IRRVERSIBLE

CHAPTER 10

WARNING: Graphic sexuality.

SPECIAL THANKS TO SMOKEY FOR HER KEEN EYES AND CRITIQUES!!

Angel or devil
I was thirsty
And you wet my lips
You, I'm waiting for you
You, you set my desire
I trip through your wires

Trip Through Your Wires-U2 from the Joshua Tree

"You know, a full body massage excludes boxers!" Eponine groaned as she knelt beside Nick and massaged his back.

"You're lucky I was willing to go this far," the Texan replied sardonically, and although her massage was amazing, his traumatized self was spinning the sign around to RED ALERT!

"Prude!" she teased.

"No." Nick looked around. "Just conservative."

She had changed into a white, silky, lace top that showed a bit of midriff and a long skirt with a slit in the middle. She had him lie on his stomach on some towels she spread out on her bed.

Now Nick had had massages before, and she was good, damn good, but he drew a line when it came to 'full body' and said that the boxers were going to stay until he felt ready enough to go further.

"Oh just relax, Nick, gees." Eponine leaned over and looked him in the eye. "You know I was married. I've seen naked men before, so there's nothing I've never seen."

"I told you…when I'm ready, I'll do it," he sighed, exasperated. He was trying to breathe slowly as she instructed. Breathing was the important factor here. It helped the body relax, but as her hands moved down to the top of his boxers…

"We got the Judge's son here!"

"Got some major tension here," Eponine observed

"Sorry," Nick growled.

"Why?"

"Just am."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Do you want to have some wine?"

"Not supposed to drink." He sat up and slid to the edge of the bed.

"Just a sip, Nick, to relax you." Eponine poured a tablespoon amount into a wine glass, held it to his lips, and then giggled. "The blood of Christ shed for you?"

He snickered and sipped it, then asked, "So where's my cracker?"

"It's not a cracker. It's the body of Christ, broken for you."

"Which part? His toes? He might have toe jam." Nick raised his eyebrows and flashed a smile at her.

The two of them giggled hysterically before Eponine said, "Well, at least you have your humor, Nick, as dark and morbid as it is." Her hands moved down and rubbed his legs, even his ankles, gently rubbing the injured one. Finally, he took a deep breath and off the boxers came, but he kept them close in case he needed them back and strongly suspected he would.

Eponine gave him a once over and then picked up a bottle from her side table.

"Now Nick," she whispered, "I'm going to start the next part. You're going to feel some massage oil poured onto you, okay? Breathe deeply."

He felt the oil poured onto his lower anatomy, making him jump up and glare at her. "What the hell?" He grabbed her hands as he shot up. "No, no, no!"

"Damn, he's fine."

"Relax." Her eyes were filled with empathy. "You'll enjoy this."

"No, get away from me!" He jumped up.

"Relax." Eponine stared at him, confused, as he got back into his clothes. "This is not just…sex. This is to help restore your soul."

"I don't have one! And I don't buy that shit," Nick glared. "As far as God and I are concerned…well, there is none. Where was he when I was nine years old and being attacked by my babysitter? I think I'm like that guy...Job...you know...God's faithful servant who found himself being the devil's bitch so that God could test his strength. I'm the new Job. God's been saying to the devil, "Hey, there's my buddy there, Nicky Stokes. Great guy, so why don't you torture him for a while for some fun? Did God stop those two psychopaths who held guns to my head? Did God rescue me when I was buried alive and was being eaten by ants? And oh, where the hell was he when I was bent over a fucking table and having my insides ripped apart by two son of a bitches?! God and I are not on speaking terms, Eponine. So don't give me that religious crap."

"I wasn't!" She laughed, taken aback by his rant. "I'm trying to help you see that there's more to the act of intercourse than just the physical act. You're so scared about it that you've lost sight of what it's about. And by the way, Nick, God did give Job his life back in the end…an even better one than before."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, I'm still waiting for that part. I'm going to get some air."

Eponine shrugged. "Okay." Not at all appearing to be upset or angry, but simply laissez-faire about him leaving.

He stomped through the trailer park, trying to keep his anger at bay before he charged into someone and knocked them senseless. He made his way to McVeigh's trailer, which was dark. He was seething, but he didn't know who he was pissed off at…himself…Eponine… McVeigh. Definitely McVeigh.

Trauma did strange things to people, he thought. He had visited some websites of survivors of sexual assault to find out if what he felt since the attack was normal or not.

In his own way, he knew what happened to him had changed him forever and he'd never be the same person again, but he didn't want to become so embittered by the experience that he couldn't enjoy the simple things, the not so simple things, and just life in general. Was it possible? Would he be able to allow a woman to get close to him without freaking out?

Maybe the whole thing had turned him gay? Not that there was a problem with that, but while Nick knew he wasn't sure of everything in this world, he was sure that he liked women.

McVeigh's trailer stood before him, leering at him, so taking a page from his nine-yea old-traumatized self, he picked up a rock (since a baseball wasn't available) and hurled it towards the trailer. It landed at a tree. He grabbed another one and hurled it, and it hit the tree, sending an owl screeching at him.

"Fuck off!" he yelled at the animal and thought for a second about hurling a rock at it instead, but it was an innocent creature, so he didn't. Nick related to animals for a lot of reasons, one being that he understood their pain, particularly if someone mistreated them.

And he understood how this dog at a crime scene he did felt. Poor thing's owner had been murdered violently and the poor thing - a Border Collie - was tied up in the other room, blood oozing from a gash to its leg. The damn uniforms were talking about shooting it until Nick snarled at them to lay off. He went in and sat down and talked to the dog soothingly, not once looking into its eyes because the Texan knew that it could provoke an attack. After a few minutes of soft talk and telling him what a good dog he was and eventually giving him one of his Doritos, it came around. It only needed someone to understand its fear.

Now he knew how the dog felt. If anyone had dared touched him, he was ready for the kill.

"Do you feel better now?"

He turned and saw Eponine dressed in track pants, presumably over her lingerie, and shook his head no. He walked over to her where she gathered him in her arms as the anger vacated him and was replaced by self-criticism and guilt. He made a bad choice that day. He made the choice to go into an unsafe crime scene. He did it before when he was kidnapped and at Nigel Crane's house. Impulsivity was his nemesis and it got the best of him every time.

"It was my fault. I should have never gone in there alone," he said as he buried his face into her shoulder, readily accepting her comfort. "I was just trying to be the big hero, you know? Be a big shot. I was warned not to go off there and look what happened."

He heard her voice. "No, don't blame yourself. Would you say that to another victim if it happened to them?"

Nick lifted his head off her shoulder and looked at her. "No."

She touched his face. "Then don't say it to yourself."

He looked away at nothing. "It was so painful...fuck…I'd never experienced pain like that."

Eponine cupped his face and gently kissed him on the lips. "Sshhh…enough…it's over. You're safe now."

"But the worst part of it, Eponine, was that I got a..." Nick couldn't say it. The words seemed to run from the horror of it, but she got the point and put a finger on his lips. Tears were in her eyes as she said, point blank:

"Because during your attack, your prostate gland was struck and that triggered an automatic response. Your body reacted the way it was supposed to react. It wasn't you," she explained as Nick nodded. Logically he already knew that. He was a scientist and a man and knew how the body was programmed to have automatic responses to stimuli. But that didn't change the reality that the experience was one that humiliated him so much that it was part and parcel as to why Nick didn't think he could ever be intimate again. Scientific facts couldn't dismiss the human element. Not this time. Not ever.

Eponine wiped tears from her eyes and continued, "Those two animals caused that reaction. It had absolutely nothing to do with you."

Nick sniffed. "Don't insult animals."

"You're right. Don't insult animals. Animals attack because of fear or hunger. Only humans attack to be cruel." She smiled at him softly, and he took a deep breath and went on:

"I'm just confused because of that part." He looked around and wondered if the owl was coming back for another round. God, the birds hated him here.

"You're wondering because of that particular reaction if you're gay?"

Nick nodded. "I know it's not a crime to be gay."

"Of course, but because you were in shock your mind and body became disconnected, so to speak."

"I don't think those will ever get reconnected again." He sighed, resting his head on her shoulder again as the crickets sounded.

"It will happen, and that's all I wanted to do back there. I wanted to help you. I'm sorry if I freaked you out, Nick." Eponine rubbed his back and drew away from him and said, "But if you want to go back to your trailer, I'm okay with that."

Did he want to back to his trailer? Did he want to go back and harbor deep thoughts of revenge? He looked at Eponine, studied her beautiful eyes with dark lashes decorating them and concluded that, indeed, he did not, and he told her, "Let's go back and…"

"Hang out?" she finished his sentence.

"Yeah, let's do that." He sighed with relief. All he wanted was the flexibility to opt out.

She wrapped her arm around his waist and they walked back with her asking, "By the way, can I just say one thing to you?"

"Sure!"

She threw an evil, flirty smile and whispered, "They do make everything bigger in Texas."

Nick snickered, "You women, you're just as bad as us."

As he treaded through deep thoughts, Eponine started lighting candles and going through her CD rack for some appropriate music. "I can't stand the new age shit," she said. "Just bugs me. I got a mix CD here. Cold Play, Depeche Mode, U2, The Muse, Moby, The Bravery, One Republic, Nine Inch Nails - all sad, angsty stuff though...fits the mood."

The music selected and the CD inserted into the player, she walked back over and slid off the track pants and t-shirt she donned to go after him. She walked over to Nick who sat nervously on the edge of her bed, hands trembling, mind racing with thoughts.

Okay Nicky, keep it together...relax, man, relax.

"Oh he's a pretty one."

Nick blew out a breath and darted his eyes about the room, taking in her degrees and her books. Oh she was quite the reader

"What's that book about?" he asked.

"Which one?"

"The Shock Doctrine."

"Oh that's a good one. It's about how governments use disasters to implement capitalist strategies."

"That's light reading," the Texan remarked sarcastically. "I'll bet that puts you in a great mood."

"Let me guess, Nicky. Your choice of reading is probably…uh…Sports Illustrated?"

"No, the last book I read was...actually it was a poem." He grew quiet as his mind drifted back and he quoted, "This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper…"

"T.S. Elliot's 'The Straw Men'." Eponine was lighting more candles and then turned the light down in the room.

His eyes grew misty and his lower lip quivered. "Yeah, I was reading it in the library..before...they…"

She sighed sadly and said, "Guess that poem's pretty ruined for you."

"Yeah. I'll just stick with Edgar Allan Poe, but with my luck my cat will sit on a shelf somewhere and start saying 'Nevermore' to me."

"Well, T.S. Elliot also wrote 'Old Possum's Book of Cats'."

"That's the one the musical came from." Nick wasn't a complete doofus of the arts scene.

"Yeah, I was in that one when I was seventeen. I played the white cat." She donned an arabesque pose, then giggled as she stumbled slightly. "You know, your cat, George, sounds like the Great Rumpuscat."

"The who?" Nick was confused. He hadn't seen the musical and had no intention of watching men parade around in skimpy outfits pretending to be felines. He had a male cat at home if he needed feline entertainment...even if George did have an obsession with hoarding socks, cigarettes, vibrators, and other strange objects as well as saving him from whatever danger threatened Nick while he was in the shower having a close encounter with his hand.

Meanwhile, Eponine was explaining the character from the musical. "It's a character in a poem called 'Of the Awful Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles'. The Great Rumpuscat comes in and stops a fight between two groups of dogs."

"George probably would go in and just slaughter them all," Nick concluded.

"Where's he staying?"

"With that girl that's pissed with me," Nick said.

"Oh, well," Eponine grabbed his hands and said, "enough talk about cats and poems."

Nick looked at her. "So if you were in 'Cats', you wore a really skintight outfit, right?"

Eponine's eyes shifted upward and she smiled. "Yeah, ate lots of salad to stay skinny for that one."

"Do you still have that outfit?" He smiled mischievously. "You can put it on for me and give me a private performance."

"No, I don't have that outfit anymore," she sighed. "We weren't allowed to keep them. I didn't like 'Cats' because the makeup was so thick on our faces that it just clogged the pores...and...you are trying to avoid intimacy again by asking all these questions."

Damn!! Caught in the act.

He ducked his head shyly as he felt like a teenager again. Christ, he did want to be with her. The white lace top was quite revealing, and the matching skirt…well, it revealed delightfully a lot. So why was he paralyzed with fear? His reputation at the lab for being a 'ladies man' was well earned. He liked women! So what? He was a healthy heterosexual guy who liked to enjoy himself. After his burial ordeal, he concentrated on living life to the fullest and that included being a player. Nick wasn't sure if he ever wanted to marry. Yes, it's a public declaration of love, but not for him.

And it's hard to find a good woman when you're working a weird shift that often leads to one or two shifts at a time. He'd started some relationships, then cases took over and before he knew it it had been one, maybe two, weeks before he spoke to the woman again and by then…well, she'd moved on.

So one night stands it became. He and Warrick would hit the bars and party up with the ladies. When they first started this routine, they were young and hot to trot and so were the girls. Now that both of them were hitting their forties, well, many of those girls simply had taken on the domestic chore of marriage and kids. So before they knew it, the girls got younger and younger as they got older and older. And Nick wondered if he had daughter their age, would he want a man his age going after her? Not likely.

Then he got attacked in a vile way and his perspective on things became twisted as sex took on a whole new meaning for him. The attack brought him back to a very vulnerable place. Nick had been on an emotional roller coaster with highs and lows of anger, rage, self hate, self blame, and guilt.

"Lots of alternative stuff," Nick said as Nine Inch Nails sang about drug use, making him think of Warrick for a second.

"You don't like it?" she asked. "I mean, I can go back and turn it off or put on something else. I'm easy that way."

"No, your choices are okay," Nick assured her as she knelt down in front of him and clasped his hands tightly.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked, her face soft and soulful and reassuring.

"I'm okay," he said.

"Your hands are shaking."

"I feel like I'm a kid again," he said, his voice teetering as he gripped the sides of his legs.

"That's okay. That's good," she told him. "So if anything happens, it will be your first time, so to speak. That's what's enchanting about first time sex…innocence."

"Yeah, my first time didn't go so well. We were sixteen and she cried 'cause it hurt so damn much. Then I spent the night scrubbing the back seat of my dad's car because…well she…you know." He laughed, thinking of his youthful days.

Eponine laughed. "Yeah, sometimes the first time ain't so great, but you can recapture the innocence of it."

"Well, my real first time was pretty bad." His smile fell.

"That wasn't sex. As I said earlier, that was power." Eponine raised an eyebrow, reminding him of Grissom.

"She was a babysitter my mom called at the last minute because everybody was going out that night, but I was too young. She came into my room…I don't remember much other than I couldn't breathe whole time."

"Well, people like that, particularly women who molest, are very, very disturbed and in fact, are very, very weak people because if they had real power, they wouldn't have to resort to such vile behaviour, Nick. But what I'm going to do for you tonight is help you get past it. It's going to bring up some pretty strong emotions, but you need to trust me and know I'm not going to hurt you in any way. I'm just trying to rid you of that garbage."

Nick studied her degree hanging on the wall. "Wow, you graduated Cum Laude! Pretty good."

"Okay, no distractions now." She turned his head back to face her and placed his hand against her cheek, rubbing and kissing his fingers again, running her tongue over his thumb, his libido jumping up and saying whoa!

He tentatively leaned over and kissed her again, a soft peck that seemed to light a small fire. She returned his kiss, her mouth nibbling on his bottom lip for a second before she whispered, "Great sexual experiences don't always involve intercourse."

"Yeah right." Nick was skeptical.

Eponine smiled up at him. "What if I told you that I can give you an equally great sexual experience without any intercourse involved? One that would go a long way to releasing these demons that are getting in the way."

"I'd say you're looking at giving me a sexual exorcism," Nick retorted.

"No, it's a massage of sorts. Have you heard of a Lingam Massage?"

She pulled out the book from her side drawer she had earlier and turned to a page she had dog-eared. Nick stared down, cocked his head sideways and looked up at her. "Isn't that just a regular hand job?"

"No, no, no!" She sighed in exasperation. "This is a massage."

"I'm almost afraid to ask. Why do they call it a Lingam Massage?" Nick looked at the book and then turned his head away.

"Your Lingam." She pointed at the page and then looked towards his own piece.

"Oh, okay, "Nick said. "In my world we have a whole different vocabulary for the Lingam."

"In Tantra, it's believed that there are many, many nerve endings that connect to other parts of the body and that a good Lingam massage can cure all ailments."

"Oh can it?" Nick asked, his eyes narrowing as the scientist part of him started to show itself. "In my world at this moment there's a road stop between my head and my Lingam. So...are you saying this could clear the way? Well," he sighed, "what do I have to lose?"

"Or maybe we just snuggle here in my bed and that would be it?"

His face lit up in relief. "Yeah, that would be better."

She grinned at him and leaned over to kiss him, then stood up and slowly lifted her shirt off, fully revealing the bosom he'd noticed a few days ago.

"That's a very interesting top," he commented. "Where'd you get it?"

She grinned. "Wal-Mart!"

"Oh. It's pretty sexy for a Wal-Mart product."

She leaned in and started to pull at his shirt. "I ain't got the bucks for Victoria's Secret. My money goes to my education." The shirt came off and she stood up, starting to pull down her skirt, but Nick reached over and helped her out, reveling in her body. It was a curvy one, no bones jutting out, making anything that happened pleasurable. He pulled her to him and started working on her ample bosom, one breast at a time. He rubbed her nipples, watching them come to life before he reached around and grabbed her ass, kneading it.

Eponine was breathing loudly, kissing his head, and then slowly knelt down. "Do you want me to do it or do you want to do it?"

She fiddled with his pants, making him gulp. After Mandy and Pamela, he decided he'd take charge of the lower part of his clothing, but in doing so he warned, "I can't promise anything."

"We don't have to do anything at all. We can just…I don't know… cuddle," she said as she watched him slide out of his boxers and pants.

"You're happy with that?" he asked, surprised.

"I've had a thing for you since you came here," she admitted. "You looked so lost and alone, and it was sad, so I took pity on you at first. But then I saw you with Stephanie and…well…you're an old soul, Nick, and it's an attractive quality I find in you…not your looks, although you certainly got my attention, but your soul."

"I told you, I don't have one, and if I do the devil's got first dibs on it." Nick was flattered as no one had ever referred to him as an 'old soul'. He'd been referred to as a lot of things-most of them unpleasant-but an 'old soul'-nope. Other then the chick Sage who told him he was radiated feminine energy.

"Everyone has one, Nick, but what I'm trying to say is that we don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to."

He sighed with relief and gripped her hands whispering, "Thanks."

They scooted under the blankets on top of the towels she had placed, and Nick basked in the warmth of her body, feeling a safety and security that hadn't been there in so long.

"You know," she whispered as she rubbed his chest, "you're a beautiful guy."

"Yeah, so I'm told," Nick smirked. "I don't see it. I look weird. I have a big head, a weird chin…I look like a Basset Hound."

"They're very cute dogs." Eponine smiled and then reached under the comforter and brought his hands out from under the sheets and kissed them. "But I'll bet these aren't the only body parts that could pleasure a woman very well."

"It's been known to do a fine job when it was in working form." He said wrly.

"Are you still interested in giving what I talked about a go?"

Why not, he thought, and took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll be your thesis for the night."

"Oh gees, fine...if you want to narrow it all down to science, go for it."

"Science is good."

Eponine sat up and placed her hands on the lower anatomy he used to be proud of and began to maneuver around gently. He bit his lower lip, trying to relax, but tensed and tried to push her hands away; but she held firm.

"That the one you're telling me about?" he asked as memories started to intrude.

"It's a very relaxing massage, but if it gets to be too much, tell me and I'll stop. But breathe deeply and try to enjoy it."

He closed his eyes and felt her as she began to stroke him very softly, but firmly, moving her way around him.

Now he'd had hand jobs in the past…always preferred oral sex over it…but this wasn't just any job. This was setting off sensations he'd never experienced before. And Eponine didn't focus on the essential tools, but the skin around…sensitive areas that he didn't realize could and should be pleasured, particularly the skin under those essential tools. Then she moved her hand up and continued to massage him like an orange in a juicer.

"Are you okay? Your face is red. I don't want you to have a coronary," she said quietly.

"I'm fine." He grimaced and threw an arm over his face.

U2 were singing "With or Without You" with Bono singing about 'giving yourself away', a fitting line for this moment as Eponine explained, "This particular massage is about men learning to receive instead of always being the one giving, my dear. It's about you getting in touch with your softer side."

"I don't have one," Nick grunted as lightening bolts lit through him and the urge to shove her away seemed to be receding. McVeigh and Smith were there, but their voices seemed to be dwindling away too.

"Of course you do. How many times have I seen your eyes fill with tears?"

"Allergies!" he laughed, opening his eyes and looking at her as her hands lazily, and without hesitation, continued to fondle him, bringing his member back to life much to his delight. Then she stopped momentarily irking him as it was like leading a donkey by a carrot only to snatch it away when he wanted to grab it.

"What the hell? You bring me to the brink to..." he griped, "…what the hell is that?"

"Be patient. It will be worth it." She then went back to work as the tent slowly went back down, and then she slowed a bit.

"Lady," he growled, "stop teasing me." He felt as if he were on a some kind of wave being thrown onto the shore.

"I'm not. It's about master…"

"I know how to masturbate," Nick said. "Since I was like…I don't remember."

"Mastering your erection…and I'm sure you do," she giggled.

"Yeah, but the last time my cat thought I was being attacked in the shower and dove through the curtains. He's weird. Maybe I should get him to a cat psychologist."

"Oh lord!" She laughed and then slid her hand under him onto a very sensitive area where his little soldiers lay dormant. "You know, this is called your sacred spot."

"What's so sacred about it?" The pressure was deep and making him feel uncomfortable, particularly because the tent had risen again and he felt like he was going to come, and that was not good because he'd rather do that while inside her; but he was kind of at her mercy. The waves were tossing him about.

"You'll see," she said as she pressed a little harder and the sensations shot through him like lightening. "If you feel like you're going to ejaculate, breathe deeply."

"I'd rather..." he panted as the pressure sent jolts that had him cringing, because by now he would normally be in the act, but not this time, "…be inside you…right now...please." He hated the damn whine in his throat, he'd never had to whine for anyone.

"Just hold on." She leaned over and kissed him while her hand worked on that 'sacred spot', and it took every bit of strength in the Texan not to grab her, flip her onto her back, and plunge into her. But that would piss her off, and he knew that she wasn't one to take crap like that.

The pressure continued while his mind and his body were at war. His mind was screaming the memories and warnings while his body was tensing up and struggling to hold back the other animals that were out of control - his friggin' emotions.

"Oh sweet Jesus he's a pretty one."

He tried to grab her hand away, but she shushed him softly and told him to trust her. "You don't want to spend the rest of your life in a shell, hiding from the world," she said as she pressed harder in small circles.

"This is a getting too freaky, but...I..." He rolled his head from side to side as she continued to apply the pressure which was breaking down emotional walls that had been there since the attack.

It wasn't an orgasm he was having, but a bloody meltdown. Was this what she was friggin' talking about? A tsunami of emotions he didn't know he had came forth. He curled away from her and sobbed uncontrollably. Shit, he was an emotional guy and hated it, but there was something different about this. It was as if the rage he'd felt for the past 30 years came pouring out, and he gripped the pillow and simply cried, remembering the first few days when he was nine and walked around feeling like he was filth to a few months ago when he turned into two sickos' plaything.

"What the hell was that?!" he cried out both freaked and embarrassed by his reaction, "What the fuck?!" What kind of game was she playing with him?

She smiled triumphantly and said, "A very normal reaction to a Lingam Massage."

"Fuck that." He turned away from her, angry and horny all at once. He didn't know whether he should just leave and think this girl was a masochist or master sex teacher, but as he managed to bring his bloody emotions to a more controlled factor he had to admit that he felt calmer then he had in weeks. He knew that he should have sought therapy after, but he wasn't ready for it. He didn't want to deal with what happened. The problem was that it dealt with him, and not in a good way. It led him to this park with the intention of annihilating his attacker.

"Anger is a good emotion. It means you're still in the land of the living," she said as she sat near him and drew up a blanket to cover him while he fought with the waves of anger, pity, rage, and desire and wasn't sure which one to allow to take over the scene. He was still aroused, the tent still perked.

Once he decided he wasn't going to leave he rolled over to face her with an indignant look.

"You're cute when you're mad, Nicky." She looked at him, the comforter up to her chest.

"You're a ...a …bitch!" he said, shocked at himself for saying this as he never called a woman a bitch, at least to her face. He'd muttered it many times about Catherine and Sara - in particular Sara after he got the promotion (which was subsequently taken from him-DAMN ECKLIE) and she treated him like dirt for weeks and weeks. He called Sara lots of things during that time, just not to her face. To her face he was as sweet as apple pie, but at home he threw darts and imagined her face on the dartboard. And freakin' Ecklie? Nick had split the dartboard over that one.

"I know, but you liked it, didn't you?" She smiled, almost flattered by his insult.

"Yeah, it was...cool. Not the emotional part, but the rest of it was good." He reluctantly admitted.

"What's wrong with emotions?"

"It gets me into trouble at work," he bemoaned.

"Because your job is a job based on cold facts, not emotions," she said.

He leaned on his arm and reflected on what she said. "Yeah, I get into trouble because I'm empathetic to the victims. I just feel their pain. I wish I could be a robot and just do that damn job without feeling that way."

She slid down and faced him. "But you're not there now, Nick. You're here with me, and it's safe to be emotional." She stroked the side of his face.

Without hesitation he drew her to him, and their bodies were flush. The anger he was feeling toward her melded into desire, and he showed her exactly how his hands could pleasure a woman as he reached down and slid them inside her, finding the nub and probing, igniting her soft, rapid breathing.

Now she was at his mercy as his mouth found its way to her breasts, and he teased her as she whispered, "You know what they call the clitoris..."

"Humor me!" he mumbled.

"The Sacred Jewel."

"I agree with that one."

Eponine passed the condom over and with her help, it was slid on (both making sure for their own protection-given the circumstances), Nick moved himself onto her as U2 sang about tripping through wires, and he entered Eponine but then withdrew.

"You tease!" she mumbled, knowing what he was up to.

"Yeah, like you did earlier."

"That was therapy." Eponine glared in a playful manner as he tried it again, but then she threw her legs around his waist and held him down saying, "Oh no you don't." Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pinned him down.

McVeigh and Smith were ghosts that were disappearing in his head as Nick made love to Eponine as if it were his first time. His emotions were comprised of fear and excitement as carnal instincts took hold, and it was as if his attack had never happened. His lips found hers again and again, hot and tantalizing, chasing fear into the distance while his libido did a Super Bowl happy dance at the action.

The activity on the bed bore weight on the bed springs as they rang out, but neither cared. She ran her nails up and down his spine sending shivers, and every so often she ran a tongue down his ear canal. He returned the favor as she whispered to him about various erogenous zones throughout the body, and for some people the ear was one of them - a fact he knew, and he showed her how much he knew, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"God, I'm glad Stephanie's not here!" Eponine laughed in between gasps, and then she pushed him gently onto his back on the other end of the bed. "Do you know what this position is sometimes called?"

"Humor me!" Nick said again, his hands reaching up and molding her ample bosom.

"The cowgirl!" Eponine told him as she eased her way onto him. "Yeah, really." She rocked and ran her hands along his chest, then arched. "Want me to yell 'yee haw, cowboy'?"

"How you likin' this cowboy?"

Nick closed his eyes, stopping all action, and squeezed them hard, hoping that the little intrusion wouldn't ruin things, but for a moment he was back in the library feeling the pain, the humiliation, and the fear, wondering if he was going to come out of this alive.

"It's okay, Nick." Eponine's voice pierced through the memory. "You're still here with me. Breathe deeply!"

He opened his eyes again and thanked God he hadn't gone soft. But to be safe he sat up, still connected to her as she straddled him, and they rocked for the last act of the play.

"How..." he gasped, "how did you know?"

"Your body tensed up." Her hair was plastered against her clammy face. "Breathe deeply. This is awesome!" She sat up and motioned for him to come closer as they held each other tightly, all while still connected as she rose up and down, squeezing him hard, sending lightening bolts through him.

He could feel himself building up from the same pit that the emotional outburst had come from earlier, but now it was an intense orgasm - one that NASA would register on their system - and he gripped her tightly as she urged him to let it go, and when he did it was a muffled cry into her shoulder as his extremities tingled and his hands gripped her tightly to him. He was just coming down from the top of the proverbial mountain when hers struck, and she cried out with her head back and her back arched as Nick kissed her neck and then slid his hands onto her shoulder blades. He brought her up and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his damp hair.

Neither said much. Nick just held her, steadying his breathing and basking in the hazy afterglow, noticing through the horizontal blinds that it was dawn as the red sky peered through, lighting the room softly.

"What time does Stephanie come home?" he mumbled, hoping the answer would be 'much later' because not being in the best shape due to illness had made this romp an exhausting adventure, and not just physically. Emotionally he felt like he'd been put through the spin cycle. That 'Lingam Massage', as good as it was, was an intense journey. He was drained and didn't think he could make it back to his trailer.

"Not for a few hours. The girls probably stayed up way too late if I know them." Eponine drew back and looked down at Nick, stroking his forehead. "I'm going to take Charlie out for a minute and then go back to sleep." She reluctantly crawled off him and began to pull on her clothes as the dog (who had been very polite and stayed out of the room) trotted in, tail wagging so happily that it banged on the door frame.

Nick was exhausted. "Mind if I stay here and catch a few zzzs?" He pulled the comforter up around him, by now not caring if the answer was no because he was so tuckered out she'd have to tie him to that horse of a dog and have him carried home.

"Not at all, my dear." Eponine smiled. "I'd love that actually."

"And I lo..." Nick stopped himself before he could say it.

"Sure that's not that good sex talking?" she asked, pulling a baggy t-shirt over her head.

"No." His answer was sincere. "Not at all."

She leaned over and kissed him, pulling the covers over him, and whispered, "Ditto. Sweet dreams, Nick, for once."

He heard the words and tried to mumble something in response but was too sleepy and simply let it be.

As she walked out with Charlie in tow, Nick thought about his plan for McVeigh and realized that carrying out this plan would be an absolute end for him in more ways than he could count. Not that the parolee didn't deserve it, but perhaps Nick could finally put that horrible ordeal behind him and put his life back in order. Not that sex was the answer…he needed professional help, and perhaps it was time to get back to Vegas to his job and face whatever was there waiting for him. Maybe he'd overreacted that night he took off. There was no evidence in the prison as far as he knew, and he'd hid that damn bag so well no one would find it. His secret was safe.

Those two would never see justice, but that didn't mean he couldn't move forward. It wasn't a romp in the sack that did it, but the normalcy of it that did the trick. Life would and could go on. Eponine had told him on their way back to the trailer that Karma has a way of coming back to haunt you, and Nick thought for sure McVeigh would get what was coming to him.

Just not at his hands.

A/N Whew that was tough, that was embarrassing. I'm not an expert on anything I wrote, just did some research on sex and healing and found lots of information on the Lingam Massage and other elements of healing sex.

Not that I think this is the solution for all victims of assault, but this is fanfiction, so I can do whatever I want.