CANDLELIGHT

Unable to suppress a sigh of pleasure, Catherine felt her tired muscles relax in the warm water of the pool. She could hardly believe that something like this existed beneath the streets of Manhattan. But then again, everything she had seen of Vincent's world so far, had been pretty amazing. Leaning back a little farther on the ledge that served as a bench, she opened her eyes and looked up to the rocky ceiling of the bathing chamber. The room was dimly lit by two lanterns which Vincent had hung on hooks on either side of the entrance. He had told her that the lights also served to indicate that the pool was occupied, thus granting her privacy. Her thoughts returned to Daniel who had been relinquished into Father's expert care immediately after their arrival and was now asleep. Catherine couldn't help but feel admiration and gratitude towards the gray-haired man, and relief that she'd been accepted so kindly. At first she had thought that he was merely being polite, but those gray-blue eyes had scrutinized her thoroughly and solemnly, and in the end he had given her a nod and a barely perceptible smile. Silently and, it seemed to her, almost anxiously, Vincent had watched the wordless exchange between Father and her, and when she'd finally turned to look at him, he had released an inaudible sigh. She wondered what Vincent had expected. That Father would give them a lecture as if they were disobedient children? Now that she was thinking about it, she realized that this was probably exactly what he had expected. She had to admit that the old man was obviously a force to be reckoned with. He had to be, or he wouldn't be able to lead a community of this size and complexity.

Soft steps from the doorway behind her reminded her that she'd probably been soaking in the pool far too long. Although Vincent had told her that this bathing chamber wasn't the only one down here, she suspected that he and the men who'd carried the stretcher would probably like to use it as well. She slid from the ledge into shoulder-deep water and turned around. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to take so long. I must have..." The image Vincent presented as he towered above her, looking down on her with luminous eyes, silenced her. His hair was still wet from washing, and instead of his usual multi-layered attire, he wore a patched, pastel-hued robe which lent him a much softer look.

"There is no need to apologize," he reassured her, squatting down beside the pool and placing a large towel and a stack of folded clothes on the smooth, stony floor. "Mary and Louisa said you may use these if you like. Your own clothes will be ready in a few days. Things take a little longer to dry down here."

"Thank you," she whispered, touched by the solicitude and hospitality of the tunnel-folk. Vincent kept looking at her a few moments longer before he rose again. "I will be waiting outside," he said. "Please take your time. A guest chamber has been prepared for you. You will wish to rest."

With that he left the chamber, and she hurried to get out of the pool and dry herself. The tunnel clothes felt incredibly good against her skin, the various textures of their fabrics softened by being used and handed down so many times. She slipped on the warm suede moccasins Vincent had brought for her and picked up the wet towel, momentarily uncertain as to what to do with it. As if on cue, Vincent reappeared in the doorway to take it from her and place it over a rack in the corridor outside. She didn't ask but assumed that it would be picked up by someone later. It's almost like a hotel here, she thought, smiling inwardly. This place was incredible, and she was getting more and more curious to see all of it.

As Vincent led the way through a system of dimly illuminated corridors and tunnels, she was dying to learn if he'd talked to Father yet, but somehow she didn't dare break the silence he had wrapped so tightly around himself.

The room Vincent took her to was sparsely furnished, but nevertheless cozy and comfortable. "You are tired," he observed. "Sleep now. I'll come for you tomorrow. Then we can sit with Daniel, and I will tell you more about this world of ours." He pointed at the nightstand which held a flashlight and a piece of rock the size of a fist. "If you need anything, just take that stone and tap against the pipe that runs along the corridor outside your chamber."

She felt her eyes widen in surprise. "You mean I'll send a message across the pipes? But I don't know how to do that."

He smiled indulgently. "Just tap against it four times in a row; then I will come. My chamber is not far from here." Before he left, he pointed down the corridor. "There's a bathroom down there, but don't forget to take the flashlight."

"Thank you," she said huskily, suddenly feeling the irrational wish that he would stay; that he wouldn't leave her alone in this unfamiliar room -- alone with her thoughts and uncertainties. He waited patiently, almost as if he expected her to say something, but she just smiled. "Good night, Vincent," she managed. "Sleep well."

He inclined his head in a way that made her go weak inside. "And you, Catherine," he breathed and was gone.

*

On entering Father's study, Vincent smiled at the familiar sight that greeted him. The old man stood with his back to the entrance, obviously searching the shelf for some elusive book. "How is Daniel?" Vincent asked, as Father turned around to acknowledge his presence.

"He will be fine. The sepsis is under control. You brought him here in time. I'm glad you didn't hesitate in returning with him. How is Catherine?"

Vincent pulled up a chair and sat down. "She's asleep. The strain of the past few days has exhausted her. Father..."

"You needn't explain that now, Vincent. I certainly understand why you brought her here, but you need to rest as well. We'll talk about the implications and possible consequences of all this later. There is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow."

Both men gazed at each other in silent understanding. Then Vincent rose from his chair. "Thank you, Father," he said, placing his hand on the older man's shoulder.

"You have been sorely missed, Vincent," Father spoke with genuine affection, covering Vincent's hand with his own. "I'm glad that you're back."

"So am I," Vincent replied quietly before he turned and headed for the stairs. He paused in mid-stride and looked back once more. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he added, "but I wasn't merely being stubborn. Above all else I wanted to keep any possible danger away from the tunnels."

"I know that," Father answered wearily. "And I am sorry, too, that I wasn't there for you to help you find a better solution than just running off."

They exchanged a smile. "Until tomorrow then," Vincent said and headed for his own chamber.

On his way down the corridor he stopped at the nursery. Knowing that the little ones were long asleep, he ducked quietly through the entrance and greeted Sarah with a slight nod of his head. She rose to meet him, and her welcoming smile reminded him of how much his extended family meant to him, and how much he had missed them, too. It also warmed him that she obviously knew why he had come, because she preceded him to the crib in which baby Paul slept peacefully on his back, one little fist tucked firmly into his mouth. Vincent never noticed that Sarah retreated silently to give him privacy at such a fragile moment. He clenched his hands at his sides to keep from touching the infant, from lifting him up and holding him close. It would have been selfish to wake the child just because of his own sudden need for warmth and closeness; so he contented himself with inhaling deeply, taking in the smell of the small human being that had captured his heart so effectively. The baby stirred, and Vincent took a soundless step in retreat, not wanting to disturb little Paul's sleep. Sarah's eyes were full of understanding as they met his, and he gave her a trembling smile before he left.

*

Walking about his chamber, Vincent lit several candles, but still the room appeared cold and lonely to him. For an instant he felt as if this were no longer his home. He made a deliberate effort to shake off the dismal mood and slumped into his favorite armchair. I'm probably just tired, he told himself. So many things had happened over the past two weeks. It was hardly surprising that his old life had become estranged to him in a way. The main reason, though, he admitted to himself, was probably that he had been too preoccupied to pay sufficient attention to his mental equilibrium which was vital to his emotional balance. There were many ways of losing oneself, he mused, and the first step always was neglecting the connection and continuous flow of energy between the different levels of his personality. He had been still very young when he'd had to face the necessity of learning to control the passionate outbursts of his emotional side. Due to his superior strength it had been of vital importance to temper every onslaught of feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. Simply suppressing those eruptions had quickly proven to be disastrous. Clamping down a lid on an impending emotional explosion had only increased the pressure inside him and many times caused a physical reaction which had culminated in an act of violence. Although in most cases that violence had been directed at himself -- Vincent shuddered at the memory of how many times he had pounded his bloody fists or his head against the rough, unyielding rock -- there had been a few incidents when he had involuntarily hurt people he loved. Images of Devin's scarred cheek drifted by his inner eye, or of the enticingly rounded curve of a female shoulder, marred by three deep gashes which he had inflicted.

With a groan of despair, Vincent pushed himself from the chair, starting to pace the space in front of his bed with familiar and deeply ingrained movements. Another image had begun to haunt him, and he struggled to shake it off, desperately denying that he wanted nothing more than to sit down and recall the lovely sight that had greeted him on entering the bathing chamber earlier. "No," he tossed out between clenched teeth as he spun around, pressing his eyes shut. "No," he repeated in a hoarse whisper as tears coursed down his cheeks and along his neck, moistening the collar of his shirt. He stood this way for a long time, his stance rigid as if he were poised for flight, yet he knew that this was something he couldn't escape. Catherine was there within him, a tender presence that enchanted and sustained him. There was no denying that she was real, that she not only possessed an amazing spirit and a brave and loving heart, but a hauntingly beautiful body as well. Expelling a low moan, Vincent forced himself to uncurl his fingers and sit down on his bed. There was no way of evading this, he thought, no way of ignoring the effect Catherine was having on him. She was beautiful, yes, and seductive and appealing in many ways. Yet, the biggest temptation was the fact that she loved him, desired him -- that she wanted him in a way...that had been inconceivable for him...until now. A familiar quotation sprang unbidden to his mind: "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." He shook his head unwillingly, suddenly annoyed that his brain would always come up with words that expressed someone else's experiences whenever he sadly lacked experiences of his own. He rose to his feet and began shedding his clothes in order to prepare for bed. Glancing down his hirsute body, his eyes came to rest on his taloned hands. Oscar Wilde would have been more careful about writing such a thing, Vincent thought wryly, if he'd had a body like his.

*

A steady and rhythmic tapping seeped into Catherine's dream and gently tugged at her awareness. Catherine took her time opening her eyes, lingering in that drowsy state between sleep and awakening just a little longer. When she finally looked around her, it astounded her how familiar she felt with her unusual surroundings. A soft light filtered into the room from outside the entryway, casting muted colors over the walls and the furniture. Slowly she sat up, pulling her covers more tightly around her body as her skin was touched by the cool air in the chamber. After a few moments of digesting the various impressions that challenged her mind and senses, she swung her legs to the floor and quickly reached for her clothes. Uncertain what do do next, she rubbed some warmth into her hands and surveyed the room for something to help her pass the time until someone would come. On second thought, she decided that she was far too excited to wait passively. Remembering that Vincent had told her his own room was only a little farther down the corridor, she made up her mind to look for him.

Padding quietly along the gloomy tunnel, she hoped secretly that she wouldn't encounter anybody before she'd had a chance to talk to Vincent. She was still feeling uncertain as to how she would be received by the people who lived down here. After passing by several dark doorways, she rounded a curve and stepped into the first illuminated chamber she encountered. It took her a moment to assimilate the beauty of the room before her.

"Good morning," a familiar voice greeted her, and she knew that she had found Vincent at last. He rose from his chair and crossed the room to meet her and guide her to the table. "Please have a seat," he offered politely, pulling out a chair for her. She complied wordlessly, still too stunned to speak. The most compelling sight in this chamber, aside from Vincent, of course, was a window of stained glass above the large bed. Warm light filtered in through the colorful panes, casting amber and orange hues on the curious assembly of objects that were scattered across every available space in the room. Catherine smiled, thinking how childlike and endearing it was that a man would collect all those things and keep them close to him. Her gaze returned to Vincent, and she noticed that he had followed her every move with his eyes and was now looking at her expectantly. "This is...amazing," she exclaimed. "What a wonderful room!" Wonderful didn't even come close to describing it, she realized, wishing she would never have to leave again.

Vincent smiled at her enthusiasm, sweeping the chamber with a gesture of his arm. "Please feel free to browse." She shot him a questioning glance, and he added, "All the children love browsing through my things."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded in mock solemnity. "All the children," she repeated, putting her emphasis on the last word. He chuckled softly, and she drank in the sound, cherishing Vincent's serene mood.

"Maybe some of my grown-up visitors would like to browse, as well," he pointed out. "But they are usually more..."

"...restrained?" she offered, and they laughed again. Growing serious, she said, "I hope I didn't disturb anything when I dropped in?"

He shook his head. "No, I was only reading, waiting for you to wake up."

Deciding to take him up on his offer, Catherine rose from the chair and strolled leisurely through the chamber, touching things, studying them, replacing them. All the while she cast brief glances in Vincent's direction, pleased that he seemed to enjoy her visit to his private quarters. Her round completed, she walked over to where he was sitting and traced the spine of an open book that lay face down before him on the table. "Is this the one you were reading?" she asked.

"Yes."

"May I?" He nodded his permission and she turned the book, surveying the page before her. "Whitman," she stated. "Leaves Of Grass". As she glanced at him again, he lowered his head, studying his hands that lay folded in his lap. And then he looked up, making her tremble under the intensity of his eyes; eyes that seemed to see in her and through her; eyes filled with something primal, untamed. In their blue depths she glimpsed a hunger, a yearning so deep that she thought she would drown in it.

Abruptly, he averted his gaze, as if he feared she had seen more than she should.

"Will you read to me?" she asked, deliberately breaking the mood. There was a brief pause of silence before he held out his hand to take the book from her. Her fingers brushed his as she gave it to him, and his touch sent a shiver of delight racing up her spine. She eased herself in a chair opposite him and watched as he smoothed the page with his palm and began to read. His voice was deep and resonant, sparking a delicious warmth in the pit of her stomach as she listened to the rhythm of the poem he had chosen.

"Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,

Whispering, I love you, before long I die,

I have travel'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you,

For I could not die till I once look'd on you,

For I fear'd I might afterward lose you."

The candlelight cast deep shadows over his face as he turned the page and read on, the pictures his words conjured cocooning her until she forgot her surroundings and saw the sunlit surface of the ocean and the foam of the waves as they surged against the shore.

"Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe,

Return in peace to the ocean my love,

I too am part of that ocean my love, we are not so much separated,

Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect!"

The image of the ocean receded, and she saw Vincent's eyes, as he had looked at her earlier, so vulnerable and sad in all their blue intensity.

"But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,

As for an hour carrying us diverse, yet cannot carry us diverse forever;

Be not impatient -- a little space -- know you I salute the air, the ocean and the land,

Every day at sundown for your dear sake my love."

When the meaning of the words sank in, their beauty made her want to weep. If that was all they had, a brief moment in time and space before they would sink back into the vast ocean of oblivion, they must savor every bit of it. An image of Vincent rose before her, standing in the light of the setting sun, his hair a gilded halo around his face, and his hands raised high above his head in a prayer for the sake of his love.

She had no idea how long she had been staring at him before she realized that he had closed the book and was watching her intently.

"I'm not usually this susceptible to poetry," she said, casting him a sidelong glance. "But this one got to me somehow."

"I know," he said, avoiding her eyes as he put down the book on the table and pushed himself from the chair. He held out his hand, and she took it, following him to the exit.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"It is time for breakfast," he explained simply, leading her from the chamber.

*

Daniel's chest heaved softly under the quilted cover as he slept peacefully. His face was gaunt and drawn, yet Vincent could see that his condition had improved over the last two days. Daniel still needed to sleep a lot, but when he was awake, he was grateful for company. It was early Saturday morning and Vincent didn't have any classes to teach. Leaning back in his chair, he braced his elbows on the armrests and folded his hands. Once more he studied Daniel's features carefully for any trace of resemblance to himself, but he found none. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the strong, handsome face or the dark, wavy hair that framed it. Obviously Ahab hadn't passed on any of his outward attributes, and Vincent wondered -- not for the first time -- if there were any internal qualities that Daniel might have inherited from his grandfather. With a sigh, Vincent resigned himself to wait until Daniel was strong enough to resume his tale about his heritage.

"May I come in?" Catherine's voice drifted over to him from the chamber entrance.

Swiftly Vincent rose to his feet to greet her. "Yes, please."

"How's Daniel?" she asked as she walked over to the bed and looked down on the motionless form.

"Better," Vincent replied, stepping up behind her and gazing over her shoulder. "But he is still weak and needs to rest. Sarah will be here shortly to take her turn sitting with him. Would you care to accompany me on a walk?" His heart leapt in his chest as she turned around and looked up at him with luminous eyes.

"I'd like that," she said. "This place is incredible. I'd love to see more of your world. It must be far bigger than I'd imagined."

After Sarah had taken her place with Daniel, Vincent led Catherine out of the hospital chamber and down a number of corridors and tunnels until they reached the outskirts of the inhabited area. "Where does that sound come from," she asked, abruptly coming to a halt in front of him, so that he had to step aside in order not to bump into her.

"You're probably referring to the sound of the falls," he assumed, extending his hand to take hers. An incredulous expression crossed her features, and he added, "If we follow this passageway, you will be able to see for yourself." Smiling, he sensed excitement building within her as they walked on. When they rounded one last corner, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern that was filled with the thundering sound of water rushing down the rocky walls and reverberating through the vaulted dome. Mists rose from the surface of the underground lake, swirling upward and mysteriously coating the stones and boulders that surrounded the water.

"This is beautiful," Catherine gasped with awe, tugging at Vincent's hand to make him stop. He watched her face as she took in the scene before her, and his heart ached with longing to touch the childlike wonder on her face, to smooth an errant strand of hair from her brow, to take her in his arms and hold her close. Her voice broke into his reverie. "Can we stay a little while?" she asked eagerly, rising on tiptoes in order to speak close to his ear. He nodded and led her along the stony ledge to a large boulder. There he let go of her hand, and they sat down, watching the falls in pensive silence for a long while. "Do you come here often?" she inquired softly.

"Mmhmm. This is one of my favorite places when I want to be alone. It is not a good place for conversation though."

She laughed. "I see. Or better, I can hear that." They fell silent again, and Vincent started imperceptibly when Catherine's hand stole into his. He took it in a gentle clasp, careful not to squeeze too strongly. Her trust and affection honored him, warmed him, and pained him at the same time. She was unaware of the hunger burning within him, the need to always have her close, the yearning to make her his and never let her go. She knew nothing of the danger she was in when the strength of her feelings for him washed over him, tantalizing him, searing him with desire so intense that he thought it would consume him, should he let down his guard but for the briefest moment. Vincent wondered bleakly if such a thing as pure and selfless love could exist between a man and a woman. As long as he had regarded Catherine as a friend, he had been able to deal with her feminine appeal quite effortlessly. But from the moment he had acknowledged that he loved her, hunger had risen from the bottom of his soul, carrying over into his body, tormenting him, threatening darkly from beyond the radiance of Catherine's love. He wished fervently that there might be a way to keep his awakening sexuality separated from his other feelings for Catherine. He wished he would never have to decide that he must not love her altogether in order to keep her safe from his passionate yearning.

Vincent felt Catherine's eyes on him and cocked his head to one side to meet her questioning gaze. For the fraction of an instant he wondered if she might have picked up on his churning emotions, the mere thought sickening to him, but she just smiled at him gently. "Can we go someplace where we can talk?" He stood and helped her up, leading her from the chamber of the falls through several side tunnels to a naturally formed bridge that spanned the quiet surface of a pond. Daylight slanted in mysteriously from somewhere above their heads. "Where does the light come from?" Catherine asked, craning her neck in order to make out the source of the unexpected brightness.

Vincent pointed up to an opening in the rocky ceiling. "There is a shaft connecting this place with the world above," he explained. "It opens to an inaccessible place in the park, so no one has discovered it yet. At night, you can see the reflections of the stars in the water, and sometimes I come here to watch the colors of sunrise as they play across the pool." He fell silent, not wanting her to see the sadness and longing he felt at the memory of countless hours he'd spent here, contemplating his life, his fate, and his restricted possibilities. The way she turned and moved toward him told him that it was too late, that she was aware of his emotions. Taking an involuntary step in retreat, he bumped into the wall behind him.

She stopped immediately. "Vincent," she whispered pleadingly. "Please don't hide yourself from me. I think I can understand your sadness, and maybe if you share it with me, I can even ease it a little. I know it probably sounds pretty presumptuous, but I want so much to help you, and if I could take your pain into myself, I would do it."

Tears burned in his eyes, tears he did not want her to see. "Why do you say that?" he rasped, barely finding his voice.

"Because it's true," she said. "I feel connected to you in ways that I've never even dreamed possible. From the moment I saw you, something inside me knew that our lives were linked in a way I won't pretend I understand, but it is true. Don't you feel it, too?"

He couldn't lie to her, he just couldn't. "Yes," he replied inaudibly. "I feel it, too. But, Catherine...."

Quickly she stepped up to him, taking his hands. "Vincent," she said imploringly. "I know that you believe you must keep yourself away from me. You know me like no one has ever known me before. You know all that I feel for you, but if you think that we cannot be more than friends...."

"We are...much more than friends already," he replied softly. "We both know that." Extricating one of his hands from her fervent clasp, he dared reach for the rebellious strand of hair at last. Avoiding her eyes, he tucked it behind her ear. Catherine turned her head and placed a quick kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"I will be to you whatever you want me to be," she breathed.

He summoned a faint smile as he met her wide-eyed gaze. Unable to help himself, he briefly caressed her cheek before his hand fell away. "And I will be to you all that I can." For a long, breathless moment he held her eyes with his, wishing he could quench the need he saw reflected there, wishing he could be to her what she desired. Yet he knew that he must never touch her with the darkness within him that would always keep a part of him separated from her love.

*

Vincent felt tired and dirty as he strolled down the corridor that led to the bathing chambers. Although it wasn't very late yet, it had been a long day for him. He hadn't been assigned to any physical labor today, but sometimes the lessons with the children put an even greater toll on him. Maybe he should have heeded Father's advice to rest during his recess time instead of sitting with Daniel. Daniel had slept almost all the time anyway. He had felt obliged, however, to relieve the others of their duty in the hospital chamber at least a little, since it was he who was responsible for Daniel's presence in the Home Tunnels after all. Catherine had come to keep him company, but he hadn't been able to relax in her presence. So they had just sat in silence, each keeping to their own thoughts.

On reaching the bathing chambers, Vincent found all of them to be occupied. Normally he was the last one to retire for the night, so this was a problem he rarely ever had to face. Sighing resignedly, he grabbed a couple of towels from the shelf and resumed his way farther down to the falls. The water there was much colder, but tonight it would have to do. He couldn't wait. All he wanted was sleep.

With a pang of longing he remembered how he had shown Catherine the falls two days ago. The image of the awed expression on her face would be forever ingrained in his mind. It amazed him no end that she was able to find such delight in the hidden beauty of his world.

Stripping off his clothes, he welcomed the cool air that brushed across his skin like a soft caress. Another image leapt unbidden to his mind. Catherine in the bathing pool, her bare breasts clearly visible to him beneath the surface of the water. She didn't know just how well he'd been able to see her even in the dimly lit bathing chamber. Now he would have to bear the punishment for that stolen glance, because the sweetness of the enticing picture haunted him day and night. No matter how hard he concentrated on reminding himself that he must not think of her that way, he only had to close his eyes to see the soft curves of her naked body before him.

The muscles in his back ached from the strain of spending so much time in a sitting position, and he raised one arm to massage the nape of his neck. He was just about to wade into the shallows of the pond, when a wave of mixed emotions washed over him. Excitement, pleasure, guilt, intense desire. He whisked around to face the aperture at the far end of the cavern.

Catherine!

There she stood, and he regretted that he could not see her face across the relatively great distance. Somehow he almost expected her to retreat into the tunnel at any moment. But she remained standing there, transfixed by her rising desire. A wave of arousal centered in his groin, and he dove into the cold water to hide it from her eyes. When he finally resurfaced, she was no longer there.

Hastily Vincent soaped his body and lathered and rinsed his hair, silently chastising himself for his immature reaction. He reached out for Catherine's emotions while he dried himself and put on his clothes. Why did he feel nothing from her? How long had she stood there and what had she been thinking? Determined to find her and talk to her, he grabbed the heap of wet towels and headed for the home quarters.

She was not in the guest chamber and not in the community hall. Father hadn't seen her either, although the old man raised a questioning eyebrow at Vincent's impassioned inquiry. She wasn't with the children, so where could she have gone? She didn't know too many places below yet, so he was certain that she had to be close. If only he could sense her again!

Finally he made his way to his chamber in order to rest and think. Maybe the bond would return if he sat down in meditation and eliminated all perceptions except the internal one of her. Maybe...

On entering his chamber, he stopped in his tracks and swallowed with surprise. There she was, huddled on his huge bed, but scrambling to her feet the moment she noticed his arrival. Slowly she approached him as he took another step into the room.

"May I ask you something?" she began without preamble.

"Of course," he replied, suddenly feeling apprehensive.

"What made you think that I was playing when I kissed your cheek a couple of days ago?"

He knew exactly what she was referring to. He had even expected that question, but when the days had passed by and it hadn't come, he'd finally forgotten about it.

"I was overreacting back then," he began, "and I can only apologize for that."

"No," she persisted. "You were deadly serious. Please tell me what you meant."

"Catherine, so many things have just happened between us -- and so fast, things that I am not used to dealing with. Please know that I tend to take such things very seriously, and when you...kissed me, even though it was only my cheek, I felt that my response was out of proportion. For a moment, all I could do in order not to lose control was to close myself against the pull I felt from you. I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

She nodded sympathetically. "I understand you, believe me. I just went through a similar situation earlier."

"What do you mean?"

"When I came upon you at the falls, and you stood there, looking so beautiful...."

"Catherine, please..."

"No, please hear me out. You know that I feel something deep for you, something I've never felt for anyone before. The word 'love' has been used so many times and in so many warped ways that I almost hesitate to use it now, but I'm certain that I love you, Vincent, in the truest sense of the word. My desire for you is part of that love. When I saw you standing there, I wanted you so much that it hurt. I didn't want to overwhelm you with my feelings, so I remembered what you had told me about shutting off our connection, and I concentrated very hard on something else, so that my thoughts overruled my fervent emotions. I really didn't mean to make you more uncomfortable than I already had."

"What were you thinking of?" he asked, aware that he was stalling.

She gave him a shaky smile. "I thought about my work and how I used to think that I could make a difference, that I could change the world just by wanting it. But I've come to believe that the most important things in our lives aren't there because we put them there, but because we're led along a path that contains everything which is meant to be in order for us to develop and grow. Of course it's up to each and every one of us how we deal with what comes our way, but deal with it we must."

"That sounds rather like a detached point of view," Vincent remarked when she fell silent. "What about dreams? Where do they fit in?"

"Oh, I do have a dream," she replied.

"What kind of a dream?"

"One I thought I had outgrown, I'm afraid."

"I don't think that one ever outgrows dreams. Some people just close their hearts to them, for fear..." His voice fell away as he realized that this was exactly what he had been doing ever since the day Catherine had entered his life.

"Yes?" she coaxed gently.

"...for fear of getting hurt," he finished, his voice thick with the enormity of his admission.

She looked at him silently and he had no doubt that she knew exactly what went on inside his heart.

"I, too, had that fear once," she spoke quietly.

"And now?"

"Now my faith in dreams is stronger -- because of you."

He didn't respond to that right away, unable find words for what her confession did to him.

"Are you afraid of dreams, Vincent?" she asked finally.

Casting her a brief sideways glance, he threw back his head and expelled a low groan. "I think I might be afraid of awakening." Slowly returning his gaze to hers, he continued, "Catherine, you have given me not only a dream but also the hope that there might be a way for us to..." He lapsed into an uneasy silence, not wanting to give away any more of his impossible dream about things that could never be. What on earth had possessed him to reveal so much to her? Frantically he sought for words to end this conversation, to get away from the tender look in her eyes and the beckoning fullness of her lips.

She reached out to take his hand in hers. Lifting it to her mouth, she placed a small kiss on its furred back. "There is a way for us," she breathed. "And we are just about to find it."

Tears stung his eyes as he met her gaze at last. "If such a way existed," he said slowly, "it would lead you from sunlight to darkness."

"There is no darkness when I'm with you," she replied. Her unshakable conviction warmed and worried him at the same time. He had to make her see all of what a relationship with him implied. But her hand, as it traveled up his chest and caressed the tender skin of his throat, drove all thought from him. "I love you," she breathed. "I want to be close to you, always."

He swallowed under her touch. "Catherine," he began, not really wanting to interrupt what she was doing. "There are things that...you do not know...about me."

"That's right," she agreed, "but I will -- in time."

He pulled back abruptly, meaning to contradict, but she quickly closed the gap between them and put her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. "Your heart is beating fast," she observed quietly, and he couldn't help bringing up his arms to return her embrace. He caught himself nuzzling her hair and inhaled deeply to take in as much of her essence as possible. The feel of her soft body against him, the variety of fragrances, the sound of her calm breathing -- all that combined to an almost irresistible symphony of sensations that left him trembling with desire. She made a small move, tilting back her head and turning her face towards him. Her lips were suddenly very close, and he froze, unable to tear his eyes from her mouth. Her warm breath brushed his face, and he inhaled deeply, stealing a brief taste of forbidden sweetness before he regained his composure and took a step in retreat. She lowered her gaze, and he relaxed for a moment. But then the bond transferred a rush of tender determination, and she reached out to gently cup his cheek. He nuzzled into her touch, unable to resist the softness of her caress. Her thumb sensuously stroked across his bottom lip, and he found himself unprepared for the sharp flash of sexual need that tore through him. Involuntarily he reached for her and pulled her close, the feel of her body unbearably stimulating as she willingly pressed into him.

Swallowing hard, he could only stare at her mouth as she parted her lips in invitation. After the briefest pause of hesitation he bent his head, cautiously brushing his bristled muzzle across her mouth. The gesture was meant to prepare her for his strangeness, his differentness, to give her the chance to change her mind if the contact should prove unpleasant to her; but the bond conveyed only delight at his action. His heart felt like bursting as the sensation of her lips moving beneath his drowned out all rational thought. At first he felt a little awkward, unsure as to how to meet her demanding mouth, but she drew him into a silent dance of soft nuzzles and nibbles, of exploring lips and challenging tongues, and he came along willingly, losing himself in her kiss. He tried to ignore his growing need to hold her even closer, to erase all distance between them. But then he felt her fingers working on the laces of his shirt, and when she parted its front to reveal his chest to her eyes, he realized that they were dangerously close to the point of no return.

He gazed down into her face once more, unable to resist the silent plea he saw mirrored there. Tenderly she caressed his cheek and traced the line of his jaw and neck, before she buried her fingers in the dense hair on his chest. He gasped as she encountered one sensitive nipple and bent close to encircle it with her lips. His gasps turned into moans as she sucked gently. Overwhelmed by the force of his arousal, he swayed slightly. The swell of his erection strained painfully against the fabric of his pants, and he thought that he would die with wanting her. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to think of something else, to gain control over his sudden urge to move against her, to strip her clothes from her, to take her then and there. He couldn't remember ever wanting anything that much.

"Vincent, what is it?" she whispered close to his ear, and her voice finally managed what mere willpower hadn't. He drew a deep, steadying breath and gently gripped her shoulders. "No," he rasped shakily. "Please!"

"But, Vincent, we...." He stopped her weak protest by placing a trembling finger across her mouth.

"No," he pleaded, the softness of her lips burning beneath his fingertips. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated with desire, and he knew that, if she touched him one more time, he wouldn't be able to resist her again. But she only nodded and stepped back slightly as if she had read his thoughts.

"I love you. Remember that," she whispered before she turned to leave.

He shook with the effort not to call her back, and his nails dug into the flesh of his palms as his hands curled into fists. Almost. He had almost forgotten himself, almost given in to the beckoning sweetness of her femininity; and for a moment he experienced a painful flicker of doubt if that would have really been so wrong.

*

The next few days passed with the soothing and reassuring routine of the tunnel world, and Vincent managed to find some measure of balance between his delight at having Catherine close and the inner turmoil her constant nearness caused him. He was no longer so torn between those two extremes, since he had learned to simply accept the pain and savor every moment of the joy.

Daniel was feeling much better and finally Father allowed him to get up and explore his surroundings a little. Vincent didn't fail to notice that Daniel was every bit in awe of the world he found himself in as Catherine had been when she was first introduced to it.

Two days before Christmas, Vincent was sitting in the nursery, holding little Paul and rocking him gently on his knees, when Daniel entered and watched them silently for a long while. "The children are well cared for in your world," he remarked at last.

"Children are the most precious gift on earth," Vincent responded, reverently tracing the baby's soft cheek with his index finger.

"May I hold him for a moment?" Daniel asked hesitantly. Vincent stood up and carried the child over to him, placing him gently in his arms. To Vincent's astonishment Daniel burst into tears, cradling the infant against his chest so vehemently that Vincent reached out instinctively to snatch him away again. But at the last moment he changed his mind. There was something about the way Daniel held the baby that was striking a chord in him. "He's grown so much," Daniel observed, pressing a reverent kiss on little Paul's brow.

Vincent frowned in question. "Tell me," he demanded.

"His mother didn't want my child," Daniel began, "and I was in no position to raise him. I was new in town, had no job, no apartment. That was when I met Suzanna."

Vincent nodded in dawning comprehension. Of course, Suzanna was the one who had brought little Paul Below, claiming that she had found him. "And then?" he coaxed gently.

"Suzanna helped me take care of the child. All she knew was that Paul's mother had left me and that someone was after me. So she offered to find a place where Paul would be safe and loved. She promised that she would return him to me once I'd settled down and the danger was over. She persuaded me to release the child into the care of some special friends of hers. I trusted her completely, and we agreed that she would tell me nothing about those friends. She said the less people knew about the place she'd take the baby to, the safer he'd be. And she was right. If the Doctor had caught me, even my own knowledge of my son's whereabouts would have posed a danger to him."

"I'm surprised that you were able to trust someone that much after all that you'd been through," Vincent mused.

Daniel cast him a brief glance and looked away again. "You know, there is something about me that I don't usually speak about," he said. "My mother explained to me that I had inherited that gift from my grandfather. Somehow I know when someone lies, and that ability has served me well over the years. I can also sense all kinds of strong emotions in people, which can be really nasty at times, if you haven't learned to turn it off."

"So, there is a resemblance between us after all," Vincent said slowly.

Daniel nodded. "I already assumed that much. Anyway, I knew I could trust Suzanna, just as I knew that I could trust Catherine. Well, I needn't tell you how glad I was that my son was safe when things began getting tough up top." At Vincent's understanding nod, he continued, "You can imagine my surprise when I awoke down here in this amazing world. I've never felt so safe in my life, and my longing to have my son back with me increased from day to day. Two days ago I talked to Sarah, and she introduced me to the little ones. I couldn't believe my luck when I discovered Paul in the nursery. I didn't dare tell you the truth right away. I wanted to think everything over once more, weighing my options. I thought maybe it would be best if I left him here for good, but I can't do that. He is all that I have and he must learn the truth about his heritage, because it's entirely possible that some offspring of his might look like his great-grandfather."

"Where is Paul's mother now?" Vincent inquired, his heart heavy with the prospect of losing the child.

"I don't know. She left me when I told her about Ahab. I should have told her sooner, not only after we'd found out that she was pregnant. She came back shortly before the birth and left again as soon as she'd regained her strength. She said she wanted nothing to do with all this. She wanted to build a life and not a disaster, as she used to put it." Daniel stopped speaking as he noticed that his son had fallen asleep in his arms. He threw a helpless glance in Vincent's direction, and Vincent took the baby from him to lay him gently in his crib. He covered the tiny being carefully and placed a small stuffed donkey within the child's reach, so he'd have something to play with, should he awake.

Daniel frowned down at the sleeping form. "I was almost expecting that he would inherit something from my grandfather. It has to pop up from time to time, you know. How else could Ahab's existence be explained, or yours for that matter?"

"Maybe we are just a whim of nature," Vincent mused in a hushed voice. "Something that is different without passing those differences on. Maybe those differences die when we do."

"I would buy that if there was only one of your kind," Daniel replied. "But since there are at least two of you who resemble one another in more than one respect, I really doubt that."

"You are probably right," Vincent rejoined. "I, too, have come to that conclusion."

"It's the thought of passing on your differences that scares you the most, right?" Daniel asked without looking at Vincent. "Believe me, I know everything about that fear. And although it proved unnecessary with regard to my son's appearance, it has done enough damage as it is. I loved his mother, you know, and I can't even hold it against her that she left me after she'd learned the truth. I had considered not to procreate at all, but things simply happen when you are in love."

Vincent swallowed at Daniel's last remark, and his fingers gripped the railing of the crib so forcefully that the knuckles stood out whitely beneath the tufts of russet fur that covered the backs of his hands.

"Don't do that to yourself," Daniel said. "Don't do that to your Catherine. You've got only one life and that's far too short as it is." His voice fell to a hushed whisper as he pointed at the sleeping child. "Just look at him. Do you think I would love him any less if he looked like you? He looks perfectly normal, and yet his mother left him. You see, there are no guarantees. All you have is the love you are willing to give, and the love you are willing to accept." Daniel raised his head and turned his warm, dark eyes on Vincent. "You've probably cursed your appearance a thousand times," he went on. "But believe me, you also have a great advantage compared to me. Any woman who loves you, loves you for all that you are. She knows what she is dealing with, and if she accepts that, she'll accept everything, and certainly your children, no matter whom they take after."

There was bitterness in Daniel's voice, yet Vincent could also feel confidence in him, and his deep, abiding love for his child. Now that Vincent knew the true depth of Daniel's feelings, he admired the courage that had enabled him to release his son into the care of others simply because they could do it better than he himself. Daniel was a good man with a wise heart, and suddenly Vincent felt a deep gratitude toward him. His own life had changed in miraculous ways since the day Daniel had entered it.

The two men looked at each other in silent understanding and shared a heartfelt embrace before they left the nursery and stepped out into the corridor, walking off in different directions.

*

Catherine was fascinated with the quiet and peaceful atmosphere the tunnel folk created as Christmas Eve drew near. How different from the world above, she thought on more than one occasion. She had consulted Rebecca on the subject of Christmas presents and learned that only the children got one present each which was provided by the community as a whole. Everyone shared in the task of scavenging or producing or sometimes even buying those gifts, and Catherine could only marvel at their efficiency. The exchanging of gifts among grown-ups was not customary Below. In fact, it seemed to be a rather tricky and delicate matter. If Catherine had understood Rebecca correctly, presenting someone with a personal gift was such an intimate matter that it might easily cause embarrassment, and in some cases even offence. Catherine was glad that she had asked. She hated the thought of making Vincent uncomfortable by surprising him with a Christmas present in front of everyone else. Maybe if the occasion arose... Well, she would simply wait and see. There were so many things she had yet to learn about Vincent's world.

Soon Catherine found out that even the children had been assigned to organizing some of the smaller gifts. The evening before Christmas Eve Samantha came to her, asking for help with a dress for little Mariah's doll.

"I can't seem to get those seams straight," Samantha complained. "I'm sorry to bother you, but no one else has time tonight."

"You're not bothering me," Catherine replied. "It's just that sewing is not my strong suit. But let's see what I can do." She picked up the delicate needlework, admiring it for the love that had gone into it, and set to work. Fortunately she did remember a few stitches she'd had to learn back in school, and soon the tiny dress was finished. Beaming her thanks at Catherine, Samantha hurried from the room to get her present wrapped.

Catherine smiled after her fondly. These children were amazing.

On Christmas Eve the people of the community gathered informally in Father's study, watching happily as the tunnel patriarch distributed the lovingly wrapped parcels among the children. A little like Santa Claus, Catherine thought with mild amusement. But the next moment she was moved to tears as she looked into those joyous faces of the little ones as they received their treasures. She felt Vincent's arm come around her shoulder and she leaned into him, grateful for his warmth and solidity.

The children did not unwrap their gifts right away. "They will do that later, in the privacy of their rooms," Vincent explained when she commented on it. She watched as his gaze wandered over to where Daniel stood, cradling his son in the crook of his arm. Her heart ached at the vulnerability in Vincent's eyes, and she grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. He started slightly, giving her a tentative smile, and she was certain that he'd not meant for her to witness his feelings.

When the crowd began to disperse, Vincent asked, "Are you tired?"

"Not at all," she responded brightly.

"Will you walk with me then?" he inquired almost shyly.

"I'd love to," she assured him. He took her to a place above the falls where she had never been before. It was a laborious climb, but definitely worth the effort. He guided her to a boulder and indicated for her to sit down. The roaring of the water was deafening, but as she looked down through the spacious opening the falls must have created over the decades, she could see the torch-lined walls around the pool, their reflections creating amazing effects on the quiet surface of the water.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, oblivious to the fact that he couldn't possibly hear her.

After they had looked for a while, Vincent led her away from the source of the noise to a beautiful, vaulted chamber where he lit several candles.

"Does anybody live in here?" she asked.

"No," he said. "This room is too remote and difficult to access. It's a place some people go when they want to be alone."

"Like you?" she surmised, anticipation prickling across her skin.

He smiled at her. "Yes. Tonight I wanted to be alone with you." She watched his hand disappear between the folds of his cloak. "I have something for you, Catherine," he said quietly, producing something she couldn't see at first because he hid it in his large fist. When he opened his hand, a delicate, golden chain uncurled before her eyes, and on its end dangled a brilliant crystal, sparkling miraculously in the candlelight.

"Oh, Vincent," she gasped. "How beautiful."

"I wanted to give you something from my world," he explained huskily. Unfolding the chain, he slid it carefully over her head. "Something that was formed in the darkness of our deepest chambers, yet was always meant for the light," he added reverently, looking deep into her eyes.

At first, Catherine was too moved to speak, but then she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss his mouth. It was meant to be a peck of gratitude, but when she felt his warm lips against hers, she couldn't help but linger for a moment, and yet another moment, until she thought she'd die if she had to release him now. Stealing a furtive glance at his face, she noted with satisfaction that his eyes were closed in abandon as he gave himself to the kiss. Yet she could feel his restraint, his resolve not to get lost in passion, and she accepted it, gently breaking the kiss.

"I have something for you, too," she said, smiling at the genuine surprise that registered on his face. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small pouch. Tugging the drawstrings open, she released a small ivory rose into her palm. "My mother gave me this rose when I was little. She said that, although she couldn't always be with me, this rose would remind me of the light, and of her love, no matter how dark and lonely the nights may seem. I've always carried it with me, but now I'm not afraid of the darkness anymore, nor will I ever be alone again -- because of you, Vincent. I want you to have this rose so that it will always keep you safe whenever the darkness presses in."

Vincent's hands came up to gently cup hers as she offered the rose to him. His eyes were drawn to the intricately carved piece of ivory, but he appeared almost afraid to touch it. "Such beauty," he breathed. Tears glittered in the depths of his eyes as he looked at her again, and she reached up to stroke his cheek tenderly.

"Such beauty," she repeated, never taking her gaze off his face. They stood motionless, lost in the moment and in each other, and Catherine's heart ached with the need to give him more than just a symbol for love and light. He deserved so much more than that. She tucked the rose back into the pouch and placed it gently around his neck. Involuntarily he closed his hand around the gift, as if afraid it might vanish.

"Merry Christmas, Vincent," she said, and he pulled her close again.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," he murmured into her hair.

*

Tossing and turning amidst the large, patched pillows, Catherine released a sigh of frustration. How is it, she thought bleakly, that I already miss something that was never really mine? Her heart ached with the knowledge that she had to return Above by tomorrow evening. Good for Daniel that he was able to stay for as long as he wanted. Perhaps he'd even stay for good, now that he'd been reunited with his son. She had a life above, though, one to which she felt compelled to return. During the last two weeks, she had grown quite attached to Vincent's world. Knowing he was never far away filled her with a sense of peace and completeness the likes she'd hardly ever known before. Maybe before her mother's death, she mused dreamily, when her childhood world had been perfect and undisturbed. A tear stole down her cheek, and she wiped it away. Vincent. Her heart pounded wildly at the mere thought of him. How she loathed leaving this world, and him!

"Catherine?" His voice drifted over to her from the entrance, and she turned her head, her eyes straining into the darkness. She took in his tall figure, the width of his shoulders, the halo of his long hair as he stood in the opening, outlined against the faint illumination from the corridor outside. Her heart constricted with joy that he had come. She'd wanted so badly to go to him, but she'd sworn to herself that she would not make their time together any harder on him by stirring things within him that he could not, would not, allow himself to act upon.

"Vincent," she called out softly. "Please come in."

He padded silently across the room and squatted down before her, reaching for the matches on her nightstand. "I felt your turmoil," he stated, lighting a candle. "Can I help?"

"I'm glad you came," she said with a tremulous smile. "Will you stay a little while?"

He rose to his feet and sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his. "If you wish."

The moment was incredibly intimate, and his nearness made her shiver. "Vincent, I'm a little afraid of returning to my world."

Shifting slightly, he leaned one arm behind him and braced his weight on it. "I know," he rasped soothingly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "But I will sense it when you need me, and then I'll come to you."

Fighting the irresistible impulse to throw herself into his arms, she lowered her head until her brow touched the back of his hand that still held hers. He trembled slightly at the contact but didn't pull away.

"I feel so at home here with you," she confessed quietly and straightened to look into his eyes. They burned into hers, urging her to continue and at the same time pleading with her to say nothing more. Yet she added, "I miss you already." He expelled a low moan, and she watched with fascination the throbbing of his pulse in the hollow of his throat. Only now did she notice that he was clad only in the thermal shirt he usually wore for sleeping. Pictures of him in the chamber of the falls sprang unbidden to her mind, tantalizing her, making her wish she could touch him, taste him, pull him into her love and hold onto him forever. She felt a blush rising along her neck and spreading over her face. "Hold me," she pleaded. "I want to feel you close." After the briefest pause of hesitation, Vincent shifted and leaned against the headboard of the bed, opening his arms and pulling her to him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into his chest. "I'm making a fool of myself."

"No," he said, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. "You are in love, and love is stronger than anything." He paused uncertainly before he added, "I feel the same." She tried to lift her head, needing to see his eyes, but he held her in place with gentle insistence. "Don't look at me," he demanded hoarsely. Involuntarily her arms tightened around him, and he gently loosened her fervent embrace, but didn't break it completely. She kept her gaze lowered, not wanting to cause him any further discomfort, yet she felt his steady regard, felt the tension that hummed between them. After a long, pensive silence he inhaled deeply, tilting up her face with one sharp-nailed finger to make her meet his eyes at last. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he searched for words. "I wish I didn't have to let you go," came his low admission, and a rush of joy swept through her like wildfire. She felt his breath whisper past her cheek as he bent close, and suddenly the dry warmth of his lips was searing her skin as he kissed her brow, her temple, and finally her mouth. She didn't dare move for fear of startling him away, of shattering his desperate hold on his hard-gained self-control. Knowing that he gave her everything he could, everything he dared, she reveled in the sensation of his leathery palms skimming over the exposed skin of her arms and shoulders. Never before had he initiated such an intimate caress, and she was filled with wonder at the exquisite tenderness of his actions. A bright ray of hope flared before her and she was helpless to suppress the groan that rose in her throat. He held her in the heat of his gaze as he bent over her, taking her mouth once again, and although his kiss was slow and controlled, there was nothing innocent about it. Weaving her fingers in the thickness of his hair, she breathed his name as he released her lips and feathered light kisses upon her eyelids. "Every moment we are together," he said, wonderment tingeing his voice, "strengthens the bond that has been forged between us by forces...far beyond our imagining." He pulled back a little, searching her eyes, before he continued. "Catherine, whatever happens, whatever comes...know that I love you."

She dissolved into his arms again, showering his neck and face with ardent kisses. Somehow she knew that now it was safe to do so, that he would tolerate such an intimacy and even welcome it. Suddenly his arms tightened around her, and he swiftly turned her on her back, pinning her down with his body. She welcomed his weight with unrestrained pleasure, capturing one of his thighs between her legs as she pulled him even closer. He came willingly, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he nuzzled the sensitive skin of her throat. Involuntarily, she raised one trembling hand and slid it beneath the collar of his shirt. Caressing his neck, she followed an invisible path along his jaw line and across one softly stubbled cheek to his lips. She traced the corners of his mouth until, with a gasp, he began suckling at her fingers, teasing their sensitive tips with his tongue. Catherine thought fleetingly that she had never been touched more intimately. Never before had anything aroused her this completely.

Then all capability of thought was washed away as Vincent shifted over her and rubbed his cheek hesitantly back and forth across her aching breasts. There was only the thin fabric of her nightgown between them and soon Catherine was unable to suppress a hoarse moan of pleasure. He murmured her name, and she strained upward to meet his softly rocking hips with small thrusts of her own. When he took her mouth in another passionate kiss, she entwined her fingers in his hair to make sure he wouldn't pull away. He teased her tongue with his until her movements beneath him became eager and frenzied. She was lost and she knew it. He felt so good against her, and suddenly she found herself being swept away in a wave of complete abandon. Gasping his name, she moved against him one last time before the spasms of climax shook her violently, leaving her trembling in his arms.

She felt his eyes on her face but didn't dare look at him, suddenly afraid of what she might see. His muscles rippled and bulged beneath her palms as he moved to rise on his knees, pulling her close and cradling her head in one large hand. Her heated face came to rest against the junction of his neck and shoulder, and tendrils of desire tugged once more at her senses as she breathed in his male, seductive scent. Rocking gently back and forth, he held her until the throbbing ceased and her embarrassment dropped to a bearable level. Then he eased himself down on the mattress and tucked her to his side, tenderly caressing her cheek and nuzzling her hair until she grew too drowsy to wonder about what he might be thinking of her.

*

The familiar music of the pipes slowly pulled her awake. Languid images and sensations tugged at her memory and she jerked into an upright position as the events of last night came back to her. Suddenly her cheeks were burning all over again as she turned to search the room for Vincent's presence. Instantly, he was at her side, enfolding her in a gentle embrace.

"Good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Is it morning already?" she replied, remembering that this was going to be her last day Below. He didn't respond, and she lifted her eyes to him, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest. The love and wonderment she found in his gaze was more than she could bear. "Vincent," she managed hoarsely. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" he inquired softly.

"For losing control," she replied voicelessly. "I didn't mean to..."

"Catherine," he interjected. "If either of us had to apologize, it would have to be me. But I don't think that what happened between us requires any apology. Even though I feel that I should not have taken us that far, I cannot regret it. What you gave me, what you trusted me with, is too precious for words."

"What I gave you?" she tossed at him. "Vincent, I didn't give you anything. That's what bothers me the most. I took something from you that you weren't ready to give while leaving you...unfulfilled."

With a low groan he gathered her close to his chest. "Catherine, I felt everything -- through you, through our bond. I may not have found physical release, but what you let me share was so miraculous, so wonderful. It was something I never thought to experience, because I believed it was not meant to be...for me."

Nestling deeper into his embrace, she whispered, "I was so afraid that I had hurt you."

He groaned again, easing her back on the bed and capturing her mouth with his. Their kiss was deep and soulful, sparking her desire for him all over again, but this time he broke off deliberately before it got out of control. "I must leave you now," he said, his eyes dark with regret. "It is late and I..."

"You don't want to compromise me?" she offered when he left the sentence unfinished. She saw his teeth glinting white in the semi-darkness of the room, and she thought that she had hardly ever seen anything more beautiful than one of Vincent's smiles. But then again, everything about him was beautiful, she mused, recalling once again the image of him as he had stood before her in the chamber of the falls, naked -- and vulnerable despite the powerful build of his body.

Evidently aware of her thoughts, he looked aside briefly and then back again. "I wish I knew what you see in me," he said quietly.

"I see you," she replied steadfastly, "and I love what I see." When he dropped his eyes, she added, "Believe it, Vincent. You are all I've ever wanted." The heat that arced between them as their gazes met, took her breath away.

"Catherine?" Jamie's voice startled them apart from outside the entryway. "Are you up yet?"

"In a minute, Jamie," Catherine called back without breaking eye contact with Vincent whose gaze flickered slightly.

"OK," the girl replied. "See you at breakfast, then."

Listening to Jamie's retreating steps, they smiled at each other. Vincent swung his legs over the edge of the bed, offering her his hand. She seized it, and he pulled her with him as he rose. She held her breath as, for a moment, he allowed his eyes to travel down along her barely clad body before he squeezed them shut and drew her close. "See you at breakfast, then," he repeated, his whispered voice sending a shiver of delight down her spine. She smiled and kissed his cheek, remembering a time when even such a relatively small gesture had been too much between them.

*

The day passed far too quickly, and before she knew it, she found herself being led by Vincent through dimly lit corridors away from the hub of the tunnel world and toward her own. Her two weeks Below had been so filled with warmth and companionship that she dreaded returning to her lonely apartment and her old life. Catherine regretted that she couldn't simply stay Below instead of exposing herself to the dangers she might have to face Above, now that the lunatic who was after Daniel and Vincent knew about her involvement with the two of them. But she couldn't very well drop off the face of the earth without explanation. That, more than anything else, would draw unwelcome attention to Daniel, with whom she had been seen several times. She couldn't chance that. She had to resume her old life, at least for a while.

"Your mind is troubled," Vincent stated suddenly.

She stopped and turned to look up at him. "Vincent," she said. "Please be careful when you go Above."

He inclined his head and smiled at her. "You sound like Father," he remarked dryly, but his brow creased in concern. "It is you who must be careful," he admonished gently. "Especially at times when I cannot come to you. Don't go out alone if you can avoid it."

"I'll be careful," she reassured him. "I promise."

When they arrived at an opening in a brick wall, Vincent stopped and pointed to a bluish shaft of light beyond. "This is where you go out," he said.

"Where are we?" she inquired, curiously surveying her surroundings.

"In the basement of your apartment building."

"We are?"

Her childlike surprise brought a smile from him, and she stepped into his arms, leaning her head against his shoulder. He held her close for a long, desperate moment, their impending separation already a sharp pain in her soul, and she prayed that the time would come when they would never have to part again.

BARS