alone and sick." Satine kissed him again, thus preventing him from arguing with her. "Quiet. I know it's only a cold. I want to it keep it that way."

"Darling." Christian breathed the word out in a sigh. He reached up to run his fingers through her hair and delicately finger her jaw line. She was so soft, with pale, radiant skin and long, shiny hair. Christian couldn't quite get the words out that he wanted say. His mind was muddled with illness, and his throat all the more sore from the emotion that tightened it. "Love you, too."

"I know. Let's get some rest."

A soft yawn snatched the words Christian wanted to utter. He settled down into Satine's embrace with another yawn. The sound of the storm melded with Satine's heartbeat and faded into the background of Christian's sleepy thoughts. "Still raining," he murmured when a blast of wind and rain rattled the windowpane.

"Yes, it's the November rain." Her lips moved against his neck. Satine shushed him gently, tightening her arms around him.

Christian smiled; only half awake, he repeated her words to himself. Oui, c'est la pluie de Novembre. Satine's quiet voice and gentle accent made the words sound so beautiful. Much more beautiful than anything could have sounded in English to Christian's ears. He was tired, more than a little congested, and far from happy with the situation. But the rain fell outside still, reminding Christian how cold and unpleasant it was on the streets of Montmartre that night. It also reminded him how lucky he was, to be falling asleep in the arms of Satine. How warm and caring she was, how tenderly she kissed him and bade him good night. Christian would sleep well, despite the harsh November rain.

finis

[11 March 2002]