Author: Dazzling
Email: glitter_and_glam@hotmail.com
Disclaimers: I do not, and will never, own the characters of JAG. I also don't really own the story line; it's mostly a JAG rewrite of 'Moulin Rouge' (excellent movie) complete with quotes from the movie and everything, set in 2001 in America. I've twisted the storyline a little to fit in with what I wanted. I didn't write the songs they sing either, they belong to Westlife, the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and whoever wrote them.
Notes: The French title means 'Above All, I Believe In Love', and was taken from one of Ewan MacGregor's many speeches in 'Moulin Rouge'. Written in Harm's POV. WARNING: Character death.
Spoilers: Moulin Rouge. If you haven't seen this movie and want to, I suggest you don't read this.
Category: Angst/Romance. Harm/Mac.
Rating: PG-13
Reviews and Feedback: Please? Even if it's to tell me how much it sucked compared to the movie.

SURTOUT, JE CROIS A L'AMOUR

If I were to tell of my greatest adventure, of my greatest love, and of my greatest loss, I would tell our story. My name is Harmon Rabb Jr, I am a writer, and I moved to New York a year ago to seek fame and fortune. I found all that and much, much more. I found a drunk Australian who crashed through the door of my hotel room and led me to my fame, I found a temperamental transvestite who helped me make my fortune, and I found a beautiful nightclub dancer named Sarah who inspired all my works, and taught me this:

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

Our story is one of truth, beauty, freedom, and above all, love. This is it:

Sitting at the battered desk in my budget-price hotel room one night, I was attempting to write a love story to sell to my publisher. I had barely finished the title when the drunk Australian mentioned above was thrown into the door of my room. Being flimsy as it was, it broke, and my dear Aussie friend landed in an ungraceful heap on my dirty doormat.

No more than three seconds later, another man came rushing through the door. It seemed as though my hotel room was the place of the moment to congregate. This man, who briefly introduced himself to me as 'Sam', picked the Aussie up of the floor.

"Sorry," he apologized in a heavily accented voice. "He has a tendency to do that sometimes. Don't worry about it."

"No problem," I stammered, watching Sam drag Oz, as I had dubbed him, out of my room and back up the stairs. Seeing the script that Sam held in his hand, I followed, curious.

I trailed after Sam into a room that was quite large, given the rest of the hotel accommodation. It was full of people, dressed in wigs and costumes. Sam laid Oz out on a mattress on the floor, and quickly explained to the others what had happened.

"How can we go on now?" a woman wailed, rather over-dramatically. "Now that Augustus has gone and knocked himself out - AGAIN - we have lost the main character."

Augustus. So that was his name. Sam turned to me, a gleam in his eye. "Young man," he said to me, "how are your acting skills?"

As it turned out, my acting skills were no more than mediocre at best. The others found it to be quite annoying that I would try to change the words to make them more poetic. They would get aggravated when I turned their carefully written phrases around to make them rhyme, or sound romantic. I was a big believer in romance.

Finally, after yet another of my suggestions to 'change it to a love story', Sam looked aghast at the writer of the play, Celia, and then turned to me.

"You seem to have quite an affinity for words, young man."

"Ah, the name's Harm," I corrected him, smiling slightly.

"Well, Harm, I can't help but think that maybe you should be the writer of our fine production, not an actor."

I agreed with him immediately, and was soon re-writing the script. Celia didn't like this, and stormed out, throwing down his pen and slamming the door behind him.

Due to Celia's absence, I was now the sole writer of the production, aptly called 'Absolutely Fabulous'. The others, Sam especially, seemed to think that I had a gift, and I wrote all the words and music.

"Um, where is this musical to be performed?" I asked hesitantly as I wrote a scene that would require quite a lot of stage room. Sam twirled around to look at me, script pages flying everywhere.

"It is to be opened in a theatre that has not yet been built. The building is a nightclub at the moment. In fact, we are headed there this evening. Care to come?"

I did love nightclubs, but my lack of money had prevented me from ever going to many. I nodded my agreement eagerly, wanting to scope out the venue where my masterpiece was to be viewed.

Sam smiled, and motioned to the others. "Come now, that is enough work for one day. Let us meet at the nightclub at, say, nine?"

The others nodded, and rushed out the door. Sam turned to me, looked me in the eye. "The nightclub we discuss is called 'The Dome'. Ask around - everyone knows where it is. You must see the lead dancer - she's a piece of eye candy if I ever saw one."

He slapped me on the shoulder and walked out. I strolled back downstairs to my hotel room, having found no ideas for a story, but a way to spend the evening.

Later that night, I met Sam, Augustus (who had evidentially woken from his stupor and been told of the plans) and everyone else save for Celia outside the Dome. We paid our fees and were admitted in.

Inside, it was unlike anything I had ever seen. Flashing lights illuminated the tables, chairs, and dancing stages. Girls in various stages of undress swung around on poles, danced on rotating platforms and generally gave the men a good eyeful.

We grabbed a table and sat, with Sam ordering drinks. Augustus leaned over to me. "See that man over there, the large one with the moustache?" I nodded, looking. "He is the owner of this, ah, establishment. His name is Jack Hartley. They call his dancers Jack's Hearts, and the lead dancer is the Queen of Hearts."

"Where is the leading lady that I have heard so much of?" I asked Augustus, and the table in general. One of the men with a minor role in the musical smiled at me.

"Patience, Harm. She will come. She likes to make an entrance."

At that moment, the lights faded, and the entire nightclub was shrouded in darkness. A single spotlight appeared over one of the platforms, and everyone except me cheered, knowing what was to come. The young man who had told me to have patience smiled again.

"Here she is," he said, clapping as loudly as everyone else. I kept my eyes focused on the lit platform, waiting. There was a collective gasp, and I looked up. A woman was being lowered down on a trapeze-like swing; her legs crossed demurely, her eyes downcast and shadowed by the top hat she wore.

She looked up when she was about halfway down, and my breath caught in my throat. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her long, curly brown hair swung around her shoulders and down her back. Her chocolate-coloured eyes were captivating, drawing me in, and her full red lips were pouted. She was dressed in a variation of what the other dancers wore - a black leather bustier, black fishnets, black stilettos, and a very short black leather miniskirt with a split up the side, edged by diamonds.

"What's her name?" I asked, enthralled by her.

Sam looked at me, laughing when he saw my eyes lit up. "Her name's Sarah," he told me, "but don't even bother. She's engaged."

My heart sunk straight away. "Then why does she still do this?" I asked Sam, who was cheering as Sarah hopped off her trapeze and strutted along her platform. "Why does she torture us?"

"Because the man she's engaged to is the man who is paying for the transformation of this place into a theatre. Sarah is an aspiring actress, you see." Sam took a swig of beer and grinned lopsidedly at me. "Just do what we do, my man. Sit back, enjoy, and dream of what you will never have."

Watching Sarah dance, doing a modern day version of the can-can, I did just that. I was taking Sam's advice and dreaming of what I never would have when Sam leaned back over to me.

"I have, though, taken the liberty of setting up a small meeting with you and Sarah for later. It seems as though we need a female actress to play one of the leads, and I believe Miss Sarah Mackenzie will do perfectly. As writer of the musical, we felt that you should get to know her, ah, style, shall we say."

I looked at him, wondering if perhaps my mind was playing tricks. Apparently it was not, for the other men were slapping me on the back and wishing me well. As the show went on, and Sarah enthralled the men around her, I sat back with a goofy grin on my face. I had only been here three days, and already, I had been offered an opportunity that most of the men in this club would only ever get in their wildest dreams.

The end of Sarah's show finally came. With a final whisper of luck, I was sent up to her dressing room by Jack Hartley, who had heard of the arrangement and thought it an excellent opportunity for his 'queen'.

I walked up the stairs and to the room in a sort of daze. Knocking on the door, I heard a sexy voice telling me to come in, and I did so. I sauntered in, attempting to portray a sort of cool-laid-back-writer vibe, but was stopped in my tracks when I saw her.

There she was. Sitting at her stool, her make-up still on, dressed now in a pair of short shorts and a tank top. The biggest shock, though, was her hair. It was short, cut in a bob style that framed her face and made her look delicate, rather unlike the saucy creature that had entertained the crowds.

"Your...your long hair," I managed to stammer. "It's...it's not real."

"No," she said in a musical voice, laughing. "It looks better on stage when it's long and flowing and curly. Personally, I couldn't stand having long hair."

She swivelled around in her chair and looked me in the eye. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm Sarah. Sarah Mackenzie. You must be Harmon, right? The writer?"

"Yes, that's right. I'm here to speak to you about the role we have for you in a musical we're writing. That is, I'm writing."

Sarah rose off the stool and sat down on the couch, making herself comfortable. "Speak away," she said, smiling.


I tried to keep my eyes on her beautiful brown ones, and not on her other assets. "Well, ah, my friends and I have created a musical between us, and I have the privilege of writing the words and music for it. It came to our attention, however, that we needed a female role, and an actress to play it. You came to mind, seeing as how you work at the very place where the theatre will stand, and the production will play."

Sarah uncrossed and crossed her legs, looking at me. "Well, it is true that I would simply love to be an actress. However, I think that I'll need to see some of your work before I'm totally convinced. So, read me a poem, sing me a song, whatever. If I like it, I'll do it."

Now I was in a predicament. I had no idea what to perform for her; I had too many thoughts running through my head. Finally, though, I hit on one. I turned back around to face her.

"Alright," I said, nodding. "The song I'll perform is one from the end scene, with the lovers. He is a poor writ-, that is, a poor guitar player, and she is a courtesan, and he is serenading her, telling her of his love."

Sarah smiled slightly, a gleam in his eye. "Sounds good. Go on, then."

I took a deep breath. It was now or never to impress her. I just hoped, prayed that my voice would not desert me. I had rather a nice voice when I sung well. "Here goes nothing," I whispered to myself, and launched into the song.

"I would die for you
Lay down my life for you
The only thing that means everything to me
'Cause when you're in my arms
You make me prouder than
Than anything I ever could achieve
And you make everything that used to seem so big
Seem to be so small since you arrived

On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings

And I often wonder why,
Someone as flawed as I
Deserves to be as happy as you make me
So as the years roll by
I'll be there by your side
I'll follow you wherever your heart takes me
Cause you make everything that used to be so big
Seem to be so small since you arrived

On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings

Now anyone who's felt the touch of heaven in their lives
Will know the way I'm feeling, looking
In my baby's eyes
That's why I can't bear to be too far away
I know that god must love me cause
He sent you to me on angel's wings

On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings

Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings."

As I finished the last note, I looked into Sarah's eyes, and saw tears glistening there. She applauded me, before standing up. "I'm in love," she said, twirling around, "with your work."

"And I'm in love with you," I said quietly, but obviously not quietly enough. She laughed slightly, embarrassed.

"I'm engaged," she told me, sitting back down at the stool and doing her hair. I remembered Sam's advice, and then made the bravest, and possibly the most stupid, move of my life.

"You don't love him," I replied, holding my breath, waiting for the yelling and screaming that would usually come when a man tells a woman she is not in love with her fiancée. Surprisingly, it didn't. She simply turned to me and looked me in the eye. Whether the touch of sadness I saw in there was really there or just a figment of my imagination, I had yet to find out.

"You've known me for twelve minutes. Who are you to know? Besides, I'm a dancer, who wants to be an actress. Opportunities such as this don't come every day. I may not love him completely, with the whole of my heart, but he can make me happy and give me what I want," she said, looking away again and brushing her beautiful hair.

"What about what your heart wants?" I asked her softly, wishing with all my heart and head that she would say that her heart wanted me.

"I've learned to ignore my heart," she replied, matching my soft tone. Then she looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes. Something that made me believe, if only for a moment, that we would, somehow, be together. "Even when my heart tells me to pursue a gorgeous writer who serenades me."

I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked at her. She was smiling ever so slightly at me, although her eyes told a different story. She quickly glanced away as the telltale red of a blush came over her cheeks.

I turned around and made my way out of the room, my heart breaking at the thought of leaving her, but knowing I had to. "Listen to your heart," I whispered, before walking out and closing the door behind me.

PT 2

I lay awake in the small, dirty bed in my small, dirty hotel room all night that night, thinking about her, and what I said. I lay there chastising myself over walking out of the room, instead of seizing the moment.

Her face invaded my thoughts, my dreams (for the two seconds I did get to sleep) and all my waking hours. I got out of bed, frustrated, and sat down at my desk, trying to write the story my publisher needed. What my pen scripted, however, was not a story, but a song.

After my fit of inspiration had faded, I knew that I had to see her again. Going on the hope that she was still at the nightclub, I threw on some decent clothes and ran all the way there, hoping against hope.

I gave the fee to the bouncer and pushed my way through, looking for Jack Hartley. Thanking God that he recognized me, he sent me straight up to Sarah's room. I knocked, and was greeted by a harried "Who is it?"

Mustering my courage, and remembering what she had said to me, I called back, "A gorgeous writer who's come to serenade you."

The door opened, and I was once again lost in the beauty and depth of her eyes. She ushered me in, but there was a closure in her stance that hadn't been there earlier tonight. I closed the door behind me, and turned back to find her sitting on the couch, looking at me.

"Any particular reason you came back?" she asked me. "I already told you, I never listen to my heart, and much as it pained me, I didn't this time either."

"Maybe you don't, but you did say you are in love with my work, no matter how much I want that love to be me. So, please, just listen to this song I wrote. No prizes for guessing whom it's about." I finished my monologue, and took a deep breath before looking at her hopefully.

"I'm listening," she said, putting her chin in her hands and leaning forward. Just as I did the last time, I wished that my voice would not desert me before launching into the song that I had written just minutes earlier.

"Baby you're so beautiful
And when I'm near you I can't breathe
A girl like you gets who she wants
When she wants it
You're so out of my league
I show you no emotion
Don't let you see what your doin' to me
I imagine the two of us together
But I been livin' in reality
Fear of rejection, kept my love inside
But time is running out, so damn my foolish pride

I don't care if you think I'm crazy
It doesn't matter if it turns out bad
'Cos I've got no fear of losin' you
You can't lose what you never had
Now I'm gonna confess that I love you
I been keepin' it inside feelin' I could die
Now if you turn away then that's O.K
At least we'll have a moment before
You say good-bye
You can't lose what you never had

Rules are made for breakin'
Nothin' ventured nothin' gained
I'll be no worse off than I am right now
And I might never get the chance again
Fear of rejection, kept my love inside
Told my heart I didn't want you but I lied

I don't care if you think I'm crazy
It doesn't matter if it turns out bad
'Cos I've got no fear of losin' you
You can't lose what you never had
Now I'm gonna confess that I love you
I been keepin' it inside feelin' I could die
Now if you turn away then that's O.K
At least we'll have a moment before
You say good-bye
You can't lose what you never had

Here on the outside lookin' in
Don't wanna start dreamin' 'bout
What could have been
I need to hear you speak my name
Even if you shoot me down in flames

I don't care if you think I'm crazy
It doesn't matter if it turns out bad
'Cos I've got no fear of losin' you
You can't lose what you never had
Now I'm gonna confess that I love you
I been keepin' it inside feelin' I could die
Now if you turn away then that's O.K
At least we'll have a moment before
You say good-bye
You can't lose what you never had
You can't lose what you never had...."

I finished the song, and turned to walk out the room once more, and most likely out of her life. Or I would have if she hadn't stopped me by placing one hand on my shoulder, spinning me around, and giving me the most mind-blowing kiss I had ever had. It seemed to last forever, my world spinning, my heart doing back flips.

Finally, we pulled away. I looked at her in awe, in amazement, and perhaps, in confusion. She smiled, and took my hand, pulling me onto the bed. "I guess my heart needed to be dealt with," she said, before leaning in to kiss me again.

The next morning, we walked into rehearsals for the musical together. The guys cheered when they saw that I had coaxed the Queen of Hearts into performing with us. Sam and Augustus wasted no time in getting her up on the makeshift stage we had constructed.

She was given a script, and we proceeded with the rehearsal as usual, except that all my writing, every bit of heart and soul I put into making it real, was for her. We would exchange secret looks, although I don't believe the others noticed anything. I did, however, see Sam giving me a sideways look and a thumbs-up. I gave him a glance that could silence a rifle, and he wisely did no more.

We continued our secret affair. We would sit around my hotel room for hours on end, with her being my inspiration for writing. Of course, I would sometimes have to be, let us say, 'inspired' with a kiss.

I came to see her shows every night, cheering and clapping as any other man would, and then sneaking up to her dressing room for a private congratulations. No one knew about us, especially not Jack Hartley. Sarah was especially afraid of his finding out. One night, though, her show ended in tears.

Sarah was up on stage, kicking her legs high and enticing the men around her. Suddenly, she seemed to falter, and before I could do anything, she had collapsed. Jack Hartley picked her up and carried her to the back of the nightclub, while the other dancers did their best to make up for the Queen's absence.

Not being allowed to go to her, and not daring for fear of being caught, I could do nothing until I saw her the next day when she came to my hotel room. She looked pale, and withdrawn, and the helplessness in her eyes drew me to her side. I carried her to the bed, laid her down.

"What happened to you last night?" I asked her tenderly, afraid of what the answer would be but desperately needing to know.

"I don't know," she replied. "One minute I was up there on stage, dancing, going through the paces, and the next I woke up with all these faces around me and a wet cloth on my forehead. I must have fainted or something, from the heat." She fell back on the pillow, exhausted.

I stroked her cheek, loving her more with each minute. "Maybe you're getting sick of hiding this thing between us from everyone," I joked. "Maybe it's time to come clean to everyone."

The way she looked at me in the seconds before she realized I was kidding, the horror and disbelief on her face, I truly hope I never see an expression like that again, especially marring her features.

"Very funny, Harm," she told me, punching me lightly on the arm before closing her eyes. I got worried. This wasn't the energetic, lively person I fell in love with. She seemed...I don't know, empty, almost.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked her. "Maybe you should take a few days off work, you know, relax."

She sat up, kissed me on the cheek. 'So considerate. No, I'll be fine. I just need a good sleep, that's all." She stood up and walked to the door, kissing me passionately before exiting. "I'll see you later."

I sunk down into the one ratty couch the hotel provided wanting desperately to go after her, but knowing that I had to give her room. She was going to see her fiancé now, and I certainly couldn't follow her there.

We had tried to avert any sort of suspicion by never coming to rehearsals for 'Absolutely Fabulous' together, and I didn't visit the nightclub where she worked as often as I would have liked, though that may have been as due to my lack of funds as it was to our need for secrecy.

I put my feet up on the headboard of the bed, getting lost in my thoughts. I knew that I loved her, there was absolutely no question of that. And I had confidence in the fact that she loved me. It was just that, well, I was sick of all the hiding. I wanted to shout it on the rooftops, tell the world about the amazing woman I was in love with.

Days flew by. I spent most of them with Sarah and the guys, although she had to visit her fiancée every second night to keep up our charade.

I would never admit it to my angel, but I was insanely jealous of the man she was promised to. Somehow, the dumber part of me had sworn to her that I wouldn't get jealous should she choose visiting him over me. That was a promise I would never be able to keep.

One cold, rainy day, as I was working on the writing of our production, Sarah burst into my hotel room. Her cloak was covered by a fine moist of rain, her hair was wet, hanging in her face. Grabbing a towel, I jumped up and ran over to her.

She took off her coat and stood there, shivering, as I wrapped the towel and my arms around her. I dried her hair and hugged her close, trying to warm her up. It was only then that I noticed the tears running down her face, which I had mistaken for rain.

"What's wrong?" I asked, brushing her tears away with my thumb. I brushed the hair off her forehead, kissed her as the tears continued to fall. She hiccuped, stumbling over to the bed.

I followed her and sat down beside her as the sobs racked her body. I stroked her hair, rubbed her back, wanting her to tell me, but wondering if maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with me.

"Wanna tell me what happened to make you run in here like you did?" I asked softly, gently tipping her chin up, so that she was looking into my eyes.

She sniffed, wiping her tears away almost angrily. Then she sat up straight, her eyes seeming somehow dead and alive at the same time. She looked at me, the tears threatening to well up again, and spoke two simple words. The two words that broke my heart.

"He knows."

PT 3

He knew. My world crashed around me. In the middle of it all, I found the time to see the irony in how two words could so destroy a person's life, or worse, their love.

"How?" I managed to ask, quietly, suddenly feeling faint. I sat down on the bed, pulling her down to sit beside me.

Sarah wiped her eyes again, letting them rest closed for a moment, as if perhaps there was some comfort in the dark. For her, there probably was. "He...he saw us," she whispered. "He was coming up to discuss business about the play with the boys, and he saw us."

My head spun, and I tried to make sense of what she was telling me. I opened my mouth to speak, but she placed a finger across my lips. "He...he put a contract out on you," she told me, a tear rolling down her cheek and tumbling, spiralling to the ground. "He'll pay the man who delivers your body to him."

I simply looked at her, the information not registering, not seeming true. Some part of me must have believed her, though, because my eyes went wide and my mouth fell open. Sarah jumped up, away from me, and began to pull her cloak on. "We have to end this. Now," she said, brushing her hair back with her fingers.

I, too, jumped up and over to her side, shaking my head. "No...no, I'll run away. Live in secret somewhere. We can still..."

"No, we can't," she cut me off, shaking her head sorrowfully. "I'm not going to let love, no matter how strong, endanger your life. As of now, we're over." She leaned over and kissed me, very softly, before walking out of the room.

I merely stood there, looking after her vanished form, and cried silently. I wept for what might have been, what would happen now, and for what tomorrow would bring.

A week later, I was still alive, and Sarah's fiancée had apparently allowed her to continue with the production, although I was exempt from rehearsals as he would come to those, and I would deliver my latest work to the boys in secret. They never saw me as I sometimes watched through the window, admiring her grace and beauty, wishing like anything that we could still be together.

One unbearable night, I found myself gravitating towards the club where she danced. I had this need to get my vengeance, I suppose, do to her what she did to me. Without anyone seeing me, I slipped up to her dressing room, knocking and entering upon her invitation.

Once she saw whom it was who had come in, she turned angry. "What are you doing here?" she asked me. "We're over."

I mustered all my courage, and my best lying abilities. "I came to give back your love. As we are, as you say, over, I felt it only necessary and courteous to return to you any emotional baggage I may carry. So here it is, Sarah. Everything we ever shared, all the memories...all the love - as of now, it is no longer."

After making my Shakesperian-esque speech, and willing my legs not to crumble from under me as I walked out of there for the last time, I turned sharply on my heel to leave.

"I didn't ask for my love back, Harm," she called softly to me. "That's yours, forever, to keep."

I swivelled back around to face her, lying harshly, "I don't WANT it anymore, Sarah. As of now, I want nothing to do with your love."

With that, I left. And walked out of her dressing room and, so I thought, out of her life.

No matter what my situation regarding Sarah might have been, I was still needed for opening night, even if it only was to hide in the wings and watch my masterpiece come to life.

And it did, spectacularly, a beautiful array of colour, light and sound. Everyone was brilliant, their voices melding together to create something that the appreciative audience would surely never forget.

Yet I found myself watching only one person - my angel. The awful things I said to her were still fresh in my mind. I watched her float across the stage, singing, dancing, making sure all eyes were on her. And they certainly were. And then, I watched her falter, and I watched her fall.

I stopped myself from crying out, from running to her side. I restrained myself from shouting out my feelings for her over the top of the murmuring crowd. I looked on in horror as one of the minor players picked her up and carried her off, and as the show continued, the talented actors willing the audience to think that Sarah's fall was a part of the plot line.

With no one to see me, I raced through the maze of hallways that was the back of the night-club turned theatre. I turned right and left, blinded to where I was heading by the need to make sure she was alright.

I finally found her, wiping her face with a wet washcloth, ready to go back onstage. She glanced my way, looked into my eyes for a split second, and then turned coldly away from me, shielding her emotions before making her way back onto the stage, to thunderous applause.

What I did next, I still do not believe. Without the risk of consequence registering in my mind, I grabbed a costume coat and leapt up onto the stage as the chorus was performing the second-to-last number.

Sarah looked at me, shocked and angry, as the members of the audience clapped wildly, convinced this was some plot-twist that none of them had seen coming.

I gathered all my strength, knowing that the final song was between her and her lost love - that was me now, I supposed. As I had written it, I knew all the words, and was prepared to sing my love for her if it meant that all I had worked for would be a flop.

Opening my mouth, looking straight into her eyes, I sang:

"Never knew I could feel like this
Like I've never seen the sky before
Want to furnish inside your kiss
Everyday I love you more and more."

Sarah looked hard at me, a dilemma playing behind those beautiful brown eyes. She must have decided that putting on a good show was more important than killing me, because she simply sang her part.

"Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing
Telling me to give you everything
Seasons may change, winter to spring
But I love you, until the end of time."

It was time for the chorus, where we had to make-believe we were lovers. I pulled her close to me and whispered, "Go along with it, Sarah, please. For the play." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her fiancé looking daggers at me.

She looked at me and nodded, and we launched into the chorus.

"Come what may
Come what may
I will love you until my dying day."

Smiling at her, as the script called for, I picked her up and twirled her around, wishing above all things that she would realize I wasn't just acting. I was pouring out my feelings for her through my song. I began to sing again.

"Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste
It all revolves around you."

"And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side
Storm clouds may gather and stars may go by
But I love you (I love you), until the end (until the end) of time."

As we began to sing the chorus again, she looked straight into my eyes, and in that moment, I knew that she had forgiven me for the lies I told her, forgotten all except our love. Her fiancé must have realized as well, because he got up and stormed out of the theatre.

"Come what may
Come what may
I will love you until my dying day.
Oh come what may
Come what may
I will love you (I will love you)
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place
Come what may
Come what may
I will love you until my dying day."

She fell back into my arms, and the audience broke into applause. It rang in my ears, the sound reverberating throughout the constructed theatre. The cast held their positions, their heads high, their brows sweaty, as the curtain fell.

Once we were shrouded in privacy, I lifted Sarah back onto her feet. Only then did I realize that her collapse into my arms had not been the one written into the script, but the fact that she had fainted. I quickly laid her down on the floor, calling frantically for someone to bring me some water and a towel.

"Sarah?" I whispered, and slowly her eyes opened. She looked up at me, tears falling, before saying very softly, "God, I'm sorry, Harm."

"You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart," I told her, laughing gently. "You don't have to be sorry about anything. We're together now, it's all gonna be okay."

She struggled to sit up, coughing. "No...I'm sorry for not telling you...about..."

"About what?"

"About the...the cancer. Harm, I'm dying."

I didn't know what to think. I looked wildly around at the faces that surrounded us, seeing the same look of sorrow and pity on their faces. They were all nodding softly, confirming my worst nightmare.

I let her gently out of my arms, before standing up and staring accusingly at all the faces, screaming, "Why wasn't I told? Don't I deserve it?"

"Harm..."

Sarah's weak voice floated up to me. I turned around to face her, my eyes hardened.

"Harm...I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But please...I want to spend my last moments with you...is it too much to ask?" A tear slipped down her cheek. I sat back down with her, gathering her up in my arms.

"No, Sarah...your last moment will be in about sixty years," I said to her, kissing her forehead. "But I promise you, I will be there for that."

She looked up at me, and no matter what my heart and my head wanted to believe, I knew that she was slipping away from me, and that in a few moments, she would be gone forever.

"Harm...I want you to tell our story... That way, we'll live on forever," she said weakly, before falling back into my embrace. "I... I love you."

"Sarah, no...don't leave me," I begged her, tears rolling down my face and dripping onto my arms. I kissed her once more, and I knew she was gone.

"I love you too. More than anything. More that even you'd know," I whispered to her, before laying her down on the ground, and wishing her peace.

After that, I moped in my hotel room. I stared at the wall for days on end, sometimes seeing her there, other times just seeing what it was - a blank wall. Finally, though, I wrote my love story. It was ours. It was the one you are reading now.

FIN

A/N: Yes, I realize that I have a tendency to kill Mac. It's not that I don't like her; she's my fave character. It's just that it seems more tragic when she dies. Sorry to all the Mac fans.

A/N 2: This part may have been a bit off plot. Forgive me, as it's been a while since I saw Moulin Rouge, so I'm trying to remember it as accurately as I can.