Turning Corners  -- One
by Pat King

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Catherine stood in the doorway and closed her eyes.  She breathed deeply and absorbed the peace, feeling the tension in her neck and shoulders dissolve and float away.  The chamber was dark, with the exception of the golden glow from the stained glass window above the bed and a single candle burning on the desk.  She took a few steps into the deserted chamber.  A dreamy smile graced her lips as she inhaled the scents:  damp rock, earth, smoke, old fabric, leather, and ... Vincent.  The tapping on the pipes added a finishing touch to the experience, and Catherine realized that all of these parts added up to one thing -- home.

She moved around the chamber, lighting the candles scattered about.  Home -- that was what the tunnels had become to her, but when had it happened?  When had going to her apartment changed from 'going home' to 'going Above'?  And, why was she still doing it?  Why was she being forced away from the one place she wanted to be?

There was a simple answer to that question -- because those were the rules that Vincent had made.  He felt that she had a life, a destiny, Above.  She gave a derisive laugh -- as if she would ever be happy with anyone else.  How was she going to make him realize that he was what she wanted, all that she wanted?  She didn't need 'things' -- shoot, she'd had 'things' all of her life.  What she wanted was the care, the love, that she'd found wrapped in a tall, golden, sexy package called Vincent.

As her eyes roamed his chamber they lit upon the painting done by Kristopher Gentian.  Vincent had hung the picture on the wall opposite the end of his bed.  It touched her to think that he might lie in bed at night and look on the painting as he drifted off to sleep.  The likeness showed a loving, yet provocative, pose -- an embrace by lovers.  Did he too dream of them in that way?

She moved to sit on the edge of the large bed, her eyes still fixed on the portrait.  She loved Vincent more than life itself, and, though he'd never really said the words, she knew that he felt the same about her.  She also knew that he was afraid of advancing their relationship ... afraid to relax the tight control over his passions ... afraid of hurting her physically.

After Lisa had left New York, Catherine had stilled some of Vincent's apprehensions, but a lifetime of doubts and fears could not be erased overnight.  She had patiently shown her love without pressuring him and had been rewarded by an occasional, spontaneous hug.  She kept a tight rein on her emotions, not letting him feel the burning desire that threatened to engulf her.  Their relationship was like glass -- tempering it by gradual warming would allow it to survive the heat that would eventually result, rather than have it shatter with a sudden burst of passion.

She had become adept at dampening the emotional response to the wishes and daydreams that played through her head.  As she sat in the still of Vincent's chamber and looked at the portrait, her mind took a flight of fancy -- envisioning herself wrapped in his arms as Kristopher had painted them.  She could imagine herself leaning back into the solid strength of Vincent's large frame.  She could feel his arms surrounding her, his cheek resting against the crown of her head.  As she escaped into the fantasy, her eyes closed and her arms mimicked the pose -- her right hand coming up to rest on her collarbone and her left arm wrapped around her waist.

So involved was Catherine in her reverie that she didn't hear Father approach the chamber.  He watched her for a moment from the entrance, then slipped silently away.

Her head tilted to the side as, in her mind, Vincent's mouth traveled down the length of her neck, nipping and nuzzling a fiery path.  As his velvety lips made the journey down her creamy throat, a warmth suffused her body, and her constraint began to slip.  A ripple in the bond alerted her to her carelessness, and she immediately reasserted her control over the burgeoning emotions.

Reluctantly, she forced herself back to the reality of being alone.  Her eyes once again rose to the magnificent painting, and she smiled.  Soon, she thought.  I'll break through that shell he's put around himself if it's the last thing I do.

Catherine decided to visit with Father while awaiting Vincent's return.  If that didn't help her avoid further fantasies, nothing would.  She and Father had come a long way in the past few years.  His hostile attitude had mellowed and lately had transformed into true regard.  She even found hints of affection in his manner, which gave her great hopes for the future.  Perhaps he was beginning to realize that her love for his son was no casual fling.  But ... just as Vincent's fears couldn't be alleviated overnight, neither could Father's.

Not seeing him at his desk, she called his name from the entrance.  His reply drew her eyes to the shelves of books below the loft.  As she descended the small flight of metal steps into the chamber, he emerged from the congested area.

"Father, one of these days you're going to disappear behind all of these books."  Her teasing laugh caused him to smile.  "Why haven't you moved them to the library chambers?"

Though the people Below might be short of many commodities, books were not on the list.  As Father had been the original scholar of the community, his study had become the first library.  In more than a third of a century, however, the number of tomes had grown to dangerous proportions.  The precariously stacked shelves threatened an avalanche whenever anyone sneezed.

Four new chambers near the school area had been excavated, and Cullen's expertise could be seen in the shelves lining the walls. Many books had been moved to the new library but the stacks in Father's study didn't seem to get smaller.

"I am making progress," he countered, but she gave him an incredulous look.  "It is a long process, deciding which books go and which stay."

Catherine chuckled.  "Especially if you read each book to decide on its location.  Really, Father, the titles alone should be enough to determine if you want to keep a book here.  And even if something is moved to the library erroneously, it's not as if you can't walk to the chamber to get it back."

He gave her a chagrined look.  "Some of these books have been with me a long time.  When I first came Below, they allowed me to remember -- remember the sights, the colors, the few good things of the world Above that I wished to keep.  They're like old friends -- family -- that I haven't seen in a long while."

"And you want to visit with them before sending them to a new home."  Without thinking she hugged the older man's shoulder.  "It's hard to let go, but sometimes it's necessary."  Though her sweeping hand indicated the piles of books, the double meaning of her last statement hung in the air.

Father looked at the beautiful young woman who had brought so much love to his son's life.  Her devotion to him and his world had never faltered, despite many hardships and enticements from Above.  He thought back to the scene he had witnessed earlier in Vincent's chamber.  He had seen the longing and the pain on her face -- just as he had seen it in Vincent's eyes.  He realized that many of the obstacles in their path had been placed there by him, and he was sorry.  There would still be hurdles in the road that these two wanted to travel, but he decided that he wouldn't be one of them.

"It's easier to let go of something you love when you know that it will be well cared for in its new home."

Catherine looked at him in surprise, wanting to believe that he was not just referring to books.  A tear trickled down her cheek as she saw the love and understanding in his eyes. "Thank you, Father," she whispered as she hugged him again.  "I won't let you down."

"I realize that now, my dear.  Please forgive an old man for being so stubborn and blind."

Catherine shook her head.  "There's nothing to forgive, Father.  You love him and want to keep him safe.  You knew nothing of me, but you knew of my world and the social circle I had been raised in ... and that circle had caused you much pain.  Before Vincent, I was everything you feared ... shallow, selfish, fickle, weak ... but meeting him changed my life.  Even without the bond, just knowing him and having his faith in me, changed me.   No one else could understand the depth of those changes, except Vincent, so don't think I blame you for being skeptical."

"However," Catherine continued as they went to sit beside Father's desk, "sometimes I do think you forget Vincent isn't ten years old anymore.  He understands the dangers of his existence far better than you, and you have to let him make his own decisions.  A cage is safe, but it's still a cage no matter how comfortable you make it."

"You're thinking of Connecticut."

"That's a good example."  She looked at Father intently.  "I know that I've put Vincent in danger, more times than either of us would like to remember, but that's changed."

Father nodded.  Earlier in the year Catherine had requested a transfer to a less dangerous position in the District Attorney's office.  The new job was more stressful but the physical danger had been removed, and that was her goal.

"Many of those times were stupid, but they weren't intentional.  I would never intentionally put him in danger, you must know that."  Father  nodded.  "I know that there are limitations on his life, but we need to test those boundaries whenever possible.  He deserves the world, Father, and I want to give him as much of it as I can."

"It's hard for any parent to realize that their child is no longer dependent on them, that they must let go.  It's even harder when someone else enters his life and becomes more important."  He shook his head as she started to protest.  "Yes, you are more important ... and that's how it should be.  When I met Margaret, she became the most important person in my life."

He paused, deep in thought, and then a shocked look appeared.  Catherine looked at him inquisitively.  "Father?"

"I always blamed Margaret for not being strong enough to stand by me, for not standing up to her father.  I just realized that I've been doing the same thing to Vincent that Margaret's father did to her -- I've refused to let him grow up and be independent.  I've made him choose between us.  He wants to choose you but doesn't want to hurt me.  I thought that you would bring him pain and all of the time I was the cause of his unhappiness."

"Father, you're much too hard on yourself.  Vincent loves you and respects your opinion.  You've done a wonderful job raising him and keeping him safe.  He couldn't have had a better parent.  Most parents tend to cling, want to insure the best for their children.  Even my father dominated my life until the accident.  It was Vincent who showed me that I had enough strength to stand on my own.  Even though Dad was initially hurt when I left his firm, he respected my decision, and I think that he was proud of me."

"If he wasn't, he should have been.  I'm sorry that we never had a chance to meet.  Peter has told me wonderful things of him."

When Vincent returned from his work detail, he found Father and Catherine involved in a game of chess.  While they finished the game, he went to bathe.  Probing the bond, he felt a new feeling of affection and peace.  Washing quickly, he returned to the study to find  the game ended and the two players talking pleasantly.

"I'm sorry that I'm so late.  The break in the pipe was more serious than we thought."  Vincent looked apologetically at Catherine.  Her smile signaled her understanding and her love washed over him.

"Were you able to correct the problem or is it a temporary repair?"  Father asked.

"It will hold."

"I should be going Above ... I have an early meeting tomorrow.  Father," Catherine gave the older man a hug and he kissed her forehead, "thank you for an enjoyable evening."

"Any time, my dear.  And thank you."  She nodded at his meaningful look.

"I will walk Catherine out, Father.  I won't be long."  Vincent looked at the two of them in wonder.

"Take your time, Vincent.  I have some visiting to do with an old friend."  He smiled as he picked up a book from his desk.

They talked very little as they walked to the threshold in Catherine's building.  Catherine was enjoying having Vincent near, and he was caught up in the various emotions that he read from her.  When they arrived at the opening to her subbasement she turned and embraced him tenderly, her cheek resting on his broad chest.  This is where I want to be, she thought with a sigh.

Vincent's bristly cheek rubbed softly against her silky hair.  "I'm sorry that I was unavailable this evening.  The emergency came up at the last moment and I was unable to get a message to you."

"That's all right, Vincent, I understand.  I did miss spending more time with you, but I had a pleasant evening with Father."

"The two of you seemed more at ease with one another.  Did something happen between the two of you?"

"You might say that.  We had a very interesting conversation, and I believe that Father and I have turned a corner in our relationship."  She leaned back in his arms and found herself drowning in the blue of his eyes.  One down, one to go.