I'll be pausing on the lovey-dovey stuff after this, and focusing on a different facet of the story.

April woke a few hours later, drifting awake in a warm nest of blankets and pillows. Her sleep-clouded mind felt strangely peaceful. She felt warm, safe, enfolded by someone's arms…

Don. He was lying against her, his arms twined around her and holding her close to his plastron. His sleeping face was pillowed beside hers, and she could see a faint smile on his wide mouth. Her heart swelled at the sight. That was what she had been craving — she had wanted to see him unburdened by the pain and turmoil that had haunted him.

Her hand brushed his cheek, tracing under his eye and moving down his throat, feeling him shift towards her as her fingers brushed his shoulder. He was still except for the slow rise and fall of his chest, even as her hand slipped down to his side and caressed him.

She raised her head slightly, looking over his shoulder at the glowing numbers of her clock. It was almost seven o'clock. Don had been sleeping for almost fourteen hours, broken only by the few minutes when he had first come to her bed. And she was inclined to let him sleep even longer — he had a tendency to deprive himself of sleep when he was working on something, and he had gone without it the night before. Now with the strain of worrying about the baby lifted, he could rest.

But she would have to get up soon. The store would need to be opened in a few hours. Of course, it might be difficult for her to get out of bed with Don holding her tightly, as if afraid she would leave him. If she extracted herself from his arms, he might wake up.

She rested her head against his shoulder, and sighed. Maybe she could stay in bed a little longer. She wanted to stay with him — to lie against him and feel him breathing and feeling his arms clinging to her. It drove away the last shreds of the nightmare she had had.

"I love you," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder.

The first thing Don felt as he began to wake was a soft hand pressed against his plastron, and warm breath brushing over his throat. He slowly became aware of someone lying beside him, with his arms wrapped around their slender body, and the faint smell of honeysuckle. April.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and clung fiercely to whatever dream he had been having. It had probably been a good one.

He had dreamed of April more times than he could count over the past few years, and sometimes the dreams lingered in his mind as he woke up. The actual content of the dreams varied — sometimes he was making love to her, with every ounce of the passion he felt for her, and sometimes he was simply holding her, glad that she was near him. But it always ended the same way. He would wake in the darkness of his room, alone, his arms empty.

But for now, he could feel the soft curves of her body, her hand against his chest, her cheek against his throat. He could even feel one of her longer legs curled around his legs, which made him shiver. If he could just stay in this dream a little longer… feel her beside him a little more before he had to wake to reality again…

"Don?"

Her voice startled him awake. His eyes flew open, and were immediately greeted by the sight of April's shadowed face looking up at him, her eyes luminous in the soft lamplight.

"You looked like you were in pain," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her with a faint feeling of unreality, his hands slowly moving across her shoulders and back. Then he smiled faintly. "I'm fine," he said.

Everything from the past day and nights came flooding back now — his intense, passionate night with April, when he had found solace and healing in her arms; the day when he had confirmed that their child was growing normally; and the previous night, when April had accidentally woken him because of a dream. He had wanted to comfort her, ease her mind about what had almost happened. But he wasn't sure how to do it — because she was right. He would have died if his brothers hadn't rescued them when they had, and it might have happened the way she described.

But now she seemed calm again, her eyes slightly drowsy and her lips curved in a soft smile, as if she had never had a nightmare. She snuggled against him and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Are you feeling any better?" Don said.

"Yes," April said. "Having you here really helped." Her hand caressed his plastron like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, before sliding up to his neck and pulling his face down towards her.

He kissed her gladly, though he still felt slightly insecure about his ability to please her. He had only made love to her for one night, and he was still learning the right way to kiss a woman.

But she seemed to sense his hesitance, moving slowly and gently caressing him, encouraging him, even as she gently rolled him onto his back and settled her slender frame atop him. As her tongue twined with his, he could feel her hands roaming over his body — tracing the muscles of his thighs, the scutes of his plastron, the softer flesh of his sides. Her fingertips left trails of heat on his skin, almost distracting him from the kisses.

Then one slender hand dipped down past the bottom of his plastron, down deep between his legs. Don broke the kiss with a gasp, the unexpected touch making him stiffen.

"I'm sorry!" April said, pulling back, her eyes wide and panicked. "I — I should have asked first —"

"It's — it's all right," Don said breathlessly. "I just didn't — expect you to touch me there."

"It didn't — upset you?"

"No." His hands slipped up to grip her hips, pulling her closer. "I was just surprised."

Her eyes softened with relief, and she allowed herself to be guided closer to him. Then she seized the hem of her oversized T-shirt and slowly pulled it up over her head, allowing Don's eyes to take in the sight as she divested herself of her clothing. Then she dropped it to the floor beside the bed, and settled down over Don's body, straddling his abdomen.

He could see the warm light tracing her full breasts, the gentle swell of her narrow stomach, the curves of her hips under his thick fingers. He could have spent the entire morning gazing at her body, barely able to believe that he could touch it, caress it, make love to it. She was perfect. He couldn't imagine a woman more beautiful than she was. He raised a trembling hand to her face, and she kissed his palm, before looking down at him with soft eyes.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

Don felt as though his heart was overflowing. "I want to love you again."

April smiled. "Then we want the same thing," she murmured, leaning down towards him.

She kissed him again, pushing him back against the mound of cushions that they had both been sleeping against. Don wrapped his arms around her, feeling her pelvis sliding down towards his hips, slowly and carefully. A feeling of amazement began to flood through him — that he was really with April, that he was going to make love to her again. His hands reached up to brush her silken skin, and her red hair fell around their faces like a fiery curtain.

But then the moment shattered into icy shards that seemed to pierce through him. Suddenly he couldn't breathe — he felt cold concrete behind him — his limbs were heavy, shaking with weakness — he could hear the mocking jeers of the Purple Dragons as April moved above his trembling body, whispering encouragement —

"Don!"

Her voice broke through the memory, and it seemed to mist away around him. Suddenly he was lying in April's bed again, gasping for breath, the sheets clenched in his fists. And she was still crouched over him, but now her face was worried rather than afraid.

"Don," she said softly. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath, and tried to will his body to relax. "It just — reminded me of our first time together," he whispered. "Not the night before last night… back in the…"

Horror flashed through April's eyes. "Don, I didn't — I didn't mean to —"

"It isn't your fault," Don said quickly, clutching at her slim arms. "I'm all right, April."

April shook her head, and huddled forward. "Don, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "This was a bad idea—"

"No!" Don said, a note of panic entering his voice. "April, I — I still want this. I want you. Please…"

"But if it's making you remember —"

His hands moved to her sides, slid over her back. "Please, April. We can't just keep being afraid that I'll remember something." His fingers slipped down to her hips again, gently sliding them closer.

April's cheeks flushed slightly, and she took a quavering breath. For a moment, Don worried that she was going to refuse him, and leave him behind. Then she seemed to plunge forward into his arms, curling her legs around his muscled thighs and pressing her mouth to his. He closed his eyes, and sank back.

They made love for what could have been minutes or hours — Don wasn't sure. All he knew was that he felt like he was losing himself in April, sinking into her with aching ecstasy that shivered through his flesh and bones. He clung to her as their bodies moved, feeling her fiery hair brushing his face, her soft pale skin against his, her gasps every time he touched her, her moans as his lips brushed her throat. He wanted this to last forever — just the two of them, locked in each other's arms and never letting go.

And though the position had reminded him of their first mating, it was different enough that the memory faded from his mind. That time, he had felt pleasure from it, and he knew April had too. But it had been all wrong — it had been forced on them, and there had been fear, and guilt, and misery that their coupling hadn't been something that April had wanted.

But this time, no one was forcing them to do anything. No one else was there. There was no fear, no anguish — and Don was able to show her how much he loved her without worrying about her safety.

When it was all over, he collapsed back against the pillows, quivering and gasping. April was draped over him, panting, her fingers clutching tightly at his shell as she clung to him.

"No more memories?" she whispered.

"No more," he replied just as softly.

She smiled at him, a faint sheen of sweat on her delicate features, and leaned down to kiss Don, gently and softly this time. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch, and the feel of her slender hands pressed against his chest. His hands roamed up over her shivering body, still entwined with his, feeling her warmth.

Suddenly he felt tired. It was the same feeling he got when he ran over rooftops with his brothers when he hadn't slept enough — spent, but exhilarated at the same time.

April seemed to sense this, and quickly ran a hand over his face. "You need to rest," she whispered.

She slipped off of him and hurriedly pulled the discarded T-shirt over her head. Don almost protested, telling her that she didn't have to go just yet, but he could feel his body becoming warm and heavy with oncoming sleep. He rolled onto his side and watched her with heavy eyes as she briefly curled up on the bed beside him.

"I'll be back this afternoon," she said, running her hand over his hairless head.

Don sighed. "I'll be waiting."