I turned my face up towards the sky.

Usually, rain made me depressed, especially when it was rain like this; thick, heavy, so never-ending it made you forget the sun. As if you couldn't believe sunny weather had ever existed, or that it would ever exist again.

It didn't made me depressed now.

I humoured myself trying to imagine a sunny beach on Hawaii. I failed. I failed miserably. Just like I had failed at so many other things in my life.

The past days had been agonising. I couldn't describe it. I just died, on the inside. People think I'm a rapist, I thought. People think I rape my employees. The amount of panic attacks. The sleepless nights. The tears. The doubt; oh God, I had actually doubted myself. But most of all, the knowledge that I could never, ever build my career back up from this.

"I'll go to the newspapers", Hashirama had said. "I'll go to the newspapers and give them my side of the story."

"No!!" I had screamed, a bit too forcefully.

"Don't play good with me, Tobirama. We need to fix this."

"I'm not playing good", I'd said. "But don't you understand?" I had hated how desperate I sounded. "What will you tell them? That I, in fact, have asked for consent before sleeping with you, my ten year younger employee?" Hashirama became quiet, contemplating this. "Or lie and say we haven't fucked at all?" 

Both Hashirama and me knew neither of us could lie like that. Madara, perhaps, But not Hashirama, and not me. But one person confessing I hadn't slept with them would either look like a drop in the ocean, or make it seem as though I'd forced them to go talk to the newspapers to try and save myself.

Hashirama had understood it would only make the situation worse for me so he had refrained, frustrated.

"I should have-"

"No", I interrupted. "No. It's not your fault."

"I should have told you what he'd done so you would stay away from him!"

I sighed. "Hashi, I knew he'd done something bad, yet I chose to become close to him because I was thirsty. It's entirely my fault. Besides..." I looked at him pleadingly. "I can't deal with your guilt right now. Not on top of all of this. Please..." I took his hands. "Please, don't make me."

Now, I couldn't help but smile up towards the rain. I felt a lightness in my heart I hadn't felt all week. It was Friday, meaning it had been five days since everything started. It had been a mess. A mess of paparazzi, news channels, hate mails, hate emails, threats directed towards my daughter and her mother.

Now, it didn't matter anymore. It was my first time outside since it had all started, and I had my hands deep in the pockets of my bright yellow rain jacket I'd brought with me to Hashirama's apartment, where I was staying and which had only been visited by one or two journalists who wanted to get hold of Hashi; they, of course, thought I'd raped him as well and so wanted to interview him.

I had, of course, not opened the door for them. They had no idea I was in there. They had no idea about the incredible amount of tender love-making we'd partaken in. Hashirama would come home, finding me doing push-ups, or reading, or staring out into nothing and within seconds, we would find each other naked, our sweaty skin glued together as I thrusted, nose to nose and I allowed myself to just indulge in his honeyed voice telling me he loved me over and over as I cried in pure happiness and also longing after Madara. Our hair was so wet of sweat afterwards it was as if we'd showered.

I had never felt so loved in my entire life.

I smiled thinking about what a bright spot of colour my jacket must be in the fashionable city. That yellow jacked was always a source of surprise from those who met me. I usually went in blacks and greys and whites and dark blues. But I was very fond of my yellow jacket.

I took my phone out, texted in the rain.

Me: I can pick Sunna up at 7 pm. But is it ok if I drop her off earlier Sunday morning?

Daughter's mother: No way you'll have her. Stay away.

Me: Do you believe everything?

Daughter's mother: I don't know. But even if I didn't I don't want her to be associated with you ever again.

I was surprised at how little this hurt me. But really, why should it? It would've been nice to have at least some time with her this weekend, though. I felt the letter in my pocket, addressed to Sunna, titled "To be opened when you're 18, my love." I found a mailbox, dropped the letter in it.

The stamp depicted the Eiffel Tower at night.

I kept walking, completely unaware of the looks of disgust cast my way and finally, I reached the kitchen. I checked the time; one pm. Everyone would be there by now, prepping. I went through the back door into my beloved restaurant kitchen. God, I'd worked so hard for it, and I loved it so much. So much.

I smiled.

The kitchen was bursting with activity. To my great glee, Madara stood and gave orders, fierce and strong, his hair in a fantastic updo. He shouted and pointed, had an incredible poise but wasn't angry but clear and reliable in his directions.

The kitchen thrived with him.

Suddenly, he caught sight of me, and I could see I made time stop for him.

His lips parted.

He dropped the empty copper saucepan he was holding, and it crashed to the ground with such a heart-shattering clang that the entire kitchen stopped and looked.

"Tobirama..." he breathed.

I smiled and looked away.

"I just... I just wanted to see how you held together. Seems I'm completely unnecessary."

I didn't at all mean it in a negative way. Quite the opposite; it made me feel relief. That I was good for something, but not required. It took some of the pressure off my already pressed shoulders.

Of course, Hashirama wasn't there. He'd left on Wednesday to visit his family back in his home country and wouldn't come back until Sunday, when he would spend the night with Madara. I wondered if Madara had forgiven me. If he ever would. Hashirama had tried to cancel the trip, saying he wanted to stay and take care of me, but I'd forced him to go.

I had promised him I would be fine.

It had been so hard to lie.

I turned and left.

"Tobirama, wait!" my beautiful Maddie screamed.

The door closed behind me.

The rain melted my face into a smile; calm. Content.

Happy.

I went up the Eiffel Tower.

I took the stairs just for the hell of it, but it was worth it. The wind blew my hair across my face, my yellow jacket around my thighs. I smiled. I did that an awful lot today; smiling. I put my hand to my face to get a strand of hair away, touched the scar Madara had left there only days ago. I was vaguely aware of the people around me pointing and whispering, but I had decided to shut off the part of my brain that cared; it didn't matter anymore.

Instead, I focussed on the view. Yes, it was rainy, so I couldn't see the horizon, but somehow, I found beauty in that. Like the blind spot in your vision your brain painted in for you; I could let my soul paint the rest of Paris to my heart's desire. 

I painted a Paris for me where nobody looked at me with hostility. Where nobody believed I was a rapist. Where I was here, on top of this beautiful landmark with the two loves of my life on a date, and they didn't have to be ashamed of being seen with me. I felt tears run down my cheeks creating its own weather on my face; I hadn't even noticed how they had formed. I removed my hands from my pockets...

And accidentally dropped a coin on the ground.

I stood and looked at it. It was nothing special, just a one euro coin, but I hadn't used coins in ages. Wasn't last time...

I smiled when I remembered. It had been a beautiful summer day last year, and me and Madara had met up for ice cream. I had paid for both of us with a ten-euro note, gotten one euro back. It was that coin. When I had come home, I had put the coin in the pocket of my yellow jacket so I wouldn't lose it. Oh, how I wished I would have been able to take both of them on such a date next summer.

Suddenly, I realised a family was staring at me, talking a bit too loudly about their opinion of me for my liking.

I turned and left, coin forgotten on the ground in the Eiffel Tower. 

Back at Hashirama's place, I dialled a number I hadn't had to call for a long time.

"Hello, stranger!"

I couldn't help but relax at his voice. He was the closest thing to a father I had left. I was uncertain whether it was a healthy relationship to have with your lawyer or not, but it was our relationship nonetheless. He'd helped me win joint legal custody of Sunna six years ago.

"Hi, Tom." He was quiet for a while. "You've heard, I take it?"

"Yes", he said darkly.

"You believe it?" I asked, suddenly scared.

"Oh, don't be daft!" he exclaimed, and I felt some additional weight being lifted off my shoulders. "I have known you since you were the tiniest thing." He'd been friends with my father.

I smiled sadly. "That's not very lawyer of you", I said with the last drops of humour I had left. I didn't need any more.

"With you, I'm not a lawyer. I'm your Godfather. Besides... This Merlin. Dated my daughter." My lawyer Tom had a daughter about my age. Our parents had pleaded for us to start dating when we were eighteen, dreaming of tying the families together. At twenty-five, we had agreed. She was beautiful, with long, copper hair and a heavy body. But within one hour at the bar we had shaken hands in an agreement that we would just be friends, then moved on to rating men in the bar from one to ten since she found out I liked them, too. In the end, we were screaming of laughter. We had met up once a week or so for a couple of months, pretending to be dating for the sake of our families (we believed they would have an easier time accepting we had decided we didn't match if we'd dated for a while), but now, we were friends, although had contact only sparsely. I had no idea she'd dated Merlin. Would you look at that. "I know what kind of man he is."

"I'm sorry", I said.

"I'm so glad she dated you. Made her learn what a good man is supposed to be. Even if it was only for a short time."

I scratched my head. We may or may not have, after all these years, forgotten to tell our families that actually, we had only pretended we were dating. I thought about her, played with the thought of texting her, but decided against it. It was too risky at this point. Despite, if I texted her, it would open a Pandora's box of other people I needed to text.

"So..." Tom said. "What can I do for you, son?"

I took a deep breath, then told him what I needed him to do for me.

He became quiet. He became quiet for a long, long time.

"Tobirama..."

"Shh!" I said. He'd understood, as I knew he would. "Please. Just... Just help me with this. It won't change my decision if you refuse. So please..."

He was quiet. For a full minute, he was quiet down the line. I bit my lip. Please... Please!!

"Okay", he said finally.

I thanked him.

I heard my phone ping; a text. I looked at the screen.

Daughter's mother: She won't stop complaining. I'll leave her at your place Sunday morning and pick her up after lunch.

Damn it. I needed to change place. Didn't matter, I told myself. I still had the kitchen. It was still mine.

"Tobirama..." I got back to Tom. "Take care of yourself."

We hung up.

As the quietness echoed around my body and my heart, I felt a surge of happiness. It's fixed, I thought. Everything is fixed.

I had never felt so calm in my entire life.