VANISHED HOURS

"Catherine. Catherine!"

Vincent's raspy whisper cut through the fog of sleep whichenveloped her, and she woke to find the worried face of her belovedhovering over hers. She wondered what catastrophe could have causedhim to cross the inviolate line of her apartment's threshold.Immediately concerned, she would have sat up except for therestraining hand which suddenly appeared at her shoulder.

Groggily, she asked, "What's happened? Is everyone Belowalright?"

Vincent sat back on the bed and regarded his Bondmate with aworried expression. "You have sustained a serious blow to the head,my love. Father allowed me to bring you back to our chamber, but onthe condition that I not allow you to fall asleep. He is afraid youhave a concussion. I'm sorry I startled you, but you appeared to havedropped off."

Catherine's expression grew pained as she tried to come to termswith the hideous headache she had suddenly acquired. What was hetalking about? "I'm...I'm Below?" The last thing she remembered wasclimbing into her own bed in her apartment Above, dragging mounds ofcase files with her. She thought she might have fallen asleep whilereading. What could have caused a concussion? Shaking her head in avain attempt to clear it, and succeeding only in driving fresh stabsof pain through her skull, she tried to sort things out. "Tellme...what...happened, please. I remember being in my bed, but nothingafter that...."

Vincent gently took her hands in his, tenderly kissed them -- agesture which thrilled and shocked Catherine for its unexpectedboldness -- and began to relate the incidents of the past few hours."You were not in our...in your bed, my love. You were returning tothe tunnels with our son...with Geoffrey, after taking him and therest of his English Literature class to a matinee performance of TheScottish Play. The Royal Shakespeare Company is in town, and you wereso happy to be able to secure good seats for the children --remember?" It was clear she didn't, which puzzled him. He continuedhis narrative, assuming she would stop him at the point at which hermemory caught up with him.

"The others had run on ahead, vying to be the first to relatetheir impressions of their wonderful adventure Above. You andGeoffrey lagged behind. I imagine that you were enjoying someone-on-one time together. We believe that an accident Above caused awater main breakage, which in turn led to the collapse of the part ofthe tunnel in which you were walking. Geoffrey escaped with onlyscrapes and bruises. You had been walking with your arms linkedtogether, and he says the last thing he remembers before the ceilingcollapsed was you shoving him hard. Apparently, you pushed him clearof the worst of the collapse.

"He said that when he turned to look for you, you were lying halfcovered in debris. You were not moving, and he feared the worst. Hesummoned help on the pipes, and by the time we arrived he had almostdug you free."

Vincent's face reflected his paternal satisfaction. "I am so proudof our son, Catherine. He kept his head and reacted exactly as heshould have. He did not move you until medical assistance arrived.Father checked you over thoroughly -- you have several broken ribs,and your legs are badly scraped and bruised, but overall you wereextremely lucky. Large chunks of concrete apparently missed you byinches, although something caused trauma to your head.

"Father insisted that you be taken to the hospital chamber forobservation. But I prevailed upon him to allow you to come home,knowing you would prefer the comfort of your own bed to one in thehospital chamber."

Catherine's face took on an increasingly baffled expression asVincent related the story of her accident and rescue. His heart sankwhen he realized that none of what he had said clarified matters inthe least for her.

She confirmed that impression when she haltingly asked, "So...letme get this straight. You're telling me...I live Below?And...we...have a son? When did all this happen?"

Vincent tried to act as if these questions did not pierce him tothe core, understanding immediately that she must be suffering fromsome type of temporary amnesia. Gently he continued his explanations."You came Below over three years ago, Catherine. You and I wereJoined before our family here on the fourth anniversary of ...on thefollowing twelfth of April. On that day, we also adopted Geoffrey asour son. We have lived as husband and wife here, in this chamber,since that time. Do you recall none of this?"

Catherine was stunned. She thought for a brief moment that he wasplaying some sort of elaborate joke on her, except that Vincent neverdid things like that. And he was looking at her so earnestly,gripping her hands as if afraid she would float away....

She tried to focus her thoughts, her memories, to find something,anything that would bring back the past few years that he described.But her struggle was in vain. There was nothing -- not even a ghostlytendril of remembrance slipped through the fog. Had he really saidshe'd lived Below for over three years?

Even the past -- her remembered past -- was hazy. Flashes ofmoments came to her, but even some of those were confused, muddled.Why could some things seem so clear and others seem just out ofreach, and why were some gone as if never lived? Tears sprang to hereyes as, frustrated and frightened, she choked out,"I...can't...remember! I want to, Vincent! But...I...can't!" Sobbing,she turned her head from him, ashamed at her weakness.

Offering a reassurance he did not feel, Vincent said, "Hush,beloved. Don't worry. It will all come back to you in time. Liequietly now, and let me read to you. I'm sorry that I cannot let yousleep."

She smiled tremulously up at him and said, "I know you're takinggood care of me, Vincent. Thank you."

Through their Bond, he could almost feel the swirling mists thatclouded her mind. She was lost, adrift. His love must be her anchor.And there was only one thing he could do to ease her spirit right now-- shut down their Bond. Much as it pained him to do this -- to losethe sweet contact of her soul brushing against his -- he knew thatduring this confusing time she would only be further burdened byhaving to deal with his own uneasiness and fears. Better, for now, ifshe could truly be alone with her thoughts, her emotions, herreflections. Quietly, regretfully, he withdrew his consciousness fromhers, leaving only the weakest of links in place -- enough to tell ifshe was well or ill, awake or asleep, nothing more.

He left her bedside to retrieve a book and to tap out a message toFather -- F - come to C. V. He hoped that Father would know what todo.

But there was nothing Father could do.

_ _ _

Three weeks had passed since the tunnel collapse -- three weeks ofexplaining, filling Catherine in on events, people and memories whichhad been wiped from her mind. And still no glimmer of remembrancebrightened her senses. She took on faith everything she was told, butthe stress on her and her family was growing greatly.

Geoffrey was desperate for some sign of more than friendlyrecognition from his Mom. They had grown so devoted to each otherthese past few years. She was his best buddy, his closest confidant,and -- unbeknownst even to Father and Vincent -- his co-conspiratoron several grand schemes about which their Tunnel family still spokein awed tones. How did that fully decorated evergreen tree make itsway unnoticed into Father's library on Christmas Eve? What was theorigin of those odd, spooky sounds which emanated from the Abyss onAll Hallow's Eve? She took a perverse delight in encouraging hisharmless pranks, but insisted she never be revealed as one of theinstigators. However, Geoffrey considered the two of them a team. Ifshe wouldn't take credit, then neither would he. And so the pranksentered into the folklore of the Tunnel community unclaimed.

He remembered the moment of the accident. They had been walkingslowly back to the Home Tunnels after the play Above. He hadconfessed that he had once again misplaced the pocket watch she'dgiven him for his thirteenth birthday. It was his most prizedpossession -- an heirloom passed down to Catherine from her Father'sside of the family for generations. He had a habit of taking theprecious object off whenever he was doing something which might causeit damage -- when he was on kitchen detail, for instance, or helpingduring emergency digging. He also had a habit of forgetting exactlywhere he had placed the watch for safekeeping. It had becomesomething of a wry joke between them: he would -- eventually andreluctantly -- ask for her help in locating the missing item, she'dgive him "that look," then help him mentally retrace his steps, butinevitably they'd end up overturning everything in their path untilit was found, as his Mom always said, "in the last place you look."That terrible day, just as him Mom was giving him "that look,"laughing with him even as she did so, the ceiling had begun to fallin on them. More than that -- his life had fallen in on him.

How he treasured his Mom's patience, her delight in his intrigues,her understanding without words of what he was thinking, feeling. Allthat had changed since the accident. His Mom was still very nice andkind, but she wasn't...Mom anymore. His dismay and apprehension hadgrown over the past weeks, as his Mother's amnesia seemed unabated.Their conversations had been halting and difficult, as neither seemedto know exactly what to say to the other. It seemed as if they wouldhave to start again...from the beginning. After all the years ofaloneness, he had finally belonged to someone again. And she had onlybeen his for a few precious years -- it wasn't fair that those yearswould be so cruelly snatched from them now.

If anyone noticed that he smiled less than before...well, he hadalways been a quiet child, and confided in few. So Geoffrey kept hisgrief to himself. When his Dad had tried to speak to him about thestrange situation they were unexpectedly thrust into, Geoffrey hadtold him he wasn't ready to talk. His Dad, he knew, could sense hewas troubled, but he had insisted that his Dad not worry about him.He rebuffed every offer of consolation, until Vincent retreatedwithin the walls of his own heartache, hoping that Geoffrey wouldseek him out when he was ready. But Geoffrey would not do that. Hedidn't want to burden his Dad with the pain of this odd kind ofabandonment, and so he held it close, held it deep. After all, hisDad had enough troubles of his own.

Geoffrey had always been a sensitive boy, turned now into acompassionate young man. The tension apparent to him between his Momand Dad made his own problems seem puny in comparison. But still heached, and wept silently in his bed at night, and prayed to whatevergods would listen for his Mom to come back to him.

Vincent had not shared Catherine's bed since the night of thetunnel collapse. She was in pain and mending, of course, but beyondthat -- she could not remember. All the joy they had given eachother, the confidences exchanged, the delights explored, the passionexpressed in that bed -- all was lost as if it had never been.

He had vowed that he would not make her feel in any wayuncomfortable. She was confused and upset enough, knowing she hadlost so much, without being expected to engage in intimacies herconscious mind could not recollect. And so he struggled to holdhimself back from the little things he was accustomed to doing whichmight now startle her -- his tendency to reach out to caress her facewhen he passed her within their chambers or in the tunnels, the urgeto stroke her back as they sat beside each other reading their books,his habit of bending to kiss her neck if he caught her standing atthe mirror to fix her hair -- all of these and a dozen other littleexpressions of affection would surprise and disconcert her now. Hefocused his attention on these. Doing so masked his apprehensionabout the deeper issues he could not think of now. He needed herso....

During the first years of their relationship, Vincent had waged aterrible battle within himself to refrain from showing any overtphysical affection to Catherine which might be misinterpreted -- orworse, interpreted correctly. He had occasional lapses when hereached for her or held her in ways which let her know a small partof what he tried so to hide. But most of the time he was successfulin not allowing their friendship to be transformed from a deeplyromantic but chaste companionship into...something more. He hadalways believed she must have the freedom to move beyond him, back toher own world and life, to find a suitable man who could give hereverything he never could. To be a part of Catherine, a true part ofher, and she of him, was beyond the scope of his vision -- itremained an unspoken, unexplored aspect of their shared dream.

But when Catherine had told him she would adopt Geoffrey, that allhad changed.

Geoffrey had come to mean so much to her in the months afterVincent's terrible illness which brought with it the nightmare visionof her death. The boy had been company and assistance to her as shetook on the role of chief nurse during his convalescence. When he hadrecovered, Vincent had determined finally to set Catherine free, tospare her from fulfilling the omen he believed his nightmare to be.Geoffrey had helped him to see that the pain he was causing to bothCatherine and himself would not prevent a future which could not, inany event, be seen or predicted, that love was the only and thetruest guide. Vincent found himself drawn even closer to the youngboy after that, charmed anew by his quiet tenacity and ferventloyalty to Catherine.

Still, he had been stunned when Catherine had explained her plansto make the young orphan her son. The idea of Catherine being willingto change her life in such a way, even to be willing to move Below ifthat was what was best for Geoffrey, had unsettled him. Glad as hewas for both Catherine and Geoffrey, he felt he had left thepossibility of a life of his own with Catherine too long unexplored-- and he had lost his chance. But he had found the courage fromGeoffrey's example to reach for the life which was always within hisgrasp -- with Catherine by his side. When the boy had shyly confessedto Catherine that he had wanted to ask her to adopt him, and she hadmade him promise never to withhold his thoughts and feelings from heragain, Vincent began to understand that wishing would not make thingsso -- action and faith were required. Inspired, he had finally spokento Catherine of all that was contained in the depths of his heart.

Action and faith had carried the day. Catherine had moved Belowsoon after Winterfest, several months before their Joining andGeoffrey's formal Tunnel adoption. They had agreed that the only datepossible for the Joining ceremony was April 12. Planning for theevent, which would turn out to be the largest assembly of Tunnelfolkand Helpers ever brought together at one time, meant sufficient leadtime was required. New quarters had to be carved out, and so manydetails of life had to be discussed and settled upon. The one thingwhich they had not truly discussed before she moved Below was...thatfirst night.

In fact, their expectations of a "first night" were not evenmutual. He had been anticipating it as the night of their Joining,while she...in her need and wisdom...had fastened upon the night,months before the Joining, when she moved Below. At first he hadbalked at her suggestion, made at the exact moment she'd steppedbeneath her threshold, suitcases in hand, to begin her new life. Butas he'd walked with her in silence to the guest chamber which hadbeen prepared for her, he had come to realize that her suggestion,impulsive though it was, was for the best. Without the pressure ofthe formal occasion upon them, they could relax and ease into thisnew aspect of their relationship. The more he had thought about it,the more the idea had appealed to him...despite his nervousness andhis concerns. And what if their attempt to make love ended indisaster? Wasn't it better to know that before they Joined, savingthem a lifetime of frustration and despair? By the time they hadreached the guest chamber, Vincent had decided. He would trustCatherine's instincts -- if he could follow her to the brink ofdeath, surely following her into his own chamber would not be sodaunting a task?

Looking back upon Catherine's first night...with him...alwayscaused a wave of delicate shivers to ripple through his body. In theend, it had been so perfect...so right. When they had withdrawn intohis chamber on the day she moved Below, they had turned so naturallyinto each other's arms, it had surprised them both. Vincent's initialfears had melted beneath the heat of Catherine's ardor. They hadloved each other tenderly and gently, but with a fierce intensity, asif in a kind of trance. Each kiss, each caress, each embrace had ledinstinctively to the next. It was as if they had been loversthroughout all eternity, waking into this existence with an innateunderstanding of all that was most pleasing, most tantalizing, mostfulfilling to the other. Catherine's cries of delight and his groansof ecstasy had filled the night. They had made love until the dawn,yet the hours had flown by as if minutes. When the first stirrings ofothers in the tunnels made them aware that a new day had begun, theyhad come back to themselves as if from a dream -- a sweet,intoxicating, joyous, blissful dream.

Never having known the delights of the flesh, Vincent at firstassumed his consuming, nearly overwhelming reaction to his lover wasthe result of his long years of sublimation and denial. He desiredher constantly. He was in a persistent state of arousal wheneverCatherine was near -- making love to her once rarely cooled hisblood. Each time they came together, it was as if for the first time,and many nights he moved from one loving to the next almost withoutpause. His body's response to hers was unflagging, unrelenting,uncontrollable. He began to worry that the intensity of his needwould soon repel her -- when would enough ever be enough? He askedher often, begging her not to be afraid to tell him if his cravingswere in any way...unnatural, but her reassurances -- always expressednonverbally -- amazed and gratified him.

He had understood from snatches of conversation between other menover the years that the "honeymoon" phase of a marriage eventuallygave way to a still fulfilling but less passionate -- less frequent-- physical relationship. Yet, in the years since their Joining --except for a brief period when his guilt over her abandonment of herlife Above had paralyzed his natural response to her -- his desirefor Catherine had grown rather than lessened. He ached for her,craved her touch, the mere nearness of her, her body's reactions tohis -- everything within him reached for her, always. He could neverget enough of her, of her loving him.

He had found to his joy (and, sometimes, consternation) thatCatherine's hunger matched his own. Far from becoming exasperated byhis constant, irrepressible need for her, she had gloried in it,always as anxious as he for any stolen moment of pleasure or longnight of love which they might carve from their busy lives. Heryearning for him, so clear through their Bond, was so great thatsometimes his concentration on other tasks was lost in thedistraction of her desire flowing to him. And she stoked that passionnearly every night, greedy for the taste of him, the feel of himbeside her, inside her, surrounding her. He knew this because shewhispered these things to him when they were alone in the dark...andsometimes when they were in a crowd of people, or at a concert, or atdinner.

The physical expression of their love was a metaphor for the waythey lived their lives -- completely and totally committed to eachother, single-minded in pursuit of their destiny, admitting noadvantage and taking none. Theirs was an all-encompassing passion, atrue merging of like minds, a marriage of heart, body and soul whichdefined all that was best, all that could be between a man and awoman.

All that had changed since Catherine's accident. Her only memoriesof their love were from a time when little physical expressionexisted between them, when the path of their shared destiny was stillunexplored. The deeper understanding they had come to in the yearssince their Joining was splintered, the shards pricking them both,causing pain and frustration. Everything was...different. How couldhe now go to her for the comfort he so badly needed, which only shecould give? How could he...impose on her an intimacy she did notremember initiating? He longed for her with an almost palpabledesire, in silence and in misery.

_ _ _

Catherine's physical wounds were almost healed, but she sufferedstill from headaches and the ever-present knowledge that she had lostthe most important years of her life. Everyone around her assured herthat they had been happy years -- surely, they must have been, sinceshe and Vincent had been together, and since she had taken into herheart the orphan boy who had been such a special friend to her duringVincent's illness. She saw in those two faces -- Vincent's andGeoffrey's -- the yearning for her to come back to them, and shedesperately wished she could give back to them the woman they hadknown and loved for so long. She wanted that woman's life -- herdream life -- back with a fierce urgency.

Father had reassured her that she was likely to regain most, ifnot all, of her memories in time. "In time" -- he meant to becomforting, yet her impatience was not assuaged by that prognosis.Her family needed her now, she could feel it. She had tried to pickup the pieces of her life, but it was so difficult when she didn'teven know what those pieces were. Now that the greatest part of herphysical healing was done, she was determined to find the missingpieces and fit them back together again -- with or without her memoryas an aid.

_ _ _

"Geoffrey? May I come in?"

He had been lying on his bed, one arm thrown across his face. Hemade a swiping motion against his eyes before he rose and bid herenter. Uncomfortable at having disturbed him in a private moment, shenevertheless plunged ahead. She had to try to break through the wallof glass he had erected these past weeks. All their conversationssince her accident had been so strained, so stilted. Was hedeliberately shutting her out? Or did he recoil from her seemingstrangeness, her awkwardness after the casual intimacy they must havedeveloped in the intervening years? Gingerly, she walked over towhere he sat and dropped down next to him, close enough to touch him,although she made no move to do so.

Her eyes were filled with warmth and concern as she gazed at hisfamiliar, though now astoundingly grown-up, face. Could even threeyears have made such a difference in him? He seemed almost a stranger-- no longer the boy she could still cuddle, but a teenager -- ayoung man who might resent her own need to reach out to him.

She looked at his red-rimmed eyes and, in her nervousness, askedthe first thing that occurred to her. "Have you been crying?"

He thought about lying, but he didn't like to do that -- andespecially not to her. In fact, he couldn't remember ever lying toher in all the years he'd known her. He lowered his head as headmitted, "Yeah. I'm sorry."

Ashamed that he may have read accusation in her voice, shesoftened her tone. "Don't be. There's no need. We're all goingthrough a very disturbing, unsettling time. And what happened tome...it's no one's fault."

He shook his head fiercely, still looking down. "If I had pulledyou away from the falling concrete, maybe....."

She grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently to make him look ather. "No, Geoffrey. No! You couldn't have done anything to changewhat happened. In fact, from what Vin...your Dad told me, you dideverything right -- you probably saved my life. If you hadn't clearedthe rubble from off of me right away, one of my broken ribs mighthave pierced a lung and...."

"Don't say it! Don't even think it! If I had lost you...." Tearsfell down his freckled cheeks and he began to rub them away roughly.

"Hush, now, honey. You didn't lose me. I'm right here." Tenderly,she began to brush his remaining tears away with her thumbs, thencaressed his cheeks softly with her fingertips, gentling and quietinghim. His tears ceased, but his eyes stared in anguish at the womanwho meant the world to him. In his face she read all the anxiety andterror which a young heart like his could hold when his world hasbeen turned upside down. He'd had a mother, and now all he had wasthis woman who looked just like her, but didn't really know himanymore.

Empathy filled her voice as she vowed, "I may not remembereverything that's happened in the last few years, but there's onething I hold in my heart which can never be erased, and that's mylove for you and your Dad. You are my son, my special boy. That cannever change."

His eyes again welled with tears, and his lower lip began totremble. She was filled with a depthless compassion for the pain ofthis innocent young man who was so bravely trying to take the burdenof his loss into himself. She could not let him suffer in silence anylonger.

"Geoffrey, I...don't really know how you'd feel about it...but Icould sure use a hug right now. Would that be OK?"

Without a word, he threw himself into her arms, clinging to her sodesperately that her newly healed ribs began to throb. But thatdidn't matter now -- nothing mattered but comforting and loving herson. She held him tightly and rocked him gently, whisperingassurances of her love and commitment to him, kissing his mop oftousled curls. A long while passed as they held each other, givingeach other strength. Finally, he loosened his hold upon her. Sheraised his face to hers and kissed his tear-swollen eyes, then kissedhis cheeks, and finally, pulling away from him, kissed both of hishands before holding them on her lap.

With an earnest plea, she revealed her need. "You must help me,Geoffrey. I need your love to guide me, until I find my way back toyou -- all the way back."

He smiled then, a grateful, shy smile, just like the ones he'dbestowed as a child. "Sure, Mom. Whatever you need. I'm always herefor you. I love you."

She hugged him again, quickly, then rose to leave. At his chamberentrance she stopped and turned to him again. "I love you, Geoffrey.I always will."

"I know," he said simply. But his heart soared.

_ _ _

She came upon him in the chamber which functioned as their commonroom, but which he had used as his sleeping quarters since heraccident. His cot lay made up in a corner. It was very late, yetstill he was up, writing in his journal. Some things never change,she thought wryly.

As she walked in, he looked up with such an expression of longingthat her heart leapt to her throat. What am I putting this dear manthrough? How can I ever make things right for him? She noticed thathe quickly replaced his first, unguarded look with a carefully blandone, and the pain in her heart increased immeasurably. She hadsuspected almost since she had recovered consciousness after heraccident that he was withholding his emotional turmoil from theirBond, anxious not to intrude his own confusion into her chaotic,turbulent thoughts and feelings. By doing so, she knew he wasallowing her the privacy to sort through her disorientation andagitation. But did he realize that he was also leaving her adrift?Without his comforting presence anchoring her within their Bond, shewas more alone than ever, more frightened, less sure that herresponses and actions were the right ones. She had never feltmore...apart from him than she did right now. She hoped it didn'tshow.

"Would you like some company, Vincent?" She smiled hopefully athim.

He nodded and indicated a seat. "Of course, Catherine. You neverhave to ask."

She smiled her gratitude and moved to sit on the loveseat oppositehis writing table.

Feeling uncertain, he hid behind formalities. "May I pour you someherbal tea? It might help you sleep."

"That would be nice. Although it hasn't seemed to do you muchgood!" It felt nice to joke with him, and she noted that his facerelaxed a bit when he smiled shyly in response.

"That's true. Still...it's warm and comforting." He rose andbrought her a hand-thrown pottery mug filled with the fragrant brew.Mary had told her this was her favorite mug -- it was covered withtwined red and white roses. She didn't remember how she got it, butcould understand how it had become her special favorite.

Shyly, she looked up at him as she accepted the tea. She allowedher fingers to trail across his as she took the mug from his hands.That simple action caused him to tremble, she saw. Her heart lurchedagain at the poignancy of the strain he betrayed by thatuncontrollable shiver.

A bit nervous, even though she'd determined to pursue thisconversation, she asked, "Vincent...would you sit beside me for awhile? We haven't had much of a chance to just...be alonetogether...since my accident."

Nodding in acquiescence, he lowered himself to the overstuffedloveseat upon which she was sitting. His massive frame and the closeconfines of the furniture did not allow him to maintain any physicaldistance from her.

When they had commandeered this couch from the chamber whereexcess furniture was stored, the reason they had chosen it wasbecause it was so cozy, perfect for sitting close while readingtogether. His mind drifted for a moment to those evenings afterGeoffrey was in bed, evenings spent in almost total but companionablesilence, each of them buried in a book. Catherine would either leanagainst one arm of the loveseat and arch her legs across Vincent'sthighs, or, more often, lean against his chest, hanging her legs overthe arm of the couch. Many nights, their loving began here -- hewould nuzzle against her hair, finding her ear and capturing the lobebetween his teeth, worrying and sucking upon it until she began towhimper. She would retaliate -- sliding her hand down until she couldtrace the outline of his manhood pressed against his jeans, thenrunning her nails lightly up and down its length until he almostsquirmed from the sensation. They would drop their books thenand....

Catherine knew none of the turmoil raging through him as he sat,stiff and uncomfortable beside her, his right thigh pressed tightlyto her left one. She took a sip of her tea, then placed the mug onthe small table beside her. She turned to regard Vincent as he sat,staring at his hands. She shook him from his reverie with herquestion.

"Would you...would you hold me, please?"

A soft sigh escaped his lips before he replied. She almost didn'thear his whispered "Yes." He lifted his right arm in invitation, andshe slipped beneath it, leaning into his solid warm presence. His armdraped lightly across her shoulders, and she burrowed more tightlyagainst him, hoping he would clasp her more firmly in response. Everso slightly, he did.

With her arms wrapped around his waist, Catherine relaxed fullyinto his embrace, pressing her face into the soft ribbing of theheavy robe he wore. Beneath it, she could feel his steely strength,muscles tensed against her gentle assault. Her heart nearly broke atthat. So much distance lay between them. From her perspective, thisembrace was far more than he'd ever allowed before. From his, it wasfar less than he was used to. Without her memories to aid her, wasthat chasm too deep to cross?

She sighed. "This has been so hard, Vincent."

In a strained voice, he replied, "Be patient with yourself,Catherine. It will get easier in time."

"No...I meant for you..and for Geoffrey."

Again, just one whispered word came in response. "Yes."

Taking a shuddering breath, she willed herself to begin this mostdifficult part of their discussion. "Won't you teach me, Vincent?Until my memory returns...if it returns...I'm so lost. I don't meanabout the big things -- everyone has been more than helpful incatching me up on Tunnel happenings, filling me in about things Idid, people I've met. But there are gaps in my memory that...thatonly you can fill. I need you to guide me...on the little things,the...private things...between us. Please? I love you so much. It'sso strange to know in my heart that you and I are now one -- but inmy mind, just as surely, right now I know that you have never eventold me you love me."

Against her ear, the silk-and-gravel voice avowed, "I have,Catherine. A million times. More. I...I love you with everything Iam. Believe it."

Her heart thrilled at the sound of those precious words. "I do!Oh, I do, Vincent!" Suddenly, a surge of empathy poured from withinher. "I can only imagine what you've been through these past weeks,living with a...a stranger."

Gently, he disputed her assertion. "You are no stranger to me,Catherine, nor I to you."

"On many levels we are. In our...physical relationship, forinstance." She felt his increased tension at the words. The Vincentshe remembered would not have allowed her to continue, but thisVincent, the one holding her now, still held his peace. That gave herthe courage to go on. Yet, as she spoke, her voice betrayed theapprehension she felt in delving into this sensitive topic with thepart of this man she did not know. "You understand, don't you, thatI've wanted to love you...in every way...for almost as long as we'veknown each other?" She felt his hesitant nod against her cheek. In ahushed voice, she went on. "I still do. Do...do you...want me?"

Vincent couldn't suppress the groan that was torn from his throatat the question. The arm which held her tightened in reply, and hisleft arm moved to complete the embrace. Pressing her as close as he'ddared since her accident, he murmured in her ear, "Always, mylove."

Catherine was stunned by this swift declaration. Yet, she remindedherself, for him it was an affirmation borne of years of living andloving together. What she contemplated, while so new to her, was adecision long ago made by him. How odd, she thought. In the blink ofan eye -- to me, at least -- we've switched places. Now I'm the onewho's shy and unsure, and he's the confident, experienced one.

Sitting up so she could look into his eyes, she asked the questionwhich had been on the tip of her tongue for days. "Then...will youtake me to...our bed, Vincent? I...want to be with you tonight."

Tears forming in his eyes betrayed the depth of the emotionVincent tried to hold in check. His gaze burned into hers as hedemanded, "Are you sure, Catherine? Do not do this just for me."

She smiled as she said, "Of course I'm doing this for you...andfor me. It's for us, Vincent. I love you and I want to share myselfwith you. I need you so."

She stroked his face, tracing its curves with her fingers,astonished that he would allow such an intimacy, then rememberingthat, of course, she would have done this many times before. But itwas an extraordinary and exciting experience nonetheless,undiminished by the fact that to him it would seem unremarkable.

Shaking her head in wonder, she admitted, "In a funny way, I feellike I'm taking advantage of you. I...can only remember yourreticence. The only kiss I can recall between us is the one I gaveyou...after my Father died. To ask that man to make love to me --it's beyond belief that he would consent so readily."

Taking her hand, he leaned down to kiss it -- from fingertips topalm to wrist. "That man, Catherine, is no more. You banished himwith your gentle perseverance, your quiet persuasion. You gave me anew life, a new purpose, a beautiful reality to replace my barrendreams. Let me prove it to you."

Vincent gathered her up in his arms and strode into theirbedchamber, pulling the privacy curtain down as he went. Reverently,he laid her upon the bed, then stood to remove his robe. He did itcasually, instinctively at ease with the woman he had lived with forso long -- a woman he forgot had never seen him as he appeared beforeher now.

The effect of the sudden revelation of his unconscious splendorpierced Catherine deeply, driving her physical response to a heightshe would not have believed possible in the space of just a breath.His beauty was overpowering, his muscled strength magnificentlydisplayed, his masculine glory impressive and forthright. And therewas one thing more, one thing which overcame her more completely thanthe visual feast that was before her -- for the first time since heraccident, she felt him open their Bond to her. Like a great breathsuddenly expelled after long being held, relief and joy floodedthrough her to mingle with her burgeoning desire. And ...she knew hefelt it all.

He sat beside her and asked her once more, "Are you sure?" For ananswer, she took his face in her hands, drawing him down to kiss himsoftly, delicately, on the lips which had tempted her for so long.

The feeling was one of angels' wings fluttering against his skin-- such sweetness, such promise that it took his breath, starving ashe was for the taste of her. His need and hers merged in an instant,flame feeding flame, coiling and twining as the conflagration reachedthrough and became one in their Bond. He reached for her blindlythen, crushing her against his chest, inhaling the fragrance of herhair, reacquainting himself with the familiar planes and curves ofher -- coming home.

When he could speak, he begged for her understanding. "I need youso much, my love." He began to lavish kisses upon her -- covering herface, her neck, her shoulders with the moist, hot traces of hisardor. "I will...try to make this...special for you...but...."Releasing her for a moment, his hands shook as he unknotted her robeand pulled it away from her warm, pliant form. "It is so strange, tobe loving you again...for the first time." He lowered himself slowlyuntil he pressed his full length against her, holding himself backfrom full contact by balancing on his toes and forearms.

Catherine reached out to him and urged him down to her, making itclear that she did not want him to withhold any part of himself fromher...not any longer. His embrace...the shatteringly exquisite feelof his hands on her bare skin, fondling her, stroking her...wasbeyond anything her imagination had conjured in her secret fantasies.She reveled in the fascinating textures beneath her fingers -- therough silk of his fur, the hard ripple of muscle, the fevered flesh-- and her caresses were as much for herself as for him. He was real,and beyond the rational explanation of her memory loss was theirrational but wholly exhilarating belief that here, now,finally...he would love her as she'd always hoped he would.

Her response to his touch, to the pressure of his weight upon her,to the bliss of his mouth upon her breast, was instantaneous andcompelling. Her world condensed until it contained only his body andhers. She was quivering, trembling with the onslaught of a passionshe have never before felt for any man.

The unmistakable evidence of her fierce arousal set Vincentfurther aflame. His nostrils twitched as the intoxicating aroma ofher liquid essence issued its siren call. Growls were torn from histhroat as he fought to keep himself from claiming her utterly withone thrust, knowing she deserved more consideration, but wild with anunbridled bloodsong of need.

A deep flush spread across her chest and face as she archedagainst him, boldly proclaiming her own need. She wrapped her armsand legs around him then, and took his mouth with a single-mindedfervor which reminded him that, although she might not remember thepast, she was the same woman who had lived it with him. He gave uphis struggle then. She did not want him to hold back. She wanted --demanded -- all of him, everything, the totality of his being. Theirfirst coupling was thus -- a frenzy of uninhibited rapture, wild andurgent, as forceful an encounter as they'd ever experienced.

Their second loving was a mixture of exploration and wonder onCatherine's part, and affirmation and promise on Vincent's. Hemarveled at her acceptance of all that he was, with none of what hadcome before clear in her mind to aid her. She opened herselfwholeheartedly and ardently to him, and their joining was as intenseand impassioned as any love they had made in all their yearstogether. It was as if her body rememberedhim...intimately...although her mind still could not bring forth themissing years. He lost himself in her, abandoned himself with reliefand joy to her mouth, her hands, her sweet, intoxicating elixir.

For Catherine, the miracle of Vincent's love was all the moreprofound for the loss of those years. It was as if he had suddenlybeen transformed from the modest, reserved companion of her heartinto this intense, masterful, demanding, giving lover. The pride shefelt that she had played some part in releasing his sensual naturewas tempered by the sting of having lost the memory of all the -- shewas sure! -- delightful steps which had led to its full expression.The enormity of her loss took her breath away for a moment, until sheforced herself to focus on the here and now. She had lost nothing,gained everything -- hours ago, she was bereft and alone. Now she wassecure within Vincent's loving embrace, floating in the serenity oftheir Bond. She relaxed for the first time in weeks, suddenly surethat Father was right -- everything would come back to her...intime.

Vincent's heart was full to bursting. The agony of withholdinghimself from Catherine was over. Reveling in their renewed Bond,grounded by her loving comfort and knowing he had given her the same,he thanked whatever gods looked down upon them for this blessingwithin his arms. He couldn't resist nuzzling her ear as she pressedclose. "I love you, Catherine."

"I bet that's what you always say!" she teased, then hugged himtightly as she laughed against his mouth, drawing a kiss from hiswilling lips. Captured by the moment, he responded enthusiastically.Another kiss, then another, then they were again lost in a whirlwindof rapture. It lifted them, buffeted them, propelled them, until...atlong last...it deposited them gently on the shores of their ownlittle world...the world that was contained within the circumferenceof their arms.

_ _ _

Catherine hadn't had any headaches for days. Since the night shehad taken her world back -- the night her son and her lover had, indifferent ways, become hers once again -- she had left behind heranxieties about her loss of the past. A future stretched out beforethem, and she resolved to run toward it at full speed. She hadre-entered the life which had been disrupted by the accident withresolute good cheer, laughing over missteps caused by her failure ofmemory. Her attitude, forced at first, had gradually taken holdwithin her, and it was with genuine energy, anticipation andenthusiasm that she looked forward to all her life offered. Now,weeks since the night she considered the turning point in herrecovery, she felt whole and well again.

As she awoke, her mind was filled with plans. She had an AdvancedCivics class with the older children scheduled for an hour earlierthan usual, then she had promised to help William set up for thespecial luncheon he'd been planning to celebrate Father's birthday,then she planned to sit in on Vincent's English Literature class --they were going to discuss the research papers they had written aboutThe Scottish Play, and she wanted to hear their considered opinionsof the performance they had all seen. She had been particularlystruck by one aspect of the production, and she wanted to knowwhether it had made an impression on any of the class. She rememberedthat during the intermission, Samantha had made a remark that had setoff a chain of...of...of...OH, MY GOD!

"I remember! Vincent, wake up! I remember!"

He came awake immediately, almost before she spoke, from the burstof light which had emanated from their Bond, piercing his unconsciousmind and electrifying him with the one thought which Catherine nowexpressed so joyously. "You remember?" He clasped the woman he lovedmore than life to his chest, laughing with her, almost weak withrelief. "Tell me!"

"What shall I tell you?" Catherine pulled away slightly to look athim, her smile turning quizzical at his unexpected request.

"Everything!" He held her shoulders tightly while he stared deeplyinto her eyes, willing her to tell him of the things his heart achedto hear. Beaming with joy, she began to tell him...of their firstnight together, of their Joining, of Geoffrey's bedtime ritual, ofanything and nothing much, just to confirm for him that, indeed, shewas...back.

After a while, he stopped her mouth with grateful kisses.

Much later, Catherine, arriving slightly flushed and out ofbreath, had to apologize to her class for being late.

She asked Geoffrey to stay behind when class was over. Quietly, asthey sat together, she recalled for him moments from the past threeyears, starting every sentence with, "I remember...." His face, theone which now was achingly familiar to her, a face which never couldconceal its emotions from her knowing eyes, was filled with ahappiness so profound it made Catherine's eyes brim with tears. Aftera few minutes, Geoffrey interrupted her. "Since when...?"

Gleefully, she replied, "When I woke up this morning -- it wasall...just...there!"

Geoffrey's puckish sense of humor returned then with a vengeance."Right where you left it, huh, Mom?" he asked, mimicking herpredictable refrain whenever he temporarily lost his pocket watch andshe found it for him.

Catherine laughed, a carefree and joyous laugh. "Apparently! It'salways..." and they finished the sentence together, giggling likechildren, "...in the last place you look!"