Author’s Note: This story takes place after the events of A Kingdom by the Sea, peeling off from canon, because the rest of Season 2 (and by extension, all of Season 3) just hurts too darn much.

* * * * *

Devin arrived Below with news of Charles’ death. It had hit him hard, and returning to family felt necessary – going back to those who also knew Charles, people he could mourn with who would understand more than he could express. But what he found when he entered the Tunnels temporarily banished all thoughts of shared grief. The immediacy of Vincent’s need was paramount. The dead needed help no longer – his living brother did.

“What has been happening to Vincent?” Devin’s brown eyes flashed with anger as Catherine opened her apartment door at his insistent knocking.

She waved him inside and closed the door. Turning, she took a deep breath, then said, “A lot, and we should discuss it sitting down, preferably with drinks in hand.”

He calmed himself with significant effort. “I just left the guy nursing a torn-up hand, mumbling something about kings and kisses and killing people and…hell, nothing made sense.”

“Sit.”

She claimed a seat beside him. “Want that drink?”

“Maybe later. Talk now.”

So she did, explaining as much as she could about how things had gone pear-shaped with Elliot, his father, a helicopter, the CIA, hitmen… If it had been the plot of a movie, he would have called it crazy, but hearing it spoken about calmly by someone who had experienced it made it all too chillingly real.

When she’d finished, he’d said, “I’ll have that drink now.”

A while later, drinks sipped, Devin shook his head.  “So…I guess I get now why Vincent’s a mess – physically, mentally, emotionally. I don’t know how you’re holding it together yourself.”

“I barely am. I got pulled into something so immense, so awful, and ended up hurting Vincent so badly – and that last is the worst of it. Because Elliot…he means nothing compared to Vincent. But I can’t deny that for an infinitesimal instant, when death seemed imminent, I…reacted to him. I told him later that nothing could come of it, that I am with someone. And he believed me. But, for the pain it caused Vincent, none of that matters.”

There were tears in her eyes, and Devin realized how close to the edge she was herself.

“He’s pushing you away, getting all noble. And it’s going to get worse, isn’t it?”

“I suspect we have more discussion ahead of us, yes. But he’s so emotionally fragile right now because of what he felt through our Bond…”

Her tears finally flowed, and Devin wrapped her in a hug while she wept, his own heart breaking both for her and his brother….and hardening deeply against a man he hadn’t met.

Elliot Burch had a reckoning ahead of him.

* * *

“I’m glad you’re home,” Father said. Their conversation about Vincent had been brief, and for once father and son were on the same page.

“I can’t get through to him. Oh, he says what I want to hear, but it’s all window dressing, something to get me to leave his chamber so he can continue brooding, hurt and alone. Maybe you can help him.”

For the Old Man to admit that he wasn’t the best person to help Vincent through his trauma was monumental. When had Father gotten so wise? Although Devin privately thought Catherine would be the best one to help his brother through this, he acknowledged that would make Father uncomfortable, and Vincent would become stubborn about not wanting her to be burdened. He was the compromise candidate, at least in his own eyes.

“I’ll try. You know I will.”

* * *

“’Here I come to save the day…’” Devin appeared in the entryway of Vincent’s chamber, singing the old Mighty Mouse cartoon theme song, hoping to draw a laugh from his brother. A small smile had to suffice.

“Feeling any better this afternoon?”

Vincent sighed. “No need to worry about me. My hand is almost healed.” He flexed it and showed Devin his palm, which indeed looked much better than it had the day before.

He got to the point. “I saw Cathy last night.”

His brother turned away, pretending to organize the papers on his desk. “How is she?”

“Barely holding it together, just like you.” Devin wasn’t playing Vincent’s game. He cut to the heart of things. “She knows she hurt you and it’s killing her. She loves you a lot, you know. That Elliot guy…he’s just an insistent sort used to getting his own way. He overwhelmed her at her weakest, most frightened moment. I could deck him for taking advantage of her like that.”

That got Vincent’s attention, as he’d hoped it would. His brother turned to him. “She feels he’s a good person, although one with faults.”

Devin shrugged. “She’s the good person…who gives others too much of the benefit of the doubt. I’ve run into plenty of cock-sure guys like him, masters of the universe types. They don’t like hearing no, they push things too far. Arrogant, take-what-they-want bastards.”

He knew he was getting through to Vincent – saying things that his brother was thinking but ashamed about. Devin wanted him to lance that boil, to let the poison of his negative feelings out, to acknowledge them, to give himself permission to have a bad opinion about Burch. Devin sure did.

“Catherine could use a visit,” he added. “And frankly, you could use some time with her.”

It put a satisfied smile on his face to see Vincent move so quickly to go to her.

* * *

“Some gentleman using Ms. Chandler’s name is wanting to meet with you.”

Elliot frowned, wondering who this person might be. But as usual, using Catherine’s name was too strong an enticement to send the man away.

“Show him in…and call me in five minutes in case I need to end the meeting quickly.”

He rose to greet the visitor, immediately curious about him. A tall, lean, dark-haired, good-looking man with unusual scars across one cheek… Elliot mentally flipped through the report Cleon had prepared on Catherine Chandler prior to Elliot asking her on a second date. This man did not appear in it. Not a relative. Not a close friend or co-worker. Not even a neighbor. But from the stormy look on his face, Cathy meant a lot to him. Interesting.

He opened his mouth to offer a greeting, but the man was uninterested in niceties. He got right to the point.

“You need to back the hell off where Cathy Chandler’s concerned. This is your first and final warning.”

New boyfriend, maybe? Is he the one Cathy mentioned? Seemed unlikely that this hothead wearing discount-rack clothing is who she threw him over for.

“I doubt you speak for her. She’s a lady with a mind of her own. And my business with her is just that – between me and her.”

The two men stared daggers at each other.

“You have bulldozed yourself into her life and gotten her caught up in some kind of madness of your own making. You’ve lost any rights you might claim, as you have only caused pain and heartache for her and those she loves in recent days. If you truly believe yourself her friend, you would back off, leave her be, and find some other person to involve in your dangerous and unpredictable life.”

Elliot studied the stranger. His assessment was brutal, true…and informative. Anger turned into fascination. “Who are you to her? I’ve been close to her for quite some time, and I know you aren’t a constant in her life.”

Devin’s frown turned into a suspicious glare. “You having her watched? Oh, that’s just great. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it. Even more reason for her to stay far, far away from you.”

Elliot relaxed and sat down, leaning back into his chair and smiling. “She doesn’t know you’re here. You’re just blustering. If I call her right now, what will she say…Mr. – what is your name now?” He reached for the phone. They were both startled when it suddenly began to ring.

Elliot picked up the receiver and set it back down immediately. He didn’t need his secretary’s interference. He was beginning to enjoy this game.

Devin realized he’d only made things worse for his brother by raising both the stakes and the suspicions of this imperious bully who loved getting his own way. On top of that, he could smell another conman from a mile away, and this guy couldn’t pass the sniff test. Time to go.

“Describe me to her. She’ll know who I am, and why I came.” He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “You kissed her when you thought you both were about to die…then she told you she had someone else in her life. Have no doubt that I know her. Leave her be. She deserves so much better than you.”

Elliot stared at the doorway long after the scarred man had left, contemplating just how he knew such intimate details. He was more…much more…than he seemed.

* * *

Devin knew he didn’t have much time. His next stop was a pay phone in the lobby of Elliot’s building.

“Cathy? I may have done something you won’t like. Listen…”

* * *

As soon as she hung up the phone after Devin’s call, it rang again. As she expected, it was Elliot, greeting her with a purring “Hello, Cathy.”

“Before you say anything more, just listen. I didn’t know he was going to see you, but I wouldn’t have stopped him had I known. He could say the things I somehow can’t find the words for. Please don’t call me anymore, Elliot. Please.” And she hung up without saying goodbye.

The phone rang again, but Catherine had already grabbed the files she was reviewing to find an empty desk at which to work. The phone rang intermittently for another half hour.

* * *

Of course, he showed up in his limo as she was leaving the office after work. Ignoring him, she walked toward the curb to hail a cab.

“Cathy, please! I need to talk to you!”

His shouts mingled with the noise of traffic as she told the cab driver where to take her.

* * *

As she entered the lobby of her apartment building, she saw a huge floral display being brought in from a van. “Marvin,” she said, addressing the counter man, “if those are for me, please re-direct delivery to St. Vincent’s Hospital for their patients. I’ll pay the extra charge. Use my house account.”

Instead of heading upstairs to her apartment, she took the stairs to the sub-basement. She wasn’t really dressed for trekking in the tunnels, but she needed to find Devin. Leaving her briefcase in her storage room, she descended the ladder to her threshold. She wasn’t surprised to find Vincent waiting there…but Devin being with him was unexpected. Both men were surprised when she hugged Devin first.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his ear before releasing him and turning to Vincent, who got the longer, closer embrace.

The relief on Devin’s face was evident when she finally released Vincent. “Thought you’d slap me, not hug me,” he admitted.

“For standing up for me? For saying what needed to be said? I never slap knights in shining armor.” She smiled.

He rolled his eyes. “Awww…gosh, sis.”

Vincent’s eyebrows rose at his brother’s last comment, but his face relaxed and he managed a small smile.

“With you two in my corner, I feel well protected and well loved. And you’ve given me the courage to stay strong against the onslaught of gifts, calls and pleading which has already started.” Catherine related what had happened subsequent to Devin’s visit to Elliot.

“That man is incorrigible,” Devin mumbled.

“He’s used to getting what he wants…and he knows how to get under my skin, which buttons to push to work on my sympathy. I thought he cared about me and so tried to treat him kindly in his disappointment, but I’m realizing that even though he’s changing many things about himself for the better, his nature remains the same.”

“He’s a predator.” Vincent spoke for the first time. “It helps him in business, but it’s no way to treat someone he claims to love.”

Nodding, she added, “I have given him the benefit of the doubt for the last time. I promise.”

“Is he going to seek revenge? Come after me or Vincent?” Devin shrugged. “I don’t care about me, I can disappear in so many ways, and my trails grow cold pretty quickly. But Vincent says he knows about the tunnels, at least a bit. And he heard Vincent, even if he didn’t see him. Do we have to worry?”

She turned to Vincent. “Maybe block the Central Park entrance and the area near the manhole where we went into the tunnels? At least temporarily? He only knows those two access points. I realize it will be inconvenient but…”

“It’s already been done. Right after he left the tunnels. A precaution we always take when there’s been an accidental breach.”

“He’s had his guy do an extensive background check on you, Cathy – family, friends, neighbors…the whole nine yards. He may have surveillance on you still.”

Alarm lit her face. “I had no idea. All right. For now, I’ll come Below only from my threshold, and you both stay Below. Devin, I mean it – don’t come Above for a while.”

“Will you see him again?” Vincent’s entire body was tense.

“I’ll speak to him in my office, with others around. Joe probably would relish being in the room when I talk to Elliot. He’s never trusted the man.”

“I always liked Joe.” Devin chuckled.

Then a frown appeared on Catherine’s face. “Maybe meeting in my office isn’t the best plan. Several people there could identify you if Elliot chooses to bring your picture with him. I’m sure he’s had one taken.”

“Where then? Not anywhere private?” Devin spoke before Vincent could ask the same questions.

“Chinatown?” she suggested. “Lin and Henry’s restaurant? We could ask a few Helpers to be there as patrons so I’m not alone, although I’ll seem to be. Witnesses, in case things go badly. But I don’t think they will.”

Vincent nodded. He would be able to linger nearby. As would Devin.

“OK, the next time he calls…”

* * *

“How do you know this place?” Elliot slid into the booth where Catherine was drinking tea, waiting for him.

“It was a favorite of my Dad’s.” That was a safe enough lie.

“Okay. Well, thank you for seeing me. I want to…”

She held up a hand to stop him. “I’m here for me to talk and you to just listen. Understand?”

A hurt expression crossed his face, but he just nodded.

“I am deeply sorry for the loss of your father and the horrible way the CIA treated you. But I don’t want to know more than I already do about your construction problems or your interests in foreign countries. Your business is your business. And we have to come to an understanding, right now.”

He sat watching her, but she could tell he was just waiting for her to finish before launching into what he wanted to say. She hoped her next words would make any arguments he was queuing up meaningless.

“I thought we could be friends, but I see now there’s always going to be something in you wanting more, pushing me for more. I can’t continue a friendship under those circumstances. So…this is our last meeting, our last conversation. Goodbye, Elliot.”

As she rose to leave the booth, he caught and held her hand. She struggled to pull away but his grip was firm. One of the other “customers” began to rise to assist her, only to sit down again after noting the slight shake of Catherine’s head.

“I can change. I want to be a better man. You make me a better man,” he said, pleading with her.

“I’m no magician. You have to make those changes on your own. Now please, let go of me.”

Reluctantly, he did.

“Do you understand me?”

He sucked in a breath to say more but instead just let it out slowly and nodded.

“You promise – no more calls, no more visits, no more gifts?”

He shut his eyes and turned his face from her, but he nodded once again.

She walked out of the restaurant to a cab driven by a Helper, who took her around the block to Dr. Wong’s shop and let her out. She descended to the tunnels from there.

* * *

“Do you think he finally got the message?” Devin asked as they sat in Vincent’s chamber.

“If not, my next move will be to get a restraining order against him. I have multiple witnesses from the restaurant who can testify that I told him to keep away from me in no uncertain terms, and that he grabbed my hand in an attempt to delay my leaving.”

“Will it come to that, do you think?” Vincent asked.

“I’m more concerned about him trying to find his way back into the tunnels. If he did, it wouldn’t be for revenge, but for leverage, if he thinks he can convince me to protect what matters most to me by keeping him in my life. Only time will tell. But truly…” she shrugged, “I think he got the message, finally.”

“Let’s keep our guard up for the next few months, though,” Devin suggested. “Maintain the barriers in the places where he knows about the entrances. And I’ll keep Below to avoid the chance he’s still watching your friends.”

“I’m so sorry.” She had tears in her eyes as she gazed back and forth at them. “Everyone will be inconvenienced by the Park entrance being blocked.”

“The alternative is discovery. Nobody will mind temporary inconvenience compared to that possibility.” Vincent nodded emphatically to underscore the point.

“Thank you, both of you. And please thank the community. I’m so sorry my relationship with Elliot ended up bringing all this trouble to them.”

* * *

Two months later, the newspaper headlines screamed in 20-point type: BURCH MURDERED!

Catherine gasped as she unfolded her New York Times to read the accompanying story. A car bomb, a young socialite he was dating also killed when his limo blew up, a shadowy link to some scandal in Santo Irisado that may or may not have been the reason for his murder. Police were searching for his limo driver, who had exited the vehicle shortly before the explosion. A spokesperson from Burch Enterprises disavowed any activities beyond building a hotel on the island nation, maintaining that the government of President Torreon had no right to nationalize the nearly-completed structure.

She sat down heavily on her couch and dropped the newspaper. Elliot…gone.

He had been true to his word and hadn’t tried to contact her after their meeting at the restaurant. Helpers drafted into action had uncovered no surreptitious monitoring of her activities. Gradually, the closed entrances were re-opened – first for a few hours in the dead of night, and later for longer and during the day. No untoward activity had been detected at either location which could be described as surveillance.

Tears sprang to Catherine’s eyes. She could mourn the man, even as she thanked the heavens that she had ended their relationship fully, to the point of planting a short article in the society pages. It “revealed” a final break in what once had been a continuing friendship between the two of them, even after they were no longer dating. Juicy gossip was juicy gossip, and the columnist was as happy to report a parting of ways as she had been, much earlier, to reveal that they had started dating.  A smaller, shorter article, perhaps, but considering the number of acquaintances who had contacted her after it had appeared, the impact was satisfying.

She brought the article Below, but they had already been informed by any number of Helpers.

Devin immediately went Above to visit some old haunts, unworried about being seen anymore.

Catherine sat with Vincent in his chamber. His physical wounds had long since healed, but Catherine suspected the emotional pain caused by Elliot’s attention to her was only now going to recede.

“You are sad.” It was a statement, one she couldn’t refute; their Bond told him clearly how she was feeling.

“Of course. He was murdered in his prime. Just because I couldn’t be his friend didn’t mean I wished him harm. And we shared some moments that will resonate with me forever, for good and for ill.” Honesty was the best choice, even as she wished she could lie a bit to spare his feelings.

“Yes. But I also sense…relief. A cloud has passed over you and the sun shines a bit brighter now.” He smiled, letting her know that same cloud had fled his jurisdiction, for many reasons.

She had other news, something that troubled her a bit, but that she had no choice about.

“Tell me.”

Of course, he sensed her trepidation. “I was contacted by an attorney just before I came Below. A registered letter was delivered, advising me that I must attend the reading of Elliot’s will. Apparently, I’m a beneficiary. “

He frowned. “Had he mentioned anything about this to you?”

“No. And I have no idea what I was left in his will – it could be anything from a sentimental item of little value to a bequest of some size, or something in between.”

“One final gift from Elliot…”

“The man got the last word, I suppose.”

He leaned toward her and put one arm around her shoulders. “You have the last word. You can choose to accept or reject the bequest, can you not?”

“It depends.” She shrugged, but not enough to move his arm from around her. “Tax law being what it is, the value might determine things. But generally, yes, I can refuse it. It’s called disclaiming an inheritance. We’ll just have to wait.”

“You’ll come Below immediately after?”

She reached her arms out to encircle his waist. “Of course. Whatever happens, I’ll share the news with you first.”

* * *

That was a promise Catherine couldn’t keep. Before she’d even left the reading of the will, leaks had occurred, and television stations in New York were breaking the news that Catherine Chandler, once a close friend and confidant of the late Elliot Burch, had inherited the bulk of his vast personal fortune.

* * *

Catherine slipped into the DA’s offices so early the next morning that the news hounds hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. She’d had to disconnect her home phone after her voice mailbox had filled up and the ringing wouldn’t stop. A sleepless night made rising early to get a jump on the day seem reasonable.

Of course, Joe was already hard at work.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. “Didn’t expect you in today…or any day, now that you’re swimming in Burch’s millions.” He sat back and twiddled a rubber band between his wrists as he smiled at her. “Need some coffee?”

She sank into a chair in front of his desk. “I’d pay a million bucks for one…and I literally can now.” Her tired smile belied her attempt at humor.

He rose to grab two cups of freshly brewed coffee as she sat with her head back, eyes closed.

“Here.” He held a cup under her chin. “’Wake up and smell the coffee,’ as someone usually says.”

She opened her eyes and smiled, then took the offering, wrapping her palms around the cup. “Thanks.”

He returned to his chair behind the desk. “Given any thought to next moves?”

“How to get rid of a fortune so it doesn’t take over the rest of my life? I’m open to suggestions.” She took a sip and made a face. “Bitter and hot.” She smirked as she added, “Just like you!”

He chuckled. “I guess a sexual harassment claim won’t work now that you probably have your resignation letter in that briefcase.” He indicated the bulging case she’d laid at her feet when she’d sat down.

She sighed and closed her eyes, muttering, “What’s a little sexual harassment between friends.” She took another sip without opening her eyes.

“We are, you know. Friends.” He tapped his desk to get her attention. “Were before. Are now. I’ll help in any way I can. Whether this is a blessing or a curse bestowed on you by the late, mostly unlamented Elliot Burch remains to be seen.”

She sat up. “While I have not been sleeping, I have been lying in bed thinking of turning it into more blessing than curse.” She then briefly described her ideas…some contributed by Vincent, some by Devin, some by Father, with her own ideas chief among them.

“Wow, you really didn’t sleep last night!” He contemplated her exhausted countenance and said, “If you need to get away for a day, my bed wasn’t slept in last night, the sheets have been changed, and you’re welcome to hide away there for a while. Think things over while I keep the hounds at bay.”

She thought again of what a good friend he was, and how caring he was…and how here, too, was a man she had to be careful about – even her crack about sexual harassment was unwise, simply for opening a door ever so slightly that needed to remain firmly shut.

“I assume there will be lawsuits challenging the will. Some distant relatives coming out of the woodwork perhaps. Business associates reporting ‘handshake promises’ – even his board throwing up roadblocks. So…I won’t have my hands on the funds for a while…years, probably, if at all.”

He nodded. “Fair assessment. But…?”

“But I plan to have my ideas fully formed in the interim, even publish them, to show the world I don’t intend to profit from his death.”

He shifted in his chair and tapped the notebook he’d opened to take notes on her ideas as she laid them out. “Well, I challenge anyone to suggest this plan is self-serving. You are basically setting up financial arrangements for every social service activity conceivable, from funding food banks to paying college tuition for underserved youth. It’s hard to argue against this stuff unless you’re a greedy oligarch who doesn’t want to share toys.”

“And most importantly, I stay out of everything once the foundation and its bylaws are set up. Since I won’t be on any board or have any decision-making authority, I can walk away from his legacy, leaving it in good hands.”

“You really think you’ll be able to get on with your life, go back into the shadows again as a normal, overworked and underpaid civil servant?”

“Tell me that after a few years anyone will even remember my name.” She shook her head. “People get distracted easily. The foundation will carry on with only Elliot’s name on it and with others bestowing the funds. I’ll be ‘Catherine who?’ in short order.”

He shrugged. “If you say so. Can’t argue on the short attention span of the general public. Anyway, anything you need from me, you just have to tell me.”

“Good. I do have one thing you need to do for me.”

“Go for it.”

“You promise to say you will?”

“I told ya, Radcliffe, anything.”

“You’ll run the foundation.”

“Hey! I don’t…”

“You don’t have any way to squirm out of it, not after you double-promised to do whatever I asked!”

“Sneaky. You know I’m not good at that kind of thing.”

“On the contrary, you are someone who knows the world, knows people, and knows your own mind. Nobody can push you around and you are a very persuasive talker. All the elements you need to run the foundation. People can be hired for the technical stuff. I want someone strong, unimpeachable, and competent at its head. That’s you, boss, down to your bones.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then began to nod as he opened them.

“Damn, Radcliffe. OK. OK, I’ll do it. For you, not for that asshole who left you his money.”

“Spend it in ways that would make him grind his teeth!”

He chuckled. “I like that! It’s my new mantra.”

* * *

It took five years, but after everyone wanting to challenge Burch’s will had had their day in court…and lost, Joseph Maxwell became the face of The Burch Foundation. Catherine had been right – he was the perfect tough-as-nails but tender-hearted person for the job.

Also, as she had predicted, when she ran for the office of Manhattan District Attorney, there was hardly a mention in the papers that the newly elected DA had set up then walked away from The Burch Foundation.

Vincent had years earlier outfitted the brownstone Catherine purchased with Tunnel access, assisted by his brother Devin and many of those Below. And what went on behind closed curtains there was the subject of no speculation at all. The new DA was just a homebody, not unexpected for someone who worked long and hard for the city she loved.