From the zine "Cyberdreams III"

Sequel to Spring Roses and Autumn Wishes

"Vincent!..." At the top of the make-shift platform placed at the head of the Great Hall, Jacob Wells quietly cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly, projecting his whispered tone as loudly as he dared without drawing any adverse attention from the crowd seated behind them. Even so, he was sure he heard a few snickers from a group of adolescent boys when he once again attempted to gain his younger son's attention. "Vincent! .. "

On the wide, wooden step just below him, the sound of his father's voice drew his attention at last. Slowly, reluctantly, he forced his gaze from the incredible beauty who stood before him - whose hands he held in his. Father smiled, the undeniable reality of this day - the all-encompassing love of the deepest kind expressed by the couple before him, tangible by each and every witness gathered in the chamber - struck him with intense clarity, much as it had a thousand times since destiny had returned the lovers to their proper place - at each other's side - some months before. He sighed deeply, smiling again as he nodded towards his son. "You may kiss your bride."

Vincent returned his smile with a look that held a well of tenderness and love for the man who had raised him, nurtured him, and loved him enough to finally let him go, to join his life with this woman who had captured his heart almost before he even knew her. With the gentle squeeze of her hand in his, Vincent returned his gaze to her - so breathtakingly beautiful in the simple white satin dress her mother had worn at her own wedding so many years before. His Catherine. His wife.

She was lost in the intense, penetrating blue depths of the man before her, their gaze speaking words of love and devotion as if they were the only ones in the room... in the entire world. From the edge of her consciousness she heard Father's voice, imploring, calling them from their entrancement She looked up with a smile, her eyes filled with adoration for the father and patriarch who had opened his heart and his home to her, welcoming her into his family as if she were truly his daughter. When he spoke again, leading them to the final climactic moment that would complete their ceremony, her eyes were drawn back to the glorious, gentle being at her side. Her eyes misted, the tears threatening, as they had during much of this long-awaited day. In the deep, royal blue brocade vest atop her favorite ruffled linen shirt and dark blue suede slacks, he had never looked more beautiful; she had never loved him more. Her Vincent. Her husband.

His eyes held hers once more and they smiled, almost shyly. Vincent's strong hands left hers to slowly slide up the satin-covered length of her arms, pausing at her shoulders to lightly caress the warm, bare skin at the curve of her neck, before cupping her cheeks, tenderly, lovingly in his palms. Catherine's hands slid around his waist, holding him close as she lifted her face for his kiss. Eyelids slowly closed and soft sighs allowed their whispered words to escape -"1 love you, Catherine."- "I love you, Vincent."- before their lips met in a soft, poignant touch. Oblivious to the wistful sighs and heartfelt tears coming from friends and family alike, they drew closer and their kiss deepened, becoming a passionate, clinging blend of physical and emotional sensations. Only the prolonged whimpering of their son next to them as he demanded to be released from his Uncle Devin's arms was enough to break the barrier of their quickening desire. They parted reluctantly, yet with their parting came the realization that the entire audience had been witness to their powerful kiss - a kiss that was neither proper nor acceptable for a public gathering - even one as romantic and touching as a wedding ceremony. Instinctively their eyes were cast downward in an effort to conceal the crimson, blush that swept across their faces. At once they were met with the sight of their son staring up at them, his wide, innocent eyes matching the color of his new dark blue vest and pants - the miniature clothes a replica of the wedding suit his father wore, both surprise gifts from Mary and Sarah.

Forgetting their embarrassment, the newly wed couple smiled happily and with complete adoration at the child who was the brightest light of their world apart from each other. Vincent bent to lift his son high into his arms where Catherine kissed his cheek and nuzzled his soft nose, before resting her hand in the crook of her husband's arm. Together they turned to face the crowd which by now was clapping loudly and fervently, amidst joyful tears and knowing smiles. They smiled and their eyes met once again, no one needing their legendary bond to see... to feel... the love that blazed between them. At Father's gentle urging, they turned their attention from each other and stepped off the platform to begin their walk down the center aisle to the back of the large chamber. To their surprise the journey was short­lived when they were immediately surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, all eager to offer a fond kiss or a pat on the back, and their own personal congratulations. They were soon separated by the multitude of family, friends and Helpers, yet each knew there was nothing that could ever truly separate them, their bond and their empowering love ensured that destiny would finally have her way.

"Catherine." Vincent paused at the entrance to their chamber, his crystal blue eyes filled with compassion, his low, raspy voice deep with concern. He moved quickly to where Catherine sat in the middle of their bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her head bent in despair. He sat beside her, resting one hand on her knee, reaching out to brush the hair from the side of her face with the other.

"Catherine... tell me."

At his tender touch Catherine's head shot up, her expression startled and confused - in her self­absorbed state, she hadn't felt his nearness. "Vincent," she whispered, forcing a smile and hastily wiping the tears from her face with her trembling hands. "I didn't hear you come in. I'm fine... really."

"Catherine, please, don't hide your pain from me."

At the loving, pleading tone of his words, Catherine's tears began anew. Vincent reached for her, pulling her into his embrace where she instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the warmth of his wool sweater as she continued sobbing relentlessly. Vincent let her cry, sensing her need for the emotional and physical release. He caressed the back of her head, running his fingers through the silky softness of her tousled hair, rocking from side to side as if she were a child. When her sobs subsided and she appeared calmer, Vincent held her away from him, just far enough to allow him to search her tear-stained face while he gently probed their bond.

Catherine took a deep breath before she spoke, wishing that sometimes he didn't know her quite so well. "I'm sorry, Vincent. I don't know what came over me. I guess I'm just being over-emotional today."

"Catherine... please." Vincent pleaded again, refusing to give up, not when her distress was strong enough to call him to her.

Catherine shook her head, wishing she knew how to explain her feelings when even she didn't understand them right now. "It just seems so... I don't know. I mean, these past few months - ever since I came back - I've been fine with not getting pregnant. I knew I wasn't ready - Jacob was... is... still so young and our life together, truly together, is so new. I honestly meant it when I said I was okay with that. But today, when... when my period started, I suddenly felt... disappointed... almost devastated at the clear indication that I wasn't pregnant. All at once it just seemed incredibly overwhelming."

Vincent raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you... Catherine, are you saying you want to have a baby?"

Though she appeared thoughtful, Catherine didn't miss the note of anticipation Vincent's tone had taken. "I'm not sure. I don't know that I've really thought about it, I've just been okay with the fact that it hadn't happened yet."

Vincent nodded as he searched her face, putting voice to his deepest concern. "Perhaps your heart is now telling you what you've so far been afraid to consider."

Catherine's furrowed brows conveyed her confusion. "I don't understand. Why would I be afraid? It would be wonderful - it's my dream - to have another child with you!"                ,

Vincent smiled as the hand still buried beneath the silken tresses at her neck pulled her closer, and he placed a gentle, loving kiss on her forehead. "It will be wonderful. But with another pregnancy might also come the memories of your first one - including some you may have buried deeper than you realize." A host of tears filled his eyes as he continued. "You've been through so much, my love - endured experiences no human being should ever have to face - yet you seem to have somehow managed to come out of it relatively unscathed. You've felt almost none of the anger, bitterness and depression one would expect from someone in your circumstances. I'm afraid for you, Catherine... for the pain you may have to suffer if you're forced to relive those memories."

Catherine's head shook vigorously at his words, her tone both vehement and tender. "No, Vincent, you don't need to worry about me. Yes, Gabriel put me through some horrible experiences that I will never, ever forget and you may be right, it might be very difficult to go through something that paralleled that time. I suppose it's human nature to think back... to remember and compare repeated events such as a pregnancy. But Vincent, there is nothing... absolutely nothing!... as difficult as going through it without you. I love you, Vincent. Your presence is a balm to me. Whatever I face, I know I will get through it if you're by my side."

The power and intensity of their love spiraled through the bond, encompassing them, rendering them both speechless. Their gazes held, loving and searching amidst the stillness of the room, the only movement that of the red-gold flame of flickering candlelight. After several long moments Catherine broke their silence, her voice soft, wondering as she idly stroked the strands of golden tresses that fell over his shoulder. "How do you feel, Vincent? Are you ready for this... to bring another child into our lives?"

Vincent's eyes held only love, tenderness and hope as he caressed her with his poignant gaze. "My dearest, Catherine, I would like nothing more than to have a baby with you, to be there with you... for you... every step of the way - from morning sickness to childbirth, to nighttime feedings and teething - I want to do it all with you, Catherine, but not until you're ready. Not until the time is right for you."

With tears sparkling in her dark-emerald eyes, Catherine shook her head in continued amazement of the unique and special man she'd been blessed with, whose only concern was her safety and happiness. She reached out to rest her palm against his softly bristled cheek, the pad of her thumb stroking the length of the cleft lip she ached to touch more intimately. She smiled resolutely, her decision made. "I am ready, Vincent. We dream the same dream, and right now my heart and my head are both telling me this is right."

In the midst of his own loving, searching gaze, Vincent could only nod in acknowledgement of her words, the overwhelming emotions reaching out to him leaving him incapable of speech. Catherine needed no words to explain the depth of her husband's feelings - she could see the love and commitment in the poignant expression on his face and the warmth that flowed through their bond. Her smile widened... brightening....

Catherine's joyous reaction was contagious and Vincent soon found himself smiling broadly into the soft green eyes. Still, his doubts lingered, as if he couldn't quite believe what she was saying. "Are you sure, Catherine? Are you absolutely sure you want to have a baby?"

"Absolutely, positively sure, Vincent." Her arms slipped around his waist and she lowered her head to rest it upon his hard chest, her voice soft and content. "But I don't want a baby, I want your baby."

Vincent's arms tightened around her as he laid his cheek on top of her head. Their love flowed between them, palpable to anyone who would happen by, even without their bond. After several long moments of silence, Catherine let out a blissful sigh. "Do you think it will be difficult?... getting pregnant, I mean. We haven't exactly been... careful in our lovemaking. For as quick as Jacob was conceived, you'd think it would have already happened." She raised her head to look questioningly into his eyes, a worried expression on her face.

Vincent smiled at his wife's obvious lack of patience now that she'd decided what she wanted. "Things worth waiting for often take time, Catherine. However...." his voice took on a thick, seductive tone. "... if you think we need more practice...."

Catherine shook her, head, giggling softly even as she^, leaned her head back, submitting to Vincent's tender touch as his warm lips traveled amorously down the slender column of her neck. "Hmmm.... I would love to stay here and practice making a baby with you...." she sighed softly but tried to force some semblance of control into her body. "But, I'm already late... meeting Jenny... and you...." Catherine pulled back suddenly, staring at him quizzically. "Vincent, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be halfway to the work site by now. I didn't expect to see you until later tonight."

Vincent sat back, reluctantly accepting Catherine's change in demeanor. "Our departure was delayed until tomorrow. Luke fell from the top of the new bunk bed Kanin built, and scraped his leg pretty bad. Naturally, Kanin couldn't leave until he'd been tended to by Father. I was waiting in Father's chamber when a messenger brought this." Vincent picked up an ivory-colored envelope that lay on the bed beside him. In her earlier moments of despair Catherine had failed to notice it in his hands when he'd entered the room. Vincent answered her questioning glance. "It's a letter from Devin."

"Devin?" Catherine's tone gave voice to her immediate worry and surprise. "Is everything alright? It's been less than a month since he was here for the wedding; he doesn't usually stay in touch quite so often."

Vincent nodded, his thoughts on the paper in his hands, and the childhood companion who was always close to his heart. "Those were my thoughts as well, which is why I opened the letter right away instead of waiting until I was in the privacy of our chamber, as I normally would have done. I had just finished reading it when I felt your distress." He took a deep breath, looking up at her with a hint of tears in his crystal blue eyes. "It would appear that my big brother wants to move home."

"Home? To the tunnels?" Her surprise was evident in her wide-eyed expression and the high­pitched tone of her voice. At Vincent's affirmative nod she continued with the obvious questions. "Why? And what about Charles?"

Vincent was silent for a moment as he slowly, tenderly reached for her hand. "Charles is still not well, and seems to be getting worse. Devin feels it would be best if they were here where Charles could be under Father's care."

"Oh, Vincent!" she cried out, her brows furrowed with anxious concern. "Oh, dear, is it really that serious?"

Vincent nodded sadly. "You know Devin, there's very little he really takes seriously, but this... yes, I think it's very serious and he is very much afraid."

"But will he be able to handle staying here in the tunnels for an extended period of time?" Catherine understood the difficulty in the decision Devin had made and was proud of the maturity he'd shown in doing it, yet she was quite aware of her brother-in-law's history.

Vincent shrugged noncommittally. "He says he will, but he also realizes how difficult it will be for him. I know he'll do his best - whatever is necessary for Charles. I thought I would question Peter or one of the Helpers, see if there is a room available that he could stay in just for those times when he needs to get away for a little while. It might make it easier for him to endure the confines of the tunnels."

"How soon does he want to come?" Catherine knew there would never be a question of whether Devin and Charles would be permitted to move Below, they were family and would always be welcome with loving, open arms.

"Within the next week or two, by Thanksgiving at the latest. He said they're never sure about the snow on the mountain and he doesn't want to take any chances in not being able to get out." Despite the seriousness of the situation, Vincent's tone held a hint of the excitement she knew he couldn't help but feel at the prospect of his brother's return.

Catherine nodded her understanding. "What does Father say?"

Vincent raised a brow and shrugged lightly. "I haven't told him yet. He was still busy patching up Luke and lecturing him on the perils of jumping on the bed when I got the letter, and I left before he was finished. I think Father will be pleased that Devin wants to be here, that he's come for his help in this time of need, but he'll be sad and frightened for what he'll believe is his inevitable departure."

Catherine's small hand rubbed the length of his back, lovingly, comfortingly. "And you?"

Vincent sighed thoughtfully. "I know he's deeply committed to Charles. As long as he needs him, Devin will be there for him. I want to believe - but I'm afraid to hope - that this will be a permanent move for him. I have to trust him to do what's right for both of them."

"For as much as you worry about him, you should be the big brother." Catherine murmured as she snuggled closer, laying her head on his chest.

"I am the big brother, Catherine," Vincent teased, wrapping his arms around her, his chin on her head. "Just not the oldest, which Devin has taken to reminding me as often as he can."

Catherine laughed, remembering the teasing, but affectionate toast Devin had spoken after their wedding. "Well, at least you have one less thing to worry about right now. You won't need to petition the Helpers for his Uptop refuge, he can stay in my apartment. I'd love to have him put it to good use."

Vincent slightly, hesitantly pulled away from her, looking at her with surprise when she raised her eyes to his. "I hadn't thought of that, but... do you mean it, Catherine?"

"Of course I mean it!" Catherine pounded his chest with her fist in mock admonishment. "Devin is my family, too, and I want to do everything I can to help. There's absolutely no reason for it to sit empty when Devin needs a place to stay."

Vincent nodded thoughtfully. "It is the perfect solution." Unexpectedly he laughed, almost to himself. "I can just see Devin making himself at home in your apartment. The decor isn't exactly his style."

Catherine's laughter joined his and she took his arm, hugging it to her. "He can do what he wants in the home interior department, as long as our balcony remains exactly the same."

"Never fear, my love, the balcony will always be our refuge," Vincent assured her easily. They dreamt the same dream, and anyone who tried to take that away from them would have to answer to him!

"Mmmm...." Catherine moaned softly, pressing her mouth to his, seemingly forgetting her previous commitment Above. "Promise?"

"With all my heart," Vincent vowed solemnly against her lips, before taking them in a loving, lingering kiss.

"Mama! Mama!" Catherine and Vincent broke apart in surprise as their son came to a screeching halt beside their bed, peering up at his parents with the innocent blue eyes that somehow always had a way of completely melting their hearts.

"Mama, eat turkey!"

"What?!" Catherine reached down to pull her son up into her lap. Her shocked expression met Mary's as she entered the chamber, in obvious pursuit of her young charge.

"Catherine, I'm sorry," Mary spoke breathlessly, but with a sincere and apologetic tone. "We stopped in the kitchen for a cookie and William was making pies for next week's festivities. Of course, he couldn't help talking about what he was doing. He enjoys it so much and I think he forgets that Jacob is smarter than his age allows for - he remembers everything."

"Has he mentioned it to anyone else? I mean...." Catherine couldn't hide the anxious expression that covered her face. "Is it possible Father has gotten wind of our plans yet?"

Vincent and Mary turned to each other and grinned knowingly before presenting her with simultaneous and uncharacteristic grunts. Vincent teasingly spoke for both of them. "Considering that we haven't heard Father's bellow echoing against the tunnel walls, I'd say your secret is still safe."

"Thank goodness!" Catherine's sigh of relief was visible as she clasped her hand to her chest, ignoring their jesting reaction.

"I doubt that you would have to worry anyway, Catherine. We all know you have a way with Father, despite his strict demeanor," Vincent responded further.

Catherine eyed him with an expression of obvious disbelief. "I don't care what it takes, as long as he remains unaware of what is going on until after everything is all said and done; this is too important to me."

Catherine and Vincent walked hand in hand into Father's study to find him staring intently at the chess board in the middle of his desk, his puzzled expression one they'd seen often of late after a game with one of the children. He looked up, immediately turning his attention to Catherine, seemingly oblivious to his son at her side. "Catherine, my dear, how are you?" Father's voice was filled with the same concern he always felt when it came to his daughter-in-law. "I was just finishing up with Luke when I saw Vincent fly out of here. Of course, it didn't take much figuring to know where he was going."

Catherine smiled, remembering a time when he wasn't quite so pleased to have Vincent running off after her. "There's no need to worry, Father. I'm quite alright." Going to him, she placed an arm around his wool-padded shoulders and leaned down to kiss his cheek affectionately. Knowing he would press her further if she didn't respond in some way, she added a semblance of an explanation. "It was just one of those female hormone things."

"Are you sure?" As expected, the older man responded in disbelief, the scientist in him looking for proof.

"I'm sure," she replied fervently, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "However, Vincent has something much more serious to discuss with you." She moved to pull out a dark wooden chair and sit at the center table, waiting for Vincent to begin the difficult task at hand.

With a pensive sigh, Father looked up at his younger son. "It's Devin, isn't it? I heard there was a letter from him this morning."

Vincent nodded silently, his demeanor taking on an aura of sadness.

The older man sighed deeply, regretfully. "And Charles." There was no question in his tone; he instinctively knew what was coming.

Vincent nodded again and perched comfortably on the edge of the desk to begin his explanation. "He is not getting any better and Devin's worries have escalated."

"I was afraid of that." Father looked from Catherine to Vincent, his expression forlorn. `The antibiotics I sent home with him last month were just a precaution - a minute hope that it would be all he needed. I should have known it was more serious than that when Charles was too sick to make it to the wedding." Putting his glasses on, he reached for a thick book and a couple of magazines that were off to the far corner of his desk. "I've been doing quite a bit of reading on Charles' condition since Devin was here last month and voiced his concern."

Vincent furrowed his brows in thought. "You said it was... neurofibromotosis?'

Father smiled wanly in his son's direction. "Your memory serves you well. However, researchers now believe that some people they once thought had neurofibromotosis - including the legendary 'elephant man'- actually have a condition known as Proteus syndrome. It's a much rarer disease, affecting only about 100 people worldwide."

"And you think this is what Charles has?" Catherine questioned him softly, with obvious concern.

Father nodded absently as he stared unseeingly at the words on the pages before him. "It would certainly explain the severity of his deformities. Of course, it's impossible to give a definitive diagnosis without a thorough exam, but I believe there's little doubt as to the outcome." He released a deep sigh, his voice taking on a regretful tone. "Had he been born with the affliction in today's day and age, he would most likely undergo a continual series of treatments and operations in an attempt to correct the deformities and improve his quality of life. As it is now, all we can do is treat any symptoms resulting from complications of the disease."

Catherine shook her head sadly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Poor Charles. Until Devin found him, he'd never been treated as a human being. Now, to have to endure this pain...."

"I know, Catherine, I know." Father wished he could console her, but was lost in his own helplessness. The feeling was one he'd unfortunately encountered often in his years as a physician, but one he'd never, ever get used to. "I wish there was more we could do for him."

`There is," Vincent stated simply, pausing only for a moment when his father raised his brow in silent question. "Devin would like to move Charles here... to the tunnels, so he can be under a physician's care - namely yours."

Father's immediate assumption raised his anger. "Now, if Devin thinks he is going to just dump Charles off with us now that he is sick, and go merrily about his life...."

"No!" Vincent turned sharply to face his father and slammed his fist onto the desk between them in stern admonishment, startling both Catherine and Father in his vehemence. "How could you even think that?! Devin wouldn't do that, not anymore, and especially not to Charles; Charles is his life!"

"I'm sorry, Vincent. You're right." Father cast his eyes downward, ashamed of his own outburst. "I guess old habits really do die hard, especially for an old-timer like me." He grinned to himself then, despite the solemnness of the situation. "It's hard to comprehend that after all these years, Devin actually wants to return to the tunnels - not just to visit, but to live."

Vincent continued in defense of his older brother. "I agree. However, I believe Devin will do anything it takes to meet Charles' needs, and that includes staying Below, to live amongst us and be by your side in caring for him. Besides, I don't believe he thinks of his family and the tunnels as quite so formidable as he once did. Charles has made him grow up over the past couple of years."

"He has at that," Father admitted freely, proudly. "Even so, despite his best intentions, do you think he can do it? Can he stay here with us and abide by our restrictive, secretive lifestyle - even for Charles?"

"He's being honest with himself and with us. He knows how difficult it will be, although he says that being confined to the cabin in the mountains, out of sight of those that would seek to harm Charles, is more like living in our world than he ever thought possible." Vincent confided. "I have, however, considered his need to escape, a refuge, if you will, and Catherine..." He gazed softly at his wife, his smile loving and grateful. "Catherine has generously offered the use of her apartment for that purpose. It won't cost him anything and it allows for quick and easy access to the tunnels."

Father peered at her over the top of his glasses, remaining silent for just a moment before shaking his head and gracing her with an endearing smile. '"Thank you, Catherine. It would seem that despite my objections to your many, many offers of assistance, you always manage to sneak one in when I'm powerless to say no."

Catherine grinned in response, thankful that he couldn't read her mind, and know of the next sneak-attack she was planning. Aloud, she acknowledged his sincere gratitude. "I love Devin, too. He and Charles are both family to me as well, and I know how much it would mean to you and Vincent to have them home."

"Yes, it would mean a great deal," he agreed before raising his head to address Vincent. "Does he have any definite plans yet? I assume he knows he is always more than welcome here."

"He knows," Vincent replied softly. "He'd like to be here by Thanksgiving, or shortly after at the latest. Of course, he wants to give us time to prepare for their arrival. Devin's only request is that Charles have a normal chamber, not just a bed in the hospital chamber."

"No, no, of course not. We'll work something out." Father's head was already whirling with possible solutions to their dilemma. "It's not yet winter Above so we still have a few chambers to choose from. Our goal is to make them habitable for both men, while allowing for any special needs Charles will have. I believe the largest chambers available are the storage chambers just behind our rooms. We'll simply have to find another place for the the furnishings that are stacked up in there."

Vincent raised a brow and grinned at the tunnel patriarch. "You've apparently not been there in quite some time; the selection of usable furnishings has dwindled considerably. What's left can stay there for Devin and Charles' use. It really would be an ideal location for them; each chamber is spacious enough that they could share a chamber, or we can create an opening between the two to make adjoining chambers - whichever they prefer. They're also close to your rooms and the hospital chamber, and the communication pipes already run right through them should an emergency arise."

Father nodded his agreement. "Perhaps Catherine would be so kind as to go Above tomorrow and try to reach Devin. He'll need to be assured of his welcome here, and he can inform us of any other preferences for living arrangements and the like. I believe I have his phone number here somewhere." He pulled open the top middle drawer of his desk and began rummaging through the countless pieces of paper that were scattered throughout it.

Vincent stood and moved around to where his father sat. "There's no need, Father." He put his hand on his heavily padded upper-arm to stall his movements. "Devin gave it to me again in case his plan was not agreeable. Here..." He took an envelope from his pocket and laid it on the desk. "...you may read his letter."

For the next few minutes they waited patiently while Father opened the cream-colored envelope and read the three-page letter from his son, his eyes missing no detail in the large, cursive script. When at last he finished, he slowly laid the pages down on the desk before removing his wire-rimmed reading glasses and placing them on top of the letter. His eyes were misty with unshed tears, and he rubbed his temples wearily. "You're right, Vincent; he's grown up. I do believe he would give his life for Charles." He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder if that's what he thinks he's doing by coming here - giving up his life."

"No, Father." Vincent gently laid his large, furred hand on the side of his father's head and leaned down to softly press a son's kiss on his crown. "I believe Devin has at last recognized the tunnels for what they are - his home."

Early Thursday morning, the unmistakable smells of the season wafted through the tunnel halls. A definite excitement hovered about them as several small contingents of brave tunnel dwellers were drawn to the industrial-sized kitchen to find out.. was it true?... were they going to have a real Thanksgiving dinner after all?... only to be quickly and firmly escorted away by one of the few assistants that were allowed access to William's kitchen today.

Away from the home tunnels, Catherine was purposefully keeping a low profile. The expected buzz throughout the tunnels was sure to bring about Father's wrath and she planned to stay clear of him, at least for the time being. Not that she was really afraid of what he would do to her; a brief but thorough lecture was the most she'd ever received from him. Still, she understood his concern - his struggle to maintain the simplicity of the community he'd worked so hard to build. To make life easy for them would surely threaten that dream. Even so, today she was doing what she had to do - because of her own dream.

Vincent had helped her plight by suddenly coming up with a task that had to be completed today. It was a small project, and not really an important one at this time - replacing a short section of pipe in a portion of the tunnels that was scheduled for habitation sometime next summer. Yet the brief journey had been the perfect one for Catherine and Jacob to tag along on, and, coincidentally, stay out of Father's way.

Much to Jacob's initial, temperamental dismay, for safety reasons, he and his mother were forced to stay clear of the direct area where Vincent worked, and instead retreated to a small chamber just a short distance away. Catherine made herself comfortable against the stone wall, reading a partial script of non-fiction work Jenny had asked her to look over in the hopes it would help her make a decision on whether or not to represent that particular author, while Jacob raced around the chamber as fast as his toddler-legs would carry him, pausing frequently to jump over the low dirt hills that had yet to be leveled off in the empty chamber. Catherine raised her eyes from the page she'd been struggling to comprehend, unable to keep herself from laughing at the sight of her son as his determined attempts to make it over those hills were severely hampered by his dog, Arthur, following close behind, bouncing playfully at his heels until Jacob fell to the ground in a fit of giggles. Living in such close quarters, she'd been just a little afraid that the animal would be a bother to the other residents, getting into more mischief than anyone in the strict community would be willing to tolerate. In the end she needn't have worried; from the minute Jacob had become mobile, the dog had rarely left his side, the two becoming so inseparable that most of the tunnel dwellers only noticed him when he wasn't there.

A flash of movement out of the corner of Catherine's eye caused her to look up and see Vincent filling the chamber entrance, the smile on his face reflecting his own enjoyment of the entertainment their son was happily providing. When pup and child had settled down, Vincent turned his attention to his wife. "Are you ready?"

Catherine's expression turned to one of chagrin. "Is it time already?"

"I'm afraid so," Vincent responded with an apologetic tone.

Catherine sighed and got to her feet, instinctively brushing the tunnel dust off her pants. "Okay, " she complied, attempting a brave smile. "Let's go see how much trouble I'm in."

Father stopped short just inside the entrance to the unusually crowded dining chamber. The row quieted in an instant as he scanned its occupants, surmising correctly that every man, woman and child residing in the tunnels was present in the room at that moment. "Well," he began as his eyes moved from the dining tables to the buffet tables at the opposite side of the room, each one heavily laden with a vast and diverse array of side-dishes. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind when we all agreed to forego the traditional Thanksgiving meal this year. However, it appears as if someone had something much larger in mind. So... I wonder if she has anything to say in her own defense, hmm?"

There was never any question. Only one person could have planned for and given them a meal of this magnitude, and all eyes turned towards Catherine. "Umm...." Catherine stood hesitantly, the blush on her cheeks revealing her embarrassment at the attention she was receiving. "I don't suppose there's a possibility of convincing anyone that I had nothing to do with this?" She slowly scanned the room as one by one, dozens of heads began to shake simultaneously, their positions and presence at the elongated tables reminding Catherine of a scene from Oliver Twist. Half-expecting them to break out in a chorus of "Food, glorious food...," she forced herself to suppress the giggle that threatened to erupt at the thought.

Still, she was all seriousness as she moved to stand behind Vincent, resting a hand on his shoulder as he looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and support. "I... Vincent and I... we have more to be thankful for this year than in any other year of our lives. Not only did we miraculously survive horrors that were meant to kill us," she paused a moment then to hastily brush away the tears that were so quick to respond to her emotions. "...but we found each other again, and in the process have been immeasurably blessed with our son." Together, she and Vincent looked down at Jacob, sitting in his high chair at the end of the table. Oblivious to the tenderness of the moment, he was happily munching on a piece of bread someone had snuck to him while they waited for Father.

After a few moments, Catherine turned her attention once again to the room full of family and friends that silently waited for her next words. "Some time ago, long before the events of this past year and a half, I found myself doubting, questioning the choices I had made, wondering if I would ever achieve the happy life I knew my mother envisioned for me. Today, I can honestly say that I am happier than I ever believed possible." She slowly scanned the room as she spoke, unable to control the smile she held for every one of them. "However, my happiness doesn't come solely from my life and my love for Jacob and Vincent. On the way to finding them, I found family again; I found each of you. You opened up your hearts and your home to me, and in a couple of days, two more members of our family will be in our presence." Throughout the room there were nods and whispered "yes's" in concurrence with her words, most of them eagerly looking forward to Devin and Charles' arrival.

"It was purely by accident that I discovered the community's unanimous decision to forego your already-meager Thanksgiving meal, as well as scale down the Winterfest celebration, so Vincent and I could have the wedding reception you felt we deserved. I can't tell you how much that meant to me... how much each of you mean to me. This..." she spread her arms wide to include the festive spread before them, "...this is my way of saying thank you."

When her words died away the room was silent save for a chorus of intermittent sniffles reflecting the host of tears that were shed by all those gathered there, the poignancy of her words touching the hearts of even the youngest children. True to form, however, the mood and silence were broken a moment later by the deep and resonate sound of William's voice as he followed two young men through the short walkway connecting the kitchen to the dining chamber. Each carried a large serving plate laden with the main dish, though only William's turkey still remained whole, the "monster of all turkeys" as William had called it during the morning's preparation, dressed and roasted to perfection, awaiting the traditional first carve by the head of their family.

Catherine took her cue and silently slipped into her chair across from Vincent, taking his hand and interlacing her fingers with his. A chorus of "ooh's" and "aah's" filled the room, each of them eager to partake in the mouthwatering feast, until Father stood, his mere patriarchic presence commanding their attention. In a tradition as timeless as the turkey, he led them in a prayer of Thanksgiving, and while they didn't all believe in the same god - and for some, in any god - the year's blessings had been infinite and none could help but silently repeat the words of heartfelt gratitude.

"Ahh... Catherine," Father looked up from his desk, lifting his pen from the leather-bound journal he'd been writing in since his return to the chamber half an hour before. "Right on schedule."

Catherine smiled nonchalantly as she descended the stairs. Though the two often disagreed, they each held a great deal of respect for the other's position and opinion, not to mention the intense and possessive love they both felt for Vincent. "You know me... I'm here to face the music before I'm officially summoned."

The older man smiled at her choice of words, knowing neither of them really feared these rare confrontations. "Well, my dear, I don't know what to say. Your love and dedication to this community are... admirable and endless, to say the least. They leave me ashamed once again for the hurtful feelings I caused both you and Vincent early in our relationship."

"Father...." Catherine began, having no desire to see him regress into self-recrimination over his past actions.

The elder man held his hand in the air to halt her words. "No, Catherine, it's alright. I know it's water under the bridge, so to speak, but I need to be reminded every once in awhile about what a fool I was. It keeps me from making the same mistake again." He paused a moment then, mentally working past the self-loathing that hit him whenever he allowed himself to think of how cruel and spiteful he'd been to his son, and the woman who had become everything to him. "Despite your position Above, and despite my initial denial of the fact, I am well aware that our best interests have always been first and foremost in your mind."

He forced himself to change the subject then, returning to the issue at hand. "You know our policy Below. We accept only enough help to meet our basic needs. However, if I correctly read between the lines of your speech this morning, what you did for us today was, for you, an innate need. While I don't expect it to happen on a regular basis, I can't fault you for the expression of love you bestowed upon us today, and I suspect there isn't a soul in the tunnels tonight that wouldn't threaten to lynch me if I attempted to reprimand you in any way for going behind my back."

Catherine grinned at his words, finding then not entirely true. "Oh, I think there are a few men that are so stuffed right now that they would disagree with you, especially since I didn't think to bring a supply of Pepto Bismol with me, but thank you... thank you for understanding." After a momentary pause she sought her leave. "Is that everything?"

Father gazed at her for just a moment, his expression filled with love and admiration - he was the head of the tunnels, they had a council and they had rules, but he knew that Catherine would stand up to any one of them without a second thought if she truly felt the need; she was, he had long ago discovered, more like his son than she realized. Finally, he nodded his dismissal. "Give Jacob a good­night kiss for me." Catherine had just turned towards the stairs, when he called out to her. "Oh, and Catherine...."

Catherine turned in response, waiting silently for him to continue.

"I heard a couple of the children talking this afternoon... something about the two largest food storage rooms being...." He paused long enough to feign a thoughtful expression. "...what was it they called it?... ’full to overflowing,' I believe it was. I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

"Who, me?" Catherine graced him with a look of pure innocence. "Now why would you think that? I would never dream of doing such a thing!"

"No... no, I didn't think so." Father smiled and accepted her answer with a tone of skeptic disbelief. "Now go, get some rest. It's going to be a busy weekend."

Catherine grinned happily. "Yes, it will. But I believe it's one we're all looking forward to." "Hmmm...." Father smiled in obvious anticipation. `That we are, my dear, that we are."

"Dev, please...." Charles began to plead quietly. Already moving at a snail's pace, the two friends on either side of him slowed further in the narrow tunnel lit only by Vincent's high-held torch. Though they had used the freight elevator from the warehouse parking garage - leaving their belongings in the van to be brought down later - the way had still been long and difficult, made even more so by Charles' uneasy steps and frequent pauses to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, Charles," Devin offered apologetically. "I was talking and not paying attention to how fast I was going."

"It's just a little further," Vincent countered. "The others are waiting for us just around that next corner, then you won't have to walk anymore for awhile."

With a hint of sadness clouding the smile in his eyes, Charles shook his head as much as his unusually thickened neck would allow. "Told you... can't... carry me... too heavy."

"Don't worry," Vincent tried once again to reassure him. "My friends have made a special carrier for you. Do you remember Mouse? He designed it for you. It's strong and comfortable, and you won't have to walk the rest of the way."

"Mouse... forgive me?" Charles questioned apprehensively.

"Of course he forgives you," Vincent vowed. "Mouse knows you didn't mean to hurt him." Charles silently nodded and argued no further. He knew they had a long way to go before they reached the home tunnels and he was far too tired to do it on his own.

Vincent reiterated the remainder of their plan. "When we get there we will take you right to your chamber so you may rest."

"Not... hospital this time?" Charles asked pensively, the hope obvious in his deep-set eyes.

"No, you have your own room now, just behind mine and Catherine's," Vincent promised. "Your chamber adjoins Devin's so you'll be close, but still have privacy."

Charles' answering smile reflected his immense pleasure at the thought of being close to the others. "Like you and Dev... when you were little?" After so many years of being at the end of a whipping stick, allowed to speak to no one, he had come to greatly enjoy having normal conversation with those he cared about.

Vincent released a soft chuckle at the memory of so many years past. "Yes, Devin and I shared a room, and more often than not, the same bed."

Devin responded with a surprisingly loud snort of mock disdain. "We only shared the bed when his long, scrawny legs weren't kicking me off, which turned out to be more often than not!"

"Yes, well, if you hadn't been snoring so loudly, I wouldn't have kicked you off," Vincent shot back teasingly.

Their eyes met instinctively during their childish exchange, and their ensuing, uncontrollable laughter left them speechless for several moments.

Charles looked from one man to the other with bewilderment and amusement, having never before been a part of such jovial banter, spoken with such love and care. Though his own laughter further escalated his shortness of breath, thus hampering his ability to speak, he couldn't help but continue his friendly inquisition. "And now you... and Catherine... you live... together?"

"Yes," Vincent replied, the light in his dark blue eyes reflecting the pride and love he felt for his family. "Catherine is my wife now and we share our chamber with our son, Jacob."

Charles' eyes lit up excitedly, remembering the few stories Devin had told him of his nephew. "I will... get to see... Jacob?"

Vincent nodded slightly. "Yes, you will meet Jacob. You are a part of us, Charles, you will meet everyone." As if by mutual consent their conversation ceased and their pace slowed further, the silence in the tunnel broken only by Charles' increasingly labored breathing as his body grew more tired with each step.

"How is he, Father?"

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Can you tell us anything yet?"

Catherine, Vincent and Devin rose quickly, their anxious questions coming all at once. Their quiet conversation was all but forgotten, their faces deeply etched with concern as a forlorn Father limped through the thick quilted curtain that hung across the doorway which separated Devin and Charles' new chambers.

"Shhh...." The older man raised his index finger to his lips. "You must keep it down. It's been a very long day for Charles and he needs to rest. He's asleep now; Mary said she'd sit with him in case he wakes up and is frightened in these unfamiliar surroundings."

Devin felt immediate guilt for his inconsiderate actions, his self-incriminating expression reflecting that of the couple beside him. "I'm sorry, Father. How is he?... Really."

"I don't believe his condition is life-threatening at the moment, but it is serious." Father sighed dismally, struggling to maintain a semblance of optimism. "You have to understand that without the diagnostic equipment available Above, I'm simply making my best professional assumption here." Silently he cursed the canon rule that allowed for so little research into a disease that affected so few people. "I believe that the tumorous deformities that have ravaged Charles' body his entire life have begun to grow larger, pressing painfully against his spine and putting pressure around his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe."

He spoke hesitantly now, not wishing to raise their ire with his words. "I realize that this sounds quite callous, but I believe one good thing came out of the continued beatings he endured from his brother all those years, and that is a high pain threshold. I suspect his pain is already quite severe, yet he seems to be tolerating it with minimal complaint. This will be most beneficial to him as the pain worsens because he may not require the highly controlled drugs that would be virtually impossible to get. His difficulty in breathing is another matter altogether, however."

He continued on, his strong tone alluding to the physician in him. "As with the pain, his lung capacity will worsen as the tumors continue to grow. He needs a supplemental oxygen source, which I suggest we begin immediately. A portable tank is easy enough to get and using a canula instead of a mask will make it more comfortable for him. The problem is that oxygen is highly flammable - a dangerous combination with our infinite use of candlelight."

"Will we need to move him?... take him back out of the tunnels?" Devin's immediate concern was evident, his voice quivering slightly as his eyes filled with tears. "I don't know if he can handle another trip, and I really wanted him to be here."

"No... no, absolutely not," Father assured his son adamantly. "Charles' health and safety is our main priority and we will make this work." He paused thoughtfully. "I'm going to propose that Mouse devise a plan for bringing electricity to this room. It's already available in my study and in your chamber."

He nodded slightly to indicate Catherine and Vincent. "I expect Charles will frequent these chambers often and we will use the electricity exclusively when he is there. For the time being, I don't expect him to require oxygen around-the-clock, but it may get to that point in the near future. I noticed that he breathes better in certain positions. I'd like to find a chair... not a straight, hard-backed chair, but one that is angled somewhat which will help decrease the pressure on his spine...."

"Damn!" Devin's unexpected outburst startled the other occupants in the room. They turned to stare at him, their expressions wide-eyed and expectant as he ran his long fingers through his dark hair with obvious exasperation. "I was going to bring it but decided against it at the last minute; there just wasn't enough room in the van." He looked up to find their silent, questioning gazes. "Charles had a chair... an old rocker-recliner I found and reupholstered for him shortly after we moved to the mountains. It was the only thing he could ever really get comfortable in, and the only thing he was unhappy about leaving behind when it came to moving. He would sit in it... next to the big front window... for hours at a time, watching the wild birds that had taken up residence in the tree just outside the cabin." He paused then, unable to resist a grin at the recent memories. "We built a couple of bird houses together and hung them along the front porch to try and get the birds to come closer. Eventually, we had to move them further under the porch because a squirrel kept getting onto the feeder and taking all the food as soon as we'd put it out there. Charles was so mad, but it made him feel really good when we finally bested the little bugger."

Devin shook his head as if to free himself of the bittersweet reminders of happier times, and solemnly reached behind him to feel for his chair before absently lowering himself to rest on its edge. "I should have brought it anyway, no matter how much trouble it would have been. I don't even know where it is now; the lease-management company was going to take care of getting rid of most of the furnishings right after we left."

Father limped forward to stand next to him and patted his arm consolingly. "Don't worry, Devin, we'll find something."

"What if...." Catherine began, only to be confronted by Father as he put up a hand to sharply halt her words. "Catherine, you will not go out and buy a new chair, we'll find a way to work this out and make do with what we already have. Do I have your word on that?"

Catherine bowed her head meekly. "Yes, Father, I promise," she agreed solemnly, making a cross my heart motion across her upper chest.

Beside her, Vincent looked down at her in surprise. It wasn't like her to not - at the very least - try to argue the benefits of a new chair for Charles' health and comfort, the lawyer in her always prepared for rebuttal. He remained silent, however, as Father continued his report.

"Peter will continue to search for information and treatment advice on Proteus Syndrome. Don't worry; we'll do everything we possibly can for Charles." He clapped a fatherly hand on Devin's shoulder, his words warm and affectionate. "It's good to have you home, son."

"We're almost there." In the darkened tunnelway, Catherine bent forward in order to see her son, half-hidden on the opposite side of the unusually large and ill-shaped man who walked between them. "Keep ahold of Charles' hand, Jacob."

"K, Mama." Jacob's hesitant toddler steps easily matched Charles' shuffling gait.

She smiled affectionately down at her only child. Taller than his fifteen months would indicate, he had no trouble reaching the large familiar hand held out for him. Though Charles had been with them only five days, the two had become fast friends and had already spent many hours in each other's company. There was no lack of communication between the two, each seemingly able to understand the other completely, often causing Catherine and Vincent to wonder if somehow they had created a mystical bond of their own.

"Ok, Charles, we're here," Catherine told him as they reached his chamber. Taking his arm, she held him back for just a moment. "Remember, you can't look." Watching him, she laughed heartily when he pretended to squeeze his eyes shut tightly, a mere glint from the sparkling, deep-set orbs giving him away. She stood on tiptoe to cover his eyes with her hand. "Just a few more steps."

As if they were one, the trio crossed the threshold into his chamber. It was still several steps before Catherine removed her hand from his face and stood back on her heels. "You can open your eyes now.

His response was priceless as he gasped and stared straight ahead of him, his eyes bright and opened wide in surprise. After taking in the unexpected sight for a moment, he looked to Catherine. "My... my chair?" At her happy nod his expression turned to one of confusion. "But... Devin said... we couldn't bring it... not enough room."

Catherine smiled, feeling the warmth spread through her at being able to do this for him. "I know, but we found a way. Come on, sit down," she took his arm again and led him the last steps to the rocker­recliner, its maroon, velour fabric fading from obvious usage, but far from being worn out. Over the back lay one of Mary's famous, colorful quilts, knitted especially for him over the summer so he would have it when the weather in the mountains turned cool.

With a contented sigh, Charles leaned back in the chair, fitting naturally into the worn indentations already made by his resting body. A second later his eyes flew open and were immediately drawn to the source of a light and melodious chirping. In the comer of the chamber just a few feet from them, a large rectangular-shaped wire cage stood atop a heavy wooden pedestal. On the sides of the cage hung various mirrors, colored balls and strips of braided cotton cord, and attached to each elongated side were a pair of white half-circle shaped plastic bowls, one filled with food, one with water. Finally, several short wooden dowels were suspended horizontally from the top of the cage by thin-coated wire. Perched gracefully on two of those dowels and gaining the utmost attention from Charles, was a pair of small birds. They were each light gray, their coloring extending to the tip of their long tail feathers. Each had a pale yellow face with a bright orange spot around their eyes. Different lengths of yellow and gray feathers flowed upwards above their heads, starting at the top of their short beaks and curling backwards. On closer look, their identical coloring ended with a hint of pink on the full upper chest of the slightly larger bird.

"Oooh... so pretty." He turned to face Catherine again. "Where did they... come from?"

Catherine smiled at his obvious but somewhat subdued enthusiasm. "One of our Helpers has a son who raises them - they're his babies." She paused a moment to watch Jacob as his natural curiosity led him to within inches of the bird cage. Satisfied when he stopped before he fully reached his intended destination, she continued her explanation. "They're yours, Charles. They're called cinnamon cockatiels. I thought you might enjoy watching them as you did the birds at the cabin." His smile brightened until he was almost laughing at the fond memories she'd aroused. "But they're not wild birds; you have to care for them. They'll count on you for their food and water and keeping them healthy. I left some books on how to take care of them in Devin's chamber. I hope you like them... the birds, I mean."

He looked at her eagerly. "Oh, yes, very... very much."

Catherine gave him one last surprise. "You can hold them."

She laughed as his eyes lit up even further. "Really?"

She started to nod when she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She turned just as Father's figure filled the entrance, the obvious question already spilling from his lips. "I heard there was some commotion about a chair...." He stopped short at the sight of Charles in the recliner, then sighed heavily as he looked to Catherine. "Catherine, I thought we agreed...." He stopped as she gave him a wide, knowing smile, her expression telling him from experience that all wasn't as it seemed. "Alright, tell me."

"I promise, Father," Catherine assured him sincerely. "I didn't go out and buy a new chair; in fact I didn't really buy this one. This is the same one that Charles had at the cabin - the one that was so comfortable for him. Their landlord had yet to find a home for the furniture they'd had to leave behind and was more than happy to arrange to have this particular piece transferred."

Father nodded his assent, obviously much relieved. "Mouse said there was... a bird?"

"Birds - two of them," she hurried to explain, lest he find a reason to forbid her newest gift. "I thought it would be nice for Charles to have them near as he did at the cabin - to help make him feel more at home. My only task now is to keep Arthur the dog and Arthur the raccoon away from them!"

Despite his realization that Catherine had pulled one over on him with her promise not to buy Charles a new chair, Father's eyes glistened when he replied, his voice soft. "Catherine... your thoughtfulness is, as always, immeasurable." He shook his head then, a hint of a smile on his face as he thoughtfully reflected. 'To think that I used to complain about Mouse's raccoon making this place feel like a zoo; now I'm keeping company with a dog and two birds." Suddenly his head snapped up, his eyes piercingly determined as he wagged a finger in Catherine's direction. "But no ponies! No matter how much the children beg you, I will not have a pony down here!".

Catherine giggled at the picture of the children taking pony rides around the mirror pool, or worse yet, through Father's study. "Don't worry, I will never, ever bring a pony into the tunnels."

"No, Jacob... might bite." Catherine and Father both turned at Charles' soft reprimand to see Jacob standing on tiptoe next to the cage, his fingers wriggling through the vertical slats. After only a moment's hesitation - and a quick glance to take in his mother's stern expression - the youngster hastily put his hands behind him and stepped backwards just a bit.

"Come on, Jacob," Catherine held out her hand, expecting his obedience. "It's time to go see Mary and have a little chat about our new feathered friends here." At once he ran the few steps to her and Catherine scooped him up into her arms, playfully nuzzling his cheek in greeting as if they hadn't seen each other for several hours.

"Are you still going Above tonight?" Father asked curiously, but with a wary tone.

Catherine nodded, turning her attention back to him. "Yes. I still need to get Vincent's opinion on a couple of things at the house. Unfortunately, this is much easier to do without Jacob there being his usual toddler-self."

Father grinned knowingly. "I understand. Go along now; enjoy yourself and please, be careful." Catherine smiled fondly at the request that habitually preluded a member of his family's foray Above. "As always, Father."

"Well, what do you think?" Catherine asked excitedly as she pushed the virtually invisible latch on the baseboard with the sneakered tip of her foot, then effortlessly slid the floor-to-ceiling bookcase into position against the back wall of the office. Almost silently, the mechanisms that were hidden inside the bookcase latched on to their counterparts inside the wall, and the casters that made the heavy shelf roll easier retracted into the bottom. For all intents and purposes, the walnut-stained furniture was just that: a piece of furniture placed against the wall of Catherine and Joe's office to hold the vast array of books shelved there. There was nothing - no visible seam or evidence of the peephole placed so inconspicuously above one shelf - to give the slightest impression of the secret world that lay behind it.

The entrance itself wasn't new, nor was the building it led to. The old abandoned grocery store Vincent had waited in while Catherine and Joe had gone to meet the people who would ultimately be Vincent's biological family, was the perfect location for their planned shelter for abused women. The idea had appeared to Catherine and Vincent almost at the same time on one of several subsequent visits to Judith's nearby home, and after much planning and a massive remodeling effort, the retired district attorneys' dream was finally becoming a reality.

The elaborate, deceptive schematics that made up the entrance were not the first they'd encountered since leaving the home tunnels. Just 100 yards or so from where they stood was another wall, this one made of stone and just as difficult to penetrate if you weren't aware of its secrets. This second door, however, was the one of ultimate importance, the one that separated the world Above from the one Below, from even the knowledge of the world beneath the city. There would be strangers in the house at all times - they could take no chances.

Vincent stood beside her in the small room, his head cocked sideways, characteristically deep in thought. He quickly glanced around the rest of the room, taking in its sparseness. The only other furniture was a large wooden partners desk, to be shared by Catherine and Joe, a chair and a tall filing cabinet. Located in a corner in the basement level of the three-story house, the only windows in the office were two small rectangular ones located at ground level on the outside wall, both covered with a frosty film, making it impossible for anyone to see inside.

"Well?" Catherine asked impatiently.

Vincent smiled down at her enthusiasm, but couldn't help but notice the anxious look that crossed his wife's face. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he leaned down to press a kiss on the crown of her head. "It's perfect, Catherine, as you knew it would be. Mouse has truly outdone himself this time."

"Oh... I'm so glad you think so!" The look of relief that covered her face and flowed through their bond was unmistakable. "Of course, Mouse will be most pleased; you know how much your approval means to him."

Vincent grinned to himself. Not surprisingly, Catherine's relationship with the young self-made engineer was quite strong and his approval had as much to do with her desire to see Mouse happy, as it did the need to have the entrance virtually impenetratable. Still, they both knew that gizmos and gadgets weren't the only thing that piqued the young man's interest lately. "These days, I think Mouse is more interested in pleasing Maria than he is me."

Catherine laughed. An orphan released last year from the foster system when she had turned eighteen, Maria had only been with them two months, yet Mouse's infatuation with the young girl was already obvious to everyone in the tunnels. "You may be right at that. Come on," she took his hand in hers and led him out the door of the small office. "I want to show you the rest of the house. You won't believe how close we are to being ready! It's mostly furnishings we're waiting on now."

Across from the room they now exited was another one of similar size that Vincent knew to be Peter's exam room, deemed a vital necessity should any of the women come to them needing medical attention. To the right of them, the rest of the basement floor was covered with a series of red and blue floor mats, to be used exclusively by Isaac in giving self-defense lessons to the women that would come through their doors.

Upstairs on the the main floor of the house, Vincent looked around in astonishment, actually turning around, his hands on his hips, to take in the vast openness from every angle. "You've done a remarkable job here, Catherine."

"It was the Helpers who did a remarkable job," Catherine proudly corrected him. "The suggestion to use them was a godsend; we're easily three weeks ahead of schedule."

In an effort to make their future residents feel as comfortable as possible, the living area of the house was like any other family dwelling, with few exceptions. From the top of the basement stairs they'd passed between the large kitchen and dining room. Off to the sides, each room led to a closed-off, but vital area of the house; the kitchen to a laundry room large enough to hold two sets of washers and dryers, the dining room to a master suite that would be used by a live-in housemother, which they'd yet to hire.

They stood now in the center of a formal living room. The door to the right of them opened up to a children's playroom and family room, to the left were two rooms suitable for visits between the residents and their counselors, lawyers, or other family members. The second room also had a door that led to the outside where newcomers could relax and get their bearings before encountering any of the others residing there at the time. Near the front of the house was a stairway that led to the second floor which held a large walk-in linen closet and six full-sized bedrooms - each pair with an adjoining bathroom between them. With the final coat of paint still drying - the fumes in the air and the newspapers still covering the windows attesting to the very recent work - the house was as yet unfurnished. An old but comfortable metal futon just a few feet from them in this main living area, and a twin bed in one of the vacant conference rooms were the only furnishings on either of the floors. Both were due to find a new home in the tunnels when the new furniture arrived in just two days' time, and the appliances and other home furnishings - linens, lamps and curtains - were scheduled for delivery later in the week.

Catherine turned to him, her excitement easily readable in her bright expression. "So... do you really like it'?"

Vincent looked down and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer to his side. "I do, very much so. But what about you, is this what you dreamed of?"

"Mmmm...." Catherine raised her lips lightly to his. "But my real dream is to help the women that pass through those doors."

Vincent nodded his understanding. "I'm afraid I must differ with your earlier assessment; you are definitely the remarkable one here." Their lips met then, full and searching, reveling in the rare moment of true privacy, until suddenly, abruptly, Vincent broke away, turning his head sharply towards the door.

"Vincent, what is it?" Catherine's eyes were filled with concern, her voice a mere whisper.

Vincent shook his head, putting his finger lightly to his lips. They both heard it then: the faint pounding on the front door, the soft cry of a woman. Catherine instinctively turned to Vincent to urge his quick departure lest he be seen, but he was already gone, the screen door to the enclosed back porch quietly clicking shut as he faded into the shadows.

Knowing there was no danger then - Vincent would never have left her side had he sensed anything amiss - Catherine strode purposefully to the front door. The view through the contoured peephole was dark and distorted so she opened the door just slightly, the overhead lighting behind her spilling dimly onto the lone figure on the step. At the sight of the young petite woman, wearing only a light jacket and no hat or gloves, her face red and wind burned, tears falling slowly down her cheeks, Catherine unlatched the chain on the door and threw it open. She reached out to take the girl's arm and pull her inside. "You must be freezing! Come here...." She led her to the futon, setting her down and taking her own heavy coat off to put around the young woman's shoulders.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee?... tea?.... I'm afraid that's all I have; there isn't an ounce of food in the house but I figured the coffee maker was vital for the construction workers." As the girl shook her head and smiled wanly, Catherine's heart went out to her once again. She was young, no more than 23 or 24-years old, her pale face made even more so by her long dark hair, and cheeks still reddened from the cold. Her tears had diminished somewhat, leaving in their wake a pair of long-lashed, pretty brown eyes, yet there was no mistaking the sadness emanating so strongly from them.

"Excuse me, just a moment." Catherine quickly moved in the direction of the dark kitchen, stopping to turn the heat up on the wall thermostat before disappearing momentarily. When she returned, the young woman was looking around, shyly taking in the bare surroundings. "Here. I'm sorry I don't have any kleenex." She held out a couple of plain white paper napkins before sitting down next to her guest.

"My name is Catherine; you can call me Cathy if you'd like."

"Thank you... these are just fine," she responded softly, blowing her nose delicately before bunching the paper in her hand. "I'm Kim."

"Are you okay?.... Are you hurt at all?" Catherine gave her a quick once over, looking for any noticeable cuts or bruises.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Kim hurried to assure her, gracing Catherine with a small smile. "I just needed to get away, but then it was so cold and I didn't know where to go. I saw your sign...."

At Catherine's puzzled expression, she explained further. "Outside... by the front door."

Catherine smiled as she remembered. It had been a surprise from Cullen, the wooden sign large enough to announce who they were but not enough to draw undue attention to themselves: The Chamber of Light - Family Care House for Domestic Abuse. She and Joe had been so excited they'd hung it up immediately, instead of waiting until they were officially ready to open. They never dreamed how quickly it would lead someone to them.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?... why you needed to get away?" Catherine asked softly, at this point hoping simply to gain the young woman's trust.

Kim raised her brows, sighing heavily. "There's nothing to tell, really. Scotty - my husband - and I were arguing again. It's all we ever seem to do anymore." As the tears threatened to return, she shook her head as if to rid herself of the impending emotions. "We were at the top of the stairs. I was turning away - I was so tired of fighting - and he reached out to stop me. When I yanked my arm away so he couldn't touch me, I lost my balance and fell backwards down the stairs." She shook her head sadly. "Poor Scotty, he was down the stairs almost as soon as I was. I wasn't really hurt at all, maybe just a little bruised, but we were both crying... blaming ourselves. Nothing has been right since...." She shook her head again, not wishing to go there just yet, wanting nothing more than to purge it all from her mind and make everything alright again. "Anyway, I was so frustrated and didn't know what to do, so I just grabbed my coat - admittedly the wrong coat - and ran." She looked up at Catherine, grimacing to herself as their eyes met. "I can't believe I'm doing this!... telling my problems to a complete stranger." More than a little mortified with herself, she covered her face with her hands and lowered her head.

"Please, don't feel that way." Catherine reached out to tenderly draw her hands down. "I know I'm not a counselor or anything like that, but I am a good listener and I'd like to help."

Kim shrugged her shoulders lightly. "I don't know how you can, it all seems so... so surreal, so beyond... anything."

"Can you tell me more?" Catherine's own compassion and her experience in the D.A.'s office guided her as she probed gently without pushing, seeking to gain the young woman's trust.

Kim furrowed her brows in obvious question, her voice taking on a slight defensive tone. "That's all that happened, Scotty didn't hurt me... honest."

"I know; I believe you, but...." Catherine smiled softly, reassuringly, conveying her acceptance and support. "You said nothing has been right since... what? What happened to change things between you and Scotty?"

In the ensuing silence, Kim's eyes welled with heavy tears, leaving Catherine to wonder guiltily if she had gone too far this time. She spoke quietly, tenderly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"Yes, I do." Kim raised determined eyes to hers. "No one ever talks about it; not me and Scotty, not my friends, not even my family. It's like... if we don't talk about it, it will go away... but it's never going to go away, the pain...."

Finally, she took a deep breath and raised her head high, as if bracing herself, preparing for battle - an emotional battle. "Scotty and I, we had... have... a baby. His name was... is... Jeremy. He died six months ago." In the end, her shoulders slumped wearily and her head fell forward in defeat, her ill tears flowing freely, uncontrollably.

"Oh, Kim! Oh, Kim... I'm so, so sorry!" Catherine's empathy immediately went out to her, the vision of her own child, barely more than a baby himself, filling her senses and she could no more keep herself from crying than she could from breathing. She reached out to take the young woman's hand in hers, then instinctively gathered her into her arms, holding her, caressing the length of her back, waiting in silent comfort until her sobbing quieted and her tears seemed to be spent. Still, somehow, Catherine knew of that impossibility; a mother's tears would never end for a lost child.

After several long minutes, Kim hiccoughed lightly and pulled back with a wan smile, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose discreetly with another napkin. "The official cause of death was SIDS - Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. He and I would take a nap after lunch every day, only this time he never woke up. I kept thinking...." She paused then, unconsciously wrapping her arms around her small waist, rocking back and forth grievously. "...if I had just stayed awake I could have checked on him before he... I didn't really need a nap, it wasn't like he was keeping me awake at night anymore. He was such a good baby...."

Catherine took her small hand in hers, rubbing the soft, flawless skin consolingly. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I can't imagine...." But in a way she could imagine; worse yet, she could remember: her son being ripped from her womb, to suffer, possibly, a fate worse than death. This time it was Catherine's turn to shake her head, to attempt to rid herself of the painful memories, if only for the time being. She took a deep breath. "Kim, from what I know of SIDS, there was nothing you could have done to prevent your son's death. Even had you been awake, sitting right next to him...."

"I know, I know...." The young woman agreed with obvious reluctance. "They - the coroner, Jeremy's doctor - they all kept telling me that it wasn't my fault, but I missed him so much, and I couldn't believe that he was gone, that it could happen so suddenly. He was only four months old but he was already such a part of our lives. The hardest part...." She paused again, struggling to gather the strength to continue. "The hardest part was that after he died... I could still feel him, literally feel him, in my arms, as if I was still holding him. I couldn't explain it; I still can't. I can't believe it's only been six months. It seems like forever since I really held him."

Kim's speech once more gave way to her tears, her quiet, forceful sobs rising above the silence, reflecting her all-consuming pain. Catherine tried to fight back her own tears with little success, her feelings of helplessness escalating. A parents' love for their child... there were no words to describe those feelings. What do you say? What do you do for a woman who had suffered a loss such as this? In the end Catherine did nothing, she said nothing, waiting silently, simply holding Kim's hand, allowing her own waiting tears to fall while the young mother cried for the son she had loved more than life itself.

After a long while, after tears were once again spent, Catherine continued their conversation on the course she had been taking it a few minutes before. "How did your husband take it'?" Catherine's words were soft and tender, though she already suspected that the answer to her question had been what had lead Kim to her tonight.

The younger woman responded with a deep sigh. "Just as bad, only different. He didn't cry all the time like I did, and he didn't spend almost every waking hour at the cemetery like I did for awhile, but I know he was hurting just the same. We used to say that Jeremy was the apple of his daddy's eye. At first, after he died... Scotty was right there with me all the time, emotionally as well as physically. We talked and comforted each other, like we were taking turns feeling empty, missing him... needing him...." She bowed her head then, in quiet, dismal reflection. "Everything changed when he had to go back to work. He became distant, almost... unfeeling. Every once in awhile he'd yell at me, insisting that it was 'time to get over it,' but I couldn't... I just couldn't I don't know, maybe he just gave so much of himself at work that there wasn't anything left when he got home, even for me."

"Did you try to get any counseling, or attend a support group?" Catherine asked wonderingly, having no experience with such cases, yet wanting to do more for her than just listen. Still, she knew that sometimes all one needed was someone to just listen to them.

Kim shook her head, her expression slightly puzzled. "I didn't even know there was such a thing.

I just figured something like this happens and you just have to deal with it... only we haven't done a very good job of dealing with it."

"I'm sure there's people out there to help, you aren't the first one to go through this," Catherine tried to reassure her, to give her some hope. "Do you think Scotty would go with you?"

Kim tilted her head thoughtfully, shrugging one shoulder. "I don't know, I really don't. Maybe at first, when we were still so close, but now...." she shook her head despairingly. "I just don't know." With a quiet moan she rubbed her temples with weak fingers.

"You look exhausted," Catherine observed quietly.

"Yeah," Kim agreed with the merest hint of a smile. "It's amazing how tired crying can make you." "Would you like to stay here tonight?" Catherine offered sincerely.

"Oh, I couldn't do that to you." Kim glanced around the virtually barren room. "You aren't ready for anyone yet."

"Don't be silly." Catherine admonished lightly, assuringly. "All of the utilities are turned on, so we have light and heat, and the phone is hooked up so you can call your husband and let him know where you are. This couch folds down and there's a bed in one of the other rooms; I'm not sure why we brought it here, except that it seemed like a good idea at the time. And if I know some friends of mine, there's probably a whole closet full of blankets and quilts upstairs."

"I must admit," Kim sighed as she leaned further back into the black upholstery, "...that crawling into a warm bed without having to go out into the freezing cold again sounds quite heavenly right now." After thinking about it for just a moment, she turned anxious eyes to Catherine. "Will somebody be here with me?"

"Yes, of course. I... I'll stay here tonight." Despite her fondness and innate sympathy for her new friend, it was all Catherine could do to answer affirmatively. After the evening's revelations, she wanted nothing more than to return home to the tunnels and hold her son close and never let him go; at that moment her heart almost ached with the need to be with him. But she couldn't leave Kim alone in these strange surroundings, and they hadn't yet found the right person to stay here full time. She would have to let Vincent know. She wasn't sure how much of their conversation he'd heard, and though he would have felt her disappointment, unless he'd been close enough, he wouldn't know exactly what caused it. She'd just have to wait until Kim was asleep and hoped Vincent could be patient until then. Catherine wondered how patient she herself could be, wanting the night to be over so she could run home to her family. Almost as soon as the thought was formed, however, she mentally berated herself, hating that she was being so selfish. She vowed to concentrate on the woman before her. "In the morning I'll make some phone calls and see about finding a support group or grief counselor who can help you."

Kim smiled wearily and nodded her agreement. "Alright, I'll stay. But I'll need to call Scotty and let him know."

"Of course," Catherine stood and pointed behind her. "There's a phone in the kitchen. I'll go upstairs and see about those extra blankets while you make your call."

Half an hour later the two women sat together on the sofa, perched comfortably on its edge, the steaming brew of tea they sipped from white styrofoam cups warming them against the slight chill still lingering in the house.

"What did your husband say? Was he alright with this?" Catherine inquired anxiously. The last thing she wanted to do was cause further problems between Kim and her husband.

"Mostly he was very grateful that I wasn't lying in the snow somewhere," Kim replied with just a hint of reservation. "He wasn't really okay with my staying here, but he agreed it was probably for the best; we could both use the break and he didn't want me to go back out in the cold tonight. He's going to take tomorrow off and pick me up in the morning. He's taking a chance at getting fired if he's gone another day since he took so much time off after Jeremy died, but it's a risk we both feel is worth taking." She sighed and her voice took on a tone of firm conviction and resolve. "We can live without money, but neither of us could live without the other."

Catherine nodded her understanding, Kim's feelings matching her own so closely.

There was a lengthy silence then, as both women contemplated their relationships and the men who meant literally everything to them. Suddenly, they were startled out of their reverie by the loud and unexpected sound of the back door opening and closing. Catherine jumped up, instinctively ready to defend herself and Kim against the unknown intruder, wondering how and why Vincent had allowed someone to get past him, still sensing his continued presence behind the house. Then, before she could contemplate further, or even plan a course of action, she heard someone call her name and a familiar face emerged from the kitchen shadows.

"Judith?!"

"Hello, my dear," Judith's strong German accent greeted her as she reached out to hug Catherine affectionately. "I saw the lights on and wanted to make sure nothing was amiss."

"No... no, we're fine," Catherine stammered, not quite able to hide her surprise at the unexpected visit. Still, they both knew that neither was fooling the other. Judith's house was five blocks away; it wasn't likely that she was just out for a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood on this dark, cold night. Someone had brought her here, and though Catherine had no doubts as to who that someone was, she didn't have a clue as to why.

Though Vincent wasn't yet comfortable enough with calling this new woman in his life 'mother' - and honestly didn't know if he ever would - the two had developed a special friendship since finding each other three months ago. She'd been in awe of his tunnel community and the principles upon which it had been built, and she wanted nothing more than to spend as much time as possible with her children and grandchildren, as well as the large adopted family that had accepted her unconditionally. But her years of hiding and fighting for her life in Germany had left her scarred, unable to spend more than short periods of time in the relative darkness and confinement of the tunnels. That, coupled with the approaching winter and the cold and snow it brought with it, made her visits far less frequent than any of them would have liked. Still, Vincent found time to go to her, and for a few hours each week they talked, listened, and got to know each other.

"Catherine... Catherine, are you sure you're alright?" The obvious signs of recent tears did not escape the older woman as she looked from one woman to the other.

"I assure you, we're fine." Catherine hoped her smile was convincing as she took the older woman's upper arm. "I'd like you to meet someone. Judith, this is Kim," she said, making the introduction. "Kim, this is Judith, a close friend of my family's."

After the pleasantries were taken care of, Catherine led them all back to the couch, sitting Judith down next to Kim before returning to the kitchen for a cup of tea for her newest guest. As she stood at the counter waiting for the water to heat up again, she couldn't help but smile to herself. It had quickly become well known in the tunnels that Judith was a mother hen to more than just her own children. She was kind and caring, taking on the troubles of and sharing her compassion with almost everyone she met, and her encounter with Kim right now was no exception. Catherine returned to the living room to find the two sitting close together on the couch, Judith's arm around Kim's shoulders as she briefly reiterated her story. There were tears, of course, but this time Catherine recognized a sense of relief in Kim's words, that she had at last found people to talk to, who wanted to listen, and whether she knew it or not, people who could truly empathize with her.

"Catherine... thank you, dear," Judith said gratefully as she took the cup from her, wrapping her hands around its warmth. "Kim says you're going to stay here with her tonight."

Catherine nodded as she sat down cross-legged on the newly carpeted floor. "Yes, we thought it best, given the cold and all, and I wouldn't feel right letting Kim stay here by herself."

Judith nodded. "I totally, agree, but why don't you let me stay with her instead. I'm all by myself in that big house, and you have a family to go home to, so it makes perfect sense... if Kim doesn't mind, that is." She raised a brow and looked to her in question.

The younger woman shook her head vehemently. "Oh, no! I don't mind at all; that would be great. I mean...." she blushed in embarrassment at her uncharacteristic outburst. "You're both very sweet and I'm glad I don't have to make a choice, but I'm ashamed to say that I didn't think about Catherine having a family; she should be with them."

Catherine felt her own sense of shame at Kim's words, her own anxiety-filled plight so insignificant compared to what she was going through. "I'm only worried about doing what's right for you right now."

"Thank you," Kim answered quietly and with sincere gratefulness. "I really am okay with Judith staying here."

"Alright, as long as you're comfortable with that. I realize nothing will be as comfortable as staying in your own home, but given the circumstances, I think staying here really probably is best." Catherine untangled her legs and got up from the floor, hoping she didn't look as eager to leave as she felt. "I'll make those phone calls first thing in the morning and be back as soon as I can."

Kim called out as she started to leave. "Don't forget to bring food!"

"Don't worry, I won't let you starve, I promise!" Catherine laughed as she headed for the back door, which would lead her out to the back porch, and ultimately home.

Catherine sat contentedly on her bed, her back against the mound of pillows at its head, her feet stretched out before her, a half-read copy of Good night, Moon beside her. Jacob was straddled on her lap, his head heavy against her chest. He'd fallen asleep long ago, but she'd been unable to release the maternal hold that consumed her. She lowered her head and took turns kissing his downy curls... caressing his baby-soft cheeks... as her tears slipped heedlessly down her face.

Vincent was at the center table, diligently writing in his journal. He wore only a pair of black sweat pants, and his tan robe with a dark green Aztec design. It was by far her favorite piece of all his clothing, especially when he wore it as he did now, lightly cinched with none of his customary layers of thermal beneath it, revealing more than just a hint of his broad, masculine chest, and all-over sprinkling of thin gold-amber hair. She looked over to find him watching her, a crooked, but oh-so-endearing smile on his face. "Thank you," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

Though he barely heard her, he knew her words. "For what?" he whispered back.

"For thinking of Judith and bringing her to the house... for making it possible for me to be with Jacob tonight," she answered unnecessarily. Her emotions were so overwhelming at this moment that she knew he felt every nuance of them emanating from her.

Vincent closed his book and stood, making his way to their bed where he kneeled down next to it, one hand slipping between the pillow and her softly curved buttocks, the other reaching out to caress his son's pajama-clad back. "I know your feelings, Catherine. Loving Jacob as you do, it was impossible for you to feel otherwise."

"It was almost more than I could bear; the mere thought of losing him...." she whispered brokenly as her tears threatened anew.

"I know... I know...." His voice trailed then, as they both silently reflected on the evening.

After several long moments, Vincent broke their silence, venturing a change in subject. "When I made my rounds tonight...."

"Did you check on Charles?" Catherine interrupted quickly.

Vincent smiled, her response precisely as he'd expected. "I checked on Charles. He was fast asleep in his chair and appeared quite content."

"How was Devin? Is he okay with the birds?" she asked anxiously, though they both knew that in the end, little else mattered beyond Charles' happiness.

Vincent laughed softly, ever mindful of his sleeping son. "He was perfectly fine with the birds, especially since Charles enjoys them so much. However, he says he now knows more than he ever thought he wanted to know about the winged creatures. Charles made him read one of the books you brought with him; he wouldn't let him stop until they'd read it from cover to cover. Then they had to beg Mary to sew a cover to put over the cage each night before Charles could go to sleep."

"Oh, no!" Catherine grimaced. "I bet Mary and Devin are ready to strangle me!"

"I hardly think so," he assured her easily. "It means a lot to them that Charles is happy and comfortable, and that they had a hand in making it happen."

In the ensuing silence, their eyes were drawn once again to their son, the strength of their love for him consuming them both.

Catherine sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around Jacob. "I can't bring myself to let go and put him in his crib."

"I don't think it would hurt if he slept with us, just for tonight," Vincent offered without hesitation, acknowledging his own need to be near his son.

Catherine smiled tearfully, tenderly; at this moment, there was no greater gift on earth he could have given her. After kissing the top of Jacob's downy-soft head one more time, she gently laid him down between them on the quilt-covered mattress.

"You know... I was just thinking...." Vincent began huskily when she once more turned her attention to him. He reached over their son to slowly undo the top buttons of her cotton shirt and slip his hand beneath the fabric to trace a seductive path down the hidden valley between her breasts with the backs of his curved fingers. "...that it's been over twelve hours since we tried to make a little brother or sister for Jacob."

"Mmmm...." Catherine closed her eyes languidly, savoring the sensation of his warm hand on her tender skin. "How could we have let so much time go by?" She leaned forward to allow him better access to her quickly-heated flesh. "We really should do something about it...."

"Unfortunately, our son seems to have taken over our bed." Vincent murmured.

Catherine responded with a soft smile on her lips. " It wouldn't be the first time we... ended up on the floor."

"Come here," he urged thickly. Drawing her to him, he lifted her small frame effortlessly over the edge of the bed. As his large hands spanned her waist, he slid her slowly, seductively down the length of his torso, pausing to bury his face in the vee of her cotton shirt, pressing his lips to the soft, warm curve of her breasts, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

Catherine sighed at the intimate touch of his warm breath. She splayed her hands across his bare chest, moving upwards beneath the soft robe to slide it slowly off his wide shoulders, down solid, powerful arms. When the beautiful, but now offending, garment fell from his body to pool around his hips, her hands slowly moved back upwards, her feathery touch so light she barely stirred the light layer of amber-gold hair that covered the length of his heavily-muscled arms. She slid a hand beneath the thick, golden locks that fell across his neck, holding his head to her breast, releasing a passionate moan as he nuzzled deeper, pressing hot, wet kisses to her already-flushed skin. Lithely, she settled her petite weight onto his legs and straddled his thighs. Reaching behind him with her free hand to cup his hard buttocks, she suddenly, sharply, ground her hips into his, eliciting his own muted growl of desire as her feminine core met his burgeoning arousal, their touch hot and searing even through the thick layer of clothing.

Without warning, Vincent raised his head and took her shoulders in his hands, holding her away from him.

"Vincent... please," she murmured, aching with his absence.

"Shh...." Vincent leaned forward to tenderly kiss her forehead in a sweet and loving, but far from provocative gesture. When her heavy-lidded eyes met his, pleading with him to come back, he shook his head, forcing himself to maintain some semblance of control, despite the obvious throbbing in his loins. "Catherine, this is important. We both need to know... are you sure? Is this still what you want? After today... with Kim and her baby... knowing that anything can happen... Are you sure you don't want to use... I mean, we can find something if you've changed your mind about having a baby."

"Oh, Vincent," Catherine's eyes softened and she raised a trembling hand to lightly caress his softly bristled cheek. "I love you for caring so much that your wants and needs come second to mine, but I can't let fear keep me from moving forward. If I did that, I wouldn't be where I am today... here, with you and Jacob. I'd never have made it through the first few days with Gabriel, or even those weeks after my attack."

"Shhh..." As Vincent opened his mouth to speak, it was her turn to press her fingers to his lips, urging his silence. "We could sit here all night and analyze this but it really wouldn't matter. The most important thing is that I love you with everything that I am and so much more. I want to have a baby - I want to have your baby - risks and all."

"Mmmm...." Vincent smiled seductively and gently flipped her over, pinning her beneath him on the thickly carpeted floor. "Is that a yes?"

"Oh, my dear, sweet love," Catherine responded with a wicked gleam in her eyes as she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck, and pulled his face down to hers, her tone sultry and alluring. "That is a very definite, without a doubt, unequivocable... yes!"

Catherine entered the remodeled house Above through the now-familiar back porch door, calling out to the occupants within as she set a large paper grocery bag on the counter top. Making her way further into the living area, she found the two women in the play room, sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed, Kim with one leg up on the side, facing Judith. "Good morning," she greeted them cheerily, leaning against the door frame. "Did you both sleep alright?"

The older woman nodded affirmatively. "I slept just fine, dear; the couch was quite comfortable. You don't need to worry about me."

Kim stifled a yawn but still agreed with Judith's assessment. "I woke up a couple of times, I think mostly because of the strangeness, but it was okay."

"I'm sorry the atmosphere isn't more homey," Catherine apologized to her guests. "I promise, in another week it will all look different."

"I didn't mind, really. It felt good to be safe and warm, which is a lot different than I could have been had you not been here." Kim graced her with a sincere and grateful smile. "But speaking of promises, did you bring food?"

"Yes, I did, it's in the kitchen," Catherine replied, unable to contain her laughter. "Oh, and I brought this." She reached inside her coat pocket and retrieved a sealed package containing a variety of combs, as well as a travel-size toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. "They didn't have any brushes at the twenty-four hour convenience store so this is the best I could do."

Kim took the offering eagerly. "This is great; thank you! I don't usually worry a lot about what I look like, but there's something about being able to comb my hair and brush my teeth when I get up in the morning."

"I agree. It's amazing what a good- or bad-hair-day can do for one's attitude." Catherine laughed, knowing that unfortunately, very few women in America would disagree with her. "There's not much else, but at least there's a mirror in the bathroom, so go have at it then come get something to eat."

As the younger woman headed towards the bathroom, Judith and Catherine made their way towards the kitchen. Once there, Catherine emptied the contents of the grocery bag onto the counter. With Judith's help, she divided out the orange juice, muffins, and selection of fruit onto three napkins, then measured out the coffee and water into the coffee maker and turned it on, the strong aroma soon filling the kitchen. With their task completed, Catherine turned to Judith and spoke softly, sincerely. "Judith, I want to thank you for coming last night; you have no idea what it meant to me, to be able to go home to Jacob...."

"Think nothing of it, my dear," the woman easily waved away any need for thank-you. "You needed to be with your family and I was more than happy to come. When Vincent gave me what details he had and I knew I could help, I had to come. I rather enjoyed it, actually."

"Well, I do appreciate it... more than I could ever tell you." She paused then, unsure if she should proceed with her train of thought just yet. "I'd like to talk to you later, about maybe being here on a more regular basis. For whatever reason, we haven't found just the right person we were looking for to work here, and ever since last night, I'm of the growing opinion that she - you - were right in front of us all along." She laid her hand on Judith's arm thoughtfully, understandingly. "I know it's not a decision you can enter into lightly, but you were so good with Kim, and I've seen you with the people in the tunnels - friends and strangers alike. You have a genuine compassion and an empathy for them that is unfortunately rare. I'd just like you to think about it, please?"

Before she had a chance to answer, Kim appeared from around the corner, her hair combed to a shine.

"Feel better?" Catherine asked, smiling fondly.

"Oh, yes, much better," Kim answered, nodding her head with a smile. "What time is Scotty coming?" Catherine wondered.

"He said about 10:00, but he was pretty worried so I wouldn't be surprised if he can't keep himself from coming early. He's kind of like that; despite what I'm going through, he's really the worrier in the family," Kim admitted.

Catherine looked at her watch, the one luxury from Above she'd been unable to get used to living without, despite Vincent's impeccable sense of time. "It's almost nine now, so you'd better eat up just in case, although he's welcome to join us if he likes. I'm just sorry I don't even have a table and set of chairs for us to eat at."

"The floor works just fine for me," Kim responded with a cheerful tone, as she picked up one of the servings and moved to the living room. She and Catherine sat down on the floor with their napkins in their laps, while Judith sat on the edge of the futon couch.

Still wearing her jacket, Catherine took a small notebook out of her pocket and opened it up to a page filled with her scriptive handwriting, information she'd gotten during a phone conversation just a short while ago, the telephone downstairs having a separate connection from the one any one else would use upstairs. She tore off the page and handed it to Kim. "I called an old friend of mine and she gave me the name of a wonderful support group for parents who have lost a child - for any reason and at any age. It's called the 'Compassionate Friends.' There are two chapters in New York City that meet once a month. Here are the names and phone numbers of the contact people for both of them. You'll notice there is more than one name for each chapter to ensure that one person is always available. Cindy - my friend who told me about this - said to be sure and stress to you that these people are available to talk twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, not just on that one night a month. They've all been through the loss of a child and know what you're going through."

At the tears that filled Kim's eyes, Catherine paused, her face etched deeply with concern. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you; I was hoping this would help."

Kim smiled wanly, but hurried to reassure her. "Oh, no, you are helping... it's just that.... Right after Jeremy died, there was never a lack of people surrounding us, taking care of us, trying to help us cope. But then it seemed like suddenly they were all gone." She made a heartfelt attempt to laugh, tearfully looking up to Judith as the older woman reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I remember the day after the funeral, it felt like the world had gone on without us - everyone went back to their own lives and we were left standing there all alone with our hearts shattered. We've been fending for ourselves ever since, and now, you're here, trying to help us pick up the pieces of what has become of our lives and you don't even know us. It means more than I can ever say."

Catherine's brows furrowed and she shook her head sadly. "I don't know what to say, you've had to endure so much...." She paused then, the words she spoke ringing sadly familiar.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a loud, firm knock on the front door, signaling Scotty's arrival. As the trio stood together, Catherine looked with fondness and concern at her new friend. "Will you let me know how you're doing? I wrote down my office phone number; you can leave a message if I'm not here."

"Of course." Kim smiled wistfully, the tears in her eyes flowing freely as she turned to each woman, taking first one, then the other in a bittersweet embrace. "Thank you, Judith... and Cathy... thank you for everything."                                                                   ,

As she turned towards the door, Catherine put a hand on her arm, halting her movement for just a moment. "Be kind to yourself, Kim. You never get over the loss of a loved one, especially a child, but you will get through it."

"Catherine is... really tired today," Charles was surprised and more than a little dismayed to see that one of his new best friends was so obviously not herself this afternoon.

"Yes," Vincent nodded his agreement of Charles' assessment. He held his concern in check, however, not wanting to worry the young man unnecessarily, especially in light of his chronic illness. Still, there was definitely a need for some explanation, given his uncanny ability to be attuned to the emotions of those around him. "The last few days have been difficult and exhausting for her. She met a young woman whose baby died. Catherine has been feeling the loss for this woman quite strongly and it has affected her deeply."

"Very... sad," Charles responded thoughtfully. "Will she be alright?"

"She'll be fine," Vincent assured him, knowing the truth of it himself, though there was no question it would take time. From their vantage point on the high, rocky ledge in the Chamber of the Falls, they could see the familiar sandy alcove far to their left, where, after a light picnic lunch and some play time in the water with their son, Catherine was indulging in a rare afternoon nap. Sensing his mother's poignant emotions, Jacob had curled up next to her, her even breathing in his ear lulling him into a peaceful slumber. Off in the distance to their right, the sight of Devin caught their eye for a moment as he swiftly and effortlessly dove into the swirling water from one of the lower ledges next to the Falls. Vincent turned again to Charles. "Are your clothes getting dry enough? We don't want you getting sick from the chill."

Wanting to at least get his feet wet in their underground beach, Charles had rolled his pants up and tried to wade in the shallow waters near the shore. But even with Vincent and Devin's help, the slippery rocks were too difficult to tread on beneath his bare, misshapen feet. Instead, he'd had to settle for dangling his feet from a waist-high embankment. Though Catherine and Vincent had done their best to keep their play from getting out of hand, he and Jacob had ended up in a splashing war that left both of them fairly soaked. Charles shrugged carelessly. "I really don't mind; it was... fun. It's been a long time since I played... in the water."

Vincent smiled, glad when they could talk about Charles' happy, special memories, rather than the painful ones which depressed Charles, and angered him. "Not since you were little?"

"My mother... she bought me a swim ...ming pool for our back ...yard. We couldn't go... many places; people... made fun of me," he explained with a sad nostalgia.

"Your mother loved you," Vincent responded doubtlessly, knowing it instinctively.

Charles nodded and smiled brightly with the memory. "My father... too. They wanted to make up for... the others."

"How the others treated you?" Vincent prodded softly.

"Others... and Eddy. Not like you... and Dev," Charles replied bittersweetly.

"I was very lucky," Vincent admitted, knowing how truly blessed he was, what he could have faced had the circumstances been different. "I was smaller, weaker, and different, but I had Devin to look after me."

"He loves you... and the tunnels," Charles stated simply, without question.

Vincent shook his head, a distinct look of disbelief crossing his face. "I hardly think so - not about the tunnels." In Charles' ensuing silence, he turned to him, one brow raised in question. "Do you... why would you think that? He has always made his... dislike of the tunnels perfectly clear."

"At the cabin, we talked... a lot," Charles confided. "Devin told me some of his ad... adventures in the outside world, but he... talked mostly about... his life here - how pretty it is... and safe... and how everyone loves everyone - all of the stuff he... used to do with you... and the other boys." He paused then, catching his breath before continuing secretively. "He even told me... about the times he got in trouble... and how Father used to yell at him. He wasn't mad... said it was a part of growing up in a family. I think... he misses it."

Vincent continued to stare at him in disbelief for a few moments longer, then turned to watch Devin once again begin the trek up the ledges beside the Falls. "I didn't know," he murmured to himself. "Neither... did he," Charles surmised quietly.

Without warning, Charles drew in a startled gasp, as their eyes were drawn to the roaring falls, where Devin was just then diving from the highest point into the rushing, swirling waters beneath. "Is he... okay?" he asked tentatively, fearfully.

Vincent turned to him with a sympathetic, knowing smile. "He's okay. He started doing that when he was seven years old. He'd start off with the other kids who were going to the Mirror Pool to swim, then he'd sneak off to come here." Together they watched him surface and swim effortlessly to the edge.

"Did Father ever find out?" Charles asked curiously.

"I don't know," Vincent responded truthfully, thoughtfully. "If he did, it didn't keep him from coming. I think he was here at least twice a week, every single week until the day he left."

In the opposite direction, Jacob started to shift about on the thick, quilted blanket. Experience told his father that he would soon be waking up. "I need to get back to Jacob so Catherine can continue to sleep; do you want to come?" At Charles' affirmative nod, Vincent stood and helped him up, pulling him backwards so his feet could get a grip on the rocks. They stood for a moment, waiting for Charles to catch his breath, then gathered up the oxygen tank and tubing that rested against the wall behind them. "Will we... go home then... after Catherine wakes up?" Charles asked as they headed slowly down the rocky ramp, his voice holding a hint of excitement.

"Soon," Vincent replied. "Are you in a hurry? I thought you enjoyed being here."

"I do, but... Devin said I could give the birds a bath... when we got home," he admitted sheepishly.

"I wasn't aware that one gave a bird a bath; I thought they just... did it on their own." Vincent admitted, revealing his own lack of knowledge about animals - the subject never being on top of the list of classes taught in the tunnels.

"They do," Charles happily offered his new-found knowledge, "but in the wild they can find water anywhere. When they are dom... dom...."

"Domesticated?" Vincent supplied the difficult word.

Charles nodded gratefully. "You have to take them... to the water. I read about it... in the book Cathe...rine brought me."

"Makes sense," Vincent acknowledged. "So... have you given your birds names?"

"Yes."

Vincent raised a questioning brow at his unexpected silence.

Charles bowed his head shyly. "It's silly."

"There's nothing wrong with silly," Vincent encouraged.

Charles lifted his head hesitantly. "I named them... Tom and Huck, after the boys in some stories Dev and I read together."

"Ahh...." Vincent smiled fondly in remembrance. "Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn; Devin and I used to read those same stories when we were boys. We were constantly pretending we were Tom and Huck, and planning our next adventure."

Halfway down the embankment they paused to allow Charles to catch his breath. Still, the young man rarely allowed his discomfort to keep him from conversation. "You and Dev... were good brothers... together," Charles remarked almost sadly.

"You know," Vincent began, desperately wishing he could take away the painful moments of the life Charles had been forced to endure before Devin had rescued him. "Since you and Devin are like brothers, and Devin and I are brothers...." he found his own excitement building with his words. "That would make you my brother, as well."

Charles' response was immediate and spontaneous, his bright, boyish smile reminding Vincent of the first time he had removed his hood and allowed him to see his face. "Brothers?" Vincent smiled at his enthusiasm and spoke firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "Brothers."

Clutching the colorful woolen robe around her waist, Catherine crawled back into bed, her tears flowing unheeded even as she slipped over Vincent's legs, careful not to disturb his sleep. Any other time, after getting up during the night, she would curl up next to her husband and go back to sleep. This time, however, she turned to face the wall, nature's reason for her nocturnal stirring causing her to pull the covers up over her chin, almost covering her face in an effort to hide the sound of her sobbing.

Her efforts were of no use; within seconds Vincent's arm was around her, pulling her close and spooning himself behind her. He brushed her hair from her face, kissing the side of her temple as he whispered lovingly, consolingly. "I'm sorry, Catherine."

Catherine sniffed and smiled wanly as she tried to wipe the continuous, uncontrollable flow of tears. Her words came amidst soft, sobbing hiccoughs. "I wanted... next week is Christmas... and even though we don't celebrate it in the tunnels... because of all the different religions... I wanted it to be my present to you."

"Catherine," Vincents soft husky voice was as consoling as the words themselves. "I want this as much as you do. Whenever this happens, it will truly be a gift - to each other- no matter what time of year it is." He paused then, careful to form his words so as not to upset her. "I talked to Peter."

Catherine turned her head sharply to face Vincent, her eyes wide with surprise. "About this? About us?" She blushed lightly at the thought, not completely sure how she felt about discussing this particular subject with her old friend, even though he was a doctor and had often cared for her as a child.

Vincent nodded, sensing her discomfort. "He was very understanding and professional. He said that in the medical field, it isn't even considered infertility until a couple had been actively trying to get pregnant for at least a year."                                                                                                                                                  •

Catherine raised a brow at his words, her insinuation causing him to blush this time as he quickly attempted to clarify himself. "Maybe actively wasn't the right word to use, but you know what I mean."

"Oh, I'd say that maybe actively is an understatement," she teased as she shifted onto her back, quite satisfied when his face turned a darker shade of red. Still, this was a serious matter and one that she, especially, was having a hard time dealing with. "Did he really say that?"

"Yes, he said exactly that." Vincent felt the surge of hope that filled her. He raised up on his elbow, his penetrating blue eyes holding hers unwaveringly. "Catherine, the physical and emotional stress to your body over the past year-and-a-half has been enormous. There's no doubt that it can adversely affect your normal ability to get pregnant." He paused a moment before broaching a subject they'd never discussed. "Or, who knows, maybe I..."

"Oh, no, Vincent!" Catherine's voiced her resistance to any thoughts that he might be responsible for their lack of conception, as she pressed her soft, tender fingers lovingly to his cheek. "I know, I just have to give it some time. It's just that... each time my period starts, I'm reminded of how much I want this - for both of us."

"As I do," Vincent vowed tenderly, solemnly, capturing her hand in his and raising it to his lips to press a kiss on the back of her slightly curled fingers. "But we must have patience. It will happen, when the time is right."

"You promise?" Catherine eyes pleaded with him for assurance and validity of their dream.

Vincent shook his head and lowered his eyes for just a moment, wishing, not for the first time, that he could give her all that she asked for. "No, unfortunately I can't promise that you will get pregnant and the rest of our lives will be perfect. But I do promise that whatever happens, we'll go through it together."

"Catherine, what the...!" At the sound of the loud and authoritative tone of their patriarch, the eight or so young children scattered around Catherine's chamber froze in place, their faces etched with anxiety over the resounding lecture that was sure to come. The chamber really was too small for the planned activity, but the areas Charles could afford to be in with his oxygen were limited, and the children racing around Father's study simply wasn't an option.

"We're having fun," Catherine smiled, eager to protect her young cohorts gathered around her. She giggled at the sight and sound of little Jack stomping on a last, lone bubble that hit the floor in front of him. "Don't worry, it's all homemade," she assured Father, indicating the pan of liquid soap and water Rebecca had shown her how to make, and the heavy wire wand put together by Mouse, its inner criss­cross design capable of surrounding them with dozens of bubbles with just one sweeping wave across the room. "I thought the kids might enjoy one of the favorite pastimes of all younger children Above."

"And what about Charles here?" He put his arm around the broad shoulders of the quiet man sitting leisurely in Vincent's velvet high-backed chair, leaning down to kiss the top of his head as he would either of his sons or Catherine herself.

Charles looked up at him, his boyish smile assuring Father of his desire to be exactly where he was. "I can't play... like to watch." He paused and turned his palms to face upwards. "I like the feel of the bubbles... they fall on my hands."

While Father listened intently to Charles, his head bowed to hear him above the playful noises of the children, Catherine took the opportunity to resume the children's play, dipping the large wand into the pan, then waving it in a wide arc across the room. Despite Father's continued presence, the children's response was immediate, their squeals of delight growing louder as they ran and jumped happily around the room.

The older man looked up, just as a golf ball-sized bubble landed on top of his slightly balding head. His hearty laughter was as unexpected as it was rare as he reached up to feel for the slimy liquid. "Well, I can see I'm only getting in the way here" he acknowledged, surprising them by conceding to their activity. "Actually, I originally came this way because I need to speak to Vincent; is he around?"

"He and Kanin went down to the Great Hall for the afternoon," Catherine explained in between sweeps of her wand. "He's being especially tedious with this year's preparations. It's been over twenty years since Devin's last Winterfest, and this will be Judith, David and Juliana's first, so Vincent wants it to be perfect for them."

"Ahh, yes," Father finally recalled. "He told me he wanted to replace some of the steps leading to the tapestries. I'd simply forgotten. So..." he looked around the room filled with seemingly infinite energy, "the children Above, they really do this bubble-blowing thing on a regular basis? It must drive their parents crazy!"

"Not really," Catherine grinned, wondering if Jacob Wells had ever really been a kid himself. "The parents have just as much fun watching the children as the children do playing; I don't think we ever grow out of it."

Catherine and Vincent entered Father's study and wearily headed straight for the cluster of mismatched furniture on the far side of the chamber. Exhaustedly, Catherine plopped down into a deep, plump couch, pulling Vincent down next to her. Devin came up behind them, almost collapsing into a chair just a few feet from them. Still dressed in their Winterfest finery, the trio had come to bid Father a final good-night, only to find that he'd not yet returned from his bath. In spite of the late hour, he knew from experience that after the day's activities, a soak in the hot spring water was a must for his hip or he would pay dearly for it tomorrow.

"God, what a night!" Devin exclaimed tiredly, rubbing his face with his fingers. "I think I'm going to sleep until at least noon!"

Catherine laid her head sleepily on Vincent's shoulder and sighed. "It was a wonderful night, wasn't it?"

"Hmmm," Vincent murmured as he closed his eyes, laying his head down on Catherine's and pressing the lightest of kisses into the loose curls piled high on top of her head.

Moments later Catherine moved her head just far enough to meet Devin's eyes. "What did Charles think? Was it everything we'd made it out to be?"

"And more," Devin spoke for his absent friend. "I don't think the smile left his face the whole night. He hated to come up early with the children, but he was so tired and his back was really starting to hurt. I checked on him again after I helped Sarah put the kids to bed. We talked for quite a while then. In his whole life I don't think he's ever been as happy and content as he was tonight."

Catherine smiled and lifted her head, her eyes sparkling with tears of relief and joy. "I'm so glad. I was afraid he might be a little lonely amongst so many strangers, but it looked like everyone, including the Helpers, made him feel welcome."

"And what about you? Was it everything you remembered... and expected?" Vincent inquired more than a little curiously, having spent the last few weeks going the extra mile to ensure a grand Winterfest homecoming for his brother.

"It was... absolutely perfect," Devin answered eagerly, despite his weary state. "It was all the same, yet so different. I remember delivering the Winterfest candles when I was younger, only now... I can't get over how many Helpers there are now. And Peter," he continued with a sly smirk. "Who'd have believed that our own Dr. Peter would know your Catherine so well... and so intimately."

"Oh, you!" Catherine moved quickly, reaching out to give Devin a playful punch, just missing him by inches as he stood sharply, almost knocking his chair backwards. "I don't think Peter is going to stop relaying that little tidbit until the whole city of New York is well aware of it."

"I sure hope not," Devin laughingly teased. He stilled as the tapping on the pipes signaled two o'clock. "I need to check on Charles. I promised him I'd come in when the party was over, I just didn't realize it would be so late. Will you be here for awhile?"

Catherine nodded and leaned back into the couch. "I'm so tired, but still too excited to call it a night. I need to wind down a bit before I can sleep. Thankfully, Jacob is spending the night with Kanin and Olivia so we can set our own pace."

After Devin left, Catherine shifted sideways and sank backwards into Vincent's arms. "Was it my imagination or was it extra special this year? I know this is only my third Winterfest, but it just seemed like the candles burned brighter, the food tasted sweeter and the music was... can you believe Rolley's students? They truly outdid themselves this year!"

"I must admit to feeling the same way," Father commented, a note of pride and nostalgia in his voice as he entered the chamber, looking as haggard and tired as they both felt. "Each year I am reluctant to see the evening's festivities end, but there was something different about tonight, something extra special, as you put it."

"I believe we had a record number of Helpers join us this year, as well," Vincent commented, absently caressing the length of Catherine's arm, the lush fabric soft beneath his fingers.

"I think you're right," Father agreed, still elated after spending the entire night with old friends - some he hadn't seen in several years. "We also had some new friends and Helpers, namely Joe and Jenny, as well as Judith and her family. The increase in Helpers that attended this year was due in most part to you two." He grinned at their pleased but puzzled expressions, but obligingly went on to explain. "So many of them had forgotten how nice it was to all be together until they attended your wedding back in October, and they wanted to be a part of this again. In fact, several Helpers mentioned...." He paused in mid-sentence as Devin slowly entered the chamber, his face pale, ashen, in shock. "Devin? What is it?"

His oldest son opened and closed his mouth, struggling to speak several times before finally his words came, his voice low and strangled. "He's gone."

Father's confusion was apparent. "What do you mean, "he's gone'? Who's gone?" Behind him Catherine and Vincent rose from their seats slowly, listening intently.

"Charles," Devin forced the words from his quivering lips. "He's... he's dead."

The three of them stared at him in stunned silence for endless minutes, their mouths agape, their minds whirling with Devin's pronouncement. At last, Father moved wordlessly to his desk and reached beneath it to get his medical bag, then silently strode past Devin and disappeared into the tunnelway.

The room remained still and quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts of denial and disbelief, until finally, Catherine cried out, breaking the silence. "No!" she decreed vehemently. "He's not d... you're wrong Devin, he's going to be okay."

"Catherine." Vincent spoke softly, putting his arm comfortingly around her shoulder. Catherine turned to him, her eyes imploring him, as if he alone could alter the tragedy that appeared to be unfolding. "But he can't be, Vincent, he just can't!"

"I'm afraid he is," Father reentered the chamber, his stethoscope hanging carelessly around his neck. He rested his hand on Devin's shoulder, his dismal message unmistakably clear. "I'm sorry, son."

Devin could only nod silently, the tears already streaming down his face as he turned to walk out of the chamber, his shoulders slumped in defeat, the appearance of a broken man.

"But... I don't understand, what happened?" Catherine wailed, unable to accept, to comprehend the events that had so recently transpired - the circle of life that kept turning despite their fervent wish for it to be otherwise. "We just saw him a few hours ago; he was happy... he didn't even seem sick!"

Vincent gathered her further into his arms, his own heart breaking as she clung to him. The sorrow that filled them hung heavily in the chamber. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. "Do you know what might have happened, Father? Catherine is right - he was fine just a short time ago. I don't think he indicated that anything was wrong."

Throughout their conversation, Father struggled to maintain his own grief-filled emotions and maintain his perspective from a physician's point of view, instead of that of a father and friend. "I can't be sure, of course, but he was in bed, lying on his back - which I understand he never does anymore. My surmise is that the tumors were pressing against his heart or his lungs, causing the internal organs to slow down and to ultimately cease functioning altogether. There probably wasn't any pain; he just died quietly in his sleep."

"It's so not fair, it's just not f...." Catherine buried her face in Vincent's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Though it hardly seemed possible, Vincent held her tighter even as his own tears flowed sadly, freely down his cheeks. Father stood just a few feet from them, and Vincent reached out to him, pulling him to them and enclosing him in their mourning embrace. The sound of their crying filled the chamber, it's deep, hollow echo reflecting the innate sorrow that engulfed each of them.

After a long while their aching cries subsided, their tears spent, at least for the moment. Catherine lifted her head from Vincent's chest, raising her red, tear-swollen eyes sadly to his. "Sh... should we go find Devin?"

Father nodded reluctantly, grateful he could be there for his son, while cursing the circumstances that led to its necessity. "I believe he went in the direction of their chamber. Unfortunately, I don't know him well enough to know if he will want our company at this time, but we're family, and I believe he'll need us as much as we need him."

Charles' lifeless body lay supine on his bed, the chamber strangely quiet without the customary sound of his labored breathing. Devin sat next to him in a hard, wooden chair he'd apparently dragged from his own side of the chamber. He held Charles' cold hand in his, holding it to his lips, his heavy sobs visibly wracking his body as he mouthed the same words over and over: "I'm sorry.... I'm sorry...."

The somber trio entered the room hesitantly, Vincent and Father treading softly to stand behind Devin, each silently placing a comforting hand on one of his shoulders. Catherine moved to settle into the comer of the over-sized rocker-recliner, gathering Charles' old, worn quilt in her arms and hugging it tightly against her chest. She viewed the scene before her through renewed tears, observing quietly, "He's smiling."

"He was happy," Vincent stated simply, without question. He sat down at the foot of the bed, smoothing the covers near Charles' feet just as Mary or Sarah would have done for one of the children.

Devin nodded and quickly brushed away the lingering wetness from his face. Struggling to speak coherently, he managed a wan smile. "Probably happier than he's ever been in his life."

Father squeezed his shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss on his head, speaking against the dark, wavy hair. "You gave that to him, Devin. You had the courage to take him from a life of pain and abuse and show him the love he deserved."

Devin shook his head adamantly. "It was all of us... together. I may have rescued him from his brother and moved him to the mountains for awhile, but all of you made the tunnels a warm and safe place for him to live when it mattered most."

"He was truly a blessing to all of us," Father declared solemnly. "We must allow our memories of him to comfort us in the days and weeks to come. It won't be easy...." He paused for a moment, fighting back the sob that caught in his throat "Charles held a place in all of our hearts that will remain empty for a long, long time." He sighed then, momentarily stepping into his role as tunnel leader. "I'll have Pascal send the message on the pipes first thing in the morning; we'll have to prepare for the burial and fireside memorial." He looked down at his son, caressing the length of his back consolingly. "Will you be alright? Would you like me to stay here with you tonight?"

"I'll stay," Vincent offered.

"Me, too," Catherine joined in.

"No... no," Devin protested, though somewhat halfheartedly through a fresh flow of tears. "No one needs to stay with me. I'll be okay, I just need to sit here for awhile longer."

Despite his assurances, the room was still, none of them willing - or able - to give up their last moments with the kind, gentle soul that had come to mean so much to them in so short a time. Their sorrow and grief consumed them, a wealth of tears flowing heedlessly down already tear-stained faces, their hearts breaking with the loss that struck them to their very core, until at last, after long, endless minutes - or maybe it was hours, so lost were they in their over-whelming grief - bittersweet memories gave them a reprieve and they were able to move again, each of them drawn to Charles' lifeless body to place a final, loving kiss on his forehead, before silently retreating to their own chamber. Finally, only Devin remained, in his exhaustive state capable only of laying his head down on the bed beside Charles and drifting off into a deep, but restless sleep.

Tired as they were in the early hours of the morning, sleep did not come easy for Catherine and Vincent, each torn between the need for comfort and the need to comfort the partner they loved beyond all else. They lay together atop the quitted coverlet on their bed, their legs entwined, their arms wrapped around each other tighter than they ever thought possible. Catherine's head lay on Vincent's bare chest, her tears softly mingling with the fine coating of downy fur he once found so detestable. "Poor Jacob," she murmured sadly. "He's going to take this so hard; I don't even know what to tell him."

"We'll have to just play it by ear," Vincent offered quietly, glad that his son was still so young. "I don't think he's going to understand anything we tell him; at his age, he's not capable of understanding what death means, the fact that he'll never see Charles again. But we can't let him forget Charles - ever."

"No, we won't let that happen; Charles was too special to us, and to him." Catherine sighed tearfully, idly caressing the hard ripples of his abdomen laying beneath her hand. "It still doesn't seem real."

"I don't imagine that it will for quite some time," Vincent acknowledged dismally, regretfully. "Though we knew how sick he was, I don't believe any of us wanted to think that we could actually lose him."

They lay engulfed in silence for several long minutes, finding no words to convey the depths of their suffering. They held no constraints on their bond, allowing their emotions to flow through them, between them. Catherine leaned her head back along Vincent's arm, the flickering candles in the otherwise darkened chamber reflecting brightly in her sad, tear-filled eyes. "It hurts; it hurts so much."

"I know, I know. I feel. it, too," Vincent admitted despondently, her heartbreaking cries adding to his sorrow. "Shhh...." he whispered as he leaned his head down to kiss the salty tears from her cheeks... her eyes... below her ear, even as his own tears joined hers. He placed his fingers beneath her chin and raised it gently until her face was level with his. "Shhh... he repeated thickly against her mouth, hovering there, pressing light kisses to her trembling, swollen lips. "It will be alright. I promise it will be alright...." His words faltered, giving way to Catherine's heady whimper as his lips touched hers in a light, lingering kiss originally meant only for comfort, but quickly deepened, escalating into a passionate, searing touch, an erotic, swirling dance that reflected the height of their pleasure... and their pain.

They were as one, their arousal quick, their need great, and in an instant Catherine lay on her back with Vincent above her, his unchecked, crushing weight warm and welcome. Their kiss continued, long and searching, the poignancy of their love overshadowing the intensity of their grief, briefly filling the emptiness left by their loss. Catherine cried out as Vincent's mouth abruptly left hers and he sat upright, hastily gathering her lightweight wool gown in his large hands, raising it up and over her head. She needed no urging, lifting her shoulders off the mattress, just as eager and desperate to be rid of the fabric barrier as he. She allowed him no time to savor the sight of her, naked and trembling, before she quickly returned the favor, reaching out to ease his heavy pants down his hard, powerful legs, waiting anxiously while he extended each leg in turn to kick off the offending material. She released a vibrant moan of desire at the sight of his arousal and eagerly, desperately reached out to take the hard, steely length in her small hands, caressing, squeezing, his hot, swollen flesh.

At that initial, lusty contact, Vincent sucked in his breath and threw his head back, releasing a loud and strangled roar. He fell upon her then, burying his face in the warm curve of her neck, nuzzling the long, silken tresses gathered there, nipping gently at the soft, tender skin. When his hot mouth moved lower and covered her full, throbbing breasts, Catherine cried out, arching her back as he hungrily licked and suckled first one aching peak then the other, able to get enough of neither. Her hands splayed across the hard planes of his back, erratically, erotically, moving downward to clutch at his firm, bare buttocks, roughly pulling him to her, aching to feel him against her, inside her.

"Catherine!"

"Vincent!"

They cried out in ragged, gasping breaths, their mutual need for release immediate. At once Vincent was there, swiftly joining his body to hers, his powerful, driving thrust filling her to her heated core. Catherine writhed beneath him, raising her knees and clasping them to his slowly gyrating hips, holding him there for just a moment before wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him into her, harder, tighter, over... and over... as he sheathed himself within her willing heat, again... and again.... At that full, frenzied contact, the last of their control slipped away, their raw rhythmic dance sending pulsating waves of pleasure through them, forcing the breath from their lungs as it sent them spiraling over the highest crest of ecstasy. Their uninhibited cries filled the chamber, echoing their explosive passion.

Though physically satiated, their heavy hearts had found no solace as they lay closely spooned together a short time later. Like children, their eyelids drowsily refused to remain neither open nor closed, as if by fighting off the impending slumber, they could deny the coming of the morning, when they would awaken to a perfect world for the briefest of moments, before the hard reality of their fervent and piercing loss hit them with a vengeance. As sleep threatened to take hold at last, Catherine shifted her head sleepily on her thick, patchwork-covered pillow and pulled Vincent's arm tighter around her waist. He gently eased closer, resting his head behind hers on her pillow. Their breathing evened, their consciousness receded. There were no words.

It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.
it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.­*

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Catherine asked anxiously, her voice filled with concern. "It just doesn't seem right to leave him there... so sad and all alone." She'd spent the evening with Joe at the shelter home, before meeting Vincent at her apartment when darkness was safely upon them. Having just left her former home, and a grieving and forlorn Devin, Catherine and Vincent walked hip-to-hip, their arms around each other's waists through the dark tunnels, the occasional torch suspended from the tunnel wall their only light.

"He'll be alright," Vincent tried his best to reassure her. "Remember, you're the one who reminded us that one never gets over such a loss, we only get through it. Charles was his life for almost two years; it's going to take some time to get through this."

"I know... I know," she sighed. "It's been difficult for all of us, and six weeks isn't enough time to get through something like this, but I'm just so worried... about Devin especially. I just wish he'd move back Below so we can take care of him."

Vincent smiled down at her, his expression loving and tender. She was definitely giving Mary a run for her money in the Mother Hen department. "He doesn't need to be taken care of - he needs time, and support." Despite his assurances, he couldn't help but be concerned about his older brother. Devin had routinely been coming Below a couple of times each week since moving to the apartment shortly after Charles' death, but they still worried about him, and Vincent's forays Above were due as much to really seeing how he was doing as they were to his enjoyment of Devin's company.

Still, between those late-night visits with Devin, and a winter hampered by freezing pipes and a harder-than-normal flu and cold season, the young couple had spent very little time together in recent weeks. It wasn't uncommon for Vincent to be gone when Catherine and Jacob woke in the morning, and for both of them to be fast asleep when he finally returned at night. They saw each other oftentimes throughout the day - at meals or quick hellos in Father's study - but private family or intimate time together was infrequent.

Catherine laid her head on Vincent's shoulder and his arm tightened around her, the action slowing their pace further as they relished the rare moments together. Tears that were still so close to the surface trickled down her cheeks and she sighed pensively. "I've missed you so much; it feels so good to be with you, just the two of us for a change."

Vincent laid his head on hers, nodding against the silky softness of her crown, his cheek ruffling the tawny-gold tresses. "I've missed you, too, Catherine, more than you could ever know; if it weren't for our bond...."

"Yes," she murmured. "I'm so grateful for even the slightest shimmer of your presence our bond so allows me. If it weren't for that, I think I'd have gone crazy these past few weeks."

"I wish you could feel it as I do," Vincent spoke gently, regretfully. "I've felt you so strongly... it's as if our grief has intensified our connection. Still..." he silently cursed himself for his words when he felt the twinge of sadness that went through her at his mention of how strong the bond was for him. "It's never the same as actually being together."

"No, it isn't," Catherine sighed again, more than content to be exactly where she was: by his side and in his arms. She thought for a moment, then changed her mind: she wasnY content, not as content as she could be, anyway. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face him, not even flinching when he bumped into her. She met his questioning gaze with a look of intense love and desire that left no doubt as to what she was now thinking. She moved closer. Clutching the front folds of his cloak, she molded her body to his and raised her head until her heated breath mingled alluringly with his. "Make love to me, Vincent," she whispered against his mouth. Nipping lightly at his full lips, she pressed her tongue tenderly into the sensitive cleft.

Vincent stood paralyzed with pleasure as her mouth began a trail of hot kisses along his slackened jaw, then traveled downward, her lips lightly grazing his neck. "Grrrr...." His low throaty growl, always a reflection of the fierce, protective beast within him, was now one of love and passion as he trembled beneath Catherine's slow, erotic touch. "I want that, too, Catherine... more than anything...." he whispered hoarsely, suddenly finding it difficult to form a coherent thought. "We will... I will... as soon as p... when we get back... we won't even stop by Father's...."

"No!" Catherine cried out softly but abruptly, shaking her head as she stepped back just enough to draw Vincent's attention from their brief interlude. "I mean here... now...." She spoke vehemently, knowing he couldn't argue with her truth. "If we wait until we get home, Jacob or Mary or someone else will demand our attention. I love you... I need you." She held his gaze unwaveringly, lost in the deep blue shadows of his eyes. She moved closer, raising her hand to slip it beneath the heavy cloak and rest it lightly on his quilted vest, just above his heart. "I've missed you, Vincent," she said again, this time her voice a sultry whisper.

Their love was so strong, their time apart so great that there was truly no other direction in which to go. Vincent's eyes filled with such love and devotion it took her breath away. Catherine moaned softly as he took her face in his hands, his touch warm and sensual. Like new lovers, they were unable get enough of just looking at one another, lost in the endless, shadowy depths of the other's gaze. Finally, at last, Vincent lowered his head and his lips met hers, slow and tender. Breaking apart for only the briefest of moments, Vincent bent to lift her small frame effortlessly into his arms. Cradling her close, he took her lips in his once more.

Though there was little chance Vincent was letting go, Catherine's arms were wrapped firmly around his neck, their kiss a continuous and luscious intimacy so long denied. Vincent's innate sense of time and distance led them as he strode purposefully along the path they'd already begun.

Several precious minutes later, Vincent opened his eyes languidly for the slightest moment to search for a side-tunnel he knew was near, his steps unfaltering as he made that turn, before losing himself once again in the honeyed-sweetness of Catherine's mouth.

They traveled that way for endless minutes until the already uneven tunnelway floor began to slant downward. Reluctantly, Vincent forced himself to break their erotic connection in order to ensure his even footing - and his wife's safety. Catherine moaned softly and buried her face in his neck, pressing soft, feathery kisses there, her lips following a familiar, searing path along the throbbing vein, its beat thrumming seductively against her lips. She released a mewling cry of dismay when she was halted by the heavy knit sweater at the base of his throat. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her mouth retreating in a quest to follow a new path along his chin. Reaching his ear, she nipped lightly at the tender, hidden lobe.

With a throaty groan, Vincent turned his head to briefly touch his mouth to hers, his lips quivering with undisguised desire. "Soon, Catherine, soon," he promised with a hoarse whisper, attempting to hold their passion at bay lest his knees buckle under him, yet wanting nothing more than for her to continue the tumultuous assault she was wreaking on his senses.

Barely able to contain her own long-held desire, Catherine murmured her understanding and laid her head on his heavily padded shoulder. True to his word, a short distance later Vincent turned again and stopped. Pressing a loving kiss to Catherine's brow, he drew his arm from beneath her legs until she stood firmly on the ground. At the cessation of movement she slowly opened her eyes to find Vincent kneeling to light a lantern on the floor behind her, just inside the entrance to the chamber in which they now stood. After ensuring its illumination, he rose and turned his attention back to her. Catherine turned to take in her surroundings; they were in a small chamber - more the size of a large alcove than an actual full-sized room. In one corner of the chamber lay three rolled-up bundles of quilts and blankets, giving the impression that someone had or would rest there at some time. Two more lanterns sat against the far wall, along with an obviously hand-made knapsack, its bulging sides indicating the probability that its contents consisted of canned food for a tunnel dweller's respite. She looked to Vincent inquiringly. "Where are we?"

He tipped his head in the direction of the chamber entrance. "Just down the way are the pipes we worked on a few days ago. We decided to keep our supplies here for a bit longer, in case the repairs didn't hold."

"Hmmm...:" Catherine turned to face him, slipping her arms beneath his cloak. "Perfect for some time together without any interruptions."

"My thoughts exactly," he murmured. "Of course, I can't guarantee its comfort."

Catherine shook her head, dismissing his concern. "I just want to be with you; that's all that matters."

Her expression left no doubts; her eyes a swirling kaleidoscope of love and desire, leaving Vincent dizzy with his own passion. With considerable difficulty he forced himself to hold his emotions in check for the time being. He raised his arms to hold Catherine's head tenderly in his hands, leaning down to press a lingering kiss into the tawny softness of her hair. "Just a moment longer," he whispered. Wordlessly he made his way to the blanket bundles, unrolling each of them and laying them on top of each other against the wall, gently running his hands across each layer to ensure its smoothness before removing his cloak and rolling it lengthwise, placing it at one end of the make-shift bed.

Catherine watched him silently, tears filling her eyes at the love and care he spent in this simple task, knowing how desperately he wished he could give her so much more. God, how she loved him - she loved him so much she literally ached with the intensity. And when he timed and held his hand out for hers, she was there without being conscious of having moved, and his mouth was on hers, one hand on the back of her neck, his fingers twined beneath her silken tresses to hold her to him, the other arm wrapped fully around her slim waist.

Vincent's throaty moan met her mewling cry; it had been so long... so long since they had truly been together - to touch in the way they longed to. But the life of a grieving community had slipped between them. Everyday activities were filled with sadness, and time had slowed as their world struggled to comprehend the loss of someone who had made such an impact in their lives in such a short time. And the Wells family, while coping with their own grievous pain, sought only to comfort Devin, who had literally lost his best friend.

As their passion escalated and their kiss grew deeper, Catherine swiftly unhooked the buckle on Vincent's wide, leather belt and tugged eagerly at the sides of his knit sweater until it was freed from its confines. She sighed, moaning into his mouth as she met the warm, bare skin beneath his clothing, splaying her hands along the hard planes of his back. Vincent quickly slid her heavy wool coat down her shoulders and off her arms, letting it drop onto the bedding behind her. His hands were like fire through the cotton fabric of her blouse as he crushed her to him, almost lifting her off the ground. Their mouths clung hungrily, a desperate, breathless joining of suckling, probing, twining lips and tongue. When their knees threatened to give way beneath them, they broke apart, panting, gasping for long-denied air.

Finally regaining a semblance of composure, they each stepped back just slightly, allowing the briefest of space between them, bowing their heads until only their foreheads touched. After a moment Catherine raised her eyes to his, her expression almost sad. "I wanted to go slow... to savor the moment...."

"We must never be sorry for our passion, Catherine, especially for each other," Vincent murmured seductively as his hands moved to slowly, provocatively undo the buttons along the front of her blouse. "Besides, who says we can only have one moment?"

His soft, crooked smile met hers and Catherine couldn't help but gaze adoringly at him. The sight of him, content and secure with himself and their sexuality was almost as alluring to her as the many physical attributes he possessed that oftentimes left her whirling with desire. Their joyous, moaning sighs were spent in unison as Vincent slipped the offending blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to join her coat on the bed. He reached out to cup each beautifully formed breast, softly kneading, caressing the tender skin through the thin lace fabric, her rosy tips hardening, throbbing beneath his expert touch. He easily released the front clasp of her bra and bent forward to cover a hard aching peak with his mouth for a teasing moment, his breath hot and sweet. With the gentlest of pressure he eased her backwards until she sat on the thick blankets, then urged her further still to lay on the bed, her head resting on the pillowed cloak. He stood for a moment to remove his clothing and boots, silently cursing his decision to wear layers tonight in deference to the freezing temperatures Above. He paused for a moment, allowing Catherine to savor the sight of him she claimed she most loved - naked, in all his splendor and glory. As he knelt beside her she reached out to grip his hard, muscular shoulders, purring softly when he lowered his mouth to press a lingering, suckling kiss to each breast. He moved leisurely to undo the snap on her jeans, then slowly inched downward, skillfully easing them off her slim legs, taking her well-worn sneakers with them.

He bent to nuzzle the tender skin of her calf, just above the ribbed-cotton of her socks on first one leg, and then the other. Catherine released a heady sigh with each feather light touch of his lips as his mouth traveled upwards, around her firm calves, behind her knees, inside bare, creamy thighs. Vincent moaned, his nostrils flaring with the warm, natural scent of her sex as it urged him closer. He felt Catherine's hands on his shoulders, attempting to draw him up to her, her soft voice whispering, "Please, Vincent."

Vincent reached out to push her wrists down against the bed, effectively holding her a willing captive. "Shhh...." he whispered back between erotic kisses to the warm, satin flesh of her thighs. "You asked me to make love to you...."

"But t didn't mean...." she protested weakly.

"Shhh...." he responded against her tingling skin.

Catherine briefly wondered how something as benign as one's limb could be such an erogenous zone. Vincent's simple kisses to her leg left her trembling, her feminine center aching with need even before his mouth had come provocatively closer. She'd tried to pull him to her, to feel the length of his body against her bare skin, his heated arousal between the wet apex of her legs, but he'd resisted, wanting only to satisfy her.

There was no room for further thought as Vincent's kisses turned to soft, slow licks on the underside of her thigh, eliciting a mewling cry from her slightly parted lips. Her fingers clenched into fists, gripping the blanket beneath his wrists, her hips arching repeatedly, involuntarily, in tune with his hungry, erotic dance. She stilled when she felt his hot breath draw closer to her already throbbing center, then a second later he covered her completely, lightly sucking the sensitive swollen bud hidden within her petal-soft folds.

"Oh, god, Vincent, please!" she cried out unconsciously, not even aware of what she was asking for; she'd wanted to wait, to feel him sheathed within her, but he'd already taken her so close... one more touch of his mouth, his tongue, on her pulsating core and she would be lost.... And then she was lost to any semblance of control when Vincent took her again. Hungrily, greedily, he held her, suckling, lapping her most sensitive flesh. She whirled dizzily, thrashing her head against the heavy wool of his cloak. Arching sharply, she pressed her wet heat harder against his questing mouth. Snapping her hands from beneath his hold she held his head to her as her climax filled her, taking her higher and higher over pulsating waves of pleasure.

As Catherine slowly came back to earth, Vincent pressed a last lingering kiss to her sweet warmth before returning to the soft, curving flesh of her thighs. He'd ridden the waves with her, their bond miraculously - as always - allowing him to share in her primal and innermost pleasure. With Catherine's passion momentarily spent, his attention was now brought to his own arousal, achingly intense after loving Catherine so thoroughly. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, pressing his hard, thick shaft against the rounded-off edge at the foot of the blankets. So engrossed was he in his own momentary need that he was uncharacteristically startled when he felt Catherine's hand on his shoulders, her touch hard and massaging on his burgeoning muscles. He raised his head to find her gaze on him, her silvery green eyes barely visible through the languid slits of her eyelids.

"Vincent, please... now," she begged, holding her arms out to him. "It's your turn."

Vincent groaned throatily as he rose to his knees between her legs. Leaning forward, he lowered his head to nuzzle the glistening valley between her flushed breasts, inhaling deeply before turning his mouth to first one velvety peak and then the other. He felt Catherine's caress across his shoulders, her wide, splayed hands along his back, and he raised his eyes to hers once again. Their gazes held, hot and burning with a searing passion that consumed their very being.

"I need you, Vincent," Catherine whispered pleadingly as her hands slipped lower to cup his firm, hard buttocks, urging him to her with gripping pressure.

Amazed that she could still want more - of him - Vincent guided his straining erection to the entrance of her throbbing heat, the sensation almost undoing him. His shuddering whisper was barely audible next to her ear. "As I need you, Catherine... always."

Their wait was no longer as Vincent plunged forward, burying himself within her welcoming sheath. Catherine rose instinctively to meet his powerful thrust as it came over and over again in frenzied rhythm. Together their pleasure knew no bounds and within seconds their ecstasy exploded into a crescendos peak.

"Mmmm...." Catherine sighed contently, running her fingers through the thick, amber-gold tresses that tickled her chin. "I wish it could be this way forever."

"How is that?" Vincent asked softly. He lay just as contently beside her on the thick blankets, his head resting just above her bare breast, idly stroking imaginary circles across her flat stomach with the pads of his fingers. They'd lain this way for quite some time now, naked and safe, their legs twined together as they basked in the warm, quiet afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Here... together... in each other's arms; never having to let go," she answered quietly, tranquilly.

So serene were they in their mutual bliss, that Catherine was surprised when Vincent abruptly sat up, resting his weight on his elbow, his expression thoughtful and sedate. "Catherine...." he began, pausing almost immediately as if he wasn't sure how to continue, or even if to continue.

"What is it, Vincent? What's wrong?" she asked with wide-eyed concern, pushing his tousled mane back behind his shoulders in order to see his face without the feathery veil.

"Nothing is wrong, Catherine," he hurried to assure her. "I was just wondering... are you... late?'

She shook her head absently, furrowing her brows. "I don't think so. I told Mary I wouldn't be home until after dark because I wanted to wait and walk home with you."

"No... I mean...." Vincent cast his eyes downward, blushing furiously as he stared absently at her stomach.

Catherine watched him curiously for a few moments. "Oh... you mean...." Her cheeks turned a light crimson as his intention suddenly became clear. "I don't know; so much has been going on, I hadn't even thought about it." She paused for a moment, obviously thinking about it now. Her eyes widened as her mental calendar clicked in her head. "Oh my god, Vincent! I haven't... it's been since before Charles d... and that's been...."

"Almost two months," Vincent supplied the information for her with a smile.

"Do you think....'?" Catherine's voice was a mere whisper, almost afraid to hope. "Oh, Vincent, is it possible?"

Vincent nodded, his smile brightening with her own. He was reluctant to raise her expectations any further, but his gut feeling told him that this was right. "I think we have to make an appointment with Peter to know for sure, but it would certainly explain why I've felt you so strongly over the past few weeks; not just the overwhelming emotions, but your actual presence - even more than if you were right next to me, which you rarely were. It's possible that I've been feeling the baby's presence."

Catherine squealed with delight as she quickly sat up, almost causing Vincent to lose his balance in her excitement. She threw her arms around his neck, laughing giddily as tears of joy spilled down her cheeks. Vincent's rare, full-blown laughter and happy tears joined hers, and he held her tighter. Suddenly even more conscious of his powerful hold and the fragile being inside her, he loosened his grip. He cradled her to him gently, reveling in the exceptional love they shared, and the miracle of the children they had created.

Though it would be some time before their elation truly subsided, at long last their emotions calmed enough to enable them to speak coherently. Catherine sighed, her voice taking on a slightly somber note when she spoke. "You know... as difficult as it's been, we haven't made love since the night Charles died."

"I know... I'm sorry." Vincent replied apologetically, resting his head on hers as he buried his face in the downy softness.

Catherine shook her head and raised her eyes to his. Her emerald green depths gazed at him sadly. "I'm sorry, too, although there's really nothing for either of us to be sorry for. Life just... happened the way it did." She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully as tears filled her eyes. "What I meant earlier was that, since we haven't been together since Charles died, it would mean that that night was when I... we... conceived. It's like... our baby is a gift from Charles."

Vincent sighed, nostalgically. "Charles was truly a treasure. He taught us all some valuable lessons, and he left us with many wonderful memories that I never want to forget." He paused for a moment as a soft, endearing smile graced his lips. "I think Charles would be very happy for us."

"I think you're right," Catherine agreed, her face brightening with her own smile. "I saw a sign once that said, 'Happy memories never wear out,' she quoted thoughtfully. Suddenly she scooted around to kneel in front of him, her knees touching his. She took his hands in hers, pressing the lightest of kisses to the backs of his fingers before holding them tight against her breast. She spoke softly, but with a strong the backs of his fingers before holding them tight against her breast. She spoke softly, but with a strong sense of vehemence in her voice. "We can't ever forget that, Vincent. We must live our lives with the knowledge that in the end, it's all we can truly leave behind to our families... our children."

"And what is that?" he asked quietly, lowering his head to press his lips to her hands clasped around his own.

"Memories."

* "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens

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