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** DICK POV **

The somewhat awkward dinner I had been anticipating turned out to be surprisingly relaxed and pleasant. We sat in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, enjoying a light meal and talking about everything in the world and nothing at all.

I found myself studying her. She talked with animated pride about the guys of Easy, and rested her chin in her hands, listening intently whenever I spoke. When I asked her a question, she would look up at me through her eyelashes, gauging my reactions to her answers. We both found occasion to smile and laugh, and to blush as the conversation drifted from one subject to another.

"Nixon and Sink made you come to Paris didn't they?" she asked, smiling because she already knew the answer. "A new CO and a battalion full of replacements? There is no way that you would have requested leave on your own."

"You're right about that. It's hard for me to relax when I think of everything Easy has already been through, and now that I'm handling the battalion, there is just that much more to worry about before we go back to the line."

"You needed the break, Dick. Just a few days to clear your head while we are on R&R. And you'd never have done that in your office. Market Garden took it out of everyone. I know it will be difficult, but you need to find a way to get your mind off of the line for a couple of days. That battle with the SS at the crossroads is still haunting your eyes."

She reached out to touch the back of my hand across the table, and I turned it over and watched her fingers trail across my palm. Her eyes never left my face, quietly waiting for me to decide if I wanted to respond. Her genuine concern pushed past my carefully maintained façade of calm and confidence.

"Sometimes I wonder if you can read my mind, Rose. Of everything that has happened, that day is the one that keeps playing in my head. He was just a kid, but he was SS, and I shot him. I knew that I had to, but I still can't get his face out of my mind. It's like slow motion. Just a kid. Probably not old enough to shave. He could have been any of our guys out there."

"You would think that the knowledge that you did what you had to do would make things easier, but it doesn't, does it?" she answered quietly.

We made our way back to the hotel as darkness fell, both trying to steer the conversation back to brighter topics, and I tried to ignore the little jolt of electricity I felt each time her hand accidentally brushed against mine as we walked. By the time we made it back to our rooms, I could hear Nixon and Welsh laughing in my head, and I collapsed into my bed with the path her finger had traced still burned into my palm.

** (still) DICK POV **

Early the following morning, I woke up and blinked into the sunlight streaming through my window. The world was still silent. I stood and stretched, enjoying the feeling of normalcy that came with not having to worry about someone shooting at you as you were still trying to drive the sleep from your eyes. The floor was cool against my feet as I padded to the bathroom to continue my morning routine.

I walked into the shared space to wash my face and brush my teeth, still turning over the previous night's conversation in my head. I didn't notice her until I looked up in the mirror, drawing a sharp breath at the sight. She lay in the tub, one bare knee just peeking out to remind me that she was naked beneath the bubbles that covered her. She looked a bit startled at first, but smiled as I started to stumble through a red-faced apology.

"Rose, I am so sorry! I didn't see you. I didn't even know you were up yet and…"

"Dick, it's okay. It's not like you can see anything."

"I know. I just… I know you're protective of your privacy… and about your…"

She seemed to pick up on where I was heading and looked down at the water, interrupting quietly, "About my past?"

"Well, yes."

She met my eyes again, and it felt like her pain reached out and slapped me across the face. I started to apologize for even bringing it up, but she cut me off again.

"You're the last person that I'd ever feel threatened by. I trust you, Dick. Completely."

I wasn't sure how to respond, so the silence hung there until the ticking of the clock on the wall became a pounding in my head and I finally shook myself out of my daze.

"Um, well I'll let you finish up in here," I said quickly, walking toward the door. I noticed her face reddened, the briefest look of rejection in her eyes, but she nodded and reached for a towel. The pang I felt in my own chest at her crestfallen look was unmistakable and I couldn't bear to be the cause of it. My mind raced through the things I could do to make her smile, passing some scenic routes that Lewis Nixon himself would have been proud of in an effort to find something that wouldn't end in courts-martial. My hand on the doorknob, I glanced back over my shoulder at her as she pulled the towel around her and stood, causing my voice to come out a little more strained than I had intended. "Why don't I knock on your door in half an hour? We can stop for some breakfast and maybe enjoy some sight-seeing? I mean, we are supposed to be relaxing in Paris, right?"

Her eyes met mine again, her bottom lip pulled uncertainly between her teeth before finally relaxing into a smile.

"Right," she answered, stepping out of the tub so that I had to consciously remind myself not to look at her legs. "And you don't have to leave. I'll go get dressed in my room so that you can have the bathroom. You know it will drive you crazy if you don't shave."

I leaned against the counter and released a breath as her door clicked shut behind her. On the other side, I could hear her humming some popular song as she went about doing whatever it is women do that takes them so much time to get ready.

Half an hour. I'd given myself half an hour to breathe and restore my façade of passive calm. I could manage that, as long as I could get the Nixon-devil on my shoulder to stop whispering things in my ear. Just the hint of bare skin as her knee peeked out of the tub… The sight of her wrapped in that plush white bath towel… The way she said my name when she told me that she trusted me…

I ran my hands over my face, willing myself to return to the present, and chuckled. She had been right about me again, I discovered. Turning back toward the mirror, I reached for my razor because I definitely needed to shave.