EVAN

Catherine's back ached fiercely and she shifted uncomfortably inher chair. She promised herself that if she could just get throughthis brief she was drafting, she would go home early. For her, thatwould mean leaving on time for once.

Her back had been hurting and she'd been having intermittentcontractions all day, a sure sign she was doing too much.Concentrating on the brief was becoming more and more difficult.

Her attention wandered to the heap of unfinished work on her deskand she wondered irritably if she was going to be able to complete itall in two days.

In frustration, she tore off the top sheet of her legal pad,wadding it up and hurling it in the general direction of heroverflowing wastebasket.

"Great timing, kid," she mumbled as she finally admitted toherself that she was probably in labor. With a sigh, she closed thecase books on her desk and reached for her purse. The strongestcontraction yet made her grip the edge of her desk until it passed.

On her way out, she stopped by Joe Maxwell's office to tell himshe was leaving. Leaning against the doorframe, she waited while heargued with someone on the phone.

Her eyes widened as another contraction hit and Joe stoppedtalking mid-sentence. "I'll call you back, Bill." He slammed thephone down and came around his desk to put an arm around her.

"Are you okay, Cathy? Is it the baby?"

"I think so," she nodded. "I'm all right, Joe. I just wanted youto know I'm leaving."

"I'll walk you down."

Over her protests, Joe accompanied her to the elevator. Anothercontraction as they rode down made her hold on to his arm forbalance.

Outside, Joe found a cab and helped her in. "Which hospital?" heasked.

Catherine shook her head. "I want to go home."

Joe gaped at her. "Are you crazy? You need to go to thehospital!"

Catherine was opening her mouth to argue when yet anothercontraction seized her. Joe took advantage of her distraction andclimbed into the cab beside her.

"Take us to the nearest hospital that delivers babies," heinstructed the driver. He dredged his memory for everything he'dlearned before his daughter was born three years ago. "Come on,Radcliffe, breathe," he encouraged her.

Catherine was suddenly very grateful for his help. Neither of hertwo previous labors had progressed this quickly and she found it alittle frightening.

* * * * *

In the tunnels below the city, Vincent stopped his restless pacingand cocked his head as if listening to some far away sound.

"She's in labor," he said, distractedly. "The baby is coming veryquickly. She's on her way." He took a moment to kneel beside histwo-year-old son, who was happily stacking blocks on the floor ofFather's chamber.

"You stay with Grandfather, Jacob. I'll be back soon."

"'Bye." Unperturbed, Jacob waved and reached for anotherblock.

Vincent stood. "Charles is with Jonathan."

"I know that, Vincent. The boys will be fine. Go!" Father wavedhim out.

Pulling his cloak on as he walked, Vincent used his sense ofCatherine to guide him. After a minute, he was sure she wasn't goinghome because she was travelling in the wrong direction. Anotherminute and he was equally certain she wasn't going to use theentrance nearest her office.

Knowing there wasn't much time before the baby came, Vincent brokeinto a run. His feet carried him blindly on a path guided only bytheir bond.

After running through a series of steam tunnels on the extremeupper level, he came to a gradual stop. Taking a few hesitant stepsback, he stared at the smooth curve of the pipe above his head.

Catherine was there, no more than a hundred feet away from him...but it might as well have been a hundred miles.

* * * * *

Catherine allowed Joe to help her into the emergency entrance ofthe hospital. An alert orderly produced a wheelchair and she sankinto it thankfully, gripping Joe's hand as she panted through anotherhard contraction. It was only a matter of minutes before the babywould be born.

* * * * *

Below, Vincent stood in the emptiness of the tunnel, an imposingfigure even in his aloneness. It was times like this when he felt theenormity of his differences the most.

Behind him, an insistent message reverberated on the pipes andwith a detached part of his mind, Vincent recognized his own name. Itwas a moment before the message itself sank in.

With a sigh, he scanned the tunnel floor, seeking something withwhich to tap out a reply. A broken piece of concrete lay nearby andhe picked it up. He gave his location, repeating it twice beforetossing the chunk of cement aside and resuming his lonely vigil.

* * * * *

Catherine was wheeled briskly down a corridor and onto an elevatoras Joe trotted alongside. A nurse accompanied them, clipboard inhand, trying to get information.

"Who is your doctor?"

Catherine forced herself to concentrate. "Peter Alcott," she said."But he's out of town."

"Is this your first baby?"

Catherine shook her head. "My third... fourth..."

"Her third pregnancy, her fourth child," Joe clarified.

The nurse smiled at him. "Will you be going into the deliveryroom?"

Catherine answered for him, emphatically. "No!"

"I'm not her husband," Joe explained quickly. "I'm just afriend."

"In that case, you might want to go down to Admitting and givethem what information you can," the nurse suggested.

The elevator doors slid open and Joe squatted down beside thewheelchair. "Will you be okay?"

Catherine spared him a small smile. "Sure, Joe. I've done thisbefore."

"Yeah. Can I call someone for you?"

Catherine hesitated. "No... yes! Call Jenny."

Joe looked more than a little confused as he asked, "Jenny? JennyAronson?"

"Yes. Call Jenny."

Another contraction began and Joe stood aside as Catherine waswheeled into Labor and Delivery, staring after her with a thoughtfulfrown on his face.

* * * * *

Vincent turned his head at the sound of footsteps. Mary hurriedaround a corner, carrying her obstetrical case and panting fromexertion.

"Vincent! Where is Catherine?"

"She isn't coming." Vincent sounded resigned.

Mary frowned. "...isn't coming? But Father said she was in labor..that you had come to meet her..." She stopped beside him and set downher case. "He was afraid the baby was coming too quickly so he askedme to follow you."

Vincent gestured above their heads. "There was no time for her tocome Below. She is there... above us... about to give birth."

"What's up there, Vincent?" Mary asked him gently.

"A hospital," he replied. "She will be well cared for."

Rapid footsteps sounded from the other end of the tunnel as Jamieand William hurried towards them. Simultaneously, Geoffrey appearedbehind Mary.

"Where's Catherine?" they all asked at once. Mary began toexplain. Halfway through, she looked over to see Vincent glancing upwith a faraway look in his eyes. She stopped speaking and the othersturned, following her gaze. In silence they watched.

After a few minutes, Vincent bowed his head and sighed. "The childhas been born safely," he said softly. "Catherine is relieved andhappy."

His own relief was evident in his voice. As he turned to hisfriends, they smiled at him, offering tentative congratulations.Lifting Mary's case, Vincent put his other arm around her. "Let's gotell Father," he suggested lightly.

* * * * *

Catherine turned her head and smiled as the recovery room doorswung open to admit Jenny Aronson.

"Hi," she said, tired but happy. "Did you see the baby?"

Jenny nodded and grinned. "I stopped by the nursery first," sheexplained. "How are you doing?"

"I want to go home."

Jenny made a face. "So I heard. Cathy, you just had a baby. Yourdoctor asked me to talk sense to you..."

"Jenny," Catherine laid her hand on her friend's arm. "I want togo home. You should understand that."

Jenny's voice became gentle. "I do. But the doctor is veryuncomfortable with the idea of you going home right now. The baby'snot even an hour old yet."

The stubborn look on Catherine's face made Jenny try a differentapproach. "I know you want to be with Vincent, but your well-being ismore important to him. You know that. Stay tonight and you can gohome in the morning. Please."

Catherine still wanted to argue, but she was drained and shakyfrom childbirth. In her heart, she knew Jenny was right. Unwillingly,she nodded.

The recovery room door swung open again as a nurse wheeled in thebaby. Joe followed shyly.

"Here he is, Mrs. Chandler, all washed and pretty for you," thenurse bubbled, picking up the infant and handing him to hismother.

Catherine gathered the baby to her eagerly. She had seen him onlybriefly in the delivery room before he'd been whisked away to beweighed and measured. She wasn't used to being separated from herbabies after birth and she was glad to have him back.

"Hey, Radcliffe, how're you feeling?" Joe asked.

Catherine smiled at him. "I never thanked you for bringing mehere," she said. "I'm glad now that you insisted."

"Yeah," Joe grinned. "The nurse told me he was born twelve minutesafter we got here. You never would have made it home, Chandler."

"I know. Thanks, Joe."

Joe turned to Jenny. "Did you convince her to be reasonable?"

Jenny nodded. "As long as she gets to go home in the morning." Sheturned to Catherine. "I'll come get you, first thing... Damn! I justremembered, I have this meeting..."

A rebellious expression crossed Catherine's face and Joe broke inhastily. "I'll take you home, Radcliffe," he promised. "I'll be herebright and early."

* * * * *

An hour later, Jenny climbed the steps to Catherine's front doorand rang the bell. After a moment, it was opened and a teenage girlwith bright red hair peered out at her.

"Hi, Miranda," Jenny said. "I need to see Vincent."

Miranda opened the door wide. "He's in the dining room..." shebegan, but Jenny had already crossed the vestibule and Vincent mether in the hall.

"It's a boy, seven pounds, seven ounces and twenty and a quarterinches long, and they're both fine," Jenny said, all in one breath.

Vincent smiled.

Brandishing cardboard swords, Charles and Jacob came charging infrom the back of the house. Charles, at nearly six, was alreadytaller than most boys his age. His straight brown hair was disheveledand there was a mischievous glint in his gray eyes. In contrast,Jacob was small and fair with his mother's delicate features. Afading pink scar was the only reminder of the cleft lip he had beenborn with.

"Hi, Aunt Jenny!" Charles said happily, dropping his sword for ahug. "Did you know we have a new baby?"

"I just came from seeing him," Jenny informed him. "I brought yousomething." Digging in her purse, she produced two Polaroid snapshotsand gave them to Vincent.

Jacob pulled at his father's vest. "Jacob see," he insisted.

Vincent squatted down and put an arm around Jacob to steady him ashe held the first picture so the boys could see it.

It was a close up of a newborn baby and Charles grimaced.

"Is that our baby?" he asked with distaste. "He's ugly! All redand squished."

Vincent quickly stifled a sound of amusement. "He looks very muchas you did, Charles," he told the boy. "Except for the hair."

Jenny laughed. "This baby doesn't have any hair."

"Not any?" Charles asked in amazement.

"Well, not much, and what he does have is so blonde you can't seeit," Jenny said.

Vincent was looking at the other photograph now and he seemed faraway as he gazed at the image of Catherine holding their newestchild.

Charles glanced at the picture and looked at Jenny sadly. "AuntJenny, when is my mother coming home?"

Jacob took his finger out of his mouth and echoed, "Mommy comehome?"

"Your Uncle Joe's bringing her home in the morning," Jennyexplained, crouching down to the children's level.

"I want her to come home now," Charles complained.

"Charles." Vincent's voice held a warning.

Jenny smiled sympathetically. "Charles, would you like to callyour mother on the telephone? If it's okay with your father," sheadded, glancing at Vincent for permission.

"Right now?" Charles asked with interest.

Vincent nodded his approval and Jenny stood, holding out her hand."Sure. Right now!"

Charles pulled her the few steps to the hall table and waitedimpatiently while she rummaged through her purse in search of thescrap of paper that had Catherine's hospital room number scribbled onit. She finally found it and dialed.

"Hi," she said a moment later. "It's me. Did I wake you up? ...Good. I have two little people here who want to talk to you....I'm at your house, where do you think?" Jenny laughed into thephone and passed the receiver to Charles.

He held a brief conversation with his mother, asking and answeringa few simple questions. After a moment, she said something to himthat made him look at Vincent and smile. "Okay," he agreed. "Here'sJacob."

Jacob had been reaching for the phone, saying, "Jacob talk, Jacobtalk," over and over in a mournful monotone. He seized the receiverjoyfully and began chattering nonsense.

Charles walked carefully around Jenny and Jacob and looked up atVincent with a grin. "You have to bend down, Father," heinstructed.

Puzzled, Vincent lowered himself to the child's level and Charleshugged him hard and kissed him soundly on the cheek.

"That's from Mother," he said with delight. "She told me to."

Jacob abandoned the phone in favor of bestowing his own hug andkiss and Jenny rescued the swinging receiver.

"Are you still there?" she asked Catherine. Receiving anaffirmative answer, she went on. "You're going to have to teach thatkid some phone etiquette. Hold on a sec."

Vincent had straightened and Jenny offered him the phone. "Yourturn."

Vincent hesitated before reaching for the instrument slowly. Heturned away as he lifted it to his ear.

Charles stared in wonder. "I never saw Father talk on thetelephone before," he whispered to Jenny.

"Really?" Jenny glanced at Vincent curiously as she rescued aframed picture from Jacob's ungentle hands. Using her sleeve toremove the worst of the smudges Jacob had left on the glass, shereturned the picture to its place on the table.

Vincent cradled the phone and looked at Jenny. "Catherine asked ifyou told me about the room," he said, his eyes making it a question.

"Oh... I forgot," she said in dismay. "I'm supposed to tell youshe's in a semi-private room. She has a roommate."

Vincent nodded his understanding and Jenny thought she saw aglimmer of disappointment in his eyes. She'd have to ask Cathy toexplain later.

"It's getting late. Is there anything I can do before I go? Maybehelp get the boys ready for bed or something...?"

Vincent shook his head. "It isn't necessary. Miranda is here."

"We're going to stay Below tonight," Charles volunteered. "Fathersays I'm old enough to sleep in the boy's dorm... dorm..." hestruggled with the word.

"Dormitory," Vincent supplied.

"Dorm-i-to-ry," Charles repeated, pronouncing each syllablecarefully. "Jacob's too little. He has to sleep with Father," headded.

"No! Jacob sleep with Charles!" Jacob's protest was prompt andvigorous.

Vincent lifted Jacob in his arms and Jenny said a hasty goodbye,leaving Vincent with the unenviable task of reasoning with a two yearold.

* * * * *

The next morning found Joe and Catherine deeply embroiled inargument as their cab moved slowly through the traffic. It hadstarted when Joe learned that he and Jenny had been Catherine's onlyvisitors the night before.

His first assumption had been that her children's father, themysterious man he had never met, must be out of town. That illusionvanished when Catherine said something which indicated that he was athome, waiting for her.

Joe asked what he thought was a logical question. "Why didn't hecome for you?"

The baby whimpered and Catherine soothed him. Joe had theimpression she was stalling.

"He couldn't," she answered at last, with an air of finality.

Joe was disturbed by the man's absence yesterday and this morning,and his temper grew short as Catherine evaded his questions. Therehad been far too many similar incidents in her life and he hadignored them for far too long. There were all the parties she went toalone, the movies she hadn't seen and the plays she hadn't been to.Her social life, as far as he could tell, was non-existent except forobligatory functions, but that was only the surface.

There were the photographs, carefully framed, which graced acorner of Catherine's desk at the office. They changed over theyears. First had been pictures of little Charles, followed by photosof Charles and his younger brother Jacob. The latest was a posedstudio family portrait of Catherine and her two sons. The man in herlife was conspicuously absent and it had required enormous effort forJoe not to ask about him.

One thing stood out above all this, however, and Joe could stillfeel outrage whenever he allowed himself to think about it. BabyJacob, at six weeks of age, had undergone plastic surgery to correcthis cleft lip. Joe had known that Cathy was apprehensive about it,especially in the wake of the other twin's death. "It's a generalanaesthetic, Joe," she had told him anxiously when he had gone to herhome to visit her and the new baby. "There's always a risk..."

On the day of surgery, he had taken an early lunch and gone to thehospital to offer whatever comfort he could. Jacob was still insurgery and Joe had been appalled to find Cathy in the waiting room,white-faced with fear and holding hard onto Jenny Aronson's hand. Thechild's father was nowhere to be found and careful questioning of thehospital staff revealed he had never been there. Joe was divorcedfrom his wife, but, if it had been their daughter undergoing surgery,nothing could have kept him away.

Now his barely leashed anger and dissatisfaction with Catherine'svague replies to his questions made him push harder forinformation.

The more he pressed her, the more cryptic her answers became andthe more his suspicions were aroused. Finally she resorted to adirect plea. "Don't ask me questions I can't answer, Joe."

He couldn't let go of it. "Why? Why can't you answer them?"

"I just can't."

The cab drew up in front of the house and Joe halted hisinterrogation to gather up some of the miscellany that goes with newbabies.

"You don't need to come in, Joe," Catherine told him.

"Yes, I do." He was emphatic. "I want to be sure someone's thereto be with you."

She smiled as she shifted the baby into the crook of her left arm,freeing her other hand to open the door. "I won't be alone."

Joe scowled. "He didn't even come to see you in the hospitalyesterday..."

Catherine cut him off by climbing out of the cab and slamming thedoor. By the time Joe reached the sidewalk she was halfway up thestairs, and he hurried after her.

Catching up with her at the top, he took the keys out of her handand unlocked the door. Before he could open it, she reached acrosshim to stab the doorbell three or four times.

He had observed that action during prior visits to her home, andalways wondered why she did it, but he was damned if he was going toask. Trying to pry explanations from her was a little like beatingyour head against a brick wall - painful and highly unproductive. Hefollowed her through the dim vestibule and into the hallway, standingwith his feet firmly planted as she turned to face him.

"I'll be all right now, Joe."

"No way, Radcliffe. I'm staying until I see that someone's here totake care of you." His jaw was set in a way that told her this wasone argument he didn't intend to lose.

She glared back at him, just as determined.

The impasse was broken by a low, gentle voice from the top of thedarkened stairs.

"Joe Maxwell. I have much to thank you for."

Catherine made an audible sound of shocked protest. Joe knewimmediately who the voice must belong to, and he took an involuntarystep toward it. "Where were you yesterday when Cathy was having yourbaby?" he demanded belligerently.

The shadowed form at the top of the stairs began to descendquietly. "I was with her in the only way I could be."

It was another evasive answer and suddenly all the fury Joe hadkept bottled up over the years out of deference to Catherine could nolonger be contained. He shook off the restraining hand she laid onhis arm and took another step forward.

"If it weren't for Cathy..." he began, enraged. The figure tookone more step down and Joe broke off to stare in shock.

All at once, all his assumptions and expectations were shattered.Nothing in his wildest imaginings had prepared him for anything likethis and time seemed to stop as he gaped. Vincent stood calmly,returning Joe's gaze until Catherine cleared her throat.

"Joe, I guess it's time you met Vincent. And now, if you gentlemendon't mind, I badly need to sit down."

Her words brought Joe out of his shocked state. She carefully madeher way into the little-used living room, and Vincent made aneloquent gesture with his hands, inviting Joe to follow her.Catherine eased herself onto the couch and Joe stared in fascinationas Vincent bent over her.

"You're all right?" He raised his hand as if to touch her face,then seemed to remember Joe's presence and lowered it to gentlystroke the baby's head instead.

"I'm fine." Catherine smiled first at her husband and then at herson. "Isn't he beautiful?"

The look on Vincent's face as he took the child in his arms wasall the answer she needed. Totally absorbed in his new son, Vincentcrossed to a chair near the window and began tracing the baby'sfeatures lightly with his finger.

Joe, riveted by the expression on Catherine's face as she watchedVincent holding the child close, moved to sit beside her on thecouch. "I guess," he said at length, "I owe you both an apology."

Catherine gave him a roguish grin. "That's quite a turnaround, Mr.Maxwell," she teased him.

Joe looked embarrassed. "Yeah, well, a lot of things begin to makesense now... things about you. I worried about you a lot, Radcliffe.I felt so helpless when you wouldn't tell me anything."

Catherine came to a sudden realization. "All this time you thoughtI was caught in an abusive relationship!"

Joe nodded briefly, his eyes on the floor. "I couldn't understandit," he explained. "You're so strong, so self-reliant. I could neverunderstand why you would stay with a man who wasn't good to you, butI couldn't think of any other reason for all the secrets... all thetimes he should have been with you, but wasn't." He sighed. "And whatconfused me most of all was that you truly seemed happy. It was aparadox I couldn't make sense of."

Catherine reached for his hand and held it between hers. "Don't beashamed, Joe. You wanted to protect me. I always knew that. But Icouldn't tell you why I didn't need your protection. Maybe I justdidn't know how."

"Yeah." Joe gave Vincent a shy glance as he withdrew his hand. Hestill looked embarrassed as he got to his feet. "I'd better go,Chandler."

Vincent rose from his own chair. "Thank you for bringing them bothsafely home." He shifted the baby to his left arm and held out hisright hand.

Joe grinned awkwardly as he shook Vincent's hand. "I'm sorry forall the things I thought about you," he said.

"Your apology is not necessary. I know you truly care aboutCatherine. She is fortunate to have you as her friend."

Joe shifted uncomfortably under Vincent's praise and changed thesubject. "By the way, what's the baby's name?"

Vincent exchanged looks with Catherine.

"His name's Evan," she said, imparting the name that had long agobeen chosen.

Vincent glanced down at the infant in his arms and back up at Joe."Evan Joseph," he added quietly.

Pleased and honored, Joe grinned.

THE END