“It wasn’t courage, Vincent…it was love.” Catherine stared up into his eyes and he realised it was true. She really did love him; he could feel it within her and the intensity of the emotion almost overwhelmed him. Time seemed to slide forward and stop as they gazed at each other in that murky threshold between his world and hers, and for a moment he thought she might kiss him, and he wondered how he would react if she did. Before he had time to agonise over his possible response, however, she lowered her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. He almost said something banal about making her dirty, but he stopped himself. She was almost as dirty as he was anyway, and even if she hadn’t been, Catherine wouldn’t have cared.

Mouse’s efforts with the explosive had almost blown them all to kingdom come, but between them – his young friend and the woman he loved – they had saved his life and Father’s. Later, Vincent decided, he would have to establish just exactly where all that explosive had come from since he was sure it hadn’t been in the tunnels, or certainly shouldn’t have been. But for now it would have to wait. He hadn’t the strength or the inclination to do anything other than sleep. A mental image of Catherine lying beside him, stroking his hair and rubbing his aching shoulders, flashed through his head, but he stubbornly prevented it from returning.

Father. Vincent knew it had almost been too late for Father.  His heartbeat and breathing had been growing steadily weaker, and Vincent’s constant efforts to keep the old man conscious were having less and less effect. If Mouse and Catherine had not arrived when they did, Father would be dead now. Of that, Vincent had not the slightest doubt.

Catherine moved out of his embrace and looked up at him one more time before turning to walk away. The bond resonated with emotion that neither one of them felt able to put into words without breaking down. But there was no need for words.  They both knew. Vincent stepped into the shadow and watched her from the gap in the broken wall. They had not arranged to see each other again, but he knew that the following evening would find him on her balcony just as surely as morning would follow this dark, almost tragic night.

When Catherine had disappeared from sight, Vincent turned and walked slowly back towards his chamber.  Now that the drama was over, he had no more responsibilities this night. Father was safely tucked up asleep in the hospital chamber being cosseted by Mary and having oxygen and other medication administered by Peter whenever he needed it, and Catherine had left. The realisation caused a wave of exhaustion to course through Vincent and he stumbled slightly, reaching behind him to steady himself against the cool, rock wall. He remembered then that he, too, was under strict instructions to rest. He had been so busy helping with Father; reassuring Mouse that, yes, he was fine and yes, Father would be fine too in a few days, and no, he felt sure The Silence wouldn’t be re-imposed; allowing Catherine to weep against him, twisting her fingers in his vest as she blurted out her fears. He had held her tenderly, not really noticing the discomfort around his ribs when she squeezed him.

All that had been going on over the last two hours and now Vincent was alone. His dragging footsteps eventually led him into his chamber and he dropped heavily onto the bed. Taking a deep breath, which made him wince, he unlaced his filthy, dust-laden vest and dropped it on the floor. He hadn’t the energy to do anything else with it right now. Vincent unbuttoned his shirt with stiff, scraped fingers. He pulled back his shoulders to remove it and could have sworn his shoulder blades ground together. Pains shot through his back, chest, and just about everywhere else. Vincent looked down, vaguely surprised, though he really shouldn’t have been, to see bruises already forming on his arms and chest. There were no deep wounds; his clothing had protected him from the worst, but there were grazes, which were tender when prodded by investigative, clawed fingers. Immediately, a childhood memory filtered into his mind.

He’d slipped and fallen on a rock at the Mirror Pool, grazing his knee so badly that Father had been sent for. He’d cleansed and bound the knee and told Vincent to keep his leg up for the rest of the evening. But, at eight years old, the child had been impatient for it to heal, peering through the folds of bandage and poking at the bloodied gauze with his fingers.

         “It hurts when I do this, Devin.”

         “Well, don’t do it then.”

Vincent smiled at the recollection. How typical of a brother’s logic; how typical of Devin.

He sighed. He’d told Peter he didn’t need any medical attention even though the doctor had pleaded with him to allow himself to be examined. Father was the one who needed his care, Vincent had insisted. And it was true. What were a few bruises compared to the enormity of almost losing his beloved Father?

Toeing off his boots, Vincent sank backwards on the bed, drawing his legs up slowly.  He closed his eyes, knowing he’d probably be sorry in the morning that he was too tired right now to take a bath. He would have to apologise to Mary and the girls from the laundry room for the fact he hadn’t undressed properly and was probably making the bedclothes filthy.

Vincent’s jumbled thoughts evaporated as he fell sound asleep.

Bellowing at the children to leave as the rumble of falling rock intensified, he used all his strength to hold up the shaking pillar. He could feel it crumbling; it seemed as if even the ground beneath his feet was threatening to disappear. Father, too, put his shoulder beside Vincent’s, refusing to leave, despite his snarled orders. Dust and falling rocks rained on their heads from the cavern roof, and Vincent knew even his great strength was as nothing compared with the natural disaster so feared in the Tunnel community. His last thought was a prayer…that the children and Father had somehow managed to escape. Then there was a tremendous roar and a shaking that bore comparison to a 1.8 Richter earthquake reading, and Vincent knew no more.

He couldn’t open his eyes. He was conscious; thinking fairly clearly; remembering even, but his eyes were held down. He tried to flex his fingers and move his legs but that didn’t work either. In fact, he couldn’t move at all. A flicker of fear twisted in Vincent’s gut; a sensation which increased tenfold when he realised he couldn’t breathe very well either. A heavy weight was across his chest, crushing him.

The words “buried alive” flashed into Vincent’s sub-conscious together with fragmented memories of stories by Edgar Allan Poe. A sudden sensation of panic gripped Vincent’s heart as fiercely as his own claws might. Father! With a superhuman effort born of sheer instinct for survival, Vincent pushed upwards and managed to dislodge the huge boulder across his torso, rolling it away the few inches necessary for him to pull his arms out. He fell back, panting and exhausted for a second, but almost immediately levered himself up again and tugged at the rocks, which covered the rest of him. They weren’t quite so large, and soon he had clambered to his feet and stood unsteadily looking about him as he choked and gagged on the fine dust which obscured his vision. Blinking over the grit, Vincent’s eyes slowly adjusted to the greyness of the cavern and he detected a terrifyingly still figure slumped in a heap of rubble about twelve feet away. As Vincent moved closer, the old man’s head rolled backwards and his lifeless eyes stared upwards from a face as transparently pale as parchment. A thin trickle of blood oozed from one corner of the slack mouth. FATHER!

***

Catherine climbed the ladder slowly and had almost reached the basement of her apartment building when she paused. Why was she leaving, for Heaven’s sake?  Vincent had almost died tonight. For the very first time, she’d known something was terribly wrong, felt his fear and distress and responded to it. Even metaphorically crawling to Elliot Burch and pleading for…no, demanding his help in supplying the explosives and equipment. And thank God she had. If that one avenue hadn’t been available to her to explore, following her brief relationship with the self-made millionaire, Vincent and Father would probably be dead. Father had been barely conscious when they found him and Vincent wouldn’t have been able to hold out indefinitely.

Her treatment of Elliot had, actually, been pretty shabby, considering his acquiescence to her barely civil demands. She’d told him she’d be in next time he called; how magnanimous of her. Well, she may not want a romantic relationship with Elliot any more, but he deserved a hell of a lot more than he’d gotten from her recently. Catherine made a mental note to apologise…and soon. But right now there was something more important on her mind.

Why, in God’s name was she leaving? Father was in good hands, but what about Vincent? Who would watch over and care for him post-trauma? He would be alone now, with no one to turn to or confide in if he needed to talk. A sob caught in Catherine’s throat. How could she possibly have thought of leaving him?

Turning awkwardly on the ladder, she began to descend again as hurriedly as she could.

***

Vincent shot upright in bed, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and cheeks.  The vividness of the dream had replayed and twisted the all too recent memories, distorting the reality. With his heart thundering, Vincent swung his legs over the edge of the bed and braced his arms either side of him, gasping, as he took a moment to absorb the reality of his chamber and the fact he and Father were safe. Shakily, he got to his feet and moved to the bureau, leaning his head against the rock wall above, needing its solidity and coolness. His distress obscured his usual sensitivity to Catherine’s presence and he didn’t even know she was near, but suddenly she was behind him and her arms were around his waist, her cheek against his damp back. He turned, making a small sound in his throat.

“Catherine,” he murmured. “You’re here?”

“Yes, Sweetheart, I’m here. Forgive me for leaving you, I…” She held him close, stroking his back and shoulders, feeling the trembling he seemed unable to control.

“I’m so glad you came,” he confessed. “I – I had a dream. I couldn’t breathe and – and Father was dead.” He held onto her as if the warm reality of her could take away all the terrible memories, and Catherine swallowed down on the sobs that filled her throat. She held him as tightly as she could, whispering reassurances close to his ear, not certain exactly how best she could help him; knowing only that she would strive even harder in future to protect him from anything and anyone that might hurt him.

After several minutes, he seemed to grow heavier in her arms and Catherine shook him gently. “Come and sit down, Vincent.  You need to rest and sleep.”

“Yes.” He concurred without the slightest protest, and this told her more about his state of mind and body than any words he might have offered.

“I must have fallen asleep immediately,” he remarked quietly.

“And woken after only a few minutes. It’s barely twenty minutes since you left me at the threshold.”

Vincent glanced at her still grubby face and touched his thumb to her cheek. “You returned because you thought I might need you?”

“Yes. I don’t know how I could ever have left after what you’ve been through tonight.  Forgive me for being so thoughtless, Vincent, but I’m here for you now so please don’t lecture me about the impropriety of us being here together in your chamber, or some other nonsense.” 

With a great effort Vincent managed a small smile. “I don’t have the strength for a lecture right now, Catherine. I’m just grateful for your presence. I thought I would be able to cope with what happened, but I’m finding out that it isn’t that simple.”

“I know. I’ll help you, stay with you. Why don’t you lie down?”

“If I lie down I’ll fall asleep and…”

“You’re afraid you’ll have the nightmare again?” 

He nodded and looked away, ashamed of such weakness in the light of Catherine’s courage and bravery tonight. Gently, she turned him to face her and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, knowing exactly what was in his heart.

“Vincent, you lived that nightmare…no one else. You and Father. You nearly died …would  have if we hadn’t been able to reach you when we did. Father was very weak; he would have died of his injuries. You would have suffocated. What happened tonight was terrifying. It was bad enough for me…I was so afraid I was losing you.  But I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for you and Father. So, if you need to talk about this, then I’m listening; and I don’t just mean tonight. Please don’t bottle up your insecurities and fears from me, Vincent.”

“I am supposed to be strong,” he muttered. “It is my job to protect them all. That is who I am to them. Their Protector.” 

Catherine pushed her right hand beneath his hair and began to gently knead his back.  He tilted his head back, leaning into her hand, and sighed. He closed his eyes and Catherine ran her left hand soothingly across the top of his chest. He breathed deeply and she felt immediately guilty and ashamed for the stirring of arousal she experienced at the feel of the silky hardness of his chest expanding beneath her hand.  She had never touched him this intimately before, even to comfort him. Catherine swallowed hard and forced herself to remember why she was here.

“I think you underestimate their feelings for you, Vincent. They all love you, as I do.  Well…” she paused to inject a softly delivered lighter note, “..not in quite the same way I do,” but if he noticed, he didn’t react, so she continued. “They must understand there will be times when you can’t be strong for them, or for me. You’re just a man…made of flesh and blood.” Catherine eased his head on to her shoulder and kissed his hair the way he had done to her on numerous occasions. “And this is one of those times.”  He didn’t reply, but moved one hand to squeeze her right thigh gently through her jeans.

Catherine continued to hold and stroke him until a gradual increase in his weight against her told her he’d fallen asleep. Then, very slowly and taking care to support him all the time, she manoeuvred him backwards onto the bed. He didn’t wake even when she lifted his legs, and for that she was grateful. He was heavy and Catherine was breathing hard when she had him safely lying down. She wished she could have undressed him properly and gotten him beneath the comforter, but Vincent wouldn’t have thanked her for removing his pants. He hadn’t yet seemed to realise that he was shirtless in her presence, and no doubt he’d be apologizing for that when he was feeling more like himself. Catherine smiled tenderly down at the splendour of his bare chest and reached out to touch him lightly. He was as beautiful as she’d always known he would be…apart from the blackening bruises and scrapes to his tender, golden flesh.

Catherine stood up and walked into Vincent’s bathchamber. His toiletries weren’t exactly out of the Calvin Klein range, just a stick of anti-perspirant and a large bar of soap that looked as if it had been fashioned from many small pieces. Her heart contracted and she felt a tear fill and drop from her eye before she could stop it. His home and his needs were so heart-wrenchingly simple. There was a wide-toothed comb and a hairbrush that still contained long, fair strands of his hair. Close to weeping, Catherine picked it up and smelled it, fingering the strands lovingly.

“Oh, Vincent,” she whispered, pressing it to her heart. “I love you so much. And I never knew it would feel like this.”

After a moment or two she put down the brush, forcing herself back to practical matters and managed to find an almost empty tube of antiseptic cream. Returning to the main chamber, she sat down carefully beside Vincent and applied the last of the cream to his grazed skin. Nothing would help the bruises; they would have to come out fully and eventually fade, but perhaps, Catherine mused, she would be able to persuade Vincent to have a relaxing soak in the tub in the morning. His muscles would stiffen up dreadfully overnight.

Catherine debated briefly about where to spend the night. Tempting as it was to curl up beside Vincent and hold him close, she thought that just might be going too far for this troubled, gentle soul who was always so fearful of any intimacy between them.  On the other hand, he badly needed her closeness and comforting presence. There had been other occasions during their relationship when he had needed her, most notably when he’d been captured and tortured by a vicious street gang, and again when a greedy, unprincipled scientist and his colleague had drugged and imprisoned Vincent for media attention and financial gain. Both times Catherine had searched desperately for him and found him just in time. He’d understood then that he was far more to her than just a very dear friend, but he still refused to acknowledge the possibility that they might have any kind of romantic future together.

With a rueful smile, Catherine dragged Vincent’s favourite chair as close to the bed as possible and curled up in it with a cushion, tucking her legs under her. She pummelled the cushion into a comfortable shape and leaned her head against it.  Taking a last look at Vincent, apparently sleeping peacefully, she closed her eyes.  She felt she could sleep for a year herself. Maybe, she prayed, Vincent would be so exhausted that his brain wouldn’t even allow nightmares admittance.

She thought she’d only just closed her eyes, but it could have been much longer.  Without warning, she was awakened by a sound from the bed. Her eyes flew open and she saw Vincent sitting bolt upright in bed, his eyes wild with terror and sweating profusely.  He was gasping for air.

“Vincent…”

“Can’t breathe,” he gulped. “We’re trapped!”

“No, it’s okay…” Before she could reach out to him, Vincent sprang out of bed and began pacing around the room. It was obvious he wasn’t fully awake and Catherine grew nervous. Never taking her eyes from him, she got to her feet and slowly moved closer. He whirled around, chest heaving, and stared at her with an expression of panic in his eyes.

“They’re all dead,” he rasped. “Couldn’t save them!”

“Vincent, wake up; you have to wake up, Sweetheart. You’re okay…”

“No!” he shouted, clutching his chest, “I can’t breathe!” Catherine knew she had to stop him from trying to go Above. Scooting past him, she held out her arms across the gap, the futility of it escaping her momentarily. When Vincent lunged towards her, she threw her arms around his waist and hung on for dear life, leaning her slight weight against him and praying he’d wake fully.

“Vincent, please…please wake up!”

“Catherine?” Her name was a ragged gasp torn from his throat, but it was enough to bring her a measure of relief, confirming that he had, indeed, regained his grip on reality. “Forgive me…I frightened you.” He tensed and touched her shoulders, trying to ease out of her death-like grip. 

Now what? thought Catherine. What mask is he going to put on now? He’s embarrassed and disturbed at his behaviour, despite what I told him earlier. She allowed him to break free of the embrace, but retained a hold on his arm. “Come and sit down on the bed. You need to calm down.”

“In a moment.” He crossed the room and paused at the doorway to the bathchamber, hesitating. The sweat was running down his face and he wiped a hand across his brow.

“You’re awfully hot, Vincent; would you like some water?”

“I can get it myself.”

“Let me.” Catherine ducked into the bathchamber and poured water into a mug. She handed it to him through the doorway and he drank it straight down. “More?”

“Mmm. Please.” The second mug was consumed almost as quickly, but Vincent poured the last quarter over his neck and chest, spreading the cold liquid over his body with his hands to cool himself.  Catherine gulped.  What he’d done was perfectly reasonable and logical given the circumstances, but his action had taken her by surprise and she hadn’t expected to be so incredibly aroused by it.  It was even more appealing because Vincent was completely oblivious to the sensual sight he presented.  To cover her awkwardness, Catherine reached for a towel from the bathchamber and stepped close to him, patting his chest and shoulders dry.  He stood, unmoving, allowing her to do whatever she offered.  He was still trying to catch his breath.

“Where did you think you were going?” Catherine asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. Above, perhaps; to get away from that choking prison that had become Father’s tomb. I couldn’t bear it any longer. All I could think of was reaching somewhere I could breathe.” 

Catherine laid the towel aside and put her left hand on Vincent’s back. As she massaged the rigid area between his shoulder blades, she tentatively circled the hollow under his ribs with the other hand, pressing inward gently to get his attention.

“You can breathe, Vincent, there’s plenty of air in here. Just relax and take slow, deep breaths, okay?” He nodded and did as he was told, forcing himself into a calm state he didn’t truly feel. After a few minutes with neither one of them speaking, he moved away and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring straight ahead.

“It was the same dream again. It was so real…and so much more terrifying than the reality.”

“You said…they’re all dead, Vincent,” Catherine replied, joining him on the bed.  “Who did you mean?”

“Father and…the children. Those beautiful children.” His voice shook and he broke off. When he turned to look at her, his eyes were bright with tears. “I could feel the dust in my lungs…see the hand of Death on Father’s shoulder.” He shuddered and Catherine put both arms around him, leaning her head against his.

“Everything’s okay, Sweetheart. No one’s dead. The children got away safely, Father is doing fine and so are you. You just need rest and time to get over this.” 

He nodded slowly. “Yes.  I must get ahold of myself. I am sorry, Catherine.”

“Oh, Vincent…” Impulsively, Catherine kept one arm around his shoulders and wound the other around his head, pulling it protectively against her and stroking his hair. A rush of emotion flooded her heart and soul and she bit her lip to prevent it spilling out in words that might frighten him with their truth and power.

She had thought she’d loved before. Stephen had been her first, serious true love; the first with whom she’d shared her dreams and planned a future with. She’d walked around a foot above the ground for two weeks when he’d proposed. It hadn’t been quite as passionate with Tom Gunther, although he’d been tender and sweet at first, and Catherine hadn’t found him unattractive. She told herself that love would grow in what promised to be a successful partnership. With Elliot, there had been an undeniable, chemical attraction. He was handsome, rich, powerful, and charismatic;  a fatal combination of attributes that any woman would find hard to resist.

He’d charmed her, wined and dined her, and there was definitely an intense, mutual physical attraction. If he hadn’t shown himself to be less than scrupulous in his business dealings… But there had been Vincent even then. Their relationship had been very new and undefined even for Catherine. She hadn’t, at that time, even considered that she might fall deeply in love with him. She knew she cared for him; realised how much she would miss him if she never saw him again, which she suspected would be the case if she continued her relationship with Elliot. Vincent had been so terribly hurt. He’d tried to tell her his feelings didn’t matter; that she wasn’t to struggle with her emotions; that she was bound to find someone to whom she could give her love freely as it should be given. But she knew he was dying inside as he said it.

Catherine smiled against Vincent’s hair and blinked away a second tear before it could fall. How little she’d known about real, true love. She knew now that she loved Vincent with every fibre of her being, deeply, truly and passionately. She responded to him on every level. She wanted to protect him and be protected by him; give herself to him body and soul and have him give himself to her; to share her life with him if he’d let her. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so much for someone.  While being totally oblivious to it himself, Vincent seemed able to draw out emotions in her she hadn’t even known she possessed, and what had happened tonight had shown her – if she’d been in any doubt before – just how very much she loved him and how pointless life would be if she were to lose him.

Vincent eased away from Catherine’s death-like grip and looked worriedly into her eyes. “What is it, Catherine? I feel tremendous emotion in you…is something disturbing you?” 

Catherine smiled through eyes that were misty with tears. Damn right something was ‘disturbing’ her. The tide of emotions she’d experienced must have hammered through him, but he’d never associate them with himself; never dream that those feelings of lust could possibly be directed towards him. Well, that was okay. They could tackle that kind of conversation when Vincent was feeling stronger. Her job right now was to help him through the effects of post-trauma.

Touching her hand to his face, she stroked his forehead, still damp with perspiration.

“I’m fine, Vincent. Just very, very grateful that you’re alive. No…” She stopped him with a finger against his lips as he was about to voice his own words of gratitude.  “Don’t say anything. Just try and relax and rest, okay?” 

He inclined his head in submission. “I will rest, but…I do not wish to sleep. Please, Catherine, I will be fine. Perhaps you should return Above. You have to work tomorrow.”

“Vincent, I’m staying right here with you tonight. Please…try and sleep. I’ll be with you if you have that bad dream again.”

“No.  I –I cannot take the risk. It is not only for myself that I’m afraid, but for you.  Catherine, I awoke not knowing where I was…disoriented. I could have hurt you, and if that should happen, I…” He broke off, tortured yet again by ‘what might have been’.

“Okay, I won’t try and force you to sleep. Just lie down and relax. I’ll read to you if you like.” 

Vincent shook his head. “No…thank you. If you are determined to stay, then you take the bed. If I lay down, I shall undoubtedly fall asleep. I really would prefer to sit in the chair.”

“But Vincent…”

“Please.” His voice was weary and held a trace of impatience, so Catherine decided not to upset him by arguing further. Against her better judgement she lay down on her side so that she could see him when he moved to the chair. He leaned back, resting his arm on the cushion, and they watched each other until Catherine’s eyelids began to droop and she fell fast asleep.

Vincent looked at her tenderly. She’d apologise in the morning for leaving him ‘alone’ while she slept, but it wasn’t important. She was there; that was all that mattered. When she was with him, the demons came less often, and when they did, she had always been able to exorcise them and calm his ragged soul. She truly was the brightest light in his life. Her love had given him so much. Recently, he’d even found the courage to hope for things he’d always believed could never be.

The sounds of the world Below awaking finally roused Catherine just after seven.  She’d turned in the night and was now facing Vincent’s arched, stained glass window.  She lay for a moment wondering what on earth she was doing here. Then she remembered and flung herself over to look for Vincent. He was nowhere in sight, but she heard water running in his bathchamber. Guiltily, she sprang out of bed and padded around, rubbing her eyes as she chastised herself. Some comfort she’d been.  She’d wanted to enclose him in a haven of safety and love, and all she’d done was fall asleep. Before she could remonstrate with herself further, the door creaked open and Vincent emerged. He looked tired and on edge, but he smiled when he saw her.

“Vincent, forgive me, I’m so sorry,” she began, but he silenced her with a gentle thumb against her lips.

“There is nothing whatever to forgive. You were exhausted and needed to sleep.  Please, not another word. The bathchamber is free for you to use whenever you wish.” He was wearing a gray, chambray shirt, open at the neck, and a patched leather tunic belted around his waist over faded black jeans. He wore white socks on his feet and Catherine realised she’d never seen him without boots on before. Somehow it made him adorably vulnerable. She slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, and a little sore. I dared not wash my hair, as I cannot seem to get a brush through it. It’s full of grit and dust.”

“Let me help. Here, sit down.” Taking his hand, she led him to the smaller of the two chairs in the room. This one didn’t have a high back, and Catherine made Vincent sit down. Placing a small rug on the floor to catch the bits, she began to try and untangle Vincent’s long hair, holding it carefully so as not to hurt him as she tugged and detangled the strands.

“Did you really stay awake all night?”

“Mmm. I read until the words began to blur on the pages, then I watched you sleeping. You looked so beautiful. Just before dawn you turned over and I went for a walk.”

“A walk? Where?”

“Just up and down the passageways outside. I was feeling very sleepy and it was all I could think of to keep me awake.”

“Oh, Vincent, why didn’t you wake me? I wanted  to help you; we could have talked, walked together, anything you needed.”

“I know, but I wanted you to sleep. You have to work today.”

“I don’t have to. I thought I’d stay here…with you.”

“No, Catherine, truly it is not necessary. I…”  He grunted suddenly and Catherine realised she’d hurt him with her vigorous efforts at untangling his hair.

“Vincent, I’m sorry; are you all right?”

“Of course.  I just have one or two areas that are still a little tender from being battered by rocks.”

“I should have realised; let me see.” Catherine immediately dropped the brush and bent to run her fingers tenderly through his hair, searching for any abrasions or lumps that might warrant Peter’s attention. She didn’t, for one moment, believe that Vincent would have bothered. All he’d cared about last night was getting Father taken care of. 

Vincent allowed himself a small chuckle. “There is nothing to worry about, Catherine, I assure you.”

“You’d say that if you’d split your head open and were bleeding to death.”

“Actually, I think if that were the case, you would find me to be quite vocal about it.” 

Catherine snorted, unconvinced, and continued to examine his head. After a moment or two she was relieved to find nothing more serious than a few small cuts where a trickle of blood had dried, and some tender bumps.

“Would you rather I stopped brushing your hair, Vincent? It can’t be very comfortable for you.”

“How much longer do you think it will take?”

“Well, not long, actually. Most of it is done and clean enough for washing.”

“Then please continue. I will probably go to the bathing pools later today.”

It had taken almost an hour to get Vincent’s hair free of all the bits of grit and smooth enough to get his brush through easily. It was still fluffy and more voluminous than usual because of the dust, but that would soon wash out. When he lifted his head after leaning back so long, he groaned. It felt like his neck was set solid, the muscles rock hard and painful.

“You poor love,” Catherine sympathised. “Don’t try and move. I’ll be right back.”  She gathered up the rug and tipped all the dirt into a small roughly carved bin.  Replacing the rug in front of the bureau, Catherine moved behind Vincent again and put her hands on his shoulders. She burrowed beneath his hair, loosened the neck of his shirt, and slipped her hands inside to massage his neck. She half expected him to protest and was pleased when he didn’t. She kneaded the hard, tense areas which had quite literally seized up, working primarily on the back of his neck. When he said it felt much easier, she encouraged him to lean back against her and concentrated on the area to the front of his shoulders and at the base of his throat. 

For ease of movement, Catherine casually nudged lower inside the neck of his shirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but he did. His eyes had been closed until then; his lips slightly parted as he revelled in the feel of her hands easing the pain in his neck.  Now, he twisted to look up at her, the blue eyes open and an expression of confusion on his face. Catherine held his gaze and ran her fingers up and down his throat with featherlight strokes as her fingers encountered warm, hard flesh, then a thick mat of springy curls as her questing hand travelled across his chest. She knew she was overstepping the boundaries. Vincent would not be comfortable with anything so intimate. He had allowed it last night because it had been offered, ostensibly, as a gesture of comfort, but this was pure sensuality and they both knew it.

Vincent’s breathing was audible now. Knowing it was only a matter of time before he stopped her, Catherine moved her hand to rest over his left breast and under her palm she felt the heavy, pulsing throb of his heart. It was accelerating with every second.  Dragging her eyes briefly from that brilliant blue gaze, she risked a glance between his thighs and saw a small movement in the discreet, masculine bulge from which she was usually careful to avert her eyes.

Vincent’s elbows rested on the arms of the chair and he found himself gripping the edges with his claws as she stroked his chest. No one had ever touched him in such a way and it made him feel…it made him feel…  Make her stop! his brain screamed.  Make her stop before these feelings she’s arousing in you cause you to lose control!   He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He loved the feel of her hands;  the neck massage had been wonderful. He knew he should have stopped her when she opened his shirt lower. Even Vincent wasn’t naive enough to believe that it needed to be open halfway down his chest to enable her to rub his neck. But he didn’t want to stop her. He felt a stirring in his most private area and found himself wondering what it would feel like to have Catherine touch him there. That thought, unwise as it was, made his heart throb harder and faster as he felt her other hand on his chest now;  stroking and caressing so delicately that his bruised and tender flesh now felt only an exquisite sensual stimulation from her gentle hands. He seemed incapable of speech.  All he could do was breathe unevenly and exult in the sensations, which were battering both his body and his mind.

The bond vibrated with an intense sexual attraction. Vincent could feel Catherine’s desires emanating from her in waves. She desperately wanted to make love with him; was becoming highly aroused just by touching him this way. It was giving her as much pleasure as it was him, and the realisation startled him. How, he wondered, could caressing his less than human body possibly excite her this way? He knew he was over-muscled and had far too much body hair. And as for his reproductive organs; well, even the name was a contradiction in terms – implying that he could reproduce a version of himself, when it was agonisingly obvious to anyone who had ever seen him, that such an occurrence was something to be avoided at all costs.

As Catherine located the smooth, sensitive nipples buried in the golden hair and began to stimulate him even further, Vincent finally got a grip on himself. “Catherine, this must stop…now!” He grabbed her hands and sprang to his feet, beginning to pace around the room.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered shakily. “I got a little carried away. I never meant to make you uncomfortable, Vincent.” It wasn’t strictly true and they both knew it. He turned and walked back to her, holding out his arms. She fell against him and found her cheek pressed tightly to his bare chest, feeling his rapid breathing as he tried to recover his composure. They held each other close; the evidence of Vincent’s arousal pressing between them so painfully that he didn’t even try to disguise it. The time for pretence was long past. It was not yet time to give in to those all-encompassing sensations; there was still much that needed to be discussed, but Vincent had felt Catherine’s desire for him, a desire which frankly bordered on lust, and although it staggered and amazed him, it also warmed him with hope and an intense pleasure he had never known.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked.

“For what? I know how you feel about intimacy, Vincent. I should never have done what I did.”

“No. You’re wrong. I enjoyed what you did. I loved the feel of your hands on me.”  He paused, taking a much-needed breath and gathering the courage to continue. “No one has ever touched me that way before.I found it…frighteningly…stimulating. It reminded me that I have a certain…sexuality…within me that I have denied for many years. No, don’t look at me, Catherine,” he pleaded as she tried to see his face. “I shall not have the courage to continue with what I have to say if you do.” He hesitated again, trying to calm his breathing and not deafen her with his heartbeat.

“You can tell me anything…and I will understand and just love you all the more,” she murmured, turning her lips to press a kiss on a bruise in the center of his chest. It helped.

“I have always tried to keep you at arm’s length, Catherine… metaphorically speaking…because of the uncertainty about my origins. And most especially because of that dark force inside me. I fear if I were to lose myself in a situation of … passion…then I might lose control in just such a way and…hurt you. And if that were to happen…”

“Vincent, when you lose control in those bad times, the emotion fuelling you is anger, rage, fear… sometimes all three. The feelings you have when you’re with me come from love…just as powerful an emotion, but very different. Please don’t worry about it, Sweetheart. I promise I won’t push you into doing something you’re not comfortable with; at least, I’ll try my damnedest not to. But whenever I’m with you, I feel so much love for you that I just want to show you, in every possible way.”  

Vincent found himself blinking back tears. “And you do…constantly. I just wanted to say, Catherine, that your saving my life and Father’s last night your coming back here because you knew I would need you; the comfort you gave me and the closeness…all that has made me think very seriously about our friendship, our …relationship. Also, I…sensed some of your feelings a few moments ago…”

“Hardly surprising,” she half laughed. “They were pretty powerful.”

“Yes, they were. And, if I interpreted them correctly, they were of desire…for…me.  So, as much as this astounds me, Catherine, it also fills me with wonder and pleasure.” 

She did move back then, to look up into his anxious eyes. “So what exactly are you saying, Vincent?”

“I am saying that…since our feelings for each other are so very real and strong, then perhaps they are not…wrong, and…if you still wish for us to have a…romantic relationship, then…I would welcome this new closeness we have shared.”

“So…let me see if I’ve got this right, Vincent. Are you saying you want us to make love?”

“No! I mean…well, yes, I suppose I am saying that I want  to. But I am not saying that we should. There is much to be discussed before taking such an irrevocable step.  I have many fears on the subject, Catherine, some of which you could never remotely understand, and I beg you to be patient with me. I am also saying something that I have never felt I had the right to say. Still, I am uncertain if I should, but…”

“Say it, Vincent. Please?”

“I love you.”

“Oh, Vincent. I love you, too…so very much.” 

The shared declaration was sealed when he bent his head to press his lips gently to hers. Catherine reached up to wind her arms around his neck and increase the pressure. It was the sweetest kiss she had ever known, and Vincent deepened it after a moment, daring to touch her tongue with his and feel their mutual gasp of excitement.  At last, after a little more exploration of each other’s mouths, they broke apart to breathe.

“Wow!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said Wow! It means, that was really something, Vincent.”

“I know what it means.” He smiled. “And I agree. But now, as much as I would love to spend all day kissing you, you must take your turn in the bathchamber and return Above. I have a class in twenty minutes.”

“Are you kidding! After that, you expect me to calmly go off to work? My legs feel like jello!”

“I was hoping,” he commented, tilting his head in the endearing manner she loved, “that you might return this evening in time for dinner.”

“Can I stay all night?”

“We will discuss that later.”

Feeling like a child on the verge of being promised the doll she’d always wanted, Catherine grinned and moved reluctantly out of his arms when he released her.

Ten minutes later, Catherine emerged from the bathchamber. Sitting down on the bed she slipped her feet into her tennis shoes and smiled at Vincent when he knelt down to tie the laces for her. Rising, she picked up her jacket and reached up to stroke his cheek.

“I really don’t think you should work today, Vincent. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal; you’ve had no sleep and you’re sore all over. Why not just rest?”

“My class is expecting me. I cannot let them down. I can rest later if I feel I need to.  Do not worry about me so much, Catherine.”

“Well you look better than you did earlier.”

“I wonder why.” His gentle tease delighted Catherine and she hugged him, lifting her face for a final kiss. “I’ll see you later. Take it easy, okay?  I mean that.”

He nodded. “And you, Catherine. Come, I will walk you home.”

Vincent was through with his class at ten-thirty and realised he was in need of some breakfast. En route to the kitchen he stopped by the hospital chamber to check on Father. The old man was propped upon pillows, looking exhausted but better than he had the previous evening.

“How are you feeling, Father?” Vincent sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and took Jacob’s outstretched hand.

“Better, thank you. I shall soon be up and about. But what about you, Vincent?  I didn’t expect to see you today. You should be resting in your chamber.”

“I am perfectly well, Father. Just a few bruises and a little soreness.” 

The old man nodded understandingly, then began to cough. When he reached for a tissue and covered his mouth, Vincent became concerned and moved to support Father until the spasm ceased. Then he eased him back against the pillows again.

“What does Peter say about that cough?”

“It’s just the dust,” he gasped. “It gets into the lungs. It must have affected you, too.”

“Yes. Although not as badly. My throat feels dry and ticklish.” He smiled. “I have had more trouble with my hair.”

“Yes, well that’s not surprising. You’ll have to be extremely patient when you comb it out, Vincent. No tearing at it after five minutes and hoping it will be all right.”

“It is done. Catherine spent an hour brushing it for me this morning. I will be able to wash it later.”

“Good, good. Did you say Catherine was here this morning? Is that why you have dark circles under your eyes?”

“Catherine returned soon after I left you. She felt I might need someone to talk to.  She kept me company until she fell asleep.”

Father was torn between a smile and a frown. And if he wanted to ask where Catherine had slept, he kept it to himself. “Good.” He nodded, patting Vincent’s hand.  “We owe that dear girl our lives, you know. I understand she went to that wretch, Elliot Burch, and persuaded him to give her the explosives and equipment.” 

Vincent raised his golden eyebrows. So, Burch had provided the explosives. “I believe Catherine’s friendship with him allowed her to feel she could ask a favour. It is fortunate for us that she did.”

“Indeed, indeed. So, did you manage to sleep last night?”

“A little,” Vincent replied truthfully.

“No bad dreams about what happened?” 

That wasn’t going to be so easy to answer. Better to change the subject. “Dreams are not always bad ones, Father. Now, tell me, has Peter visited with you yet today?”

“Yes, he came fussing down after his morning surgery. Re-taped my broken ribs and delivered a long lecture on the foolishness of crawling around in dangerous places at my age.  My age indeed!  He’s no spring chicken himself!”  

Vincent hid a smile behind his hair. “But perhaps he does not crawl around in dangerous places, Father.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do, for pity’s sake? Leave young Eric down there with a sprained ankle? I had no choice, Vincent, as you very well know.”

“I know, Father.” Vincent patted his father’s arm. “Now, I’m going to leave you in peace and go get something to eat. I didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“What will you do afterwards?”

“Well…I haven’t really decided yet. I really should go down to worksite B and put in a few hours.”

“Nonsense, you’ll do no such thing. Vincent, don’t underestimate what happened to us last night. You’re young, fit, and strong, but you were knocked unconscious and buried in that cave-in. I’ll tell you something; I woke up in the middle of the night believing you’d been killed. It upset me so badly that Mary gave me a sedative;  damn thing must have knocked me out until after nine this morning.” 

Vincent rose and leaned forward to kiss the old man on the forehead. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me, Father. I’m fine. And I promise I’ll take care. Now…rest. I will visit with you again later.” 

Jacob squeezed Vincent’s hand and smiled his thanks.

A great many people stopped Vincent en route to the kitchen. All wanted to know how he was and to express their concern at what had happened. Vincent reassured them patiently and was relieved when he was eventually allowed to make himself a sandwich. His hand slipped both when he was cutting the bread and the cheese, and he cut slices which were far too thick, but he enjoyed ‘doorstop’ sandwiches. He sat down at a bench and ate slowly, drinking a glass of milk to help remove what he hoped was the last of the dust from his throat.

He didn’t feel too tired; he’d gone without a night’s sleep before and probably would again, but after his meal he did feel drowsy and his back and shoulders ached abominably. He washed and put away his plate and decided maybe he wouldn’t go to the worksite after all. Perhaps he would take the advice he’d been offered and rest. A good, long soak in the bathing pools would provide comfort and relaxation for his aching muscles, and Vincent stopped by his chamber for a towel on the way.

There was no one in his special pool. He’d never actually forbidden anyone to use it, but it had become an unwritten tunnel ‘law’ that the largest of all the pools to the right of the huge cavern was Vincent’s alone. It was screened from prying eyes by some large rocks, and he felt able to go there and relax whenever he wanted to without feeling the need to cover himself all the time. In fact, these days, he didn’t even bother with a swimsuit.

He stripped off and left his clothes within easy reach beside his towel. Striding quickly into the warm water, he submerged himself and stretched out, letting his legs float to the surface. He let out a sound of contentment and leaned his head back so that with just the smallest movement of his fingers, he would remain afloat. His hair fanned out around his head, gradually filling with water and sinking below the surface, which pleased Vincent since it would remove the dust. He wished he’d remembered to bring his shampoo, but sighed, knowing he really hadn’t the energy even for that.

The water lapped gently all around his body, caressing him with its touch as delicately as a butterfly’s wing, soothing the grazed skin and bruised body. When he was in this pool, he almost totally lost his inhibitions. The water made him feel quite differently about himself and his body. Almost…sensual. He raised his head and looked down at himself. His nipples were tight and erect, clearly visible through the thick, wet chest hair, which was flattened to his skin in curls. His stomach was taut and flat, glistening with water. And lower, another part of him bobbed gently on the surface as he moved. His legs, long, muscular were spread wide to maintain his buoyancy. Vincent smiled, wondering what Catherine would think if she could see him like this but doubting he would ever have the confidence to allow it.

He lay his head back again, took a deep breath and allowed his mind to take whatever direction it chose. Soon his arms grew heavy, then his legs. Before he knew it, Vincent drifted off to sleep.

The peace and tranquillity he’d enjoyed was cruelly shattered when the nightmare returned even darker and more terrifying than before.

After the roof fell in, the cavern was flooded by a huge tidal wave of water, which gushed over them in torrents, sweeping Father away. The only advantage was that it eased the pressure of the huge boulder crushing Vincent’s chest and he was able to dislodge it quicker than before. This time though, he had to swim to try and find Father and when he did, he found the old man impaled on a metal rod, his eyes wide in a death mask of horror. Vincent howled in anguish and the water rushed into his throat and began to inflate his lungs.

He roused, choking and gasping on the water, which was filling his lungs, to find himself flailing around in the deepest part of the pool. Vincent was a strong swimmer, but in his mind he was still in the water-filled cavern and he panicked, thrashing around and going under time after time before he awoke fully and appreciated what was actually happening. Realising that if he was to avoid drowning, he needed to get his panic under control, he forced down his emotions and struck out for the shore with as much strength as he could muster. It took only seconds, but it sapped the last of his energy and Vincent flopped on to the sandy edge, laying on his side and coughing up water as it spurted from his lungs. It was several minutes before he was able to breathe properly again, but eventually he got shakily to his feet, dried himself, wrapped the towel around his waist and lay down again on his back, chest heaving from the physical and mental stress of what had happened.

It had been a frightening experience, and although Vincent now realised it had been merely the same terrible nightmare with variations, it could nevertheless have resulted in his death. He lay quite still, breathing as slowly and deeply as possible, trying to calm himself, yet stay awake. How long would this go on? A single night without sleep was one thing…going for two, three, maybe more, well, that simply wasn’t an option.

***

Catherine had just returned from lunch. She’d gotten in late at 9:30 and received a growl from Joe, but when she’d apologised and given him her most beguiling smile – the one Elliot had found so difficult to refuse – he’d been a sweetheart about it, all things considered, and they’d worked in complete harmony for the rest of the morning.

She sighed and opened a file marked ‘The State of New York v Marquette’, and began to read. It actually made more sense than she had expected after a glass of wine with her crab sandwich. Without warning, Catherine suddenly felt unable to breathe,  almost as if she was choking…on water. Frightened and bewildered, she scraped back her chair and stood up. One hand went automatically to her windpipe and she braced her other arm on the desk for support as she tried to understand what was happening.  This was the second time in as many days that she had felt this kind of sensation. A sensation that had nothing whatever to do with herself. VINCENT!

Snatching up her briefcase, Catherine bolted toward the exit. Noticing her sudden flight, Joe yanked open his door and stood, arms akimbo in the doorway, yelling,

“Just where the hell d’you think you’re going now, Radcliffe?” 

She didn’t even turn to face him as she replied breathlessly. “Joe, I’m sorry, I have to leave.  I’ll explain later.”

“You damn well explain now!”  It was too late; the swing door was still creaking shut. Joe threw down the file he was carrying and swore, muttering under his breath.

“Okay, that does it. I’ve had it with you. Now you explain to Moreno.” Furiously, he bent to retrieve the file, then marched back into his office. His colleagues braced themselves for the slamming of the door, but it still made them jump when it came.

There was no time to go home and change into more suitable clothing. Catherine hailed a taxi and clambered out at the Central Park entrance nearest to the tunnel access. She thrust a note and some change at the driver and raced into the park.  Despite her anxiety she knew she’d have to be careful. It was early afternoon and there were a lot of people around. As she reached the bank which led to the drainage culvert, Catherine saw a group of children playing there. They seemed to be having some sort of contest to see who could jump the furthest across the concrete path where water trickled and leaves and twigs collected in the rain. They weren’t tunnel kids; Catherine knew all who lived Below, each and every one. What on earth was she to do? She had to reach Vincent fast, but even that was no excuse for compromising tunnel security. She could feel herself becoming hysterical and forced herself to calm down and think clearly. Whatever his own situation, Vincent would pick up on her emotions and make it even worse by worrying.

“Hey, kids?” She strolled towards them, smiling. They looked up. They looked like regular kids. You couldn’t tell by appearances of course; Catherine had long since realised that; but they didn’t look like the type who would give her a mouthful of abuse or try to intimidate her. “How’d you like a ride on the carousel?” Five pairs of eyes frowned suspiciously. They were still New York kids, after all.

“Why would you pay for us, lady?”

Catherine shrugged and took two tens from her change purse. “I won a few dollars on the Lottery this week. I’m feeling generous. You going to take advantage of my offer or do I find some other kids to treat?”

They glanced at each other, apparently receiving mutual assent. It wasn’t every day that someone offered them money. Scrambling to their feet, one child held out his hand. “Wow!” 

Catherine smiled as he looked down at the two notes. “Buy some ice cream too, okay?”

“Sure, lady, thanks!” They turned and bounded across the grass in the direction of the carousel.

As soon as they were at a safe distance, she looked around to make sure no one else was watching, then ducked into the tunnel entrance. She tapped out a code on the nearest pipe, announcing her arrival and after five minutes, which seemed like eternity, the inner door slid open to reveal Kipper.

“Hi, Catherine,” he greeted her, slipping the catch on the gate to allow her entry.  “You don’t usually come this way in the daytime.” 

She probably only imagined his discreet criticism. “Hello, Kipper. No, I’m sorry, I was in a hurry. Do you know where Vincent is?”

“Nope. He took class this morning but I haven’t seen him since. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Look, I have to go look for him.”

“You look kinda worried; he’s okay, isn’t he?” 

Catherine forced a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he is. He was very tired last night after what happened. I guess I am a little worried, but there’s no need for you to be. When I find him, I promise I’ll let you know if there’s anything wrong, okay?”

“I guess.”

 Catherine touched the boy’s shoulder and left him to complete his task of ensuring the gate and sliding door were tightly closed.

As soon as she was out of Kipper’s sight, she began to run, seeking to find Vincent’s whereabouts through the enhanced sensitivity of their bond. She’d never been so strongly aware of him through it until last night, and despite the circumstances, she welcomed her increased awareness. He always seemed to know where she was; what she was feeling; almost, she felt, what she was thinking sometimes, but until last evening…until now, her knowledge of his emotions had been restricted to the times she was actually with him. It had to be the sudden open admission of her love for him. No more pretending between them that this friendship was never going to be anything more than just that. She’d opened her heart and told him how she felt and this morning he’d done the same. Their hearts were as one beating in the same breast.

After nearly falling twice, Catherine tore off her high heels and shoved them in her briefcase, almost laughing at the incongruity of such apparel in the tunnels. She looked for all the world as if she’d arrived as their attorney.

When she reached his chamber and found it empty, she swore under her breath, glancing around for a clue as to where he might have gone. Outside the doorway she paused again to try and hone in on Vincent, closing her eyes to aid concentration.

Come on, Sweetheart, tell me where you are. I’ll find you, I promise, just help me out, okay?

She tried to apply logic as well as relying on the mysteries of the bond. What she’d felt was a sensation of water. As if she was, as if Vincent was…drowning.  He couldn’t have fallen into the Mirror Pool. Even as tired as he must be, that somehow didn’t seem feasible. In that case it had to be the bathing pools. Encouraged, Catherine sprang into action again, snagging her pantyhose and scraping the sleeves of her smart summer suit on the walls as she raced along the passages. They were about half an hour’s walk from the hub, but Vincent had taken her there quite recently just to see the pools, and she remembered the route.

He was sitting with his back to her; his head resting on his knees when she reached the huge, high-ceilinged cavern. Her gasp was partly of relief at seeing him safe, and partly because he was clad only in a towel tied around his waist. He must have sensed her immediately because he suddenly turned around and scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting about the cavern in dismay at having been found in so private a place.

“Catherine! What are you doing here?” 

She ran towards him, but he jumped up and took a step backwards as she was about to put her arms around him, and she dropped her arms. “I was worried about you! I had this sudden, terrible feeling of choking…as if I was drowning! What happened, Vincent?”

“Nothing. I took your advice and came to relax in the pools. Catherine, please…I must ask you to leave…I should dress.”

“I’ll turn my back, but I’m not leaving. We need to talk, Vincent.”

“I thought we were going to talk after dinner this evening.”

“That was before you nearly drowned.” 

Vincent made a sound of irritation in his throat. “I told you, nothing happened.” 

Catherine could feel tears of frustration building. He looked so beautiful, so vulnerable standing there in just his towel. She desperately wanted to hold him.

“Vincent please?”

“No! Leave me, please!” He turned away and bent to pick up his jeans, but his hands shook and he tightened his grip, making a fist.

“Don’t turn away from me. There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed or upset about.  I’m here because I love you and I felt the danger and your fear through the bond. Let me help you, Vincent, because I’m not leaving, whatever you say or do.” He exhaled, and she felt as well as saw the fight go out of him. As he straightened, his jeans still in his hand, he swayed slightly.

“Will you at least allow me to put these on?”

“Of course, if you really believe you’ll be more comfortable. But they’ll be awfully tight around your waist. Why don’t you just sit down for a few minutes and see how you feel. I promise I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

He seemed to consider that suggestion for a moment and decided that it had merit.  Taking care not to expose himself any more than he was already, he sank down onto the dry sand. He started to draw his knees up, then apparently thought better of it and moved back a few inches to lean against a rock.

Catherine sat down beside him. Close enough to be able to touch him if he’d let her, but leaving an inch or two of sand between them so that he wouldn’t feel intimidated by her nearness. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Vincent closed his eyes while Catherine tossed minute stones into the pool, allowing him time to himself.  She knew she’d intruded into his privacy, but she’d only done it because she was worried about him and he’d see that soon enough.

“I’ve been very ungracious,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, Catherine, can you forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive. Love means never having to say you’re sorry, remember?” 

He frowned, puzzled.

“Love Story…it became the most famous line in the movie. I guess you never saw it.”

“No. And anyway I do not believe it is true. In any case, when you love someone you should never say or do anything for which you will be sorry later.” 

Catherine reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m afraid that’s just too idealistic, Vincent. It’s all too easy to hurt and be hurt when you’re in love.”

“That does not make it excusable.”

“No, just human.” 

He glanced at her sharply and found just a loving smile. What else had he expected?

“Thank you for coming. Did you get permission to leave in the middle of the afternoon?”

“Not exactly,” she laughed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to do some major crawling to Joe when I get in. Don’t worry,” she added, “if he fires me, I shall simply come down here and live with you. No one seems to need money in the tunnels, so why should I?” 

Vincent blinked in shock at both statements, but he only felt up to tackling one of them. “Are you serious, Catherine? You really believe you might lose your job because of me?”

“No, not really. In any case, you, my love, are worth every single piece of humble pie I’m forced to eat and every extra case file Joe assigns me, so don’t you worry your beautiful golden head about it. I’m just so relieved to find you safe…even though I know you haven’t been honest with me about what happened..” She paused for a moment to see if he changed his mind about telling her.

Vincent realised that if her side of the bond had strengthened to the extent that she was here at all in the afternoon when she should have been working, there was really no point in concealing the incident further. She’d laid her job on the line for him and the least he could do was explain.

“It was nothing too serious. My own foolishness really. I fell asleep in the water and…and had that dream again, only…”

“Only?”

“Only this time Father and I were trapped in a chamber that was filled with water. I – I found his body again. He’d died a terrible death and I wanted to get out, but the water was coming over my head and I couldn’t breathe.” Vincent felt his heart pounding again as he re-lived the dream. “When I awoke, I realised I was in the middle of the pool and had slipped beneath the surface. I’m ashamed to say I panicked for a moment or two. That is what you must have felt.” With the admission came the inevitable shame and guilt for having worried her, but he needed to see her reaction, and peered out at her from under his bangs. 

Catherine kept hold of his hand and moved even closer. “Yes, it was. Vincent, you could have died. What are we going to do? You have to sleep soon or you’re really going to have an accident and you may not be so lucky next time.” 

Vincent rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. I recall other occasions when I’ve gone without a night’s sleep for some reason.”

“It’s not just the lack of sleep, Vincent,” Catherine declared, putting her arm around his shoulders. “It’s the stress and trauma associated with it. If we don’t deal with that now, then it’s going to get worse.

“We?”

“Yes, we. Now, I have an idea, which you’ll probably object to, but I honestly think it might work. Will you give it a try?”

“What is it?”

“Well, I wanted you to sleep last night while I was with you, but you were worried in case you were unpredictable if you woke in the middle of the dream, right?”

“As indeed I was, earlier.”

“Right, okay. Well, hear me out, Vincent. This isn’t just a plan I’ve disguised to get you into bed with me…” She had the grace to look uncomfortable when he blinked in shock. “As much as I’d like that, your health and safety are much more important to me. So…in the past, when you’ve had problems with…”

“My Dark Side. When I’ve killed because I’ve lost myself in that darkness.”

“Yes. Well, I’ve been with you on almost every occasion, and by touching you, holding you, and talking to you, I’ve been able to pull you out of that darkness.  You’ve recognised me, Vincent. You haven’t hurt me and you never will. I know how much you love me and it’s time you understood how much I love you. Do you?” she prodded. 

After a few seconds he nodded slowly. “I’m beginning to.”

“Good. Because I truly believe, Vincent, that you need to sleep in my arms and let me help you through the nightmare in order to get past it.”

She waited for the storm of protests she’d expected when she first planned her speech, but they didn’t come. Instead, he turned his head to place a kiss on the hand that cupped his shoulder, then looked at her with exhaustion written in every line of his body.

“Thank you, Catherine. I accept your offer with the graciousness I should have shown last night. If I had, then maybe neither one of us would have the problems we both have now.”

“You mean you agree?”

“I agree.”

Catherine was so surprised that she forgot, for the moment, what the next step would be. “Okay, ah, do you think you could sleep here, or would you prefer to go back to your chamber?”

“I would prefer to return to my chamber, but I’m uncertain if I have the strength right now.”

“Then here it is. What about privacy, Vincent? Is anyone likely to come here looking for you?” 

He nodded and began to rise. “It is possible. I will send a message to tell them I am safe. That I am at the bathing pools and do not wish to be disturbed. It is inexcusably selfish of me though. Others may wish to use the pools.”

“They can manage just for one day with the water in their own chambers. You have no need to feel guilty about anything, Vincent.”

With Catherine holding his hand, he walked slowly over to the nearest pipe, shocked at how exhausted he really felt. He supposed it was reaction to the incident in the pool, although Catherine and Father were right; last night’s cave-in had been both physically and emotionally stressful, and stress could do strange things to people. He hammered out a message with a stone, then dropped it and looked down into Catherine’s eyes.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” she said, slipping her arm around his waist. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I don’t know how comfortable either of us are going to be on this sand,” he remarked. Squatting down, he scooped as much as possible into a pile big enough to support their heads. “That’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine. Come on, lay down.” She dropped to her knees and held out her arms to him, knowing he’d feel very strange and awkward in these circumstances. “I promise faithfully not to try and seduce you,” she added with a small smile intended to try and put him at ease.

“Please remember one thing, Catherine. Even weakened, I am stronger than most other men. If there is even the smallest doubt as to your own safety, I need your promise that you will run from me; leave here and do not return until you hear from one of the others that it is safe to do so. Do I have your promise?” 

Catherine stroked his cheek and kissed him, saying the words she knew he needed to hear, but which she was certain in her heart, were unnecessary. “I promise.”

Vincent lay first on his back, then on his side. In fact, he changed position so many times during the first five minutes that it was all Catherine could do to remain silent.  At last he seemed to settle on his left side, facing away from her, and although she was disappointed in one way, she soon changed her mind as she wound her arms around him; one over his left shoulder to lay on the right side of his chest; the other around his waist and moving up to rest just below his heart. She pressed gently against his back so that he could feel her body in contact with as much of his as possible, and was careful to keep her embrace light, stroking him very gently and soothingly.

After only a very short time, she heard his deep, even breathing and knew he was already asleep. She was relieved for him because he needed it so desperately. Maybe he’d even sleep for several hours without being disturbed by the nightmare. She was also relieved for herself. Being pressed so close to Vincent’s body dressed in just a towel, and feeling his softly furred chest beneath her fingers, was playing havoc with her promise to him of just a few minutes ago. She breathed deeply.  Just concentrate on his welfare, Chandler, she admonished, and closed her eyes.

***

The rocks began tumbling within seconds of the ominous rumble in the tunnel. The children, responding to Vincent’s roar of alarm, began to crawl back through the short stretch of tunnel they’d all come through earlier. Vincent knew Father had moved to help him support the falling pillar, and shouted to him to leave. The old man would never be able to withstand its collapse. In fact, in that instant, Vincent knew he couldn’t either. The world seemed to implode on them both and suddenly grow silent and cold as death.

As before, Vincent found himself unable to move, buried under a ton of fallen rock and debris. This time though, he wasn’t able to dislodge it and Father was calling out his name… “Vincent! Help me…please…help me.” He tried to answer but his mouth was full of soil and dust. Father’s voice was becoming weaker and Vincent struggled against the weight pressing him down. He had to reach Father; he had to! His mind screamed,“Father!  Father!” even as he heard Jacob’s voice fade and fail in death.  And he, Vincent, had failed to save him by his inadequacy. Yet again he fought the weight on his chest and the foreign bodies in his mouth. He summoned all his reserves of strength, and when he was eventually able to twist his head enough to spit out the grit and earth, he roared his pain to the cavern.

Catherine awoke instantly, terrified. Vincent was roaring and tossing his head back and forth as if he were in pain or fighting a force stronger than himself. His eyes were closed in sleep, but his suffering was so real that, along with the anxiety, it brought tears to Catherine’s eyes.

“Vincent!” She shook him, gently at first, then not so gently when he still didn’t rouse. She tried desperately to hold onto him, but he pushed at her arms and began to gasp for breath. Catherine became frightened. She knew he must be dreaming that he was buried in the cave-in and also that he’d be fighting to free himself. If she could only wake him and reassure him that it was just a dream, she was sure it would be all right, but he was becoming more distressed with every second. As deeply as Catherine loved Vincent, she was also very much aware that at this moment, he didn’t know where the hell he was or what he was doing, and she could be in danger.  Praying for both of them, she linked her hands across his chest and held on to him with all her strength as she almost shouted into his ear.

“Vincent, wake up! It’s okay;  you’re just dreaming; you’re safe! Please, please wake up! Vincent!”

His eyes fluttered and opened; they were dark and wild with terror. He started to sit up, pushing against Catherine’s arms, and as he broke her grip on him,her nails scratched him across the chest. Catherine gasped in horror and Vincent growled once, looking at her in confusion. An instant later, however, his eyes were darting fearfully around the cavern in search of something or someone.

“Father!”

“He’s safe, Vincent…both of you are safe! You’ve been dreaming. We’re at the bathing pools and it’s just you and I. Everything’s okay, I promise!” Tentatively she touched his shoulder. He turned his head and, just for a moment the wildness and terror in his eyes caused Catherine’s heart to stop. Then he blinked and she felt the rigid tension in his body begin to slacken. The feral, haunted look in his eyes flickered and faded to be replaced by understanding when they met Catherine’s, finally, in recognition. She wanted to weep with relief into his neck, but there would be time for that later;  he was still too fragile right now and needed her strength to get him through.

His face was damp with perspiration and Catherine peeled away several tendrils of hair, which had stuck to his cheeks. He was half-sitting, leaning back on his elbows.  He looked as if he’d fought a battle almost to the death and barely won.

“It’s over, Vincent.”

“But for how long?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I’m going to stay with you each time you go to sleep until this nightmare finally leaves you, and you can rest in peace.” He would normally have protested at such a statement, but now he merely slumped back on the sand and closed his eyes. Catherine ran a hand lightly over his heaving chest and felt his heart pounding as if it was about to shatter. She looked at her watch.

“You slept for almost an hour and a half. That’s something.”

“Catherine,” he said wearily, “you broke your promise to me.” She understood but didn’t answer. “I roused, believing myself to be in The Maze again. I could have hurt you.”

“No.”

“Don’t argue, you know it’s true.”

“I know I managed to hold onto you almost up to the moment you woke up and you didn’t try to hurt me. In fact, it was the other way around. I hurt you, Vincent, look.”  He opened his eyes and frowned in enquiry. Catherine felt tears of remorse gather as she touched the angry red weals across his chest where her nails had scored his skin…  “Look what I did…I…I’m so sorry.” 

Vincent raised his head and looked down at the marks. “I don’t remember. Don’t worry, Catherine, it is nothing.” Suddenly, he gripped her wrist and his eyes bored into hers. “Were you…were you trying to defend yourself against me? Please…don’t lie to try and protect me. I have to know what I did.”

“Nothing. You did nothing, Vincent. Don’t start torturing yourself again for no reason. I did this to you accidentally when you tried to break free. I was holding you very tightly and you probably thought you were being crushed by the rocks or something.”

Vincent lay back again and inhaled deeply. “Yes, I did. In reality, when I regained consciousness I found myself in the dark, unable to move. It took every bit of my strength to push out from under all that bedrock. In the dream… it is always worse …and Father is always dead.”

Catherine sighed and leaned over him, closer than before. She stroked his forehead, hoping to soothe and calm him sufficiently to try sleeping again. He was so beautiful in every way, his body, his mind, his soul. He would give, and keep on giving until he had nothing left. And yet all he seemed to receive from life was pain. It was so unfair;  so damned unfair. The anger rose in her so swiftly, she was unable to prevent it reaching him and he opened his eyes sharply.

“What is it, Catherine? There is a rage in you which I am at a loss to understand.” 

Catherine swiped at the tears even before they made it to her cheekbones, bending to kiss Vincent’s brow. “Nothing, Sweetheart, I promise. Now, I’m going to bathe those scratches for you.” He tried to stop her as she scrambled to her feet, but she broke out of his grip.

“Catherine, they are nothing, I assure you.”

“They are to me,” she called over her shoulder, already running to wet a clean hanky at the water’s edge. She used the moment to compose herself, and when she returned, knelt beside him again, pressing the folded wet square to the angry red marks, which began just above his left nipple and crossed diagonally over his chest. He allowed her to bathe them, stroking her arm gently while she worked.

“I can’t bear to think I did this to you, Vincent,” she said in a small voice. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world.”

“Of course, I know that. You were trying to protect me from myself.  Please, do not be upset. They are just marks that will fade in a few hours. They do not even sting.”

“I’ll cut my nails as soon as I get home. It tears me apart to think I could hurt you.”  Catherine looked up suddenly, meeting his blue gaze as she felt an intense emotion through the bond. They stared at each other and both thought of all the times Vincent had said almost those very same words. The sheer irony of the situation caused a smile to crease Vincent’s eyes and he reached up a finger to wipe away a rebellious tear that had no respect for her wishes and insisted on tracking its way down her cheek.

“You see?” he said softly. “You see how it feels to know you could hurt the person you love most in the world? I live with that fear every day of my life.”

“Oh, Vincent!” The tears came in force then, and Catherine fell against Vincent’s chest, hugging and kissing him and being hugged and kissed back.

“Don’t cry, Catherine, there is nothing to cry about.”

“I know. I guess I just understood for the first time, a very small part about what it’s like for you. Oh, hold me, Vincent, please hold me.” He adjusted his embrace so he could hold her tighter, and for the first time since she’d found him, they both forgot that he was wearing only a towel. Their emotions were running at an all-time high, but they were of tenderness, unconditional love, and protection. Those others, that Vincent had always been so wary of expressing, would return – of that there was no doubt – but for the moment, each was content to be held by the other, wrapped in a cocoon of love from which there would be no escape for either of them…ever.

After another hour or so, Catherine found herself wishing they were in Vincent’s chamber, snuggled up together in his bed. The sand was getting awfully hard.  Vincent was asleep again, still on his back, but she had long since shifted most of her weight from him, knowing that if the dream should return, he’d think she was part of the horror, pressing down on him and trying to bury him and Father alive. So far, his sleep had been peaceful and, apparently, dreamless, and despite the dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes, his face looked adorably content. An errant wisp of hair that had somehow managed to fall over the edge of his mouth at the end of it lifted with each breath he took. Catherine smiled and removed the offending strand, smoothing it into place.

He had looked so peaceful that the sudden deep, shuddering breath took her by surprise. He made a low, rumbling sound and the rapid eye movements beneath his lids confirmed, to Catherine’s dismay, that the dream was, indeed, beginning again.  His chest lifted erratically under her hand as his breathing quickened and he began to turn his head back and forth on the pillow of sand.

“No,” he muttered, his voice slurred with sleep, and huskier than ever. “Please…no!”

“Vincent, it’s okay.” Catherine knew that to help Vincent, she had to calm him quickly and the only way she might achieve that was to sooth him physically and mentally. Projecting all the love and tenderness she felt for him into their mysterious connection, she rubbed his arms and shoulders, hoping to quieten the thundering heartbeat that felt so close to the surface. She kept her touch light and unrestrictive but constantly moving over his body.

“It’s not real…you’re safe. The children and Father are all okay, Vincent. Relax.  Everything’s okay, I promise. It’s just a dream. R-e-l-a-x.” Over and over she repeated the same soothing words as close as possible to his ever-moving ear, and stroked his hair gently. She was comforted by the fact that he didn’t seem to be getting any more distressed and he wasn’t trying to fight her hands either.

She kept stroking him gently and desperately concentrating on trying to pour undiluted love into any part of him open to receive it. “Relax, Vincent, just relax,” she purred into his ear as he finally stopped tossing his head.  I think we’re winning, my love. He made a sound in his throat, a cross between a sigh and a groan, then inhaled deeply. Catherine watched him intently, still holding him as he released the air slowly, almost as if he were measuring it. His hands, too, relaxed and his heartbeat began to slow. He never opened his eyes as his breathing gradually returned to normal, and Catherine felt herself grow weak with relief. 

She watched him anxiously for another few minutes, then lay down again, burying her nose in his neck and kissing the warm, slightly salty skin. He was safely back from that terrible place he’d been, and Catherine was grateful beyond words that she’d been able to guide him through it.  And there was a deeper reason for her gratitude. Perhaps now she’d be able to convince Vincent that however out of control he was, she was very much in control, and their love for each other gave her the power to tame and protect him from the demons of his mind.

***

Vincent opened his eyes. For the first time since the cave-in, he woke knowing exactly where he was. He lay quite still for a few moments, staring up at the high ceiling of the cavern. He felt restless, but the warm weight leaning against him reminded him that he could go nowhere until Catherine awoke. He could only see the tip of her nose and the top of her head as it lay on his chest, but it was still the most beautiful sight Vincent had ever woken to in his life. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and run with her, proclaiming his love and devotion for all eternity. Yet again, her love had brought him back from the dark places in his soul, and he felt refreshed and invigorated, almost drunk with happiness and a mounting excitement he could not explain. Unwilling to disturb her, he could do nothing more than stretch and flex his limbs.

Catherine awoke to an erotic sensation of velvet-on-steel chest muscles tightening and expanding under her hands as Vincent stretched his arms above his head. She smiled and trailed her fingers sleepily through the gilded softness. 

Vincent exhaled deeply and brought his right arm around her again. “Are you awake, Catherine?” he enquired softly.

“Not if it means I have to move from this position.” She felt his chuckle of amusement and raised her head to look at him. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm.  I feel wonderful.”

“You sure do.”

A slight smile, perhaps not quite as shy as usual, although he still dropped his eyes.

“Vincent, what do you remember since our talk…you know, when I was upset about scratching you?” 

He waited a moment, thinking about the conversation and the time which had elapsed since then. “Nothing with any clarity. I believe the dream began again but then…it was…” Vincent tilted his head on the sand and his brilliant blue gaze was penetrating as he stared into Catherine’s face. “It was as if you entered The Maze, Catherine. As if you walked through all that fallen rock and found me. You – you held out your hand to me and I wasn’t trapped any more. I seemed to float upwards and into your arms.” He shook his head, puzzled. “It sounds fantastic, I know, but you saved me…and Father too…just as surely in the dream as you did last night in reality.”

“Oh, Vincent, I’m so glad.”

“What did you do?”

“Just held you in my arms and hoped you’d feel all the love I was trying to project through my hands as well as my heart. Apparently it worked.” 

Tears shone in Vincent’s eyes as he took in the significance of her revelation.

“This bond we share, Catherine…”

“I know. But we’ve felt its power before. And if it can penetrate  beyond these tunnels all the way to the West Coast, what’s a little thing like a nightmare?  Vincent?”

“Yes?”

“I – I think maybe no one has ever loved like you and I before.”  

Vincent took a moment to try and formulate his emotions, never taking his eyes from hers, but when he replied, his voice was close to breaking. “I thought I was well-read, Catherine…even believed myself to be eloquent at times, but I have no words right now to tell you everything that is in my heart.” He raised himself on one elbow and placed two fingers on the edge of her jaw. “How do I begin to thank you for what you have done for me? For your trust and your faith in me…for your love. And mere words, Catherine, will never be able to convey the depth of my feelings for you. To say ‘I love you’ is almost meaningless.” He took a shaky breath, unsure quite how to go on. 

Catherine turned her face slightly to the right so that she could kiss the two fingers on her face. “I don’t want your thanks; I don’t want your gratitude. All I want is for you to love me as much as I love you, Vincent. The words aren’t meaningless. I want to hear them over and over again, every day for the rest of my life. Please say them, Vincent…please say them.” She bent her head towards him, so close that her lips were only a heartbeat from his own.

“I love you, Catherine,” he whispered.

“Oh, and I love you too. So very much.” Suddenly their lips were touching, so gently that it almost wasn’t a touch at all. Then, as the feelings overwhelmed them both, the kiss became deeper, and a passion, rarely experienced in mere lip contact, flared swiftly and intensely between them. Vincent felt almost as if he was under a spell,  as if she had bewitched him.

He sat up and pulled Catherine to him, caressing her back through the ivory silk blouse she wore. It had worked its way free of her skirt during sleep and, almost without thinking, Vincent slid one hand beneath it and felt her equally warm, satiny skin against his palms. His fingers encountered her bra strap and he felt a slight weight against his chest as Catherine’s breasts found release. Remembering his state of undress, Vincent tried to keep a rein on the physical manifestation of this new intimacy with Catherine, but he might as well have tried to hold back the dawn. His maleness stiffened swiftly and, finding none of the usual restrictions and confinements, nudged insistently at the towel.

Catherine’s arms were around his shoulders but she eased back a little, resisting his attempts to crush her to his bare chest. Instead, he realised, she was teasing him by brushing it sensually with the tips of her breasts,  provocatively reminding him – as if he needed any such aide-mémoire – that he only had to slide his hands around to the front and… Vincent found the action as sexually stimulating as she had intended, and felt himself becoming short of breath. He broke the kiss and they stared into each other’s eyes, searching…and finding the answers to unverbalised questions.

Catherine was the first to look away and she made no attempt at disguising the point to which her gaze was drawn. Vincent followed her line of vision as she turned her head towards the bulge beneath his towel. He swallowed painfully. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He couldn‘t see her expression and if he had only waited to feel her reaction through the bond, what he would have found would have soothed his heart, but his emotions were too raw and fragile in that instant. It shattered him to see what he considered to be a humiliating travesty of something he should have been able to control and offer subtly and tenderly to Catherine when, and only when he was certain the time was right. Wracked with shame and guilt, he all but shoved her aside and scrambled to his feet. He strode down to the edge of the pool, anger and chagrin making him tremble.

“Vincent, no…come back, please!”

“I’m sorry, Catherine, I – I cannot discuss this now. I need to be alone. I’m going to swim for a while.”

“With your towel on?” The flippant words were out before she could stop them, and Catherine wanted to shred her tongue. You damn fool, Chandler! You’ve thrown down the gauntlet now. If he takes off the towel it will seem to him as if he was grandstanding before just so he could put his goodies on display and show you what you’ve been missing all this time. And if he keeps it on, he’ll make a complete idiot of himself, at least in his eyes.

As Catherine struggled to find the best way to help Vincent out of the dilemma in which she’d thoughtlessly and unforgivably placed him, he turned his head and, although he didn’t look at her, he spoke quietly and with his usual dignity. “That is not my custom.” In an instant, he snatched his towel from his waist and dropped it to the sand. Catherine stifled a gasp at the incredibly beautiful, masculine sight he presented, naked.

His hips were narrow, his rump round, tight and smooth-skinned. She already knew his feet and calves were perfectly shaped, but his thighs were something else and could have been sculpted by Michelangelo. They were powerhouses, well covered with firm flesh and peppered with fine golden hair like that on the rest of his body.  His long, corn- colored hair billowed around his head and past his shoulders, looking almost halo-like in the shaft of light from the waterfall behind him.  He looks like a wild, sensual angel, Catherine thought. She only had a moment to absorb every detail. Already Vincent was up to his knees as he strode through the water. A sudden vision of having him on a poster on her bedroom wall exactly like this, flashed absurdly through her mind and she shook her head in disbelief that she could think of him in such a way, wondering perhaps if she was light-headed from not having eaten for many hours.

She got to her feet and stood for a moment, watching Vincent glide elegantly through the water to the center of the pool. He dived under, disappearing from view for over half a minute and Catherine had begun to worry when he suddenly broke the surface and appeared again, shaking his head and spraying water all around him as his hair whipped back and forth. Catherine reached a decision.

Undressing quickly, she walked, naked, down to the edge of the pool and began to wade in.  Vincent saw her as the water reached her breasts and he paused, treading water as he rubbed a hand across his face.  Catherine held out both arms to him.

“Come here, Vincent…please?” 

He glanced around as if expecting guidance from a third party who might possibly have materialised to help him, but no such presence responded. “I can’t come any further…I’m afraid in deep water,” she lied, “please come to me. I love you, Vincent.” Slowly, he leaned forward and cut through the surface, barely making a ripple. When he reached her, he put his feet down and stood several inches in front of her, his hands on his hips. The water was almost up to his waist and he was breathing a little harder than usual. Catherine looked at him in wonder. His skin sparkled with water, and darkened curls of hair clung to his chest. She stepped closer and took one of them between her fingers, straightening it gently, then smoothing it back against his skin with unnecessary slowness.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” She looked up. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes full of doubt and confusion. “I guess I was so disappointed at you suddenly going off like that when we were… It just came out, Vincent. It was a stupid, sarcastic comment. I truly never mean to make fun of you. You’re so different from the men in my world. I sometimes forget how a careless remark that wouldn’t mean a damn thing Above can hurt you.”

“Catherine, it’s all right.” Vincent touched her shoulders. “You didn’t hurt me. I was embarrassed by…that you saw how our closeness had affected me.” He took a deep breath and dropped his hands to his sides. “I had not wanted you to see me…that way.  At least, not yet.”

“Why?” Catherine squeezed his arms then brought her hands to rest either side of his ribcage. “Vincent, how do you think I would have felt if you hadn’t reacted that way?   I love you! I want you to feel sexy when we kiss, when we touch each other. You excite me…make me feel more feminine than I’ve ever felt in my life. I need you to feel the same kind of excitement; don’t you understand, Sweetheart?”

“But it was too soon,” he protested, shaking his head in denial. “And too…obvious. I am not totally naïve, Catherine, but I had hoped I might retain sufficient control over my body so that the changes would have been a little more…subtle.”

“Oh, Vincent, I was thrilled that those changes occurred so fast. Don’t you realise what a compliment that was to me? And although physical arousal is much more visually apparent in a man than a woman, the signs are always there, Vincent. I promise you my body was ready for you too…it still is.” She slid her hands upwards and over his wet chest and he felt another tightening between his thighs, both at the feel of her hands and the timbre of her voice as she whispered. “Feel me, Vincent.  Feel how ready I am to love you.”

He looked down into the deepening green of her eyes. It was true. He dragged his gaze away and looked at her breasts bobbing on the surface of the water. The sight, combined with the way Catherine was fondling his chest, gently rolling his nipples between her fingers, made his heart race. He dipped his hands into the water and brought them up under her breasts. They felt cool and slippery and she gasped as he rubbed his thumbs gently over their hardened tips. Bending forward, Vincent breathed into her left ear and Catherine shuddered, her fingers tightening on his chest and pinching his skin. He took her earlobe carefully between his teeth and sucked on it before moving down her neck to her shoulder.

Simultaneously, they each took a step forward and both gasped as their wet bodies pressed erotically together. Vincent’s fully erect penis nudged between Catherine’s thighs and she shifted her stance to imprison it. Unsure if he could delay the demands of his body for more than just a few seconds longer, Vincent moved his hands to Catherine’s waist and lifted her, bringing her to rest on his hips so that her breasts were level with his mouth. She wound her legs around his waist and held on to his shoulders as her head fell backwards. Vincent buried his face in her breasts, gently biting and sucking. The water was curiously stimulating, altering the feel of skin on skin, yet comforting to Vincent’s pounding heart, and cooling the blood that coursed through every blood vessel and vein in his body.

Catherine was panting and kneading his buttocks rhythmically with her heels;  a sensual, silent plea for him to shed the last of his doubts and enter the part of her that no other man would ever know again.

Reluctantly releasing her breasts in order to breathe, Vincent lowered Catherine so that his maleness just brushed the entrance to her secret place. The water disguised the tangible evidence that would have confirmed to him that she was, indeed, ready and eager to welcome him, but he knew. Carefully, but anxiously since he knew time was running out for him, Vincent slid smoothly inside Catherine, surprised and relieved to find it so easy. Deeper and deeper he penetrated, then felt her arch backwards, working with him as he began to pump. With one arm supporting her bottom and the other around her back, Vincent resumed feasting on her breasts as she offered them up to his mouth.

After only four thrusts, the world exploded into shining points of light and rainbow effect bubbles of air for Vincent, and he threw back his head to take in more air as his heart seemed to burst from his heaving chest and float away, along with every bone in his body. Further paroxysms of ecstasy satisfying every sexual fantasy he had ever dared allow himself, hammered into Vincent, and he realised with his last rational thought that Catherine felt them too.

He didn’t know how he managed to remain on his feet, so intensely powerful were the sensations that flooded his body and mind, but he held on to Catherine and swayed in the water, continually digging his toes into the sandy bottom to keep his balance.

After several minutes Catherine slumped forward on to his chest, linking her arms behind his head. “Oh God, Vincent,” she gasped, her breathing as laboured as his, so that their chests slipped and slid against each other as they struggled to regain some semblance of control in the water. Vincent lifted and supported Catherine with his hands beneath her rump as he gingerly withdrew from her. He had barely even begun to deflate and was anxious not to cause her any discomfort as her body reacted. She whimpered softly at his withdrawal, and tightened her hold around his neck, but her legs fell straight down and she hung limply against him as if she had fainted. Filled with concern, Vincent swiftly placed one arm beneath her knees and wrapped the other around her back as he started to head for the shore.

“What is it, Catherine? Are you ill?” Vincent was bewildered. Her weakness made him think he had hurt her somehow with his first attempt at lovemaking, but the bond told him something very different. He dropped to his knees on the sand and sat back on his heels, wrapping his towel around her and holding her tenderly against him. As he looked down to try and see her expression, his hair fell forward, obscuring his vision and he sent it flying back over his shoulder with an impatient toss of his head.  He felt her lips move in a smile on the right side of his chest, while her fingers gently caressed him.

“Of course not, silly,” she purred. “I’m weak…make that totally, deliciously drained …from the way you just made love to me.” 

Even more overly sensitive than usual in the light of what had just transpired, Vincent believed his eyes rather than the bond. “I hurt you, didn’t I? I did something terribly wrong…”

“Vincent,” Catherine interjected, expanding the area of her caresses to include his neck and shoulder. “Until just now, I could only imagine a lover as wonderful as you.  The way you made me feel…it was like I never made love before.”

With a finger under her chin, he raised her face so that he could look into her eyes.  What he found there was the misty flow of satiation coupled with pure, uninhibited adoration. “But you have, Catherine,” he murmured, a jolt of bittersweet pain lancing through his heart. 

Catherine could have bitten off her tongue…again. She took his face between her hands bringing it very close to hers. “I shouldn’t have said that, Vincent, I apologise.  But I wanted to make you understand that even if we never made love again, there is only you now;  has only been you in my heart for a long time. Could only ever be you in the future. It’s like…” She frowned, thinking, obviously not wanting to bruise his fragile emotions again with a carelessly worded remark. “It’s like those other occasions were cheap house wine, Vincent. You are the finest French vintage champagne.” She smiled and kissed his lips tenderly. “To be sipped with reverence and appreciation…as often as possible and only by me.” 

Even Vincent had to smile then. “Only by you, I promise.”  

She kissed him deeply then and moved one hand to the back of his head, stroking his hair. His hands travelled up the cool skin of her spine and she shuddered sensually.

“Lie down, Vincent.” 

Curious, he obeyed, laying back and bringing her to rest atop him. Eventually she released his mouth and rested both hands flat on his chest as she gazed down at him.

“We could sleep some more if you want. You won’t be afraid now, will you?”

“Not if you’re with me.”

“Vincent, I’ll be with you every night until the nightmare stops completely. By then maybe you’ll be so used to having me around that you’ll ask me to stay forever.” 

Vincent inclined his head on the sand and gave a gentle half-smile. “There is nothing in the world I would like more …when the time is right.”

“I’m ready whenever you are, my love. All you have to do is say the word. I won’t push you any more now. Just so you know, okay?”

“Okay.”

They both smiled then. The word sounded strange coming from Vincent’s lips, but it was a sign he was content and comfortable enough to relax completely, something he didn’t often do.

“So, are you tired?”

“No,” he replied. “But I did say I would visit with Father again later in the day.  Perhaps we should get dressed. I know he would be pleased to see you, too.” 

Catherine pulled a face, tugging down the corners of her mouth. “And I want to see him too…later.” She glanced around and located her watch on the sand. “It’s almost eight! No wonder I’m starving. Aren’t you hungry, Vincent?”

“I think I am. But we missed dinner.”                        

“So what shall we do?”

Vincent wrapped his arms more tightly about Catherine and rolled her possessively beneath him. “Maybe we should settle for another glass of champagne.” 

Her beam of joy was all he needed.