The slim, dark-haired man set down his holdall, picked up a fragment of rock from the ground, and hesitantly began to tap out a message. There had been a time, many years ago, when the task would have been second nature to him, but now he could scarcely remember the letters, much less form them into a coherent message.

Just as he was beginning to feel he’d have to think of some other way to get a message Below, the heavy iron door slid open and the majestic figure of Vincent stood, framed against the faint amber glow of the tunnel behind him. For a moment the two men stood looking at each other, one in awe of and slightly intimidated by his companion, the other, heart warmed by the visit, long overdue as usual.

Vincent pushed open the iron gate and stepped out, raising his arms slowly in greeting. “Devin.”

The young man walked a little awkwardly into Vincent’s embrace, hugging his brother briefly and clapping him on the back. “It’s good to see you, Vincent.”  Stepping back, the two men looked at each other and Devin grinned. “I keep forgetting how big you grew, little brother.”

“It is little more than a year this time, Devin.”

“No, but before that…Well, anyway, it’s hard to believe I used to take care of you.” His laugh sounded faintly nervous. “I don’t guess you need anyone to look out for you these days.”

Vincent inclined his head slightly and his voice echoed softly in the tunnel when he replied. “Generally, no. I seem to have become the one who looks out for others in our community. What brings you back to us this time, Devin?”

The other man picked up his bag. “Things. Say, d’you mind if we leave this conversation ‘til the old man is with us?”

“As you wish. Come.” Vincent gestured to Devin to walk ahead of him, and pulled the iron gate closed behind them. As the heavy door slid back into place, firmly shutting out the world Above, the two brothers made their way to Father’s study.

“How’s Catherine?”

“She is well.”

Devin nodded. “Good. That’s good. Y’know I’m really glad that you and she…that you…”

“That I have found love.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Despite the fact that I am…what I am.”

Devin glanced quickly at Vincent, but there was no cynicism or reproach in the brilliant blue eyes. “I guess we all thought; Father made us think…that unless you found yourself a wife down here, then there wasn’t much chance of you meeting anyone else.”

“The odds against it happening were quite considerable. I’ve always known that.  That is why I count my blessings every day…that I found Catherine.”

They reached Father’s study and went inside. The old man looked up from his book and peered at them from over his glasses.

“Look who I have brought with me, Father,” said Vincent.

“Dear God. Devin! My dear boy, how wonderful to see you again!” He stood up and hugged his biological rebel son, the greeting this time a little easier than it had been the last time Devin had stopped by for a visit. “Isn’t Charles with you?”

“No. He ah…he’s dead. Charles died.”

“Oh no.” Father sat down heavily in his chair. “When? What happened?”

Devin began to prowl around the study, slamming his fist into the palm of his other hand. Vincent glanced at Father; his eyes were riveted on his son. They both knew Devin had been more fond of Charles than he would probably ever admit.

“Sit down, Devin, and tell us what happened,” Vincent suggested softly. “If this is painful for you, then sharing it with us might make it easier. We are still your family…time and distance will never change that.”

Devin paused in front of Vincent and accepted the gentle pressure of the clawed hand on his shoulder which propelled him to a chair. “I know. I know that. Why d’you think I came to you two?”

Gradually, Devin relaxed and told them how poor Charles, whose quality of life had improved immeasurably since meeting Devin and being taken to the mountain cabin that had become his home for the last year, had fallen victim to a virus ten days previously.

“In the end he couldn’t breathe and he just seemed to give up. I was the only one at the funeral. Big brother Eddie didn’t even show up for that.” Devin’s voice shook a little, and Father leaned across to touch his arm. At first his son began to draw away, but suddenly he looked into the old man’s eyes and apparently decided to allow the gesture of comfort.

It struck Father how very different his two sons were in this respect. Devin had never been one to demonstrate his affections, at least not in the physical sense.  He’d given up hugs and kisses when he was four years old. A difficult child to get close to, he’d apparently become even more remote as a man. Vincent, on the other hand, despite his enormous power and strength, had always welcomed bodily contact. Even now, he often kissed Father goodnight, and occasionally even at other times if he thought the situation required it. He had always enjoyed being hugged and still did, by Mary, the children, Father himself, and of course since that fateful day two years previously…Catherine. Perhaps, thought Father sadly, the distinction between the two was due to the fact he’d lavished so much affection on his adopted child whose differences would always force him to live a life bound by restrictions and danger. He’d been so desperate to make him feel loved and wanted. Maybe Devin had been excluded. Was it too late to make amends?

* * *

Catherine shivered as she moved to stand beside Vincent on the balcony. “I’m so sorry about Charles, Vincent. He lived such a tragic life. Do you know how long Devin will be staying this time?”

“No. We never do. Devin just comes and goes as he pleases.”

“It was a wonderful thing he did for Charles. At least during the last year of his life, he found peace and kindness. Devin taught him that.”

“Devin is in great pain, Catherine, but he refuses to admit it. Father and I are unsure how to help him.” Vincent leaned over the railing, watching, but not really seeing the panoramic view of the city below. Catherine slipped underneath his outstretched arms and slid her hands beneath his cloak. With one on either side of his waist, she looked up, concerned at the anxiety which clouded the blue eyes.

“Just being with you and Father will help him, Vincent,” she said. “If he’s never been used to expressing his emotions it will take him time. Unlike you and I, a lot of people hold their feelings inside them until it becomes such a habit that it hurts too much to let them out.”

“I believe that is Devin’s problem. The overwhelming sense of guilt is not helping either. It is always there…like a shadow between us whenever we meet.”

“You mean his guilt at leaving you when you were children?”

“Yes, that. And mine, too. He will bear the scars of my anger for the rest of his life.” Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hands and gazed at them, finally clenching his fists and dropping his arms to his sides.

Catherine slid her arms around his waist and held him. “You’re never going to forgive yourself for that, whatever I say. I know that. But, Vincent, this is the perfect time for you and Devin to really get to know each other again. Become the friends you used to be. Don’t waste that time, either of you, by drawing on all that old guilt. It’s one of the most unproductive emotions there is.”

He looked down at her, drawing courage from her love. He even managed a smile. “For someone so beautiful, you are very wise, Catherine.”

“That, Vincent, is an unacceptably sexist remark,” she scolded, although she could seldom bring herself to be really angry with him, and certainly not tonight.

“I apologise, Catherine.” He looked bewildered. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know you didn’t.” She smiled. “Forget it, Vincent. It’s not important. What matters is that you, Devin, and Father become a real family again.”

Relaxing once more in her embrace, he wrapped one arm around her and, with his other hand, tilted her face so that their eyes met. “Not the only important thing, Catherine,” he whispered, “not by any means.”

* * *

When Vincent returned Below, he found Devin had been installed in the guest chamber next to his own, the one usually reserved for Catherine on occasions.  He had mixed feelings about that and decided he would have to speak to someone about it. Father, too, had retired, so Vincent sat down quietly at his desk to update his journal.

Devin returned to us today. Charles has died, and I believe Devin is feeling for the first time, the pain of losing someone close to him. Somehow Father and I must try to reach that pain, and if we succeed, who knows…maybe we will all come out of it stronger and closer than before.

The following morning when Vincent dropped in to see Devin, he found the chamber empty, although his brother’s bag had been emptied and its contents were strewn about the bed and chair. Vincent gave a wry smile. Obviously he had not decided to sneak away in the night this time.

Passing Father’s chamber he heard voices, and as he sprang lightly down the metal stairs, he was pleased to see Devin and Father in animated conversation.  The sight warmed Vincent’s heart. It had been years since he’d seen Devin relaxing in the same room as their father.

“I hope I’m not intruding?”

Father looked up. “Of course not, Vincent. Come in. Have some tea. There’s some left over from breakfast, or please do feel free to make some fresh.”

Vincent noted with some surprise, the two empty cups and plates on the table.

“No, thank you, I had some a short while ago. Do I understand the two of you took breakfast together this morning?”

Devin looked up and grinned. “We sure did. Bet you thought you’d never see that, eh, Vincent?”

The shaggy head tilted in faint amusement. “I still have not had that pleasure, since I was not invited. But I am happy that the two of you are able to hold a conversation together without one of you storming out.”

Devin smiled. “Point taken.”

“Did you want something in particular, Vincent?” asked Father.

“Since you ask…yes. I came to ask Devin if he would care to take a walk with me to the Falls.”

Father frowned. “Does it have to be now? Since I finally have Devin as a captive audience, I was just telling him about some of the good times we had down here when he was just a toddler.”

“Before I came to live among you,” replied Vincent softly.

“Well, yes. And since you’ve heard the stories a dozen times before…”

Vincent raised a hand. “Please. It is not important. I have no doubt there is plenty of work for me to do. I will see you both later.”

“Sure, Vincent.”

“‘Bye, Vincent.”

As expected, upon reaching the second of the lower levels, Vincent was immediately called upon to settle a dispute over the best method of re-routing some of the pipes to serve the new chambers. In his usual quiet way, he listened carefully to both arguments and then gently set about the task of explaining to one small group of men why their idea was impractical when studied from another angle they had overlooked.

“Perhaps you’ll believe Vincent, since you obviously don’t credit me with any intelligence!” shouted Winslow, jutting his chin angrily at William.

“Who’s talking about intelligence!” countered the bearded man. “I just think you know diddly squat about being a piping engineer!”

“Oh right, and you do, I guess. The world’s first cook with a degree in engineering! Give us a break, William, and get back to your kitchen.”

William’s face was turning purple. “I’ll give you a break all right, you…”

As he advanced on Winslow, Vincent raised a warning hand to each of them.

“Stop it, both of you! I think we all need a break from this constant quarrelling.  Now, William, in this instance Winslow is correct, so perhaps you and your party could begin the modifications in the end chamber, and…” he turned to Winslow and with one look, removed the smug expression from the round, Black face.  “…you, Winslow, can commence duties in the next one. Mouse and I will begin here. Now, too much time has already been wasted. Can we please get on?”

Muttering under their breath, the two party leaders shuffled off to their appointed work stations, leaving Vincent shaking his head in vague despair at the constant bickering between two of his best friends.

After dinner that evening, when Vincent went to offer Father his regular thrashing at chess, he found his usual chair occupied by Devin. The pieces had been set up and Father was explaining the rudimentary aspects of the game.

“What is this?” Vincent enquired. “Is this really Devin I see preparing to do battle with Father, or do my eyes deceive me?”

The old man’s eyes remained firmly on the game, although Devin looked up.

“Sure. Why not?” He grinned. “You know me, Vincent;  always ready to try anything.”

“That is true.You and I tried many things as children, Devin. Do you remember the time when we…”

“Really, Devin, you must concentrate,” interrupted Father. “You’ve left your king totally unprotected…look!” He pointed accusingly at the figure on the board.

“Okay, okay!” Devin turned briefly to Vincent. “Sorry, little brother. Catch up with you later.”

Feeling as if he had just been dismissed from class, Vincent turned and mounted the steps to the doorway. As he made to return to his own chamber, he listened to the sounds along the way. Childish laughter came from one of the dormitories, and it said much for Vincent’s easygoing nature that when he poked his head around the doorway to determine the culprits, far from diving beneath the covers in fear of discovery, three heads popped up and called out to him.

“Hi, Vincent!”

“Night, Vincent.”

“See you tomorrow, Vincent.”

With a soft chuckle, he blew them a communal kiss. “Goodnight, children.  Sleep now.”

He passed Jamie and Mouse arguing good-naturedly over one of the latter’s latest ideas. They acknowledged him briefly before continuing on their way. As he reached his chamber and sat down at his desk, it occurred to Vincent that everyone in the community was either sleeping, enjoying the company of friends, or spending the time quietly with family and loved ones. Indeed, he was usually ensconced with Father in one of their chambers at this time. Tonight, however, it seemed his company was not required.

There was no point in going Above to see Catherine either;  she had told him she had a huge workload at the office and, in view of an impending court case, had reluctantly agreed with Joe Maxwell that she needed to do some preparatory work at home. Vincent felt a surge of longing to see her, but he knew it would be unfair to prevent her from working when she had so much to accomplish. They had arranged that he would go to her on Thursday…and today was only Tuesday.  The time seemed to stretch interminably before him.

The following morning, Vincent bathed and dressed, and after making himself some tea, went in search of his brother, intending to ask him how he’d like to spend the morning. All he found was Mary tidying up, straightening the bedclothes, and bundling up dirty clothes to take away for washing.

“Good morning, Mary. I had thought I might find Devin here.”

Mary turned and smiled her gentle, hesitant smile. “Hello, Vincent. I’m sorry, dear, you’ve missed him. He and Father have left.”

“Left? What do you mean? Where have they gone?”

Mary looked faintly uncomfortable. “To the park…for a walk. Devin said Father should get out more. That he needed to fill his lungs with fresh air from time to time and see the sunshine. He persuaded him that a walk in the park would be good for him.”

“I see.” Vincent stepped back against the wall. “I have never known Father to do that before. Not in the daylight…for pleasure. I suppose Devin is right. It will  be good for him.”

With the washing tucked safely under her arm, Mary walked to the doorway where Vincent stood. “It would have been nicer if they’d waited until tonight, when you could have gone with them.”

Patting his arm, she left, and Vincent felt a faint, inexplicable pain nudging his heart;  like a grain of sand as it begins its assault on an oyster;  the first step in the forming of a pearl by the continuous distressing of its host.

* * *

The demands made on Vincent throughout the day left him little time to feel sorry for himself. By dinner, he’d located the source of a gas leak in the kitchen and repaired it;  journeyed to one of the caves and rescued two children who had become trapped, delivering a brief but kindly lecture on the return trip; provided the brute force needed in shifting furniture for one of the families moving to new accommodation, and spent several hours working with Mouse on the new pipe-work. With aching limbs he returned to his chamber and bathed for the second time that day, although he merely dragged a comb through his hair to remove the dust. He decided to wash it the next evening when there would be a more pressing reason to look his best. Catherine.

To his surprise, Father and Devin were conspicuous by their absence at dinner, and when he wandered along to Father’s chambers later, Vincent again found the two of them, heads almost touching across the chess board.

“We missed you both at dinner,” he said. “No one has seen you since this morning.”

“We had a wonderful day,” chuckled Father. “I’d forgotten what good company this son of mine can be.”

“You’d also forgotten how good toffee apples can be,” joked Devin, stretching out an arm to shake Father’s shoulder affectionately.

“Yes, well, I don’t think I’ll be eating those too often. These old teeth of mine won’t stand it.”

“Okay, tomorrow it’s cotton candy. You could eat that even if you didn’t have any teeth. Hey, wait a minute…I never thought about that…maybe you don’t!”

Father sat back in his chair and assumed an expression of mock outrage.

“You cheeky young…I’ll have you know every single one of my teeth is my own! And that’s a jolly sight more than many of my generation can claim!”

Devin grinned and looked at Vincent. “You wanna take my place here?”

Before Vincent could reply, Father answered for him. “Vincent certainly doesn’t need any instruction, I assure you. In any case, it’s you I want to play with.  Vincent’s always here; he and I can play any time. Isn’t that so, Vincent?” If the old man noticed the slight change in tone with which Vincent replied, he showed no sign of it.

“That is correct, Father. I am always here.” Vincent turned to leave.

“Why aren’t you with Catherine anyway?” Father demanded, but as Vincent opened his mouth to speak, Devin sent one of his chess pieces on a suicidal mission, bringing a crow of delight from Father, his attention already returned exclusively to the game. Just as he reached the top of the stairs and turned to enter the passageway, Vincent suddenly caught a snatch of conversation in the room behind him.

“I hope we didn’t hurt his feelings,” said Devin. “I’d hate to come between you guys.”

“Good Heavens, don’t mind Vincent,” replied Father. “He and I have an understanding. He knows his position in this community and why it will never change. But you are my only true son, Devin; the flesh of my loins. You are more precious to me than you could ever begin to know. You’re home at last and I want to enjoy every minute I can with you.”

Just outside the chamber, Vincent felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him. With a gasp, he leaned back against the rock wall, one hand going instinctively to his heart, as if to quell the pounding that Father’s words had produced, and enable him to breathe again. He felt as if the very foundation of his wafer-thin security in the world had just been shattered.  Never once in thirty-four years had Vincent ever doubted the depth and sincerity of Father’s love for him. Now, suddenly, it seemed he had been rejected in favour of Devin. The flesh of my loins, Father had said. How could he ever hope to compete with that?

* * *

“You’re very quiet tonight, Vincent. What’s wrong?” Catherine frowned up at him.

Was it his imagination or had her words held a note of impatience? No, he was being overly sensitive. Catherine loved him; she would not grow tired of his company. But then Father had loved him too, until Devin came back on the scene. He sighed deeply, wanting nothing more than to be folded into the warmth and security of Catherine’s loving arms but fearful of his need being construed as weakness.

“It is nothing, Catherine. I am a little tired. Nothing more.”

Taking him by the hand, she drew him inside the apartment. He hesitated a moment. Although there had been occasions recently when he had agreed to go inside, he still felt uncomfortable. The mere thought of being trapped Above was almost enough to bring on a panic attack, something within Vincent which he fought hard to submerge. Tonight though, he needed to feel her love and touch so strongly that he allowed himself to be led inside.

She reached up to unclasp his cloak, laying it over one of the couches and pointing to the other. “Do you want to sit there, on the floor?”

He shook his head and shrugged, uncaring. “Okay then. On the floor. Come on.”  She pulled down some cushions and piled them on the floor, switching on the fire and smiling at the cosy glow in which it bathed the room. She was trying to do everything to make him feel comfortable and he loved her all the more for it.  Dropping down beside her he tried to smile.

“Thank you, Catherine. You always seem to know what I need from you.”

“I guess that’s something that comes with loving someone. You taught me that.  Vincent, I can see you’re tired, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? Something has upset you terribly. Tell me, please?”

He sat with his elbows resting lightly on his knees, his head turned away from her.

“Is it Devin? Has something happened? You two haven’t fallen out again already, surely?”

“There has been little opportunity for that. Since Devin arrived, I’ve hardly seen him. He has spent all his time with Father.”

“But that’s wonderful…isn’t it?” Catherine leaned forward to lift back a curtain of honey-coloured mane to rest on his shoulder.

He knew she wanted to see his face, but his emotions were so near the surface he was afraid he’d break down and he certainly didn’t want to do that in front of Catherine. He took a moment to answer, ensuring his voice was even when he spoke. “It is wonderful that they seem to have reconciled their differences,” he agreed.

“But?”

“They seem to…they do not…I feel…” How could he possibly explain? To say he felt rejected, unloved, sounded like a jealous child talking. Catherine would quite rightly despise such foolishness. He began to wish he’d never come this evening. If he could just get a grip on his feelings, he knew he’d be able to cope with the situation. He could cope with anything, had done in the past. It was his strength she loved and needed, not this despicable weakness.

“You feel…what? That Devin has come between you and Father?”

Vincent shot a glance at her. How had she guessed? Bowing his head again he drew a ragged breath. “I feel like…an intruder.”

“Oh, Vincent. It’s only natural that Father would want to spend time with Devin.  He so rarely gets the opportunity. And when he does, there’s usually friction between them. It doesn’t mean he loves you any less. Are you sure you’re not over-reacting…just a little?”

Vincent heard the smile in her voice and shook his head. “Last night when they thought I was out of earshot, I heard them talking. Father said he and I had an understanding; that I knew my position in our community…and that Devin was his one true son…his own flesh, and that he wanted to spend every precious minute with him.”

Hearing the words again from his own voice, Vincent remembered the pain, although it hadn’t really left him since last night. But he also despised himself for repeating them. What would Catherine think? He certainly didn’t want her pity; that would be unbearable. Leaping to his feet, he placed his hands on his hips and began to pace around the room, breathing hard.

Catherine remained where she was. “Vincent…”

“And we all know, don’t we, that whatever else I am, it certainly is not the flesh and blood of Jacob Wells!” He paused for a moment, lifting a hand to his eyes.

“Vincent, please come back and sit down.” Her voice was very soft and gentle.

“No. I should never have come here tonight. It would be better if I leave.”

“No!” He guessed she was worried that if he left in this state he might grow careless, compromising his safety Above. “Please, Vincent. Sit down. I can help you with this.” He hesitated for several seconds, the conflict within having risen to a peak, but then expelling a long breath, returned to the fire and resumed his position beside her.

“I know you want to help, Catherine, but there is nothing anyone can do. I cannot make Father love me as much as his real son…I hate the part of myself that should even want to.”

“Oh, Vincent.” Kneeling behind him, Catherine slipped her arms beneath his, crossing her hands across his chest and rubbing the tense muscles through his shirt. Almost involuntarily he leaned back slightly into her embrace and she kissed his cheek, whispering into his hair. “You are his real son in every way that matters. He loves you more than anyone else on earth.”

“Except Devin.”

“No!” She tightened her grip until he found it difficult to breathe, but he didn’t ever want her to let go of him. “That’s not true, Vincent, you know it’s not.  He’d give his life for you!”

“As I would for him. But blood is thicker than water, Catherine, and it is not Father’s blood which courses through my veins.”

“Listen to me, Vincent.” She moved around to his right side and turned his face to hers. “You’ve always told me that when you were children, Father was always harder on Devin than the rest of you.”

“Yes, but I know the reason for that now. It was because he didn’t want us to think he was favouring his real son.”

“Yes, I see. But Devin didn’t know that and it made him feel just the way you do now. He covered it well and he’d probably never admit it even to this day, since he’s one of those people we talked about who bottle up their feelings. But he does have feelings, Vincent, and maybe Father thinks this is his last chance to prove that he really does love Devin. But not less than you!”

“I know what I heard, Catherine.”

This time she did make an impatient sound, but he knew it was only born out of love and frustration at her inability to convince him her words were true. She burrowed under his right arm, still hugging him tightly and he rested his forehead on her shoulder for a moment. When he lifted his head, she drew back to look at him and both of them had tears in their eyes.

“I can’t believe Father would hurt you like this,” she whispered.

“I don’t think it was intentional. He did not mean for me to hear. There is a saying that eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves.” He managed a soft laugh, but the sound was brittle even to his own ears.

Catherine put an arm around his shoulders. “I love you so much, Vincent. I can’t bear to see you in this much pain. You’ve had to overcome so much in your life…and now this. I’d do anything…anything  to take away the pain for you.”

“I know you would.” Their heads touched and Vincent felt an overwhelming surge of love emanating from her.

“I can feel the tension in you, Vincent,” Catherine murmured after a moment or two. “Why don’t we see if I can do something about that.” Ignoring his initial resistance, she eased him backwards so that his head and shoulders rested in her lap. He expelled a deep breath of resignation and closed his eyes, yielding to her will. He felt her lift the silky strands of his hair, smoothing them over his shoulder. With the other hand she began to knead his shoulders;  a motion that could so easily, under different circumstances, have been sensually stimulating, but which he knew at this moment was intended only to bring comfort and soothe his tortured soul. She didn’t attempt to open his shirt;  just moved her fingers firmly and rhythmically over his knotted shoulder muscles and down to his chest, almost as if she was able to see the knots of tension inside him and smooth them out. After a moment or two he exhaled at length.

“Is that okay?” she asked softly, as if reading his thoughts.

“Mmm. It has a strangely relaxing effect, Catherine.” He opened his eyes and stared up at her, seeing in her eyes more love for him than he had ever expected to find in a lifetime. “It makes me feel…I don’t know…secure again…at least while I am here, with you.” It was true. Already he found the pressure of her fingers beginning to relieve the stress which had been mounting all day. She smiled, apparently satisfied, and continued to work her magic.

“You are amazing, Catherine,” he said. “You are capable of driving out even the worst demons from within me;  you always seem to know what to say and do to calm the rage and despair I sometimes feel, so that even now…in one of my darkest moments, you have brought me peace…temporarily.”

“Because I know  you, Vincent. As you know me. We understand each other’s needs at any given time. That is our bond; our gift to each other.”

He cocked his head slightly in her lap. “At times like this, Catherine, you demonstrate all the ferocity of a lioness who would give her life to protect one of her cubs.”

She drew in her breath sharply, her hands stilling on his body. “Vincent, don’t.”

He had thought she’d realise he was only teasing her. With a slight smile, he slid a hand along her arm, covering her hand with his own and encouraging her to continue. “Don’t stop. I was merely remarking on the fact that you do not appear to think any less of me when I find it hard to be strong, when I need comfort from you instead.”

Apparently relieved that even in the midst of what was an upsetting time for him, he was still able to see humour in the situation, Catherine relaxed. “I do not think of you as my ‘cub’, Vincent. You are the man I love, and like anyone else, you need different things from me at different times, as I do from you. How could I possibly think less of you when you show vulnerability? I would think less of you if you didn’t. Don’t you know by now that I love to bring you solace and comfort however and whenever you need it, the same way you do for me.  But don’t ever doubt that I would give my life to protect you if necessary, because I would…a thousand times over.”

“Oh, Catherine,” he murmured, sitting up and taking her in his arms. “What did I do before you came into my life?”

* * *

Catherine knew she would have to be very careful and keep as tight a rein on her emotions as possible. If she didn’t, then Vincent would know and come running to her before she’d finished her little talk with Father and Devin. He’d probably be furious if he knew she intended to interfere in their family problem. But if he was, then she’d just have to deal with that later. She wasn’t going to stand around doing nothing while they trampled all over his feelings and reduced him to the state he was in last night.

Arriving at the Tunnel entrance, she tapped out a signal for Father. She had a vague notion of asking him to stroll in the park with her so that there was no chance of Vincent passing by Father’s study and hearing what was being said.

Eventually the old man appeared, out of breath from the long walk. He looked surprised to see Catherine. “My dear. How pleasant to see you. Why did you not come Below?”

“Because I need to speak with you, Father. About Vincent. It’s important.”

“I see. He hasn’t upset you, has he, or you him?”

“No, Father. I am not the one who’s upset him. Look, this isn’t going to be easy.  Can we go somewhere and talk? Take a walk, maybe?”

The old man shrugged his shoulders. “Very well.  If you wish.”

They walked to the drainage culvert and Catherine looked all around to make sure no one was watching. Satisfied, she beckoned to Father and he limped along the concrete base. They walked in silence for a few minutes, keeping to the paths until Father caught hold of Catherine’s arm.

“Would you mind if we sat down, my dear? I’m afraid I cannot keep up this pace for long.”

Feeling guilty, Catherine took his arm and led him towards the nearest bench. “I’m sorry, Father. That was thoughtless of me. I have so much on my mind and I don’t quite know how you’re going to react to what I have to say to you.”

He smiled. “Well, you won’t know until you try.”

Catherine found she was too on edge to sit down. She began pacing around on the grass in front of Father and noticed him raise his eyebrows. Probably thinks I’ve spent too much time with Vincent, she thought wryly.

“Father, Vincent is desperately unhappy,” she blurted out suddenly. “He’s got the idea you don’t love him as much as Devin because he’s not your real son.”  There, I’ve done it now.

“What? Just because I’ve spent some time with him in the last couple of days?  Surely Vincent wouldn’t begrudge me that?”

Catherine rubbed her forehead in consternation. “No, of course  not, but you’ve excluded Vincent completely! You haven’t wanted him around!”

Father glared at her. “Vincent is always around. Devin isn’t. I don’t know when he’s suddenly going to decide to up and leave. Is it too much to expect Vincent to understand that?”

Catherine stamped her foot, causing a divot of grass to fly out from beneath the heel of her boot. “Yes, it is, dammit! How can you do this to him? Didn’t you think he’d be hurt? It seems to me you didn’t think at all!”

Father stood up and glared at her. “Don’t you think you might just be exceeding your position as one of our Helpers by this conversation, Catherine?”

Thunderstruck at his choice of words, her eyes blazed. “One of your Helpers!    For God’s sake, Father, I’m not talking to you as one of your Helpers!  What I’m saying to you is in my capacity as Vincent’s…girlfriend, wife, lover, whatever the hell you want to call me, but I LOVE him, and I can’t bear to see him in such pain over something he overheard you tell Devin!”

“What did I tell Devin?”

Catherine couldn’t have stopped now even if she’d wanted to. Even if she alienated herself from Father for the rest of her life, she had to finish what she’d started. It was Vincent’s happiness that was at stake here and that was all that mattered.

“You said you and Vincent had an ‘understanding’…whatever that means…that he knew his ‘position’ in your community, but that Devin was your flesh and blood son!”

“Well, so he is! Do you want me to deny that?”

“You denied it for over thirty years!”

The old man’s face turned white, and Catherine’s hand flew to her mouth.  Maybe she had gone too far. Taking deep breaths she tried to calm down. This would do none of them any good.

“Father, I apologise if I’ve upset you, but not for what I’ve said. It was a shock for Vincent when he first found out that Devin is your real son, but he got used to the idea. What other choice did he have? But now…to have you exclude him from everything you used to enjoy together; to hear you almost denounce him in favour of Devin…Well, it’s breaking his heart.”

“I never denounced him! Yes, I told Devin that Vincent knew his position…as my beloved child and the man who will one day lead our community, because he will remain Below and because he holds the love and respect of every single man, woman, and child who calls our world home!”

“Well, he took it to mean that you feel a whole lot more for Devin than you do for him. What did you expect him to think!”

Father slumped down onto the bench. “Not that. Dear God, never that.” He seemed to have aged ten years in the last few minutes and Catherine knew it was her fault. Slowly, she sat down beside him and tentatively stretched out her hand. He looked her straight in the eyes, and she saw tears when he gripped her fingers.

“Catherine, I don’t know what to do. I decided when Devin came home that I would try and start afresh with him. So that when I’m gone, he’ll have some good memories of me instead of all that friction in the past. I realised he probably felt left out as a child because I lavished so much love on Vincent…”   His voice shook as he remembered all those years ago. “Well, someone had to love Vincent. He didn’t have the best start in life, being abandoned the way he was.”

Catherine squeezed the gnarled hand. “Go on, Father.”

“Well, I thought I’d finally got it right when Devin responded the way he did.  We’ve had some happy times together in the last few days.” He paused, the smile fading from his face. “But it never crossed my mind that Vincent would feel left out. He’s had my almost undivided attention for thirty-four years.”

“If you’d only discussed it with him, told  him what you intended to do. But you didn’t. How could he know? And what did you mean when you said you and he had ‘an understanding’?”

Jacob looked at Catherine as if he was amazed she could possibly need clarification on such a statement. “Why, our love for each other of course; the sharing. We understand each other so well. A little bit like yourself and Vincent.   Dear God, surely he knows I’d give my life for him!”

Catherine was close to tears herself now. “That’s what I told him, but he’s not convinced any more. He feels completely rejected. You know how sensitive he is.”

Father nodded sadly. “You’re quite right, of course; I should have talked to him first. I see that now. Catherine, he will understand, won’t he? I mean, I do love Devin dearly, that goes without saying, but to lose Vincent…would kill me.”

“That’s how he feels about you, Father.”

Wiping his eyes, the old man stood up. “I have to get back…talk to him…make him understand how much I love him.” He stopped and looked blankly in the direction of the Tunnels. “Funny,” he said, almost to himself, “I always thought he knew.”

Just before they reached the drainage culvert, they spotted Devin coming out.  He waved when he saw them. “There you are.  I wondered where you’d got to.”

When he reached them, Father grasped his arms. “Would you give me a few moments alone with Vincent, son? I’m afraid in my eagerness to spend time with you, I’ve made him feel rather left out. I’ll see you shortly, Below.”

“Okay, no problem.” Devin looked after his father with a concerned expression. “How ‘bout that guy,” he remarked unnecessarily before turning to Catherine.

“You look a little peaky, Cathy. Something wrong?”

“I’m afraid so. Look Devin, I’ve just spoken to Father and now I need to talk to you.” She had no trouble persuading him to take a walk through the Park, where she told him as gently as possible, what had happened.

He made no comment at all until she was through.  Then he turned to her and said simply, “Okay, I’ll leave.”

Catherine threw up her hands in exasperation. “That’s not the answer, Devin! If you do that, Father will be devastated. He thinks you’re here to stay this time.  And Vincent will kill me for interfering.”

“What d’you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Couldn’t you work it out with both of them? Strike a balance between the two? One is your father and one is your adoptive brother; both of them love you, Devin. Do you care about them enough to share that love without anyone getting hurt?”

He kicked some loose stones in the path and walked backwards in front of her, his hands thrust nonchalantly into his pockets. “I’ve never used that word ‘love’ to another man, Cathy. Come to think of it, I haven’t used it very often to a woman.”

She believed him. “But you do love them, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I guess so. I figure losing Charles made me think about what might have been if I’d hung around here then, instead of leaving. But it wouldn’t have worked. I couldn’t live down there again after all this time, Cathy. Oh sure, I’ve had a ball this last coupl’a days with the old man; although I would have liked to spend some time with Vincent too, y’know? But I’d have moved on sooner or later. Maybe next week, next month, sometime. So I think maybe it’d better be sooner rather than later.” He fell into step beside her again. “The last thing on my mind was to rock the boat for Vincent. I have the whole world to live in. He only has this place.”

Catherine felt the tears behind her eyes again and struggled to blink them back.

“What you did for Charles, Devin…it took great courage and sacrifice on your part. How come…” She hesitated, knowing she was about to embark on sensitive territory, “…you didn’t do it for Vincent? I mean, it would have meant so much to him to go to the mountains with you. That’s something I dream about for him…one day. But you could have done it. Why didn’t you, Devin?”

He shot her an angry glance. “Lots of reasons. Can you imagine Father’s reaction if I’d suggested it!”

Catherine nodded, remembering. “Oh yes, I can imagine.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you’ve had some of those lectures since you’ve known Vincent.  Well I had them for years! Everything was ‘Look after Vincent; don’t let Vincent get hurt; it’s too dangerous for Vincent’. It seemed like all he cared about was Vincent! I’ll tell you, it got so I was sick of hearing his name!”

“But you loved him all the same?”

Devin shrugged and looked up at the sky, as if searching for the right words.

“Sure. Until we had that fight.” He pulled a hand from his pocket and lightly fingered the scars on his face.

“But I thought you admitted that was your fault? That you provoked Vincent into attacking you?”

“That doesn’t make the scars go away, Cathy. You should know how that feels.”

She pushed her hair behind her ear so he could see the indelible reminder of the night she had met Vincent.  For that was the way she looked at it now. “Isn’t it strange; your scars remind you of how terrifying Vincent can be. Mine just make me think how wonderful he is, and how empty my life would be without him.”

“I guess it is kind of ironic.”

“So. You’ve never really forgiven Vincent then.”

Devin took a deep breath, expelling it slowly, as if giving himself time to reply.

“Maybe not. But not for the reason you think. Sure I’ve forgiven him for this…”  He indicated the four thin lines where, many years ago, Vincent’s claws had ripped his cheek open. “…but I’m not sure I’ve ever quite forgiven him for the guilt I feel whenever I see him. He never says anything, but even now, I sense that he thinks I betrayed him by leaving.”

“He was bound to feel hurt. The two of you had such plans. And you were the only one who made them sound possible.”

Devin whirled on her. “But they weren’t possible! How could they be!”

“Then you never should have let him think they were! You gave him dreams and then left him behind without even saying goodbye! It was cruel, Devin…he worshipped you!”

“I was just a kid for God’s sake! I was fourteen years old!”

Catherine realised they weren’t getting anywhere. Perhaps she had been unfair.  How could a fourteen year old boy be held responsible for giving Vincent a dream which would forever remain unfulfilled? She touched Devin’s arm, her voice softer now. “But you’re both men now, and capable of forgiving each other. I’m sorry, Devin. Of course you’re not to blame…for any of this. No one is. It’s just that I love Vincent so much that I get a little crazy when something makes him unhappy.”

Devin sighed and allowed her to link her arm through his. “I guess Vincent got what he deserved after all.”

“What?” Her expression was puzzled, and he gave a sheepish grin.

“I don’t make pretty speeches, Cathy. But Vincent’s got you. And I’d say there’s no one who deserves you more…wouldn’t you?”

She smiled;,the first smile she’d actually felt inside in two days. “I’m not sure that I deserve him. But thank you for that. It tells me what I needed to know.  Now, do you think you can convince Father and Vincent that I haven’t persuaded you to leave?”

“What’s the matter, Cathy? Figure you’ll lose him if he thinks you forced me out?”

“Something like that.”

“Relax, I’m only kidding. Both of them know I wouldn’t hang around forever.  And I don’t think you need worry about losing Vincent. He’s a moody s.o.b. sometimes, but he’s not stupid.”

Catherine squeezed his arm. “I think maybe the only thing that ever could come between Vincent and I, is his family. You and Father mean everything to him, Devin.”

“Then let’s you and I go and tell him he has nothing more to worry about. Do you think we’ve given them long enough?”

“Maybe, if we walk slowly.”

As they approached Vincent’s chamber, they were just in time to see the two men embracing. Both had tears in their eyes.

“I’d rather visit with Mary for a few minutes if you don’t mind,” whispered Catherine. “This is a time for family only.”

“I’ll bet Vincent would want you in there with us,” Devin countered, but she refused to be persuaded. As Devin cleared his throat and entered the chamber, she waited just long enough to see Vincent and Father hold out an arm each and draw Devin into their embrace. As Catherine walked away, a lump in her throat as big as an orange, she heard a muffled comment from Father about having the two best sons in the world.

* * *

It was an hour later and Catherine stood facing Vincent in his chamber. He seemed even larger than usual and she noticed his hands were clenching and unclenching the way they did when he was fighting to keep ahold of his temper.   Uncharacteristically, she felt butterflies dancing in her stomach as she waited for him to speak.

“I understand you went to see Father, Catherine?” The beloved, velvet voice was no different than usual, but she wondered if this was the calm before the storm.

“Yes, I did, but before you go off the deep end, you must realise I only did it because I couldn’t bear to see you so unhappy, and if I’ve caused any more heartache for you then I’m really sorry, but please, Vincent…please don’t shout at me because it’s been one hell of an emotional day and I honestly don’t think I could take any more right now, okay?” She swallowed hard and stared miserably at the floor.

“You believe I’m angry with you?”

Raising her head, she nodded. “I’m sure you think I interfered in something that was none of my business, but, Vincent, when it concerns you, then it becomes my business. Although I understand you may not see it that way.”

“Catherine?”

“Yes?”

“Will you please stop babbling and come here so I can thank you properly?”

He held out his arms, and in less than a second she had launched herself into them with such force that she almost knocked him off balance.

“You mean you forgive me?” As he gazed down at her, she saw her own tears mirrored in those filling the vivid blue eyes which always turned her insides to jello.

“Catherine, my beautiful, ferocious lioness, is there anything you would not do for me?”

Unable to speak for the lump which suddenly constricted her throat, she merely shook her head and waited for him to kiss her.

“I am going to say something to you that I swore I would never say, but I cannot stop myself,” he murmured.

Her heart began to race. He’s going to ask me to marry him. “What is it, Vincent?”

“Know that you mean more to me than anything in the world. I love you more than my life. Catherine, please…don’t ever leave me?”

Oh well, I guess that’s the next best thing; at least he’s asking for commitment.

“Oh, Vincent, never,” she breathed, holding him as if she’d never let him out of her arms again, much less her life. “Never.”

As his lips came down on hers, their tears mingled together, but it was merely another physical sign of their emotional bonding. Their hearts had been intertwined forever.