He walked briskly down the path with her. France was beautiful and he had always wished to view it; and he had the perfect place: the top of the Eiffel Tower with her. "Comment allez-vous?" She murmured from the insides of his arm.
"Beaux, Mon Cher," he replied just as low. Although not French, he spoke impeccable French. She gazed into his eyes and he hers. He nearly drowned in her deep crystalline blue oceans. He placed his hands onto her inner thighs and rubbed them up and down, slowly, and sensually. "Oh vous méchant homme!" She jokingly slapped his hand then grabbed hold of his face and kissed him, passionately. Their tongues were like two fish swimming against the streams. Her back was arched slightly over the railing of the Tower. His hand moved from her lower back onto her left butt cheek. She giggled and gave him small, light kisses all over his face.
The sun was setting in her background. He looked up to induct the entirety of the beautiful situation into his senses. At this point nearly every sense was working. Sight: her and the sunset. Taste: her mouth, her sweat, her body. Smell: her sweet lusty smell, the lush foliage, the sweet dusk autumn night. Hear: the people about, the birds squawking, her muffled panting. Feel: her beautiful body, every curve. "Beau Mon Cher!" She squealed turning around. His arms melded to the curves of her sides and legs. She gripped onto his hands and twiddled with his fingers. For the moment all the world blended to their whim. If only that were the case; by God how they wish it were that. Reality was unavoidable for this tragic couple. "Je t'aime…" she uttered silently into his ear. "Je t'aime Mon Cher; je t'aime."
A sudden flash and bang a young woman fell over the railing of the Tower. Blood painted the railing and the metallic walkway. They were both withdrawn from the situation by the horrific occurrence. A man stepped up the stairs and took in the view of the event he just put into action. The gun swung melancholically at his side. "Je suis désolé…" he whimpered. He turned his head toward the couple. His eyes were worn, either from crying or lack of sleep. "Calmez-vous et de bassier son arme," he said to the killer. He shook his head solemnly, and then brought the gun up.
"This is unforgivable…" he said in English, "C'est impardonnable." She shook in his arms. He took her and put her behind him. "You speak English?" Nod.
"Why did you do this?" He repeated the same phrase. "L'amour est un mensonge qui est impardonnable." He just stared at the killer. "… No that's a lie." He chuckled.
"Naïve man, oh so Naïf." She shook on his shoulder. She was so frightened that he might die that she couldn't control her shaking. "Menteur! Menteur!" Liar! Liar! He shouts at the killer. He chuckled, "I speak truth, I may be a lot of things monsieur, but a liar I am not." The killer brought the gun up to meet the sight of the man.
"She hurt you?"
"Oui, monsieur, oui." The man shook his head and turned to his girl, then back. "I know about hurt… but not from this woman. She's given me more than I could ever want or need; she means everything to me… and if you just turn and walk away I know you'll find yours too."
He shook his head once again, "Naïf… je ne vais pas survivre à cette." The killer brought the gun up. Within the split second it took him to bring it up the man had removed his own gun from his belt and shot him in the throat. The killer dropped the gun onto the metal walkway; it bounced then slid off the Tower. The killer dropped to the ground grasping at the gaping hole in his throat. He fingered it gently as he attempted to swallow; it was pointless, he was slowly losing consciousness. "Je suis désolé monsieur." He apologized to the man he had just killed he'd always had a strange way to deal with things. He shot his hand up to his head then down and side to side, "… In nomine Patris, ET Filii, ET Spiritus Sancti." He removed the gun one last time to put the poor dying man out of his misery. He shot him directly in the face and he slumped to the side; the gunshot wouldn't have been heard by anyone other than the two up there. He shook his head. "Forgive me Father."
He turned back to his love that was standing in pure shock at the dead man that lies on the ground, killed by her love. She shuddered and her teeth chattered. He replaced the gun into his belt and walked over to her; she backed away. "Qui êtes-vous?" He rubbed his head, "Je suis désolé Mon Cher, je t'aime, je t'amie…" She continued to back away, breathing heavily, "Qui êtes-vous?" He wiped off his mouth, sweat drenched his lips, and he was getting nervous. That's when he noticed the blinking ants that were below him; sirens blaring like the bells of Notre Dame. "Merde… Sweetie, I'm—was—a contract killer for the American Government. I, unfortunately, cannot be seen—per se, because in essence I'm a spy." She stared at him, crystalline oceans beating down upon his own. "Nous devons quitter ma chérie."
"Non." The simple no shattered his soul and world with a crushing blow very few have come to know. "Alright, I understand. I have lied for the entire time I've known you." He hung his head solemnly before swinging it side to side, tears dropping. He loved her, but there was no way he could just throw away his life and everything he'd worked for if she didn't want to be with him. "… Je t'amie Mon Cher," he whimpered.
He ran to the railing on the adjacent side then placed his foot on one of the lower bars on the railing. The walkway clinked with every hit of his Converse on the metal. A sudden urge overcame him, one that he'd never known before; as if he were leaving his heart on the walkway. He turned back to her and looked at her; even ten feet away her eyes were as big as the oceans that he saw them as. "I… love you, twice." She spoke. Her English was awkward, he wasn't used to it but… he loved it. She popped up her fore and middle finger into that of a two to correspond to the twice (or two as she'd meant it to be) and smiled very gently. He held up the same thing; then jumped.
He fell down toward the ground then produced a gizmo that shot a grappling hook out and he swung down to safety; the cops saw but they wouldn't make it down in time to catch him.
Back up on the Eiffel Tower, she stood there smiling, hoping to see him again someday. "Noah Addy; I love you twice."