Loosely based on the musical film Moulin Rouge. References to the following songs: Elephant Love Melody, Come What May, and El Tango de Roxanne. This takes place after It's Goin' Down and during Cotilion. Enjoy!

"So that's my plan," Uma finished her explanation and slammed the spell book shut to punctuate her point. After finding Mal's spell book on the ground and opening to a dog-eared page with a love spell, Uma quickly came up with a backup plan. Her crew was staring at her with wide eyes, indicating that most of them didn't actually understand what she just hurried to tell them. However, Uma didn't have time to explain it all over again. Time was of the essence. Being one second too late could mean the end of her plan. She shoved the spell book into a leather backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "Trust me, it'll work. Harry's in charge until I get back."

With that, she ran off the ship with the intent of going to the lower docks and diving into the water. She would then swim through the barrier at the exact moment that Mal and her gang drove through it. Then, she'd spell the king into falling in love with her, become his Lady of the Court instead of Mal, and simultaneously get revenge on Mal while also getting the power to take down the barrier and free every poor unfortunate soul that doesn't deserve to be on the Isle. This was all for them.

Uma had just reached the edge of the dock and was about to jump when a rugged brogue–one which she noticed was rather quiet throughout the impromptu crew meeting–stopped her.

"I don't want you to go."

Uma sighed, recognizing the voice and turning around to face her first mate, who was still sodden from his jump into the sea after his hook during the sword fight. The smudging of his eyeliner emphasized the downtrodden look on his face, and his posture made him appear as though he were caving in on himself. Uma wanted to ask what was wrong, but she didn't have the luxury of knowing how much time she had. She prepared to leap again.

"Harry, please, I don't have time to–"

"I don't want you do go with him," Harry repeated, this time extending his plea. Uma froze in place, the muscles in her legs contracted and ready to launch her into the water, but they wouldn't move. She slowly stood up straight and turned to him once more. She slowly walked towards him while his eyes fell to the planks at their feet. He feverishly pulled at his hair and rambled in a low voice, "I don't want him to fall in love with you. I don't want you to be his date. I don't want you to be his Lady. I don't want you to be his–"

"Shhh," Uma hushed him gently, raising a finger to his lower lip. She tried to catch his eyes, but they remained trained on that one finger that touched him. Her lips pressed into a firm line. She was worried something like this would happen. "Harry, I need you to listen."

His eyes flickered up to hers, but they darted away soon after in a flash of shame. She reached up and placed her hand over one of his, slowly pulling it from his head. His arm was rigid with tension, but it seemed to relax under her hand's influence. "This plan can work," Uma coaxed him. "I'm doing this for us."

Us, she said. Harry knew that word went deeper than a single meaning. Us, as in the crew. Us, as is every kid born on the Isle who was left behind. Us, as in the villains who wanted revenge.

Us, as in Uma and Harry.

Harry shook his head, his mind filling with catastrophic thoughts. Uma glanced behind him, making sure no one followed them. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she pressed her forehead against his and told him, "I need you to promise me something." Harry trembled, unable to ease his fleeting subconscious no matter how tame and composed Uma's voice sounded. "I need you to promise me that you won't be jealous."

The muscles in Harry's jaw flexed as he gazed at her lips with deep longing. He desperately wanted to agree to the terms spoken through them, but he knew it was a promise he couldn't keep. Uma saw the conflict behind his glassy orbs and leaned forward, pressing her cheek to his temple. His response was instantaneous, arms snaking around her waist and pulling her close while his nose nuzzled affectionately against her chin.

"It will be alright," she whispered into his ear, but he shook his head and mutter little noises of defiance. "Please, promise me, Harry. I know the jealousy will drive you mad."

His hold on her only became tighter, tighter than it ever was in their nights together. Those nights when they shared a single cabin, a single bed, a single existence. Those nights when they would tell each other, 'Just one night, give me just one night,' but it never ended up being just one night. She caressed the side of his face with deft fingers, soothing a few straw tendrils of his damp hair behind his ear. She felt him try to turn away, try to escape her reasoning while still remaining in her touch, but he couldn't bring himself to separate from her. All he did was burror his face further into the crook of her neck.

A shimmering golden light in the corner of Uma's eye caught her attention, and she pressed her palms into Harry's shoulders in an attempt to get out of his grasp. "I need to go," she said urgently, watching the magic bridge form. "The barrier's opening."

"No," Harry whimpered, his voice weak as he desperately tried to keep Uma within his arms despite her pushing away from him. "No, no, you don't need to go–" his eyes darted about her face, a heavy need hanging within them "–we don't need to escape. We can live our lives here just as we've always done. I can be everything you need me to be. Just please…stay with me."

Uma's heart shattered at how broken and innocent his voice sounded. She almost wanted to give in and stay, but then she remembered that it wasn't just Harry she wanted to free. It was a whole Island that was depending on her.

Uma embraced him again, letting his pleas turn into a weak hum against the skin of her neck. She felt a buzz in the air and knew the barrier was now open and letting magic in for a brief moment. Uma had to leave, but she had to appease Harry first. With slow movements, she put her lips next to his ear and quietly sang a lyric only he would know:

"Come what may."

She felt him go stiff in her arms at the utterance of those few words. He himself didn't know how she knew them and their importance, but the effect would have been no different even if he did know. He hesitantly pulled away from her, blue eyes searching her face for any kind of explanation, but all he could find was the steadfast determination he had vowed to respect and revere long ago. It made all of his fears and insecurities disappear for the moment. A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed it along with his pride for the sake of the girl in front of him.

"Come what may," he said back.

Uma nodded at him, thankful it had worked. Now, she was able to go. How she knew the words was a personal secret, just as she was sure the words were meant to be. It was one of those 'one nights.' She was laying on his chest, awaiting the dark shroud of sleep to take her away, when she heard her already slumbering first mate mumble something in his sleep:

"Come what may,

Come what may,

I will love you until my dying day."

She didn't know if the lyrics were his own or if it was something he'd retained from his childhood. She didn't know if they were directed at her or some figure in his dreamscape. She never mentioned them until now, but she knew her message was sent loud and clear. Harry saying it back meant the exact same thing.

With one last look at his crestfallen expression, Uma whipped around and dove off the deck. Harry watched her slice through the water with unmatched speed until she'd just passed the threshold of the barrier. The glittering mirage sealed just as she made out outside, and Harry felt a melancholy mix of happiness and loss. She'll be back, he told himself as he turned around to go back to the ship. I know she'll be back.

That night, the crew sat in the Chip Shoppe and watched the Royal Cotillion through the one small television. Harry sat at the back of the table and set his focus on the screen. As they watched, the pirates would snicker and make jokes about the gaudy outfits and flashy entrances, but Harry paid them no mind.

He'd already broken his promise to Uma. After she left, his mind was plagued by thoughts of jealous rage and selfish desire. He only watched the Cotillion because Uma put him in charge and he needed to watch the crew. He'd much rather spend his life without the image Uma on the arm of another man forever engrained into his brain.

King Ben made his entrance after Mal, and Harry felt his skin crawl with insatiable anger. Ben had the nerve to look just shy enough to still be charming while maintaining his prestigious air. Harry rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, unable to watch the king any longer. He looked like the perfect gentleman, a well-dressed, stable provider with the ring of sovereignty upon his golden, well-groomed hair. He was polite and courteous as he bowed to Mal even though, as Harry and the pirates knew, he was about to break her heart.

Ben was everything that Harry wasn't. Harry had a million reasons to hate Ben.

The trumpets blared from inside the television screen one final time, and Harry had one more reason to hate Ben.

His eyes upon your face.

Harry's mouth went dry when he saw her. He always knew her as beautiful, radiant, effervescent, no matter what she wore, but seeing her in a ball gown in a royal setting only confirmed what he knew all along. She was meant to be royalty, not a discarded spec on the Isle. She was a queen, a goddess, but only in Harry's eyes. To Ben, she was a date to a dance, the lady by his side, and it made Harry sick. The lovestruck look on Ben's face, spell induced or not, did not deserve the right to gaze upon Uma.

His hand upon your hand.

Ben walked up the stairs, his hazel eyes never leaving Uma's figure. She looked pleasantly nervous, as though she genuinely cared about her impression on the people around her. She looked at Ben, and her expression seemed to relax into an endearing look. Harry thought she only reserved that look for him. He had to grip the table, turning his knuckles white, while he tried to remind himself that it was all an act.

"I'm doing this for us," her words echoed in his mind.

Ben offered her his hand, and she graciously took it. He led her down the stairs, a sweet smile eased onto his boyish face. When they reached the break in the stairs, they paused to face each other, both hands joined as they gazed lovingly at one another.

His lips caress your skin.

Harry wanted to gouge his eyes out when he saw Ben nod to one of her gloved hands. The young king put one hand behind his back as the other lifted Uma's fingers. On one finger shined a golden beast-head ring. Ben leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to where the ring sat on Uma's hand, lingering for what Harry felt was a torturous eternity before lifting his head and grinning like the love drunk dope he is.

Harry's bitter anger dulled into a stinging hurt when Uma shot Ben a dreamy, sidelong glance before offering her other hand for him to take once more.

"I need you to promise me that you won't be jealous," the siren's song seemed to bounce off of the walls in Harry's brain, taunting him like the scared, useless little boy he felt he was.

Harry didn't pay attention to any of the back and forth between Ben and Mal. He didn't care for Ben's excuses. Harry just wanted to put his thoughts at ease, to stop the painful tremors he felt in his hands and feet, to stop the madness prickling his skin like a fire in his bones.

However, his ears, trained to hear her voice among thousands, became alert when his dear one opened her mouth.

"It was love!"

It's more than I can stand.

Harry snapped. The weak dam which restrained the deepest, darkest shadows in his mind shattered into a million pieces, and his demons were free to dance and scream between his temples.

He stood up, grabbed a nearby stool, and launched it across the room. The frail wooden implement smashed against a wall and turned to splinters upon contact. The room went dead silent for a moment, the only sounds permeating the silence were the staticky television and Harry's ragged breathing.

Feeling the eyes on him, Harry twisted his actions into something wicked–something his crew might like. His downturned lips curled into a sinister sneer, and his eyes glowed with a patronizing rage. Cackling like a madman, Harry sauntered back to the table and took his seat again, setting his hands down in front of him. He didn't care for the looks of surprise or alarm at his outburst and set his eyes back on the screen, forcing his aching cheeks to maintain a smile in the face of heartbreak.

Ben danced with Uma. Harry smiled through the pain.

Ben announced Uma would join the court as his Lady. Harry smiled through the anger.

Ben told his crowd that he would take down the barrier once and for. Harry thought his face would break just as his mind did.

"Mateys," he addressed his crew in a low, menacing voice. "We ride with the tide!"

Harry banged his fists against the table as the pirates cheered for their captain. Their plan worked! They were getting off the island! They'd be free!

But Harry didn't feel victorious.

Why does my heart cry?

Harry should have been happier. He should have been thrilled to get off this unforgiving rock, but all he felt was despair. Would Uma be free with them? Would she have to remain as Ben's Lady even after the barrier was brought down? She probably would have to lest they all get sent back to the Isle.

Did Uma already know that?

Feelings I can't fight!

Harry had to leave the shoppe, not caring for the rest of the Cotillion and not wanting the crew to see him battle with himself. He couldn't imagine living a life where Uma wasn't his and his alone. He didn't know what to call how he felt for her.

Actually, he did. It was love.

He just didn't know how to tell her.

He released the most primal and instinctual of his feelings through their idle touches and occasional retreats between the sheets. For those brief moments in time, when they forgot that there was a world outside of the cabin, Harry could've sworn from the way she looked at him, kissed him, held him against her, that she felt the exact same.

So why was she so willing to leave?

You're free to leave me.

Harry made his way back to the very same dock from which Uma dove into the water and swam off to Auradon just hours before. He'd followed her in the hopes that he could somehow convince her to stay with him on the Isle. Perhaps part of him secretly knew that if she left, she'd never be his again. He looked down at his feet in shame. He should've tried harder. He should've fought for her.

Why did he let her leave?

Those words, he remembered with forlorn realization. She said those words to me.

For every time he couldn't display his feelings through a physical throw of passion, Harry wrote meaningful scripture–a poem, if you will–addressed to his beloved. He swore to himself that he would show her all of his scribbled notes and hastily written lyrics one day, but he had yet to build up the courage. He was less than eloquent, and his language was simple and uninteresting. Uma deserved a scholar's treatise at the very least, and even if Harry had the skill for such a piece, he couldn't brave the risk of her reaction. Love wasn't allowed. They both knew that.

So why did she say those words to him? And how did she even know them?

But just don't deceive me.

One of his first poems, a short repeated couplet followed by a longer line with a matching rhyme scheme, one of the most plain lyrics Harry had ever written, and she said the first line to him. Did she realize what those words meant? It was validation of his feelings and confirmation of her own feelings. That's why he let her go, because he knew that she felt the same when she said:

"Come what may,

Come what may,

I will love you until my dying day."

But she left. She left him to free them all, but it cost her own freedom. Harry felt lied to, betrayed, deceived. She told him that she was doing this for them, but Harry told her that she didn't have to. He offered all he was to her, but it still wasn't enough. She stood there, said his own evocative words back to him with such ease, and disappeared, knowing full well she would never be his again.

Harry felt like a fool. Uma didn't know the true weight of what she said. If she did, she took it far too lightly. Harry would never put anyone before her, and he knew he would never feel any different. He couldn't. He would live for her and, just as well, he would die for her.

If she didn't understand that when she said it, Harry ached to think that she didn't fully grasp it when he said it back.

And please believe me when I say…

Now, Harry was alone. The crew would be free, and they'd probably run off on some sort of adventure. Harry would stay behind. No adventure, journey, or odyssey could ever fill the hole inside of him. That hole that was left by what he lost. She was his, and he was hers. Now, she is no longer his, but he will always be hers.

Looking out to the sea, dark and stirred like Harry's mutilated heart, he whispered a prayer onto the wind, hoping it would reach its intended destination.

"I love you."

I actually cried while writing this. Like why did I do this to myself? CMON! DAMNIT THOMAS FOR DYING YOUR HAIR AND MAKING URSELF LOOK LIKE CHRISTIAN! Anyway, let me kno what ya'll thought about this said little one-shot. Love you! -JoJo, who is on a Moulin Rouge kick apparently, like damn