Warmth. 
Catherine.

He shifted slowly.
Carefully over and onto his other side. 
Healing?  Some pain lingered. 

The night-candle’s flickering play touched and highlighted silken strands.  Only Catherine’s hair shone red and gold like that.

A dim and fading memory. 
Of recent happening. 
Her voice.  Calling to him.

Trying to find her. 

In the dark. 

Here she slept deeply.  Peacefully.  Hands drawn up, one beneath their shared pillow, one grasping something on a chain around her neck.  

The crystal.  His gift at their anniversary. 
He smiled.

The darkness was no more. 
Erased the half-recollection of a lost, fearful time. 

Catherine was with him.

He snugged a quilt over her shoulder. 
Slipped back a lock of her hair to better see her face.
Sighed contentedly and would have been glad never again to move in this life.

He lay watching her.  Loving her so much it hurt to be separated from her even by these few inches.

When she came from dreams she found him looking at her.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, so near that she felt the breath that formed the syllables.

“Vincent?”  Had he really spoken those words or had she imagined them?  “Are you awake?”

Other times he’d seemed awake but only in need of the facilities.  Then he’d fallen back onto the bed and into the healing sleep that was more-than-sleep, as Father described it. 

He smiled.  “I am … as I should be.  I think.  It’s morning.  I’ve been sleeping awhile?”

She looked at him long enough to accept that he was truly awake.

“Yes.  And … thank you.”

“For what?”

“Saying I’m beautiful.”

“I’ve never said it before?  Strange, because I’ve thought it so often.  You are so very beautiful, Catherine.”

She blushed and thanked him again. 

“Now I must call Father.”

“How long has it been?”

She was climbing from the bed.  Searching for shoes.  Changing her mind about needing them. 

“Today is the third day.  He’ll be so happy, Vincent. Everyone will.  Don’t move.  I’ll be right back.”  She stared at him.  “Are you okay?  Do you feel okay, Vincent?”

He considered for a moment. 

“Why were you lying with me?”

She reached for his hand. 

“I’ve been here.  In case you needed me.  Last night I … needed you.”  She gestured at a small cot, made up, off to the side.  “Last night,” she squeezed his hand, “you seemed, I felt, I don’t know, uneasy, so I got into bed to hold you.  Chase away the scary things for both of us?”  She laughed at herself.  “Beside you I felt so much better that I fell asleep, Vincent, and I don’t know what kind of night you had.  I slept through it.  Were you okay?”

“I am.  Waking to you was a lifelong dream come true.”  He smiled and shocked her with, “Do you think we can do it regularly?

Speechless, she stared at him.    

He smiled at her. 

“Just a thought …”

“Vincent, you’re very … different.  I mean, I like the difference, but …”

He tugged at the hand that still held his. 

“Come back.  For a minute?”

Settled alongside him, he just studied her for a long while.

“My minute is almost up so I will say this much and save the rest for later.  You are beautiful.  I love you.  May I kiss you?”

She swallowed, opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, and leaned in to touch her lips to his.

Almost breathless from his kiss, she suddenly remembered, “I must call Father.  I promised I would the moment you opened your eyes … your amazing blue eyes.”  She leaned forward and kissed him again.  “Now stay in bed, okay, while I send a message?  Promise?”

“Catherine, the pipes are just outside.  I wouldn’t have time to go anywhere.”

“Oh, right.  Just don’t move, okay?”

He grinned and she stilled. 

He reminded her, “The message, Catherine?”

She shook her head, kissed him, harder this time, then rushed out of sight into the tunnel

He heard the message ring out, “Good news!  C.”

More than a few times she told her story of waking to find Vincent as they saw him now, alert and recovered, but she chose to spend most of the hours sitting out of the way, quiet and watchful as everyone, even folks she didn’t think she had ever seen before, came to visit.  They gave thanks to God, many shed tears of joy, and all loved him with a touch to his hand or his face.  He must have been asked a thousand times how he felt, and he was gracious with each friend.  

His glance found her.  Frequently.

Peter had come down, had examined him and found all to be well, and was now seated beside Catherine, speaking softly to her.  Vincent knew, somehow, it was only polite attention she gave to her godfather’s words. 

How was it that he knew she was caught up only with him, with how tired he might be feeling or if he were in pain? 

He loved her. 

With a love that was present and alive and all-consuming. 

And he was tired.  Of all the good wishes.  Of the relieved and happy faces.

He wanted to be alone.  With her.   

To share his peace even in the face of unknowing. 
He was healing on the outside. 
He felt healed on the inside.  Healed of what he couldn’t recall.  What left no reminiscent unease.  Nothing.

And he wanted nothing … but her.  Them. Together.

Late afternoon came and Father began gently urging others to ‘let Vincent rest’.  A message everyone took to heart.  Farewells said.  Promises of future visits.  Of ‘anything I can do for you’ offers. 

Peter, Mary and Father remained.  Urging a light dinner.  An early night.

And finally, they, too, were gone. 
Though Father made certain she saw his subtle nod of gratitude.  He would never cease being grateful to her.

She came to the bed and reached for Vincent’s hand.  He gave it willingly and drew her to sit beside him.

“I wanted this all day.”

She smiled. 

“Me, too.  I had no idea you knew so many people.”

“Neither did I.  Or that they’d all come hurrying down.”

“You are greatly admired.  Loved, Vincent.”

“Or it’s a Lazarus happening?” he suggested wryly.

“No,” she breathed more than said.  “Though almost.” 

He saw the fear before she could close her eyes against it.

“Tell me.  Now.  Please, Catherine?”

But tears had begun to slide down her cheeks.  He moved to take her into his arms, and they rested together against the pillows at his back.

She cried there a little while, but he held her a very long time afterward.

When she stirred, he suggested, “We could go for a walk.”

“Vincent, Father would have a fit.  You heard him, ‘bedrest until tomorrow and then we’ll see’ he said.”

“I’ve always hated that ‘we’ll see’ phrase.  It means no.  Why must parents delay the denial?”

She grinned.  “It’s hurtful, that ‘no’, so they try to ease into it over time.”

“You’re very charitable,” he said.  “So, what’s it to be?  Upset Father or …?”

“I’m on his good side now and I want to stay there awhile so that he can get used to the feeling.”

“Come under the covers.”

He slid down so that she could lie beside him, face to face, and waited for her to start.

“Vincent, do you remember anything of the past?  Us?”

“’Us’ is ever with me.”  He tightened his arm around her.  “I could not forget you. I love you.”

She realized he had forgotten about the connection they’d shared.  She wouldn’t mention it yet.

“Catherine?”

“You were never able to say that.  Before …”

“Why not?”

“Why not,” she repeated and hesitated too long.

“What is it?”

“Vincent, you were always afraid to acknowledge your love for me, or for me to acknowledge mine for you.  As if saying it would make it real.  And ‘real’ was not allowed.  Yet it’s always been more real than anything for both of us, even unsaid.”

“Why would I be afraid, Catherine?”

She took a shallow breath and explained, “You insisted there was no possible way we could have a life together, neither here nor Above.  And that there were others who could give me a better life than you could.  Do you remember Elliot Burch?  No? Good.  That was a debacle I’d rather not revisit with you now.” 

She wasn’t through, he could tell, so he waited in silence, still lying close, still calm.

“Mostly, Vincent, your greatest fear was that should we ever … love … you might lose control and hurt me.”

“Catherine, none of what you’ve said resonates.  Not at all.  Which is a blessing since I love you and could not imagine forbidding myself to tell you over and over.  Show you.”  He meant her to smile and she did. “Listen,” he whispered, “I, Vincent, love, love, love with all that I am, you, my precious Catherine.”

She hugged him, pressing her face into his neck and kissing him there, then suddenly leaned away, asking, “Did I hurt you?”

He brushed a palm down her soft hair, “No.  And it would be worth it if you had.  Come back.”

She smiled through new tears and did, more gently this time. 

“I love you, Vincent.  You can’t know how good it is to be able to say it.  I love you!”

Their embrace lasted into long and peaceful moments.

He drew back this time.  “Can you tell me what has happened to me?  What’s caused these injuries and the memory loss and the enforced bedrest that ‘we’ll see’ about tomorrow?”

She took his dear face between her hands and began, “It’s … Vincent, Paracelsus set out to destroy you.”  At his questioning look she realized he did not remember the name.  “He was a founder, with Father, of this world, but he turned to selfishness, evil, a love of power and wealth.  He killed many in his attempts to have both.  I lost a dear friend to him.  He manipulated you until,” she was about to leave out the man’s death but said, “you had, I think it would be called, a mental breakdown.  You rid this world, and the world Above, of a murderer.” She hurried on with the narrative.  “But the cost to you was almost your destruction.”

He’d become very still, almost withdrawn. 

She leaned in and kissed him, a soft kiss that said, she hoped, ‘I love you now.  I will love you always.’

“The madness drove you away, away to die, to keep everyone down here safe.  You feared, I guess, some overwhelming rage that might spill over.  Father and I followed you, Vincent.  And I went into the cavern after you.”  At his look of horror she explained, “You can’t hurt me, Vincent.  I knew that.  I called your name over and over.  And you found me in that awful darkness.  You came into my arms and all was quiet.  Mouse brought the others who carried you home.  I walked alongside, to hold your hand.  Father was sure you’d recover.”  She grinned.  “And you have.  You’ve come back to me.  A new man, too!” she laughed.

Hope was a thrill in her, a vibration he could feel.

“Is it all too much, Vincent?  Father wasn’t at all sure I should tell you.”

He looked into her green eyes, so uncertain she’d done the right thing, chosen the right words, the right moment to show him what had brought them to this place.

“It’s, none of it, familiar in the least.  I killed a man, and I can’t remember it.”

“Vincent, I have been at your side other times we’ve had to protect ourselves or those we cherish …” She would not look away from him.  “You suffered terribly for what you had to do, often to save me.  I’ll always regret putting you in danger.” 

She looked down but he tilted her chin up to see her face.

“All of it, the bad, I no longer feel nor remember, Catherine.  Let me lift remorse from your heart.”

“Vincent, I love you so much!”

“Nothing else matters then.”

Dreams do come true.

Where there is love.

___________

for love of you, Hank