Oh my God, this chapter was tough to write. I had to research into the law as I had no idea of the procedures that are mentioned in what you're about to read. I really worked hard on this chapter - the longest one yet. At first I found it overwhelming - so much information to put into words, but I'm really happy with the way it turned out. It was emotional to write too. I hope you enjoy it and as always, I'd love to know your thoughts.

I'd like to say also that your comments, follows and faves mean SO MUCH to me. I'm very grateful. Thank you!

[Rated M] - sex and sensitive abuse topics

APRIL 2007

"Darling, look at me," Alan bows his head to look into my eyes, hands either side of my trembling shoulders. "You're going to go in there and you're going to tell them exactly what we've been over. You're going to be calm, focussed…"

As ever, the voice of wisdom throughout this entire fiasco, Alan has been supporting me the whole way. Having absorbed every fact, timeline and statement from myself and my witnesses, I filter into the court room with the rest of the prosecution and allow my uneasy legs to rest, seating myself on the bench.

Calm, concise, compose – Three words that Alan and my lawyer, Jack Benson had embedded into my psyche during the weeks leading up to the trial.

An echoing voice of authority soon fills the courtroom and announces the case number, confirming the preparation on both sides.

"Thank you, you may be seated."

Although I cannot see Scott from where I am on the bench, knowing he is in the room pumps a rush of bubbling blood through my veins as he is addressed. Focus.

"Scott Weatherford, you are charged on the account of sexual assault, contrary to the sexual offences act 2003, section 3, in that you, Scott Weatherford on January 28th, 2007 sexually assaulted the defendant, Rebecca Stone outside The Playhouse Theatre in London's West End. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You are also charged with attempted rape under section 1 of the Criminal Attempts act 1981 on the same night in question, with the attempt to commit an offence in which this section applies, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"How do you plead?"

"Not guilty."

I sit up straight, calmly as I can breathing deeply through my nose, repeating my instilled mantra.

After the prosecution statement is delivered, I take to the stand under oath, my eye on the jury when questioned by the barista and deliver my statement of what happened that night. To follow, I am cross-examined by the opposition who attempt to debunk me.

"During the night in question, you said you had threatened to call security as soon as Scott Weatherford entered Mr Rickman's dressing room, however, you did not. You also did not shout for immediate help. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Would it be fair to say that you were fully aware, having spent numerous occasions at the Playhouse Theatre, that security were present in the corridors outside the dressing room?"

"Yes," I answer, fighting any instinctive urge to give more. Automatically my brain screams out – but it wasn't like that.

"In your statement you conveyed that you later called out for security. Could what I have previously said be due to the reason that you wished to hear what Scott Weatherford had to say that night and didn't fully object to his presence?"

"That is false. When he entered the room, shock kicked in. I didn't expect it to escalate as it did."

I confirm from further questioning that my voice was raised only when Scott verbalized an attack on Alan and myself with the accusation that I was sleeping with him to get my script seen.

My heart pounds as I speak to the jury during the questioning of the attempted rape. They try to pull apart my facts, claiming that the evidence of fingerprints on my clothing were unreliable as Scott's print traces were mostly on my buttons. These buttons were all fully intact when I had claimed he ripped open my top. They tried to suggest that because his finger-prints were on all buttons and that I hadn't screamed earlier, the sex could have been consensual.

Feeling myself getting worked up, I answer calmly and concisely reiterating what happened and that any touching was non-consensual.

The attempts to pull apart my evidence continue later when my lawyer mentions Scott's finger prints on my underwear which had been ripped that night.

"This was normal in our relationship," Scott answers from the stand. "Rebecca enjoys the kinkier side of sex." He also denies the claim that he and I had broken up at the time.

It takes every bit of strength inside of me to stay calm, hatred burning inside me like the depths of hell. How can someone be so disillusioned.

Calm. Concise. Compose.

Cross-examination continues back and forth until it's my lawyer's turn to ask the questions. He reiterates everything that was shown on the CCTV footage as Scott left the theatre that night. He also relayed the moment security had entered the room and seen me pinned, struggling.

Alan, who is called to the witness stand, offers everything he did in his original statement, sticking to facts, his voice reverberating off the walls of the courtroom with calm but powerful authority, expressing what he saw, my emotional distress and the conversation he had with Scott when he found me.

We go from this to the stalking, the newspaper article in which it expressed I was seeing another man which subsequently fell apart against Scott who claimed we were still in a relationship.

"She was cheating on me, fucking another man for her future."

His profanity is silenced with a warning. I want to silence him with so much more, to throttle him.

A break in the case is well needed – a chance for me to gather my thoughts, to put my arms around my man, who along with my lawyer and witnesses map out our action plan for our return to the court room.

"You're doing great Rebecca," Isabelle praises.

"Can you believe what he said…!"

Before I go any further, Alan stops me, "Push it out, forget it, you can't afford to get tied up in whatever he spews. It's irrelevant." He gestures from his eyes in a straight line ahead. "Focus. You're here, you wanna be there…"

When I return, I'm questioned about the night I administered the overdose to Scott, my thoughts, my intentions and the build up.

I surprise myself, the more my story is out in the open, the greater and stronger I feel for it. I want everyone to know what a scumbag he is. With every witness in my favour that takes the stand, more and more holes appear in Scott's regurgitated side to the story.

"Scott Weatherford, going by the sought after pictures of Rebecca Stone and Alan Rickman, as well as the CCTV footage the night you left the Playhouse Theatre, you repeated, and I quote, "It wasn't supposed to happen!" Could it be true that you were referring to the sexual assault you committed on Rebecca Stone that night?"

"That is false," Scott answers, "I was referring to our relationship. She wasn't supposed to cheat on me."

The prosecution is relentless and come at him hard pulling apart all claims that we had attempted to make up with consensual sex before Scott had apparently been tricked by me, set up in order to be framed for rape.

"That's why she didn't scream in the first place when she had the opportunity to. It's what we do. It was nothing more than make-up sex, which explains why I was pinning her to the sofa. She likes to role-play."

I want to scream; my heart pounds hearing the secretion of utter bile, bullshit, lies… I see the odd twist on the jury's face, disbelieving Scott's words as they spiral and begin to loop out of control so greatly that Scott himself realises and comes to a halt.

Gruelling time passes, and later after closing statements, the jury leave the courtroom to discuss the verdict. This is it. Everything that has been spoken today has been leading up to this very moment.

"Have you reached a verdict upon which you have all agreed?"

"We have a majority."

"What is your verdict?"

"We, the Jury, in the case of the Queen Vs Scott Weatherford, find the defendant, guilty of the charge of sexual assault and attempted rape."

Compressed air leaves my weighed chest, so relieved, so utterly elated that my hands press to my face concealing my emotion. Don't. Don't cry. I force myself to sit tall, staring him down. Scott doesn't look at me, coward that he is. He sits small, defeated. My thoughts pour like bile, wanting to him to rot, to suffer for every day he has put me through hell, every moment he has put me down, beat me and taken away my self-worth.

The judge sentences Scott to four years imprisonment and after asking for a final word, to which Scott says nothing, he dismisses the court.

I leave the courtroom calm and composed, but the moment those doors open and I see Alan I burst into tears. He opens his arms and pulls me close, enveloping me in his bear hug, his hands smoothing the top of my head before he rests his chin there.

"I'm so proud of you."

I close my eyes against his chest, overwhelmed. Finally. I am free of Scott's shackles, his restraints on my life. Now, finally I am able to move forward.

"It's over darling. You did it."

"Ladies and Gentleman, this is the 8:30am flight to New York JFK airport, this is your captain speaking…"

There is something truly liberating ascending into the blue sky above London, something that allows me to disconnect from everything I'd endured days previous and leave it all in the past. With the trial behind me and victory under my belt, my eyes rest on the fluffy clouds outside the oval window. The heavenly glow of sunshine beams upon my face, and it's glorious.

Peace, at last.

The hand that rests on top of mine gives it a gentle squeeze as if somehow knowing exactly how I'm feeling. Alan. Where would I be without him? I exchange his warm smile and lay my head upon his shoulder, where I fall comfortably into a peaceful sleep.

….

New York City – May 2007

New York - the break Alan insisted I took after the trial. Whilst he was busy filming his new movie, I stayed in our beautifully luxurious hotel suite surrounded by a sea of notes as finally freedom allowed me to pick up a rapid pace on my play script. It was liberating. Every night Alan returns from filming, we go out, we dine and he insists on reading any updated material. This man inspires me immeasurably, the number one person in my life, someone who truly believes in me and for that I owe him the world.

One night in particular when we get back to the hotel, the desire to be beneath the sheets with him dominates my every thought, to be close, skin to skin. I need him. After stepping out of a hot shower and slipping on some sexy underwear, I slip his white shirt over my shoulders. That ought to do it.

I leave the bathroom in my carefully constructed garment - or lack of - with a look that says it all. Alan, who is laying on the bed looks utterly delicious in his white shirt, suit pants and tie. His brows raise the moment he lays eyes on me in his shirt, his eyes running up and down my bare legs.

"You smell good enough to eat," he remarks, his mouth turning up into a smirk as I crawl toward him on the bed and straddle him. His hands instantly draw to my bare thighs, but I take them and place them back by his side.

"I can't deny that I love to be eaten," I purr, "but tonight is not about me."

"Oh no?"

I shake my head as I reach for his tie, slowly undoing the knot with a playful look in my eye.

"No. It's about you. You've been so good to me."

He watches me carefully, as intrigued as he is sexually aroused. I can already feel him hardening beneath me.

Looking into those sultry hazel eyes of his, I slip his tie slowly from his shirt collar with a seductive smile playing about my mouth.

"What are you going to do; tie me up?" he smirks dryly with a throaty laugh.

"I like the way you think…except, it would be no fun with your shirt on…"

It's soon off, unbuttoned teasingly slow before I use his tie to tie his wrists together just below his expensive watch behind his back. The provocative smell of his cologne in the small space between us already makes me high, so sexy and masculine. The man is like a drug.

"You're wearing the same cologne as the day I met you," I note, slowly unbuttoning his shirt that I'm wearing. One button...two... looking deep into his eyes. "You know, I never would have dreamed it. Not in a thousand years that I could ever be with a man like you."

"Don't say that."

Alan's eyes are alight with view of me seductively opening the cotton fabric, just so he can peak at my lingerie underneath.

"It's true. I owe you everything."

"You don't owe me anything."

"You're too modest."

I reach behind my back, and rub the thick bulge in his suit pants – my beautiful man. Alan takes in a breath through his nose, enjoying the moment, even more so when I get to my knees between his legs and he watches my hand explore the imprint of his cock against the fabric of his boxers. So thick; I compliment him.

"I remember the first time you ever pleasured me…" I whisper seductively, dropping my voice. "I felt like I was loosing my mind. The way you made love to me…you made me crazy…"

Alan's chin raises slightly, enjoying trace over his head, round and round, I trace the underside until his cock leaks against the fabric of his boxers. A sexy smile plays about my lips as the damp spot makes itself known against my hand.

"…I was addicted. Do you remember that night?"

"Mmmmhh…" his eyes are closed

Alan is too gentlemanly to beg but I know exactly what he wants.

Nothing feels as good as the rigid warmth of his bare smooth cock in my hand, no matter how many times I have the pleasure of stroking it. Freed from his expensive suit pants, I sit before him, grasping him, thumbing over the tip, adopting my most sexy voice.

"That night….nobody had ever made me come like that."

I watch his chest rise and fall excitedly, controlled none-the-less. Where he'd usually bury his fingers into my hair, now he was completely reliant on me to act.

"Put your mouth on me darling…" he sighs.

"So polite."

The slow pace I work at makes it all worth while when I hear the first soft sigh escape his open lips. I attend his tip for an age enjoying the silky slickness of his pre-come glossing over my lips, teasing him by rubbing it against them before closing around him. The way Alan moans makes me throb. His eyes are narrowed, his head tilting just to watch me deepen my quest, purring in satisfaction.

When I come up for air, Alan looks at me as though if he'd just ran laps, aflame with arousal, he wants more; so much more.

I rise to my feet and stand by his side. He watches me delectably as I take off my little black knickers with a devilish look in my eye. His eyes eat me up and by the way his tongue traces to moisten his lips, I'm pretty sure his mouth would eat me too if given the chance. I toss them aside, but they land unintentionally on the tip of his cock.

"That takes talent," he smirks. "You'd be great at a fairground."

"Well, in all fairness it is a pretty large target."

"You are…something else…" he sighs, half laughing. "Get up here…"

It feels so good to straddle him, but not by penetration. Oh no. Not yet. I take off my bra, tossing it across the room and lean in to his chest just enough to graze my erect nipples against him. Alan, who loves more than anything to play with my breasts, sucking and toying with my nipples feels the loss of them between his lips, I can tell.

Between my legs, I reach for his cock and place it between our bodies, then, with every ounce of slow precision I allow my wet slit to stroke his length between my folds. No penetration. Alan's eyes roll closed, a deep breath is taken in through his nose.

"Ughh you bloody tease…"

I speak lowly against his ear between kisses about how wet he keeps me.

"Do you remember our first date, the first time you dined me…"

I don't know if the noise he makes is in agreement or just the rub on his cock, but I continue.

"…You took me home, put me in your bed and ate me until I cried your name."

He moans in reminiscence. "How could I forget?".

I grant a little something for myself and reach down to hold his stiff cock, running my slit a little firmer against him, catching my clit. Oh God it feels good. I wasn't meant to crack out a moan, but it was impossible to restrain myself, and now I'm teasing my own self, rubbing his dripping tip to my opening. This is meant to be about him, but here I am throbbing knowing I'm about to loose all self control.

"Ughh darling…let me come inside..."

Dammit, it was meant to be me in control, but his seductive voice is a killer. Our eyes meet as I sit half propped up in a straddling position and in one delicious slow motion, I sit on his thick cock. A mutual gasp leaves us both, faces twisting in pleasure.

"Oh God Alan you don't know what you do to me..." I close my eyes gripping him tight with my inner muscles.

It's then that I feel my essence wet around my thighs, seeping from within exposed to the air that feels cool against my hot skin.

Everything about his handsome face makes me want to give in, to ride him like there's no tomorrow. Must resist, but oh god, he grinds against me from underneath with his hips so perfectly that my eyes fall close. So good. Just a moment more and then I'll take back control, just one moment. He's so deep, so slick slowly pumping my walls that I'm reduced to mush – total submission.

"Ughhhh-yeah…"

I sit up, breasts bare before him, hands on his broad chest and slowly and seductively rock back and forth over his length.

"Ahhh…" I whine, closing my eyes, my mouth falling agape. My eyes, though occasionally falling close, catch glimpses of his pleasured expression. Slow and steady, I tell myself, tease him, but his voice sways me otherwise and my ride grows deeper, curving my back like a cat. I'm obsessed, riding him until my head lolls back.

Unable to touch me, Alan can no longer take it.

"Untie me…" he pants. "Let me love you…let me…"

That's it, ties are undone and before I know it, I am sitting on top of the dressing table. Thinking he was going to take me hard, he does the opposite. Unlike me, Alan is controlled, focussed…Our hands roam as though we hadn't touched for an age, like it was the first time together all over again. Faces touch, nose to nose, unable to kiss for the rapid breathing that intermingles. I am crazy about him. He's crazy for me, it's written in our eyes, written into a melody of every moan that leaves our open mouths lost in the rhythm of his cock, the beat of our hearts. Alan's hand cups my hip and backside, his other one wrapping my thigh around him, grinding me deep.

For a moment our eyes open, we catch each other's fiery gaze and the feeling surges all over my body. He doesn't look away, I don't look away, instead it's as if we're able to see inside each other. So much is spoken and yet our lips never move as we watch each other, lost in pleasure. I reach a hand between my legs just to feel him penetrate thick in my centre. Our lubrication glosses my fingers, warm and slippery. I cannot resist but have a taste and slip them into my mouth. Alan's kiss is plastered to my lips so deeply that I lean back on my hands, my long hair falling behind me.

He draws back enjoying the view of my body on display, running his manly hands smooth against my stomach to my breasts that heave the deeper his cock fills me.

"Ugghhh-please…"

I pull myself back to his chest just to touch him. Hands roam, lips, tongues…his cock is so deep that my throat cracks in a cry, and then he picks me up without warning.

"UGH!"

A sharp gasp leaves me as I cling to my man, eyes closed, wrapped around his shoulders. I don't know where we're going; the fullness to my centre is so overwhelming that my eyes cannot open. It's only when I feel something soft that I realise we're back on the bed. He lays me on my back, and kneeling before me places my ankles on his shoulders. No time to adjust, I'm gasping beneath him until my head is sinking back in the pillows. Alan knows how much I love this position, knows exactly how much to angle my hips so that I'm crying at the pang of his cock.

"Ughhh-yes-don't stop!"

"Ughh Rebecca…!"

"YES-AH…You…amazing man-UHH-I love you-I love you!"

Alan's breathing is laboured, his voice so erotic above me, quickening the pace.

"I love you too…! UHH-darling-is-that-good?"

"Oh god," I cry, gripping the sheets, "You have no idea…!"

I whine, crying out pathetically when he rubs my clit sending spasms of pleasure throughout my body making my toes tense up.

"Oh godddd" I cry.

His cock feels larger than ever, pulsating inside me, ready to fill me up.

Unable to kiss in this position, Alan presses his thumb to my open pink lips, fucking me just as deeply with his eyes.

"Come for me, Rebecca…! UHH…My beautiful girl…"

He makes me wail like a banshee, crying out until my legs are shaking, gripping the sheets beneath me. With several hard pulses, my head is thrown back and loudly I meet my release, gasping in wonder. Alan, simultaneously comes, filling me, moaning with each hard spurt that fills me until his eyes roll close.

BANG BANG BANG! A fist pounds on the wall.

We freeze, our eyes open wide to each other.

"I think we woke the neighbours."

Smirks turn into laughter as Alan pulls the sheets up over our heads.

"Oh let them bloody hear," he chuckles, growling against me.

The sound of Alan's chuckle fills the space between us before he places his lips to mine, so softly…my nose, my forehead. I wrap my legs around his body, pulling him close until we're smiling nose to nose under the bed sheets.

1:30am. There is something about tonight that causes me to reflect. Laying snug in Alan's arms multiple stories up in our New York hotel, we're still engaged in pillow talk.

"I love you Alan. I think I loved you the moment I set eyes on you."

His arms pull me closer.

"Equally my darling."

"Do I make you happy?"

He pauses for a moment. "Well…"

I smack him on the chest before he can reach any dry, sarcastic response.

"Of course you do," he purrs, "Phenomenally. More than anything. I wouldn't be sharing champagne this pricey with anyone else."

Alan can tell I'm after more. He rests at my side and pulls me close to his chest, smirking.

"Darling, I wake up, I look at you and my heart is full. I go to sleep feeling the same way. You're a wonderful, amazing, strong woman and I couldn't be happier."

I am swooning.

"Do you remember what you thought when you first saw me?" I ask. "The very first thought, before you spoke to me?"

"Well, I thought you were absolutely beautiful….and you had very lovely legs...pretty smile…"

"I saved that smile for you, you know. Every day I'd look forward to you showing up. You were the highlight - the best part of my day. In fact," I begin to laugh. "Isabelle and I used to have a nickname for you whenever you came in for coffee…"

He angles his gaze to look down at me comically. "Oh?"

"You always ordered an Americano, so, it became your nickname – Mr Americano."

"Slightly bitter without sugar?"

Laughing, I jab him in the shoulder. His smile makes me weak as I define his good looks metaphorically to the smooth, classic beverage, the best thing being his irresistible taste. Too many compliments for Alan's liking, and being humble man he is, he pulls me to him and tells me to go to sleep.

He makes it so easy to nod off peacefully, nestled into his bear hug.

Falling for him wasn't like falling at all, not with these arms. It was like walking into them and knowing it was a place to call home.

*Sigh* Oh my heart. It felt so good to free her, finally. I feel like Scott deserves much more than 4 years though, but when doing my research I found this is all that's given for such a crime!