A Light in Darkness

Lynn Wright

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Chapter 1

"…I felt your joy when you knew he was alive….when death was nearest….when he…"

"When he kissed me."

"Yes, I felt…that too." His voice had dropped nearly to a whisper.

Catherine’s voice was soft also. "I’ve never felt closer to Elliot than I did last night. We almost died together, and when he kissed me, just for an instant, some small part of me responded, and I wished…" a pause, "…I wished that it was…you…"

His face, always under control, stayed impassive. His expression changed not at all, but his eyes locked to hers. The gaze stretched out between them longer and longer. Her face was soft, vulnerable, loving. He looked back with increasing intensity, his eyes drawing her, commanding her, until his head jerked up suddenly. He got up and strode across the room, his back to her, and leaned over a table on his outstretched arms, his head hanging down between them, his mane obscuring his face.

Catherine sat for a moment, then got up slowly and followed him. When she was beside him, she reached out and lifted the hanging strands of his hair over his shoulder, uncovering his face. After a moment she spoke softly. "You know, Vincent…you’ve always known. How long are we going to go on…pretending? Pretending it’s not there…it’s not real?"

He said nothing for a long moment before answering in a low voice, almost a whisper. "I don’t pretend it’s not real." He glanced up for an instant, turning his head and meeting her eyes, then looked down again. "It’s real. But it’s…not possible." His head dropped farther and his hair slid forward over his shoulder to protect his face from her sight once more. "It cannot happen, Catherine. We must not think about this. I must not." He straightened then and stood still with his back to her, staring at nothing, drawing his defenses about him. When he turned to her a few seconds later those defenses were firmly in place, so firmly that he even touched her. He put his hands on her shoulders, lightly, and for only a moment.

"Catherine…your hair is still wet, and you’re exhausted. Go home and rest."

Catherine began to speak, but one clawed finger came up to press gently against her lips. He spoke softly, with infinite tenderness. "Go home, Catherine."

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The hours at work the next day were difficult for Catherine; she was exhausted and irritable. When the CIA had finally decamped and Elliot was gone, Joe collared Cathy as she walked by. "Radcliffe, you look lousy!" His concern for her was evident in his face; then he grinned. "Well, I guess you don’t get shot at with automatic weapons and dumped in the East River every day." His voice softened. "You need a rest anyhow. You work too hard. It’s nearly quitting time, so go home!" When she started to speak he held up a hand. "…Just shut up and take tomorrow and Friday off. I’ll see you Monday."

Catherine didn’t argue with him, she just grabbed her coat and got out before he could change his mind.

Two hours later, after a pickup meal and a long hot bath, she put on nightgown and robe, pulled a blanket out of the closet and subsided onto the couch. She felt so tired that she wondered if the plunge into the river had left her with some unnamable germ; after all, it wasn’t exactly a bubbling mountain stream. . Well, that one was in the hands of the gods. She’d know soon enough. She smiled a little and picked up her book.

But the book didn’t hold her interest for long. She raised her head and gazed out at the darkened sky for a few minutes, thinking back over the last couple of days. As she thought she realized something, not for the first time. The moments that stood out, that remained alive in her memory were not the moments of danger or excitement. Inevitably, they were the moments with Vincent.

One picture that was imprinted indelibly was Vincent’s face when she told him that she wished Elliot’s kiss had been his, and the long look that passed between them then. The intensity of that look was not forgettable.

The other memory was earlier, the night before. It was another long look, this one after he had kissed her injured hand. She had been so certain as the seconds passed and their gaze held, that he would kiss her mouth at last…and then the doorbell rang. Once again a perverse fate had intervened to keep their lips from meeting in the kiss that she was certain would have changed their lives forever.

Then the rest of the preceding days fell away and she remembered only Vincent’s mouth touching softly on her hand, his gaze hungrily searching her face. Her eyes closed as she remembered the intensity of his look. She laid back slowly on the couch, and as she gave herself up to the imagined touch of his mouth she arched her back like a cat being stroked and then she pushed the blanket down past her waist. Soft sounds came from her throat as her imagination gave her vividly the feel of his tongue sliding between her lips. Her hands slid softly down her body and her mind made them his hands, his wonderful long-fingered hands, their touch so beloved and so long desired.

She didn’t hear his light tap on the glass. Vincent stood outside the window for a moment watching her, perplexed by what he was seeing. Then as her emotion quickened and he realized that what she was feeling was sexual, not the tender loving feeling he had thought, and it dawned on him what was happening, he jumped back as if in terror. He turned instantly to cross the balcony for the climb to the roof, but stopped midway. For a second or two he stood absolutely still, his back to the doors, his heart pounding, while her emotion poured through him. Then, slowly, as if pulled by an outside force, his body turned and his eyes returned to the scene inside. He moved closer to the window, his face rapt with longing, his hands raised to rest lightly on the glass before him. As he continued to watch, his eyes half closed and his breathing quickened as her rising excitement flooded over him.

Catherine slid to her back, and her hands loosened the ties of her robe. As Vincent watched, she bared one breast to touch it with languorous fingers. He sighed, watching avidly, honor forgotten in the rapture of what he was experiencing. As he watched her stroking hand he began to feel the texture of her skin beneath his fingers. He felt her breath warming his face. Strangely, he never doubted for a moment that the fingers she imagined stroking her body were his.

His breathing quickened again as his imagination began to cooperate even more fully, and he felt her fingers on him. In his mind her hands caressed him with the same erotic languor that he watched in the scene before him. As those imaginary fingers stroked and enfolded him his body responded with ecstatic shivers and his long suppressed desire for her took him forcefully. Those fingers, her fingers, on his body were unbearably exciting. Her fingers moved lower on her body, and he felt them move correspondingly on his.

Inside, Catherine suddenly closed her robe and pushed her self up on her elbows. "Mustn’t do this…." she sighed softly to herself, "He feels it…"

But for Vincent it was too late. His eyes had closed in rapture, and he didn’t see her stop or hear her soft words. Her imaginary hands carried him to a higher and higher peak, and in a few seconds he fell ecstatically over the top of that peak into a mind-shattering climax. His body shuddered and a low moan was forced from his mouth as he felt at last the consummation of his love for Catherine. He stood absolutely still then, feeling the receding spasms of an orgasm so intense as to take his consciousness, His eyes remained closed, and his head dropped languidly to rest his forehead against the glass. His mind and his body returned to the present moment slowly, as he stood enthralled still.

He stood too long, for Catherine looked up and saw him.

His head jerked up as he felt her shock and they stared at each other for a second, both dumbstruck. Catherine’s face flushed with embarrassment, but Vincent’s face was white even through his golden hued skin. She moved quickly to the door, knowing instinctively that she must not let him get away until they had talked about it. But by the time she got there he was gone, off the balcony and out of sight in an instant.

She went slowly back to the sofa and sat down. As she felt her way out of her confusion and embarrassment, one thought emerged clearly: Vincent’s feelings about this incident were going to be much more disastrous than hers. From the look on his face, she knew that he’d been watching her, and she knew also that he’d feel as if he’d betrayed everything they had together. His moral code did not allow for spying, which he would believe he had done, done to Catherine, and of course the fact that it was a sexual act he spied upon made it much more emotionally charged for him. Catherine was not aware of the physical consequence that had happened to him, or she would have been even more apprehensive.

God, he’ll be destroyed! He’ll make such a big thing of this, when it’s really…only a minor embarrassment. He’d be long gone by now, she knew. Down into the tunnels to wherever it was that he went when he was inescapably confronted with the desire that they felt for each other, when the pain of knowing, and knowing that she knew, grew unbearable.

She sighed and leaned back, willing her tense body to relax. There was nothing she could do about it now. Tomorrow she’d go below and talk to Father. Not to tell him what happened! In spite of her worry a small smile crossed her face. He’d have a heart attack. Just that Vincent and I had a difference, and I’m worried about him.

Vincent was indeed far into the unused byways of the enormous tunnel system, running still, passing sentry after sentry with no acknowledgement, until he was far past any human habitation. Heart pounding, lungs pumping, he ran until he could run no more. He staggered to a stop and fell against the tunnel wall, then slid slowly down until he sat, his head hanging, his hands flopping loosely from wrists resting on his drawn up knees. Gradually his heart slowed and his breathing became more regular. But as his physical body rested his mind began to go once more over the monstrous thing he had done, and the relaxation of exhaustion slowly turned to tension as anxiety tightened every muscle. His head swung back and forth as if he were trying to escape his thoughts. At length his head went back and a wild cry, despairing and lonely, rose up to echo against the unfeeling stone.

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Ten hours later, Catherine steps slowed as she neared Father’s study. As she rounded a sharp bend in the tunnel, she nearly ran into Rebecca, who said with a smile, "Whoa! Where are you going in such a hurry?" Then her face sobered. "Well, I guess I know. And before you ask, yes; he’s gone down in the tunnels. He does that. The sentries reported that he was running. Has something…" She hesitated, biting her lip.

Catherine nodded. "Yes. Something has, I’m afraid."

Rebecca’s arms came up to hug her. "Well, I hope you’ll tell Father about it. He’s really a very sympathetic person, you know, even if he does bark. I hope you’ll let him help…" She stepped back to look at Catherine. "You look just…well, awful."

Catherine grinned wryly. "Thanks…I think. No, it’s OK, Rebecca, I know I look bad. I had to look in the mirror when I combed my hair."

With another brief hug she left Rebecca and continued toward Father’s study. She was sure that he too would be worried about Vincent by this time, and she was willing to bet that he assumed that the problem stemmed from her. What was she going to say to him? Rebecca’s words came back to her, He’s really very sympathetic…

When she thought about telling him the truth her steps slowed. God! But I don’t want to lie to him, he deserves better than that. I’ll just…just…oh, hell, I’ll just start talking! A small smile crossed her face; talking was something she should know how to do. I’m a lawyer, after all!

She rounded the corner, her mouth opened to begin, but stopped as she realized that Father was not alone. Mouse was standing in front of Father’s desk, a shy grin on his face. "OK, good. Mouse can find him!" His head bounced up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Go now. Bye."

He turned quickly and caromed off Catherine, who had stopped in the doorway. "Oh!" His head ducked. "Sorry…sorry." He moved to continue on his way, but Catherine caught his arm. "Wait, Mouse. Who are you going to look for?" Her head turned to Father. "Vincent?"

Father nodded and said, "Wait, Mouse, just a moment," as Mouse made to pass by Catherine. "Maybe Catherine can help us here." He looked inquiringly at Catherine, one eyebrow raised.

"I don’t think so, but…" She looked back at Mouse rather helplessly.

Father understood immediately. "Mouse, go and get some lunch, and ask William to pack you some food, and some for Vincent too, should you find him. When that’s done, come back here. I may have some further instructions."

When Mouse was gone Father turned to Catherine, his eyebrow still raised. "Was that satisfactory?"

She smiled a little. "Yes, exactly what I had in mind. I just couldn’t talk…couldn’t say what…it’s better if it’s just the two of us." As she said these words her face sobered. "I…I’m afraid Vincent is very upset. He…I…" She made a helpless gesture, unable to think of how to phrase the problem.

"Come over here and sit down. Mary just brought a fresh pot of tea." He shepherded her carefully to a seat at the big library table, they both sat, and he poured tea. When she was settled in the chair and had taken her first sips of the hot liquid, he leaned back, his hands steepled, and began, "I was afraid that there was a serious problem when Vincent disappeared without letting me know where he was going. …Yes, the sentries saw him. He’s down in the tunnels. Well now, what happened, Catherine? Tell me."

He watched her face as she hesitated for a moment before answering, noting when indecision turned to determination. She straightened in her chair, her head high, as if getting ready for an ordeal.

"I’m going to tell you exactly what happened. I don’t see how I can make you understand how serious this is to Vincent without telling you the truth." She hesitated again, embarrassed. "When I got home yesterday I was tired, so I undressed right away, and laid down on the couch. I…" She paused to draw a deep breath. "I was thinking about Vincent. I was…daydreaming a little, I guess. Ah…anyhow, I…uh…" she stopped for a moment, then lowered her head and went on, looking down at her hands.. "I was having a…fantasy about…Vincent." Her cheeks were burning. "I…made some movements…it didn’t go all the way, you understand," she glanced up at him for just a second, "I just…well, I know I shouldn’t do that sort of thing, he feels it, so I pulled myself up and shut my robe. When I looked up, he was…standing in the window… he had been watching me."

Father’s face paled and his eyes shut for a moment. He had understood her. Then he said very low, "Dear God… he’ll think he’s betrayed your trust...that he’s spied on you. He’ll be devastated."

"I’m afraid that’s true." Quick tears filmed Catherine’s eyes. "He looked…frozen. He will think he’s betrayed my trust, but Father, I don’t care! I’m glad he saw me…" The tears spilled over and began to run down her face. "I’d be glad of anything that would break this awful control that he has over himself."

Father sat quietly for a few moments, his hands again steepled in front of his mouth He tapped his lower lip with his forefingers as he thought. Catherine watched his face apprehensively as she brushed the tears from her cheeks. She had no idea what he was thinking, but her fervent hope was that he wouldn’t be angry. She needed his counsel in this. As his silence stretched on her anxiety became unbearable. Softly, tentatively, she spoke. "Are you angry with me?"

"No! No my child, I’m not angry; only unsure of what, if anything, either of us can do about this." He shook his head slowly, worry in every line of his face.

"He is all right down in the tunnels, isn’t he?" Apprehension caught suddenly at Catherine’s throat.

Father saw her sudden panicky thought in her face. "Yes, I’m sure he is. He knows those tunnels better than anyone alive. He’s in no physical danger, barring accidents. But Vincent almost never has accidents."

"I’m going after him!" Resolution was in her voice, although she hadn’t even considered that course a moment ago. "I know you won’t like it, but I’m going to go. Mouse can guide me."

He thought for a moment, then surprised her. "I think…yes, I think that might be the best course…it is critically important for Vincent to understand that he has not lost you, that he has not destroyed the relationship…" Here he paused. "…but how he will forgive himself may be the biggest hurdle." He thought a moment more. "Mary will get you some more suitable clothes to wear. You may have a long and very exhausting journey; you do understand that?"

"I can do whatever I have to do."

Father stood up and took her hands in his as she stood also. "I know you can. I know the depth of your love for Vincent, Catherine. It took me a while, but I have come to believe in it." He smiled gently at her, and squeezed her hands.