Checkmate
TeriWritten October-December 1993
Published in Bondstories VIII, with an X-rated alternate ending included as a separate typed insert,
not part of the Bondstories publication
What foolish, fragile, vain creatures we are, thinking ourselves masters of our fate as we spin through the vast reaches of space on this great globe; mired in the illusionary stillness of the earth, oblivious to the galactic forces surrounding, encompassing us, centers of our own universe, blind to all but what most closely concerns our everyday trials and tribulations. But some things are beyond our ken, beyond our ability to influence or control. Even now events were unfolding that would drive them forward; with or without their consent, the Bond would seek its end. Like a rushing river after the winter's thaw, it was relentless in its pursuit, dashing all obstacles from its path and leaving the still calm of deep waters in its wake. It could not be held back, and it would not be denied.
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Part I: The Opening Moves
The critical stage of the game where defensive and offensive positions are developed and the strategy between two players is defined. The sequence of events set into motion during this stage may result in an inevitable, unalterable course for the game to follow.
Sunday, April 20
It was a lovely night, too lovely to travel the full route underground. It was already mid-April but the winter had been long and spring late. Only a week ago it had been freezing, then the thaw had hit, devastating in its intensity, it had rained non-stop for the last seven days.
As suddenly as it had begun it had stopped, with an amazing outburst of warmth and color. Budding trees rustled faintly in the midst of an almost imperceptible breeze and an exquisite, subtle scent filled the air, one which defied any quantitative description besides that of simply 'spring'.
Dusk was just settling into the park and the terrain was dotted with vague, shadowy recesses. They appeared almost friendly at this time of the day, beckoning to charming, restive spots which could afford a quiet privacy for strolling lovers should they choose to stop. There was time yet, time enough to detour through the park, to unwind from the week past and perhaps to indulge, just a bit, in thoughts of what might yet be.
And Catherine needed this time to relax her weary mind and tired, aching muscles. She didn't want to bring her frustrations and fatigue with her to those Below, especially to Vincent - he was so susceptible to her moods. As far as Catherine could tell this last weekend had been indistinguishable from the week preceding it - in other words horrendous. And made all the worse by the conflicts in their schedules which had kept them apart for going on eight days! The work had no end, she'd always known that, but these last eight days had seemed particularly bad. She honestly didn't think she'd gotten more than ten hours sleep in the last three days!
But even endless work had its breaks and she was bound and determined to spend this Sunday evening, at the very least, Below with Vincent. Time Below always seemed to restore her equilibrium, only there did she feel completely at peace, surrounded by the people she now considered her family.
And then there was Vincent... Friend? Yes he was her friend, her best friend, but that was much too weak a term to describe what he was to her. Family? He was her family in the deepest sense of the word, yet even that didn't seem to touch the intimacy of all they were to each other.
As she walked, Catherine allowed her thoughts to wander back to a week ago Saturday and their celebration on her balcony. Three years. Unbelievable that three years had passed since that fateful day. Equally hard to believe it had been only three. Catherine was sure now, perhaps in some deep part of herself had always known, that they had always been together, would always be together - the Bond would see to that. And though the thought of Kristopher and his painting and the magic their existence implied often left her uneasy and uncertain, those doubts never plagued her when she thought of the miracle that was she and Vincent together. Some things were just meant to be.
That night couldn't have been more different than tonight. Then it had almost felt as if the sky might let loose with one last snowfall, the air thick with frost. Like the previous year, she had left candles lit inside, hoping he would break through at least that barrier. To her surprise he had, and with so little hesitancy that she might almost have believed there was none.
The memory of that moment was sweetly poignant; only the slightest flicker of his eyes and a twinge through the Bond had betrayed his momentary uncertainty. More daunting to them both was their simultaneous glance towards the phone; the sudden, vivid recollection of how the celebration of their second anniversary had begun, how it had almost ended. Catherine shuddered even now at the thought.
But there were no interruptions that night, not even the trivial kind which so often interfered with their time together Above. They had made a cozy nest of quilts and pillows on the snug couch by the fire, drank hot chocolate (his with marshmallows, hers with whipped cream) and talked far into the night.
Best of all, Vincent had felt comfortable enough to actually fall asleep holding her for a full 35 minutes! She had stayed awake, counting the minutes greedily and holding her wildly singing sensations tightly to her heart, as she was at last able to hold him to her heart's content.
Almost better than that was his lack of dismay upon waking. She was certain that a short while ago, just before his illness, he would have been highly agitated, almost certainly found it necessary to leave her. But not that night. He had read to her then, and she finally fell asleep herself for a short while, lulled by his hypnotic voice and her deep contentment.
Seeing his reflective expression upon waking, she had felt certain that he had indulged his own thoughts during that time, much as she had earlier, and the suspicion alone had filled her with joy.
He had stayed almost until dawn, leaving as late as was safely possible. The memory and all it implied to her hopeful heart gave her goose bumps despite the warmth in the air tonight.
From the memory of that night, Catherine couldn't help but think upon the time preceding it. This last year had been so hard... Why did it always have to be so hard for them?!
Still, Catherine was convinced, even if Vincent and Father (especially Father) weren't, that this was not an inevitable part of their destiny. Their happy life was out there, just waiting for them to reach out and take it. Catherine was determined that it would be so. Sometimes she was so impatient she wanted to drag Vincent along with her, kicking and screaming if need be. But ultimately she knew that could not be the way, that she couldn't disregard his concerns in this matter, no matter how sure she herself felt. She was resigned to it, Vincent must come to the same degree of acceptance as herself.
But how? What if he couldn't move beyond his fears? No. She wouldn't dwell on that. The Bond couldn't represent a futile, sterile end, of this she was certain. There had to be a way for them.
Still, Catherine had to hope that this last year was the worst of it. Physically he seemed fully recovered, but she knew that he was still occasionally haunted by the dream which had occurred in the catacombs, the one that held her death. He could never bring himself to talk about it with her except to warn her repeatedly about certain events which had never manifested themselves in her life Above. What details she did know of the dream she had gleaned from his delirious fever ramblings as she, Father and Mary had taken shifts nursing him. He had dreamt that they'd had a child together! And despite the consequences in the dream, she couldn't contain her elation over the very idea whenever she thought on it.
Reality was far from that dream however, and it had been weeks before she felt the hard knot in her chest loosen, before she finally felt the episode was past. But was it done and gone for good? She would do anything to ensure that this never happened to him again, she didn't think he could survive another like it. And there was no life, no existence for her without him. His spiraling descent into madness and fear had almost destroyed him, and Paracelsus had taken supreme advantage of his deteriorating state.
But Catherine was convinced that Paracelsus was not at the heart of Vincent's illness. No, for that she had to place the blame squarely on her own shoulders. Well perhaps that was too harsh, but it was close enough in retrospect. She was sure that his illness had its origins in the emotional repression Vincent practiced to keep her at a distance while at the same time the need to loose that side of himself for her protection grew.
This was where she could not escape self-condemnation. She was allowing herself to become careless, trusting completely in Vincent's ability to keep her safe, not thinking of the price he paid. True, she had a dangerous job, but other investigators didn't have near the same number of serious encounters she had. And though she knew she was good, she couldn't fool herself into thinking all those encounters were a sign of her superior prowess at the job. No, they were simply a sign of her increased risk-taking, and though it often paid off during the trial phase of her cases, the price was too high...too high.
It had to stop, of that she was determined, and finally, this week, she had taken steps towards that goal. Joe had agreed with her request for a transfer to the Trial Division - he actually appeared to be somewhat relieved she'd asked for it. And he'd given her a whole week off between that transition! No more investigations for her, no more risk to Vincent. The difficult case completed today represented the end of that phase in her life and she was certain Vincent would silently rejoice at that change, for both their sakes.
But she knew it wasn't only that conflict with his more primal side - Vincent would say 'dark side', implying much worse in a stark and hopeless tone - that had wreaked such havoc in their lives so recently.
There was another conflict, that of the Bond's growing urge to complete itself through them. Vincent had always repressed a part of himself, deeming it a separate nature to be used when needed for protection only, but to be denied at all other times. Catherine felt sure this should not be so, that he must accept and assimilate all parts of himself to finally be healthy and whole. This included accepting her place in his life as well as his heart.
Again, how? He had fought against this all his life and the struggle appeared to have become monumental since that fateful night three years ago. The toll this was taking on him was plain for all to see. It must end, it must. How could she make him see that she loved all aspects of him, not merely tolerated some... that he must merge these sides of his personality for his own peace of mind, and hers... that the entity that was Catherine and Vincent in the Bond, included the bright and dark sides of them both?
Funny about that, at first the idea of the Bond had simply been a fascinating, inexplicable thing to her. Lately though, she found herself thinking of it as an aspect of them, something that was becoming more and more them every day. And the parts of herself which were separate from it, from him, from them, were slowly dropping away like so many autumn leaves which had flowered in their season, but whose time was now past.
This part of Vincent that he would do away with, it was a basic, elemental part of himself. He couldn't live without it, and she didn't want him to, didn't want him without it (what would he think if he knew that?!).
The Bond was expanding, encompassing all that they were, all that they needed, but Vincent was fighting it. He dreaded the thought that that part of him might someday be within the bright circle of their Bond where he could not hide it from Catherine, protect her from it. He would be appalled to discover the depths of her longing for that release, for that bonding of all they were, the transformation into what they were meant to be. She had to make him see that this was the way it had to be. He felt what she felt, she knew it to be true, sensed it often enough lately through her own growing awareness of the Bond, in the Bond. Yet in this area it was as though he was blind and deaf to it, he either could not read or would not accept what it told him. This was the obstacle to be overcome.Vincent leaned wearily against the tunnel wall and sighed as he allowed Catherine's emotions to filter through the Bond. Despite the confusing, sometimes chaotic course her feelings had taken in the last few minutes her very essence came through, pure and strong. She was such a balm to him, to his tired, aching spirit.
She was in the park, he could sense that clearly. But she had been in this vicinity many times in the last week, her latest case was keeping her close to this area. He couldn't, wouldn't allow himself to hope she was on her way here, it would only hurt all the more when once again he found himself alone. He knew this last week had been unusually difficult for her, both mentally and physically. Each night he had struggled with himself and his desire to go to her, to be there with her, for her. But the problems in both their worlds seemed overwhelming this week, and they each had their responsibilities which could not be shirked. Even when he could get away, and knew she was home, her fatigue and his own had stilled his steps in her direction. It seemed their fate to be kept apart when they most needed to be together.
He shook his head to clear these thoughts, and once more took note of his surroundings. He was alone outside the base chamber they'd been using for their level F camp. The new team was settling inside even now, his crew had gone on ahead towards the home tunnels. Vincent, as usual, was the last to leave. He'd made sure the new team knew the full situation, had their tools and everything else they needed, double checking with everyone. Finally he was headed for home.
The usual spring problems were hitting them with a vengeance this year; it seemed as if the flooding in the lower levels would never be contained, and every able hand was needed to stem the tide and hold it at bay. Indeed several times this week an exhausted Vincent had caught himself wondering if they shouldn't just close off that level and wait for nature to take its course before continuing with the repairs. Of course that was out of the question. The potential damage from such a course of action (or rather inaction) could have long-reaching affects that might jeopardize their whole world - the only world of safety for him.
But those thoughts were quickly leaving him now. Catherine was coming. He could no longer doubt that she was headed Below. He was still several levels down from the home tunnels but his mood had lightened somewhat, though the weariness resting upon him still felt endless. The situation seemed finally to have turned in their favor, the worst might just be over, tomorrow would tell. And Catherine was coming. He couldn't stop that refrain from ringing over and over again in his mind.
Today luck was on his side. For the first real time in five days Vincent had a day or two off (not counting the three or so hours of sleep he'd gotten each night) to rest from his labors, perhaps more if the latest repairs held. He quickly calculated how much time it would take him to reach the nearest bathing pool, clean up and change before he could meet Catherine. No matter how he looked at it he was going to be an hour late at best. He quickly routed a message through Pascal, asking Kipper to meet Catherine, tell her of his delay and escort her to his chamber if she could still stay. A new litany reverberated throughout his entire being; Please stay... Please...Mary rounded the corner just as Kipper and Catherine came around the far bend. Catherine smiled at Kipper, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks for coming to get me Kipper. I think I'll visit with Mary for a bit while I wait for Vincent."
"Sure, Catherine, anytime. See ya!" He ran off, calling a hello to Mary in passing.
"Catherine, how are you dear?" Mary's voice was light, but her face quickly grew concerned as she came closer to her. She could see that Catherine was not all right. The fatigue was evident both in her face and in the way she held herself, as if she was just barely able to do so. Not waiting for a reply, she took hold of Catherine's hand and drew her off towards a side tunnel to their left.
"Mary, I'm fine, really. Where are we going? Where's Father? How is he? How's everyone?" Catherine made a valiant effort to chat pleasantly, trying to hide her weariness, but it was apparent Mary was not taken in, not for a minute.
"Everyone is very tired, but things are settling down and with some rest they should all be fine again. I might say the same of you Catherine," she scolded gently. "You haven't been taking care of yourself as you should. I think you need to spend some time Below, where we can look after you for a while."
Catherine squirmed under Mary's appraising look. "Well I do have a week off but..."
"Good, then you'll stay," Mary interrupted quickly. "I insist Catherine," (Catherine couldn't recall ever seeing her so stern). "I've never seen you looking so worn out. I'm sure Father will have something to say about this himself once he sees you."
"I'm sure he will," Catherine muttered under her breath.
"Pardon me?" Mary queried lightly.
But Catherine wasn't fooled. Mary had heard her, and understood quite well Catherine's concern about their evidently very different expectations for Father's 'comments' on this topic. Before she could even begin to discuss this potentially momentous encounter she found herself ushered into one of the smaller, more private bathing chambers.
"Here we are," Mary said. "Get undressed, get in and relax. I'll be right back with some clothes for you. And don't worry about Father. I'll take care of everything. Trust me." Without pausing for an answer Mary swept out of the chamber.Catherine. Oh how he needed to see her, to be with her. His weary arms ached to hold her again. Eight days. It had been eight days since they'd last been together. These separations were becoming harder and harder to bear, but what could they do? This was the inevitable result of their separate lives, their separate worlds. He knew it had to be so, but oh how he wished it could be otherwise.
What this 'otherwise' might entail he never consciously allowed himself to speculate on, it was just too painful, the limits they must endure. Still, he couldn't stop his thoughts from turning back to that night eight days ago.
Wondrous, magic! For some reason, the fear-bordering-on-dread he always felt when Catherine wanted him to enter her apartment had been almost completely missing. They had nestled together by the fire, enclosed, surrounded by fluffy quilts and pillows. And this had not been threatening to him, on the contrary, he had never felt more comforted, more cherished. The heat of the fire and creamy warmth of the chocolate (with marshmallows!) had been nothing to the sweet, seductive warmth of Catherine in his arms. Thinking back on it even now he could feel that same, strange lassitude stealing over him in waves, immobilizing his mind and will.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the lethargy that threatened to stop him in his tracks. There was the turn up ahead, the path that would take him to the outermost bathing pools of the home tunnels.
The problem of course was a change of clothing. He'd slept at the work site the last five days, as had most of the crew - otherwise the few hours sleep they did get would have been even less. Only Kanin had made the trek back to the home tunnels, twice, to be with Olivia and Luke. A sudden image of that loving family, of Kanin and Olivia together, inexplicably made this throat tighten and tears well up. He was more tired than he'd ever imagined he could be, that must be it. Still, Kanin was dead on his feet, and the last he'd seen of him, heading away from the base camp, he'd been firmly supported by Cullen and Mark on either side. Actually, it seemed more as if the three supported each other equally. It was times like these, the little things, that reminded Vincent of how special, how precious their world and their close-knit community was. He was anxious to rejoin it, to be with them all again, especially Catherine. He didn't allow himself to question his implicit inclusion of her in that community. Not now.
A relay crew of the older children had brought down clean clothes and food and brought up their dirty clothes for laundering. He had known he would be back in the home tunnels tonight, sleeping in his own chamber, and hadn't given a thought to bathing and clothes, thinking to take care of it there. But he simple couldn't meet Catherine in his current state, even his hair and the fur on the backs of his exposed arms and hands were caked with mud and grime. He stopped short of the turn to the pool to think for a minute, then quickly detoured down another side tunnel and tapped out a message on the nearest pipe; 'Vincent to Mouse. Am at bathing pool D3, please bring clothes. Thanks.' Within minutes he was heading back towards the D3 chamber.The pool, with its thin wisps of steam floating above the surface, did look awfully inviting. Catherine hesitated only a minute before shrugging her shoulders resignedly and beginning to undress. After all, there was no place else she'd rather be during her time off. She was stunned by the very thought of being here Below for an extended stay with her friends, her family, Vincent... What will Vincent say to all this?!
Finally... the chamber he was seeking. This particular pool was one of his favorites; small and cozy and far enough out to be considered inconvenient to most of the tunnel dwellers, it was perfect for him. A quick glance about the chamber showed that it had been serviced recently, there was a full basket of supplies sitting near the entrance with an empty one beside it.
He quickly stripped off his filthy, mud-caked clothes and threw them into the empty basket. He spared one small thought of sympathy for the work crew who had the laundry detail this week - what a mess! Apparently they were quite behind on the normal washing; their work, like everyone else's this week, was directed towards the efforts of those in the lower levels.
As he sank down into the warm water he instinctively moved to position his back against the second of three underwater spring entrances to this pool, he could feel the churning effects of the other two just off to either side. The roiling jets both soothed and massaged his tired muscles. Ahhh... the buoyant water surrounded him physically as Catherine's spirit surrounded him emotionally through the bond. In his exhausted state the combination was devastating. He wished never to leave this warm, soothing place... He wished Catherine was here with him. He closed his eyes for just a moment. Just a moment was all it took, his conscious mind closed down and the Bond took over.Ahhh... The water felt wonderful. She felt it seeping through her fatigue to ease the weariness of her spirit as well as her tired body. Her thoughts again drifted to Vincent, how could they do otherwise, here Below in his own domain. He would soon be here and they would be together at last. She could easily picture his trek through the lower levels on his way to her; his graceful stride and powerful legs eating away the distance as though it were nothing. mmmm... Snap out of it Chandler, think of something else, this is dangerous territory!
She had received several messages from Below this past week, updates actually, and from Pascal of all people. A true friend, he knew how she would be thinking about Vincent, wondering what he was doing, if he was all right. And so she knew about the troubles Below and the strenuous work for them all. Still, she knew that Vincent would take a larger share of that labor, he always did.
Oh how she wished she could be there for him! Laying out his clean clothes, bringing a hot cup of tea, massaging his tired muscles, easing his pain. Wifely tasks... Yes... Once again, despite her best intentions, she became lost in the intimate, erotic thoughts which seemed so close to the surface tonight.The warm streams were bubbling and rolling against him, lulling him into a state somewhere between reality and dreams. He could feel the independent ache of each muscle crying out for individual attention. His abdomen and leg muscles actually shook and his feet ached so that he wondered if he was even capable, at this precise moment, of making it back to his chamber unassisted. His shoulders and arms felt bruised, even his hands hurt! This last week had been one of the few, true tests of his superior strength and endurance. What must the others be feeling? But he couldn't maintain that train of thought, he was just too tired, so tired...
Suddenly he felt hands against his shoulders, massaging the pain away, easing his entire body with their tender touch. Catherine. She murmured soft and soothing words, just barely audible to his sensitive ears, but he would have heard them had he been deaf, they seemed to vibrate deep within his very soul... I'm here Vincent, and I'll never leave you... Never. Lie back, rest awhile and I'll watch over you. You work too hard. Let me take care of you now my love... and he gave in to the sensation, unquestioning.
Her skillful fingers pushed deeply into his shoulders and the curve of his neck, smoothing away the tension there. They slid down his arms, massaging and soothing as they went. He felt her hands slide back up to his shoulders, then begin to work their way down his broad, powerful back. It feels so good... please don't stop, don't stop... When her hands were at the middle of his back he rested his elbows upon his knees and leaned forward so that she could reach further. Her hands were at the small of his back now, moving against him, taking his pain. Her fingers dug deeply at his spine, delving into the longer, more sensitive fur there. It was sheer ecstasy, he wanted it never to end...
No! It took all his waning strength to shake off the hypnotic state that seemed to be pulling him deeper and deeper into a vortex of unimaginable depth. What violence awaited them down there? He couldn't give in to it, he couldn't! He must protect Catherine from this at all costs!
His emotions were in an upheaval, the transition had left what felt like a physical tear in the fabric of his psyche. The anguish was real, a stark contrast to the ecstasy of a moment ago. He so desperately wanted to let go of that pain, to slip back into the spell that was only himself and Catherine; her sultry, promising voice and her tender, loving hands. His clenched fists shook and tears welled up and spilled over his cheeks as he fought to gain control once more.
He drew a shuddering breath and finally, the battle was won. He pulled his control tightly around himself, as if it were his cloak about him on a cold winter night Above.
But what had he won? He was alone again. He could still feel Catherine through the Bond, as he always did, but suddenly the sensation was a pale, paltry shadow to what he had just experienced. Had Catherine felt it too? Please God, no! But it was an idle thought, for hard on its heels was the certain realization that she had. Her sorrow was heartbreaking. I'm sorry Catherine... my love...
It was hard enough to control himself without this added burden. Now he sought desperately to center his concentration on bathing and washing his hair, trying in vain to ignore what had just transpired. He was so tired, that's all it was. A good night's sleep and he would be in complete control again. He left the pool and began to dry himself off. He had just wrapped a towel around his waist and was working on his hair when he heard footsteps...Catherine gasped in sudden dismay, clutching a shaking hand to her chest, holding onto Vincent's crystal as if to a lifeline. No Vincent! Please... Don't do this to us, don't turn even the smallest pleasures into pain. And though she didn't want to add to his burden, she couldn't stop the sobs that shook her whole frame. When would this end? When?! She couldn't stand it, the growing awareness of the Bond between them was agonizing under these conditions. How had Vincent stood it for so long? Oh Vincent, my love...