A/N:. Hello and welcome back! I appreciate all y'all for reading this, especially since it's a bit sloggy at the moment.

But stay tuned, beloved readers! There's some actual drama in this chapter! (After the smut) And I'm just going to assume that terrible yet fantastic literotica has been around for nearly as long as writing itself, hence the ridiculous reference to something 'Simonne once read' (the sad thing is, the conversation makes me want to write a trashy romance novel. Maybe once (if?) I finish up this and MTW)

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 15

Richard unlocked the door to the house, just as nervous as he had been last year, if for entirely different reasons. His reasons for planning this evening were the same as Simonne's; plus, he thought recreating their meeting was a bit romantic. But he couldn't let doubt and fear overtake him, not in this. He had to believe it was going to work, because if she sensed any hesitation from him, it might make her start to doubt herself.

This will work, he told himself as he closed and locked the door behind Simonne. We've been making progress, even if it's not moving as fast as she wants it to. If this doesn't work…no, don't think like that, Harrow. Believe that it will work; don't let doubt creep in. It WILL work! And given what I've learned from mirror times, it will work even better than last year because I have a much better idea of what I'm doing. I think.

Simonne set her evening bag down as Richard hung his hat on the rack beside the door. "I am sorry, mon amour; I have not told you how handsome you look tonight. Your new suit is very nice." She stepped close to him, ran her hands lightly down the front of his jacket as she looked at him with that particular glint of mischief that he so loved to see lighting up her eyes. "It looks very good on you; mais, I also zink it is going to look very good on ze floor, as well. Shall we find out?" She didn't give him a chance to reply; she brought her lips to his as she began undoing the buttons of his jacket and sliding it off of him. His holster, she placed on the table next to her bag, but his tie was tossed somewhere over her shoulder; followed by his vest, which she just let fall to the floor behind him.

"Bedroom?" Richard hinted as his hands roamed across her back in what was an eager caress, as well as a search for a zipper or buttons or whatever was keeping him from sliding the dress off of her body. She already had his shirt half undone, and he still couldn't find the damn fastener…had she been sewn into the thing? This wasn't a good time to get frustrated; but he was starting to get frustrated; not to mention slightly embarrassed, because what kind of idiot couldn't get his love out of her clothes?

"Mm, bedroom," he said once more as she pulled his shirt from his pants and worked on the lower buttons. "And how does. This dress …work because I can't. Mm, find the buttons."

Simonne loosed a throaty chuckle and stepped away from him, bent down to grab the hem of her dress, pulled it up and over her head and tossed it to the side. Richard's breath hitched at the sight of her; that lacy camisole, the black underwear to match…

"I forgot. About those stockings."

"Zen it is good zat I did not," she replied, stepping close to him once more. The scent of her perfume drifted to his nose; the subtle hint of roses made him want to tenderly hold her and run his fingers over her velvety soft skin. "I know how much you like zem, even if I do not understand why."

"Mm, I can explain," he said as he gave into temptation and began caressing her, "or we can go. To the bedroom and I can do…other things." He tried to make sound like a suggestive, sexy growl; to him it sounded like everything else he said…flat, emotionless, and awkward. But Simonne knew him; she was able to hear the inflection that most people couldn't, was able to intuit his emotions when most people assumed he had none. She pressed her body against his and wrapped her arms around his neck, purring in what was most definitely a sexy, seductive tone "Is zis where you make ze right parts wet and ze rest of me explode?" Richard nodded, feeling a brief pang of loss when she slipped away from him and pranced eagerly towards the bedroom. Richard quickly followed, making sure the door closed tightly behind him because otherwise, King would nose the door open and try to join them on the bed; Richard didn't believe dogs belonged on furniture, ever…most certainly not during intimate moments.

As he turned around, Simonne's camisole came flying towards him, followed by her panties. "It is interesting, is it not, zat removing a few bits of cloth has me nearly au natural, mais I removed how many layers from you? Yet you are still fully clothed."

"I can. Mm, rectify that," Richard replied, wondering why he was blushing.

"I will gladly help, mon amour." Richard finished removing his shirt and undershirt while Simonne made very quick work of his lower garments.

"It's not. Mm, that fascinating," Richard mumbled as his manhood sprang free and Simonne gazed at it like it was still the most miraculous thing she had ever laid eyes on. He didn't have to wonder why he was blushing, now; the shyness that Simonne loved and teased him for was rearing its head, and the old-fashioned notions he had been raised with didn't include 'discussions about how interesting genitalia can be'. He should have been used to it; after all, Simonne was adept at ridiculous conversation, especially when he was naked.

"You do not see it ze same way I do," Simonne informed him as she gracefully knelt before him. "Would you like to learn your sentence? As I said, it is a very sexy sentence; one I hope you will say any time."

"Mm, is my butchering of…your language really,mm, sexy?" Richard asked, mostly joking. He remembered how badly he'd mangled something as basic as introducing himself; he didn't expect great results from something more complex.

"Mon amour, le français est la langue de l'amour… ze language of love. Pronunciation, it does not matter, not when ze heart, ze soul, speak ze same words, tu sais? Maintenant, repeat after me: Je voudrais…"

"Je. Mm, voudrais…"

"… que tu me…"

"Que tu. Me…"

"… suces la bite."

"Mm, suces la… bite."

"Très bien! Une fois de plus…"

She had Richard repeat the sentence until he had it memorized and could recite it… well, not flawlessly, but well enough. It was hard for him to concentrate, because she was busy teasing him with gentle kisses and caresses in sensitive, distracting areas; by the time he was able to gasp out the entire sentence without prompting or correction, she let him know what he had just learned by taking him into her mouth.

She had learned, over the past months, how to best please him this way; unlike their first night, when she had him on the edge very quickly, tonight she took him to the edge and backed him away repeatedly. This wasn't how he had pictured this evening going, he had been imagining her pleasure; but he wasn't complaining. He did eventually get to a point where he knew that if she didn't stop, he wasn't going to be able to stop, either; so, he politely noted that the wrong person was about to explode.

"Is zat a request for me to stop…hmm, licking your lollipop?" she asked; her expression was both innocent and wicked all at once.

"Mm, please don't refer to. It as a lollipop," he groaned. "It's somehow worse than. Mm, when you compared it to …the Eiffel Tower."

"Ah, oui. It was terribly rude of me to compare such a glorious marvel to somezing so gaudy." She flashed a quick grin, her eyes bright with merriment as she continued. "We shall call it La Tour Air-oh."

"Dear God, no! Mm, we're not. Naming it."

"Oui. La Tour Air-oh."

"Stand up. Mm, you silly little. Nymph." Richard helped her stand, then placed his hands on her waist. "We. Are. Not. Mm, naming. It," he repeated, slowly guiding her towards the bed. "Absolutely not."

"We can not just refer to zis wonderful bit of nature as 'it'," she informed him as her left hand went down between them and ran along his length. "Zat does not do your magnifique manhood justice."

"You are the. Most ridiculous person, mm, I've ever met." Richard said, good humor lighting his eye and laughter making his mouth twitch.

"Would you prefer I refer to it as your 'battering ram of love'?"

Richard blinked, attempted to find something to say to that, and finally settled on "No. I would, mm, not prefer that. Where did you …even come up. With that?"

"I read it in a book once. As I said, I read a lot of books I should not have read."

"Mm, you read books no…one should have. Written, it. Sounds like."

"Ze battering ram was not ze worst of it. And zose books were very helpful last year," she pointed out.

Richard just shook his head. "Will you. Please lie down? Mm, I'd like to make. You explode, if you're. Mm, willing to do so."

Simonne got comfortable, and Richard settled beside her after he removed his mask. He wasn't shy with her as her began caressing her; but he was gentle, and he was much more knowledgeable with where and how he touched her. His kiss was deep and slow; his hands skimmed and squeezed, brushed and teased, to the point where she thought her nerves might try to reach through her skin just to feel him that much more. The feel of his body beside hers was heavenly. The smell of him: his aftershave, his pomade, and the subtle scent that was just him, was intoxicating. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, as well as the occasional ridiculous comment; perhaps they weren't quite as odd as what Simonne could come up with, but it kept their moods light.

By the time Richard's hand slowly worked its way between her legs, the right parts were indeed wet; and it did not take much manipulation by his deft fingers to have her exploding.

"S'il vous plait, mon amour," she panted, wrapping her arms around him and encouraging him to cover her body with his. "Please, my love…"

"Mm, I do know…that much French," he teased lightly as he shifted his position. "That might. Mm, be all I understand, but-" he gave her a small smile as his nerves began to build. So far, everything had been fine; but this was where things usually went wrong for them. He kept most of his weight braced on his arms and knees; he could feel a slight tremble in Simonne's arms, and he hoped that it was just desire coursing through her. He could see nervousness in her eyes, but he understood that. She needed this, needed to reclaim that piece of her that those bastards had stolen with their brutality. The fact that it seemed she might finally accomplish that had to be playing some part in her nerves, so Richard softly whispered the most reassuring thing he could think of. "I love you, Simonne. I promise. Mm, I will never…hurt you."

"I love you, Simonne," he said as he slid into her and began moving slowly.

"Stop, please," she begged.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you, Simonne. I love you. I've loved you for so long."

"No, Louis. Stop, for the love of God, please don't do this."

"Oh, God, Sunshine. Mm, what did he do… to you!?"

Simonne blinked, seeing the familiar walls of the bedroom she shared with Richard. She took deep breaths to calm down as she worked to reassure herself that she was safe, that there was no need to panic. Richard. It was Richard. He called me Sunshine; only Richard calls me Sunshine. Richard loves me, and would never hurt me. But he's worried. That means he's not happy. He knows! He knows I'm on the verge of a panic attack! I can't let him know! If he knows, then he'll worry, and if he worries, he isn't happy. I have to make him happy. I have to make him not worry. He doesn't need to worry about me. I'm fine. I just have to make him happy. I have to- Damn it! No! I will not get trapped in a loop! Not now, not in front of Richard. That won't make him happy. I have to make him happy. I have to… I have to

Richard had moved off of Simonne as soon as he felt her tense up, but it still hadn't been fast enough. He talked to her throughout the nightmare she was reliving; apologizing for bringing it on, telling her he loved her, reassuring her that she was safe. He was trying to keep her from falling too deeply into the terror, although he didn't think he did any good. But when he called her Sunshine, wondering in anguish what that bastard had done to her, it seemed to draw her back to the here and now. Not completely; there was still a thread of panic in her eyes and she was on the verge of one of her loops, but she somehow pulled herself out of it, excused herself and ran into the bathroom.

"Simonne?" he called softly, deeply worried and a bit frightened of what she might do behind that closed door. "Sunshine?" he tried again, wondering if maybe there was some correlation to using his pet name for her.

"Une moment, s'il vous plait," she called back, turning on the tap. Richard pulled his pajamas on and then waited for Simonne to finish what she was doing. When she emerged a few minutes later, she was still pale and her eyes red-rimmed from crying; but she looked calm.

"Simonne- "

"I am sorry, Ree-shard," she cut him off as she crossed to the dresser and pulled out a nightgown. "I did not mean to ruin zis night."

"Mm, it wasn't your. Fault," he began, but she cut him off.

"Non? Zere were only two people here, et you were not ze one-" She quickly stopped speaking, because she refused to admit to him what she had gone through. If she admitted this one, and acknowledged the one last week, he might start to wonder how frequently they happened, and that would worry him.

"I wasn't what? Mm, the one trapped in…a horror they didn't. Want to live through the. Mm, first time, much less re-experience it for. The rest of their life? No, that. Mm, wasn't me; not tonight, anyway." He spoke as softly as he could, trying to keep his worry and agitation hidden. "But how many…times have you. Mm, had to calm me from nightmares? How often have…you listened to. Me talk about the terrors that…plague my thoughts?" She gave a small shrug and avoided looking at him. "You've always…listened, and mm, encouraged me to. Talk when that was the last. Thing I wanted to do. Mm, it does help, you know."

"It is different," she said. "What you went zrough, zat was-"

"Don't." He very rarely cut her off like that, but he knew what she was going to say and he knew she would use it as a way to divert the conversation away from herself. "Mm, don't say that what I went…through was worse, or. More tragic, or whatever you…were going to say. Because I. Mm, don't think it was. Mm, but we need to. Figure out what it is that…I keep doing that. Mm, dredges up the memories-"

"It is not you, Ree-shard. It…it is not you." She needed to end this discussion. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. But she couldn't leave him thinking it was his fault; it wasn't his fault, but how could she make him understand that? "It is not you. Leave it at zat. Are you hungry? Zere is some-"

"Mm, don't change the subject, Simonne-"

She spun around and glared at him. "I am not changing it," she snarled. "I am ending it." She stomped to the door and flung it open, nearly tripping over the dog as she tried to leave the room. King looked up at her and gave a small whine.

"Bouge, chien," she growled as she stepped around him and stormed down the hall. King followed close behind, whining all the while. Richard followed, because the conversation was not over, as far as he was concerned. But when he got within arms reach of Simonne, King turned and growled at him. It made Richard pause; it was a low warning growl, and Richard had no idea what he had done to earn it.

Simonne walked to the living room, King following close at her heels. Richard followed once more; but when he got close King turned around and growled at him again. Again, Richard stopped, and King hurried back to Simonne, whining at her slightly and bumping her leg with his head. It didn't do a damned thing to improve Richard's mood, but he took the dog's hint, and didn't try to approach Simonne.

"I know you. Mm, don't want to talk about it, but-"

"Zen why do you keep bringing it up?" she snapped. "You do not mention it, I do not mention it, we go on…"

"Because that's. Mm, been working so well these. Past months!" She glared at him over her shoulder, but said nothing. He went on, in a slightly calmer tone. "Mm, you can't keep pretending…that nothing is wrong. I can't…Mm, I can't keep doing this. To you."

"It is not you!" she said, turning to fully face him. "How many times must I tell you zis before you believe me? It is not you." At her side, King whined up at her, but she ignored him.

"Mm, should I believe you? You keep…telling me you don't have panic. Attacks, but I came. Mm, home last week to find you. Having one." She looked away guiltily. "That's what. Mm, I thought. So, if you're willing. To lie to me about that, why. Mm, should I believe you when…you say it's not me?"

"BECAUSE IT IS NOT YOU AND ZAT IS ZE FUCKING PROBLEM!" she screamed. "Every time you are on top of me; even zough I can see you, hear you, feel you…it is not you, not in here," she pointed to her head. "You zink I need to talk about it? Fine! Would you like to know what ze worst part of it was? It was not ze brutality, ze broken bones, or being used repeatedly by strangers. Non, ze worst part was Louis. He was not rough; he did not call me names. Non, instead, he acted like he was making love to me. Whispered zat he loved me, told me zat he could have made me so happy, if I had given him ze chance. I begged him to stop, but he did not. He told me he would not hurt me, zat it would be alright because he loved me. When I say it is not you, I do mean it. Because it is not you. It is him, always him! It is his body covering mine. It is his voice whispering zat he loves me. Even when I know it is you, my mind will not let it be you!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks; hurt and confusion burned in her eyes. "Everyzing I longed to hear you say to me in moments of passion, he said to me first. I…I imagined it was you, not him; you making love to me, you telling me zat you loved me. Mais…I do not zink I should have done zat. Earlier, I could not tell if it alors ou maintenant, ici ou là, lui ou toi. Not until you called me 'Sunshine'. Zen, I knew where et when I was, who…who you were." By now, all of her defensive anger had dissipated; but her fear and confusion were more dominant than ever. "I did not want to tell you zis …I did not want you to know zat I…I am broken. Ruined. Zat I am not ze woman you fell in love with." The last admission was a whisper heavy with grief. Richard took a tentative step towards her, waiting to see how the dog was going to react. King was still glued to Simonne's side, but he didn't do anything to halt Richard's progress.

"Oh, Sunshine," Richard said as gently as he could, taking another step. "Mm, you're not…ruined. Broken, maybe. But not…irreparably. Mm, I thought I was broken…beyond repair, too; mm, shattered and ruined. But when you told…me you could still see. The man, mm, I was so long ago; I knew you. Meant more than just…my face, and it. Ended up. Mm, being the first time since my…injury that I had. A glimmer. Mm, of hope that I could be something more than just…Jimmy's man." He took the last few steps to close the distance between them; slowly brought his hands up and placed them on her face, looking deep into her eye and hoping she would understand what he truly meant with what he was about to say, because he wasn't sure the words were going to come out right. "Mm, because of you, I understood that. I had to accept that, mm, yes, I had changed, but I was still. Me, somewhere deep down; I just had…to discover who this new me. Mm, was going to evolve into. That's been a less. Frightening process with you by my…side, encouraging me and not. Letting me get too down. Mm, I'm not the same man you. Met in Paris, or even the…same man you found in Babette's. But I know you. Love the man. Mm, I am today, and I don't. Doubt you'll love the man I'll be tomorrow.

"Mm, no, you're not the exact same woman. I fell in love with; but you are the…woman I love. Today. Mm, tomorrow, and until my last day…on Earth, I will love you. We'll both change as…time passes; it's how life works. Mm, but I know the…woman I fell in love with is. Still with me because. No one else would have tried to…name my…um, member…, mm, Harrow Tower." Simonne gave a tiny giggle. "Mm, see? It's ridiculous."

"Oui, when you call it 'Hair-row Tower'," she said in her version of an American accent, a tiny glint of laughter in her eyes. "Zat was not why I laughed, zough; I laughed because you are too shy to say 'penis'."

"Penis," Richard said, just to prove her wrong; it probably would have been more convincing if he wasn't blushing. "Mm, but there's more. Proof that you're still the…woman I fell in love with; you're. Mm, changing the subject."

"I am not. You misunderstood my reaction, so I explained. You were ze one who decided to randomly say penis." Richard knew there was no way he could win this argument, so he decided to just go back to a point he hadn't fully explored earlier. "Mm, I meant it when. I said talking helps; but if you're not…comfortable talking to me. About it, we can find a. Doctor-"

"Non!" she said quickly, any merriment in her eyes quickly disappearing. "Zey will put me away!"

"Mm, you're not…crazy, and even. If you were, I would never let. Mm, anyone put you in…an asylum."

"Zat is not what I meant," she said, shaking her head. "If I tell a doctor about ze rape, he will ask about ze men who did it. It will come out zat I killed zem, et zey will send me back for trial."

That was something Richard hadn't thought of; it was a legitimate fear, so he immediately forgot the idea. "Mm, then never forget that I'm…here. I may not be able. To solve all your problems, mm, but I will love…and support you through them."