Simonne would occasionally stir, but never truly awoke, for the better part of the day. Richard came back from his walk, not exactly feeling better but at least able to handle being inside for a time. There was nothing he could do at this point, so it was time to patiently wait. He let himself into Etienne's apartment, finding Etienne sitting on the couch, a stack of letters scattered around him. He looked up as Richard came in. The two men said nothing, what was there to say? How're you doing? No...they each knew how the other was doing. This was not a time for trite conversation. Richard gave a small nod and went down the hall to Simonne's room. Emma was still sitting at her bedside, staring off into space. Richard softly cleared his throat, bringing Emma back from where ever her mind had wandered. She looked at her brother and gave a small twitch of the corner of her lips.
"I'll, mm. Sit with her," Richard said. "Go, get some. Rest." Emma nodded and stood, but before she left the room she asked Richard in a very quiet voice "How can anyone do this to a person? How is it possible to be so cruel?"
"There are, mm. Some people who. Feel the need to flaunt. Their power. The easiest way. Mm to do that is to. Take it out...on someone. Weaker." These were the kind of men Richard dealt with. Emma nodded, but he wasn't sure she truly understood how vile some people could really be. For her sake, he hoped she never did. Emma leaned against him for a moment, offering support and taking comfort at the same time. Richard gently told her once more to go get some rest, and took up her seat when she had left the room. He took Simonne's hand in his gently, it was one of the few places on her that didn't seem to be bruised.
Oh, Simonne! He thought as he looked at her. I swore that the next time I saw you, I was going to tell you how much I loved you. And I could see you laughing, gently making fun of me because we both know I would turn shy about it and blush, stammer to get the words out. And maybe you would tell me that you loved me too.
"Please come. Out of this. With, mm. Your laughter intact," he said softly, remembering Louis' words about how this would affect Simonne mentally. "If you. Lose that...mm, then they will have. Won." He very gently traced the curve of her jaw, barely touching her skin. "Besides." he said, unable to keep a small sob back, "If you. Can't laugh. Mm...how can. I?"
Simonne drifted awake just as the sun was setting. Richard was still at her side, holding her hand, although she could barely open her eyes enough to see, she could tell it was him. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze. He softly asked if she wanted some water. She gave a small nod, and he helped her sit up a bit and he held the glass to her lips. She took small sips, and when she was done Richard gently settled her back down onto the pillow. "I'm here," he whispered, taking her hand again. She drifted back into sleep with those words echoing through her mind.
One of them was always with her whenever she would flit awake. They never asked how she was feeling, or if she was alright. They knew she hurt. They knew she wasn't alright. But she was grateful that they were there, and she realized that these were likely the only three people she could count on. Each time she woke up, she tried to speak, but the sound that came from her throat was nothing but a hoarse whisper, and each time she tried, she was admonished not to speak. And each time she woke up, she found herself drifting back to sleep shortly after she had been given a little bit of water. It didn't take her long to realize they were keeping her sedated. So she tried to refuse to drink the water. But she was really too weak to protest, and she ended up giving in, drinking, and drifting back to sleep.
Her mind kept replaying the horrors, but she watched them much the same way she watched a movie at a theater. She seemed completely detached from what had happened to her, but that was what she had wanted. When she realized what was going to happen to her, when she knew there was no way to escape it, she remembered the wall Richard had built around himself. She made one for herself, hiding behind it with thew few perfectly happy memories she had. They all involved Richard, and somehow the thought of him kept her mind from completely snapping.
But as she lay in that fuzzy not-awake-but-not-quite-asleep state, where she knew what was going on around her but couldn't bring herself to acknowledge it, she knew that something inside of her was broken. She didn't know what, exactly, but there was a sense of wrongness in her. Maybe, once she was allowed to come fully awake, she could figure out exactly why she felt...off.
She didn't know it, but Christmas Eve passed in a quiet blur, as did Christmas day itself. That, she would regret when she found out about it, because she had a special gift for Richard and Emma, and she had planned it's presentation out quite nicely, but it wasn't going to happen now because she couldn't move any part of her body without pain (No, not entirely true...she was able to flex the big toe of her right foot without any pain...see, Richard? Laughing. Hahaha.) and she didn't know when she would be awake long enough to give them their present, and she knew she would need to explain it, because Richard and Emma might not see the significance of it. Sometimes the significance of things wasn't so obvious. But sometimes it was. Like the significance of her wearing Richard's dog tag. She'd put it on a ribbon as soon as she could the day he had given it to her, and put it around her neck and tucked it under her blouse and it had felt so right hanging between her breasts. And when Dubois and his friends had seen it there, after they ripped her dress from her shoulders, tore through her shift, they knew why she was wearing it. They knew what it meant to her. And because it meant so much to her, they knew it was something they could use against her. She had screamed when Dubois pulled it from her neck, pleaded with him when he threatened to toss it into the fireplace. The thought that they might destroy that precious memento of her love was enough to send her into a panic, the men saw this and used it to toy with her. If asked, she would admit to being relieved when Dubois forced the dog tag up inside of her before raping her. At least there she knew where it was, knew it was safe.
She wondered where it was now? Groggily she groped at her throat, but it wasn't hanging there. Was it still inside of her? She didn't know, and she began to panic. Where was it? It was her link to Richard. Richard was her link to sanity. She thrashed, tried to ask where it was but still her voice wasn't loud enough.
"Shh, mm. I'm here, Simonne," Richard said soothingly, capturing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Tag?" Simonne managed to croak out. She pulled her hand from his and tapped her throat, repeating 'tag' as loudly as she could. Richard caught on and said "It's over here. Mm, on your nightstand." He reached over and grabbed it, placed it in her outstretched hand, glad he had taken the time to remove the ruined ribbon and scrub the tag clean. He hadn't been sure she would ever want to see the thing again, truth be told. But watching as she clasped it in her hand like it was a lifeline, seeing her seem to relax into a true sleep, not the mild sedation they'd been keeping her under, he was reminded of the sniper mask he had once needed near him at all times lest he become overly anxious. He gazed at her, afraid that when she finally woke up, the beautiful light in her eyes, the laughter, the joy, would be gone.
Louis came by late Christmas evening to check on Simonne. He seemed satisfied with what he saw, all things considered, and said that they could cut back on the sedation. She should be able to move around with assistance in a couple of days, and he would stop by then to check on her, but if they needed him for anything, they shouldn't hesitate to call him.
And so when Simonne slowly woke up again, she was able to stay awake for longer than five minutes. She realized right away that at least when she was unconscious, she didn't hurt quite as much. But when she was unconscious, she couldn't lay her plans, and she needed to get those taken care of soon. She also needed Richard's help with them. He killed people, so he should be able to help her work out the details.
"...If you. Can't laugh. Mm...how can. I?"
Those words were caught in Simonne's mind. Richard needed her laughter. Well, she would have to do her best to give that to him. So a few days later, when she was able to speak above a whisper, although nowhere near a normal volume, she said to Richard "You were right, Richard. Little and squishy are not words a man likes to hear." She found herself having to pause and swallow every three or four words, and her voice seemed huskier than it should have been. Hopefully that would change as she healed. She enjoyed talking to Richard for hours, but if they both had to pause eight times a sentence, they'd never finish a discussion. I should mention that. That should make him laugh.
"You didn't!" Richard said, his eye widening with shock. Simonne nodded. She had, actually. That's what got her the first black eye. She had known it stupid to say what she did, but fear gave her a smart mouth and the inability to control it. At least she knew her husband to be had severe insecurities relating to his penis. That information should prove useful.
"C'est vrai. I did. I could not help myself." Hmm. He's not laughing. "Believe it or not, I am smiling. Trying to, anyway."
The corner of his mouth twitched up. It's a start.
"Do you want, mm. To sit up?"
She shook her head. "What I want." she said, "is a bath." Her scalp itched and her skin felt like it was crawling. Richard nodded. "I think that can. Be arranged, mm." He left the room, and Simonne felt a stab of panic that she couldn't explain. She tried to sit up, crying out in pain when she moved too quickly. Richard was back by her side in an instant, asking if she was alright. The sight of him calmed her down. Emma and Etienne stood near the doorway, looking worried. "I am sorry," Simonne managed to say. "I tried to shift. And I moved wrong." Richard slipped his arms under her and carefully helped her sit up. She grabbed his hand before he could pull it away, holding onto it for dear life. He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and gently brushed her hair back. Her eyes were still swollen, but she was able to open them somewhat. Richard looked into them and tried to make sense of what he saw there.
Emma stepped away to finish drawing the bath, Etienne gathered clean clothes for his sister, and Richard asked Simonne if she thought she could walk to the bathroom. She was willing to try, and made it, albeit slowly and with Richard's support. Once in the bathroom, Emma helped her out of her nightgown. Simonne got her first look at her abused body, and she spent a few minutes looking at herself in the mirror. She could see Emma behind her, looking like she wanted to say something, but unable to find anything. Simonne caught her eyes in the mirror and said "Do not worry. Zis is one of those times when you just being here is enough. You do not need to find words for me."
Emma looked at Simonne, marveling that she was still soothing those around her, given what she had been through. "Here," she said, gently ushering Simonne to the tub. "Let's get you cleaned up."
The water was warm, soothing although it stung at first in some very unexpected place. She winced as she lowered herself in.
"You have stitches in some...awkward places," Emma said, her discomfort evident despite her attempt to hide it. Simonne sank into the water and relaxed after a moment, feeling some of her aches begin to ease. Emma gave her a moment to relax, then told her to tilt her head back so Emma could wash her hair. Simonne was dismayed to see the bath water around her turn pink, so she closed her eyes as Emma washed blood sweat and who knew what else away. Emma rinsed her hair, then pulled the drain plug. She refilled the tub with slightly warmer water, and Simonne felt herself growing drowsy. She sank into the water as low as she could while keeping her left arm above the water. She closed her eyes and tried to forget everything, just for a moment, but it was impossible.
"What is the date?" she asked Emma.
"December twenty-seventh"
"Oh! I missed Christmas?"
Emma nodded. "Etienne's friend, Louis? He thought it would be best to keep you sedated for a while. He said you lost an awful lot of blood, and you needed some good rest...Simonne? Are you alright?" Emma asked, noting that Simonne was giving her a panicked look.
"Louis? Louis Beaudelaire?"
"I don't know his last name," Emma admitted. "He's shorter than Etienne, kind of husky build, glasses. Simonne?"
...
Richard and Etienne were in the living room. The air in the apartment had eased somewhat with Simonne coming to, but there was still tension and worry. Richard had been turning something in his mind, something that had been bothering him for a few days.
"Etienne? How did your friend. Louis, mm. Know who I was?"
"Hmm?" Etienne asked, not hearing the question. Richard repeated it, adding "You never. Introduced us. But he, mm. Seemed to know. Who I, mm. Was."
Etienne gave it some thought, and while he could come up with a couple plausible explanations, there was always some tiny thing that made them improbable. He was about to ask Richard why it was important when Emma called them to the bathroom, her voice raised with concern.
Richard got there first. He looked in, saw Simonne sitting in the tub, her entire body trembling, her eyes wide and completely blank, lips moving in a silence recitation that no one could make out.
"Mm, What happened?"
"I don't know!" Emma said, moving as Richard moved into the room. At the sound of his voice, Simonne's head had snapped in his direction, and the look in her eyes pulled him to her. He scooped her from the tub, not caring that his shirtsleeves were wet to the elbow now.
"She asked me what day it was," Emma went on, wrapping a towel around Simonne as Richard held her against him. He sat on the toilet and tightened his arms around her, afraid she would shake her way out of his grip. "And I told her, and explained that Louis.." and here Simonne's body gave a violent tremor, and a small cry escaped. Richard looked up at his sister, who continued in a quiet voice "I explained that...the doctor thought it best to keep her sedated for a while, and at the mention of his name, she..." Emma waved her hands at the trembling woman in her brother's arms. Richard was whispering in Simonne's ear, slowly calming her down. He looked at Etienne, who was horror stricken as two and two finally added up to four. The men's eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them.
Simonne calmed, for the most part, although her body still shook and she clung to Richard as tight as she could. He whispered something in her ear, and she gave a small nod in reply. She slowly uncurled herself from Richard's arms, stood on shaking legs, and managed, with a great deal of help from Emma, and Richard as her main support, to get clean, dry clothes on. When she was dressed, Richard gently picked her back up and carried her back to her bedroom.
"Please stay," she begged him as he set her on her bed. Her eyes were still terror-filled, and her body still shook. Richard would never have dreamed of leaving her like this. He hooked the chair leg with his foot, and dragged it closer to the bed, but Simonne managed to scoot over, (all on her own, which she viewed as a minor personal victory. Sure, it hurt like hell, but still...) and looked at Richard expectantly. Richard took of his soggy shirt and hung it over the back of the chair to dry, then slipped out of his shoes and settled himself on the bed next to Simonne. She fitted herself against him and was asleep almost as soon as she had gotten comfortable. Richard lay awake beside her, letting his seething anger at Louis build. Etienne peeked his head into the room, and Richard waved him over.
Etienne looked at his sister, curled up at Richard's side, then he looked at Richard. Rage burned in Etienne's eyes, and well as a look of confusion. He was at a loss for what to do,now He knew Louis had to die, and he was perfectly willing to be the one who did it, but how?
Richard understood, and explained to Etienne his plan, speaking softly so as not to disturb Simonne. Etienne admired the quick thinking on Richard's part, the plan seemed sound, and the one thing Richard wasn't sure of, someplace to actually do it, Etienne was easily able to provide.
"Go, get some. Mm, rest," Richard told Etienne. "We'll take care of it. Mm, in the morning." Etienne nodded.
"Until morning, zen," he said softly, leaving the room.
Richard shifted slightly, trying hard not to disturb Simonne, but she said very softly "Do not forget to ask him who ze ozers were before you kill him."
"I won't," Richard promised her. "I will. Mm, kill them all. For you."
"Non! Some zings, zey must be dealt with personally. You can have Louis...you and Etienne...mais...do not let zis ruin Etienne. Do not let him actually do ze deed. He is too gentle, oui?" Richard nodded. "Ze rest...zey are mine, Richard. I will need your help, mais...I swore I would kill zem. I have to." Her eyes met his, and Richard saw that her grip on sanity was barely there.