It's All Relative

by Becky Bain

Catherine was happy.

That pleased him; he could bask in her happiness even at thisdistance. His own day had been filled with petty annoyances - brokensteam pipes, a minor flood on the north side, and the loss of anentire cartful of fresh vegetables when Mouse tried to take it downthe stairs of the Serpentine.

He'd spent the early part of the evening adjudicating a disputebetween Geoffrey and Eric, then listened patiently while Fatherworried about how to replace the helper who came down on weekends totutor the older children in mathematics, since the helper was movingout of state.

Now he was tired, but too restless to sleep. Warming himselfin the glow of Catherine's happiness from a distance brought somemeasure of satisfaction, but suddenly he wanted more. Swinging hiscloak over his shoulders, he left his chamber, bound for Catherine'sbalcony.

He wouldn't stay long. It was late, and he knew she was tired. He wanted just a few moments, long enough to look into her eyes andhear her whisper his name. Her scent, the feel of her cradled in hisarms, would fortify him for another day.

He'd made this journey so many times, he could probably do itin his sleep. Tonight, lost in anticipation, he was on the last leg,about to cross the low brick parapet when he realized he was toolate.

She was asleep. Her slumber touched him, moved through him. It was soothing and tranquil, but not what he'd longed for. Hehesitated. He'd never set foot on the balcony when she was sleeping,except with the intent of waking her. Once, when Father was lostAbove. Another time after he'd witnessed a gruesome murder in thepark. And again when he needed her help to find Rolley, and Lena. But not otherwise.

The thought of watching her sleep was seductive, but heresisted it. To spy on her when she was so vulnerable would be aninvasion of the worst kind.

He closed his eyes and searched his sense of her. She wasn'tdeeply asleep - had probably been sleeping only a few minutes. Maybeshe was only drowsing and would wake if she knew he was here.

He ought to go and leave her in peace. But perhaps he couldfind solace in simply being near her for a moment or two.

Silently he slipped over the wall. The night was cool, with asoft breeze washed clean by an afternoon rain. He leaned on thebrick parapet, looking out at the lights, and wondered if he lovedthis view for its beauty, or simply because he most frequently saw itwith her beside him.

He wished he'd thought to go by Louis the florist's shop andbarter for a rose. He knew how much it pleased her to find tangibleevidence of his presence here.

He turned his head.

Through the glass of her doors, he could see the headboard ofher bed. If he moved just a little, he could see her hair,disarranged on the pillow, the soft curve of her cheek. Her hand,curled on the blanket.

Awareness of what he was doing rose in him suddenly, hot andshameful. He had no business here. He took a swift step back andpaused.

Catherine wasn't alone.

He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts and wishes, hehadn't sensed the presence of another. Alarmed, he edged forward,senses straining, until he could see clearly into the room.

In the shadows at the foot of the bed was a man. He wore onlya pair of dark trousers.

A soft, instinctive growl broke from Vincent's throat.

The man's head jerked in response to the sound and for ahorrifying instant, he stared into Vincent's eyes.

Catherine slept on, oblivious to the danger.

Vincent growled again, this time deliberately. He would usewhat he had to protect her.

The man reacted by hurling himself toward the bed. TowardCatherine.

Vincent felt the jolt as she woke, startled and disoriented. It fed the rage building within him. A savage snarl curled his lip;he moved forward.

The intruder shouted something unintelligible as he wrenchedopen a drawer of Catherine's nightstand and scrabbled inside. Catherine was shouting, too, and there was fear in her voice. Fearin her heart.

Vincent's hands curled for attack.

The man whirled toward him, something dark and ugly clasped inhis hands.

Vincent yanked open the door.

Catherine's fear escalated into pure terror as she pushedherself between them, hammering at the man's rigid arms with herfists.

"Don't!" she cried, sounding close to hysteria. "Don't shoothim!"

The gun's barrel wavered and dropped. "Cathy?" the man said,sounding astonished.

Catherine whirled away without reply, barrelling into Vincentand shoving at him. Her touch broke through his mindless fury and hestepped back. Her hands went to his wrists, grasping strongly. "MyGod," she said. He could feel how shaken she was. "He would haveshot you."

"Cathy?" The man had stepped up to the doorway. The gun -

Catherine's gun, Vincent realized now - was still in his hand.

Vincent instinctively turned his face away.

"I'll have to talk to him," Catherine said hurriedly. "Waithere. Please?"

And because it was not in him to deny her anything, henodded.

Her grip on his wrists tightened briefly before she droppedthem and went inside.

Vincent spun away from the open door, away from the apartmentwhere Catherine was. Where the man, only partially clad, was. Away from Catherine's bedroom.

He slid sideways, seeking the darkest part of the balcony. Seeking to drown the agony now blazing through him.

What a fool he'd been. Daring to imagine that her lovinglooks, her soft touches, her ready embraces were meant to showpassion for him. It was obvious now that all she had ever offeredwas friendship. His own foolish dreams had embellished her simpleaffection, twisting it into something it was not.

And never could be.

He understood that now. The man in her bedroom... he wasn'tmoving toward the bed - her bed - with intent to harm. Perhaps he'dmeant to caress her. To wake her gently...

His imagination stalled and refused to go on.

He tried hard to be happy for her. To rejoice that she hadfound someone.

His hands clenched painfully, his claws scoring his palms, ashe struggled to quell the agonizing grief that swept him. He must becalm when she returned.

He must be unselfish. He must step out of her life now andallow her the happiness she deserved.

Behind him came the scuff of her feet on the tiled terrace, thesoft click of the doors being fastened. He drew a long, tremblingbreath and turned to face her.

She came to him without hesitation and pressed herself againsthis chest. Slowly he allowed his arms to close about her, claspingher to him. What harm could it do, this one last time?

Her scent, sweet and painfully familiar, filled his nostrils. He breathed deeply, letting her essence fill him.

"I thought you were going to kill each other." Her voice wasmuffled against his shirt.

"I thought you were in danger," he answered. "I'm sorry."

Her arms tightened around him. "Don't be sorry, Vincent. Whatelse were you to think?"

He drew a long, fortifying breath. It was time. "The truth,"he answered quietly. "That he was your guest, in your home at yourinvitation."

She lifted her head. "In my bedroom, with his shirt off," shecountered.

Her matter-of-fact statement hurt. He released her and steppedaway. "Yes."

"I don't usually have half-dressed men in my bedroom, Vincent,"she said softly. "It was an understandable error. I appreciate whatyou tried to do for me."

"I should have known," he answered. He fixed his gaze on acluster of bright lights across the park and thought of the happinesshe'd sensed in her earlier. "I always knew it would come, Catherine. I should have been more prepared..."

"More prepared for what?" she asked. Her confusion reached himclearly.

"For you to find someone..."

"Someone..." Understanding broke over her with an intensitythat rocked him. "No!" She seized his arm, pulling him toward her. "It isn't like that, Vincent. I love you. You know that."

From somewhere came a strength he didn't know he had. He mether gaze. "It's all right, Catherine," he said softly. "I wantedyou to find this. I did."

"No, you didn't," she argued fiercely. "You only think youdid. And anyway, you're mistaken about David."

"David." He repeated the name. "He is a good man?"

"Vincent." She shook him in what could only be exasperation. "He's my cousin."

That froze him. "Your cousin..." he repeated. "Not..."

"My cousin David from Ohio. Here in town for a meeting. Hewas my favorite cousin when we were growing up. We used to spend oursummers together. It's been years since we've seen each other, sohe's staying with me so we can have more time together."

He glanced over her shoulder to the spot where the man - David- had been standing when he'd arrived. "But partially clothed... andin your bedroom."

Catherine made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "Vincent. You haven't been in my apartment very often, so perhapsyou never noticed there's only one bathroom."

He stared at her.

"And you have to go through the bedroom to reach it. I supposehe was tiptoeing in to use it, and didn't want to wake me." Sheshook his arm. "You didn't really think we were... I mean, that Iwould..."

He looked down. "Yes. I did."

"Why?" There was pain in her voice now. "How could you?"

"Because it is what you deserve," he said quietly. "A good manwho loves you. Who will care for you."

"I have that now," she said fiercely. "A good man - awonderful man - who loves me and cares for me more than I everthought possible. And it hurts me, Vincent, that you think I wouldbetray that."

"I never thought of it as betrayal," he faltered. "Only aswhat you deserved..."

"If I'm that wonderful, then I deserve you," she answered. Shesounded exasperated.

So frank a declaration left him momentarily speechless; shetook advantage of his silence to loop her arm through his and tug himforward.

Alarmed, he resisted and tried to free himself.

"Come on," she urged, not letting go. "He's already seen you,you know. I'm sure he has a million questions."

That was enough to give him back his voice. "Most of which Icannot answer."

"True." She smiled. "But you have me to help you not answerthem."

That was just nonsensical enough for him to relax hisresistance; she pulled him forward a step before he could stopher.

"Come on, Vincent."

He hated to disappoint her, but everything he'd ever beentaught, every unpleasant meeting he'd ever experienced, cried outagainst this. "I must not. Catherine..."

"Please." Her voice softened. "It's a chance to do somethingI've never done before."

So heartfelt a plea was difficult to resist. His oppositionwavered, on the verge of collapse. "What is that?"

Happy anticipation sparkled in her eyes as she recognized hissurrender and pulled him across the threshold. "I get to introduceyou to a member of my family!"

The End