Your Pain Is My Pain
Part IV - Torn By Dreams

by Teri

Torn by dreams,
By the terrible incantations of defeat
And by the fear that defeats and dreams are one.

Wallace Stevens (Men Made Out of Words)

*   *   *

 They made their way back towards the home tunnels slowly.  Vincent was eager to get there quickly so that Father could check Catherine to be sure there were no residual side effects from their encounter with the freezing river, but Catherine would not let him carry her, and he was unwilling to push their pace, concerned despite her assurances and the well-being he felt from her over the bond.
 Catherine would have liked to surrender herself to the warm circle of his loving arms, but she couldn’t.  He had asked her never to close the bond to him again, and she had promised.  She wasn’t blocking the bond, but she was struggling furiously to keep those recent memories at bay, and that was difficult enough without the distraction of his muscled strength holding her in such a tender embrace.  Truth to tell, this leisurely pace suited her just fine -- she wasn’t at all eager to encounter Father.  The lecture that awaited over her rash behavior of twenty-four hours ago was inevitable, but there was more, and it was worse than even that.  The ill-conceived journey down had been bad enough, but the journey’s end...  She had to tell Father about the details of those last hours.  She had made promises to him, too, just over one month ago, but they were gone now, fallen without thought or intent during those hazy hours spent together in the newest chambers far below.  Vincent had no recollection of those particular hours, but she could not plead ignorance.
 Catherine mused on this coming discussion, keeping her thoughts cool and calm, though they could have easily jumped into the realm of the tumultuous with the slightest release of her restraint.  The amazing degree of control at her disposal now was largely due to the peaceful contentment that had filled her ever since her waking in the tunnel’s latest way-station -- ever since she and Vincent had made love.
 She sighed softly as those words echoed inside her, vividly recalling the terrible fever dream she’d woken from, and the wondrous contrast of the passionate lovemaking which had followed.  Vincent remembered none of it, that much was clear.  But the timing was too suspect, and there was too much at stake now to keep this momentous occurrence to herself.  She had to tell Father; she needed his counsel, just in case.
 Her silent introspection was interrupted by the abrupt halt of Vincent before her.  He stood tensely still, his head cocked to one side, eyes closed.
 "What is it, Vincent?"
 "Footsteps, just ahead.  Someone is coming."
 They continued onward, their pace quickened, and a moment later a light became visible near a turn in the tunnel wall.  Two figures came into view, though Catherine couldn’t make out their faces.
 They had no trouble recognizing Vincent, however, and immediately called out to them, relief plain in their voices.  Catherine recognized Kanin’s tones there, and William’s.  The men ran to meet them and she found herself immersed in an exuberant bear-hug, the tunnel cook’s strong arms lifting her off the ground and holding her tight for several seconds.  Finally he released her and she glanced at Vincent to find him standing companionably close to Kanin.  They presented a precious picture, the sight of the smaller man’s hand resting protectively upon Vincent’s shoulder both amusing and touching.  But she couldn’t enjoy that image for long before her attention was drawn back to the burly man at her side, his relief turned quickly into a tempestuous outburst of barely controlled anger.
 "Where have you two been?!  We’ve been worried sick.  We just assumed you’d stayed at the work site last night, Vincent.  Until just an hour ago, no one but Mouse knew that Catherine had come down yesterday looking for you."
 Vincent was uncharacteristically silent, a hesitant expression on his face.  Suddenly Catherine knew what was giving him pause.  He was trying to protect her from their possible censure, and perhaps even Father’s anticipated and well-deserved lecture, but Catherine knew that was inevitable.  She flashed a smile of gratitude at him before speaking ruefully.  "It was my fault, William.  I asked Mouse to show me the chalk trail down to the new chambers.  He thought I was going to wait for Vincent there, not that I meant to meet him along the trail.  I was careless and fell in the river.  Luckily Vincent was close by."  She leaned against him without thought, and Vincent’s arm rose to hold her close.
 Shocked exclamations greeted that announcement, with worried questions about their well-being hard on the heels of it.  Vincent quieted their concerns, quickly taking control of the situation.  "We’re fine.  But I want to get Catherine to Father and have him examine her, just to make sure.  Would you run ahead, Kanin, and send a message to Pascal?"
 "Off course.  The nearest pipes aren’t too far from here."
 He ran off and the other three continued on their way, their pace a little more urgent now, thoughts of Father and Mary and the rest of the worried community uppermost in their minds.
 Ten minutes later the sound of pipe tappings became clear to Catherine, though she knew, from his still concentration, that Vincent had heard them some minutes before.  A moment later they rounded a bend, and Kanin came into sight.  As soon as he saw them, he rapped another message out and listened closely in response.  Vincent interpreted for her.
 "Everyone knows we’re safe.  Father is waiting at the hub junction where this passage begins."
 Catherine knew that last message was meant to prepare her for what most likely would not be a merry meeting.  She sighed heavily and felt his hand enclose hers to squeeze tightly.  She smiled reassuringly up at him, telling him with her steady gaze and the calm certainty of the bond that she was ready, even for this.  The silence surrounding them suddenly became apparent and she glanced about her to see a strange mix of admiration and sympathy on the faces of their two friends.
 "Come.  We must go."
 Vincent’s quiet words broke the stillness of their group and together they turned and made their way silently back towards the hub.

*   *   *

 "Catherine, Vincent...thank god you’re safe!"  Father hurried forward to greet them as they approached the tunnel junction, anxious concern plain in his voice and upon his face.  He gave his son an intense but cursory glance, then quickly turned towards Catherine, feeling her forehead for just a moment before enclosing her wrist in his fingers and removing his pocket watch.  Kanin held his lantern close to the watch, and the group stood in silence as Father counted out her pulse.
 "I’m fine, really Father."
 He didn’t answer and Catherine bit back any further comments.  Finally he shut the watch and met her gaze, anger and relief warring across his features.  "How could you have behaved so foolishly?  We might have lost both of you."
 Catherine’s lips trembled and tears sprang to her eyes.  The fatigue which had been so notably absent on their way up flowed over her now in a deep wave, her tightly controlled emotions loosed by the concern and fear in his voice.  She felt Vincent’s arm tighten around her.  "I know.  I’m so sorry."  She found herself lifted into Vincent’s arms, and gave in to his strength, her own suddenly gone.  She felt the rumble of his words through his chest and heard Father’s subdued reply.
 "Not now, Father."
 "No, of course not.  Bring her to the hospital chamber, Vincent.  I need to stop at my study for my bag -- I’ll meet you there."
 "No, please."  Catherine’s voice was plaintive and weak.
 Vincent paused for a moment, studying her face questioningly, but she directed her next words to Father.
 "I’m just tired.  Can’t we do this in Vincent’s chamber...please?"
 "Yes, all right.  Bring her there, Vincent.  Kanin, would you send a message to Mary to meet us there?"
 Catherine never heard Kanin’s response; Vincent was already well on his way down the passage towards the inner hub.

 Mary was waiting for them when they arrived at Vincent’s chamber five minutes later.  Like Father, she immediately felt Catherine’s forehead, that action second nature to her.  Upon closer scrutiny of Catherine’s features, her face cleared, a relieved smile replacing the worried frown.  She turned to Vincent then, and Catherine sighed at the sight of that same maneuver repeated there, suddenly seeing the toddler he had been, standing before the loving, maternal figure so dear to them all.
 "Go to the bathing pool for a long, hot soak, Vincent.  I’ll bring you some clothes in a little while.  When Father’s finished with Catherine, he’ll want to see you."
 "Yes, Mary."
 His meek response tugged at Catherine’s heart, the nostalgic image now complete.  He smiled once more in her direction, then left the chamber.
 "Let me help you get those clothes off, Catherine."
 Mary’s words interrupted her pleasant musings, and Catherine focused again upon the dimly lit chamber.  Fatigue was stealing over her in strong waves now, and her hands felt heavy, her fingers clumsy and useless.  Mary brushed them aside and undid the buttons of her shirt, undressing her as she would a child.  A moment later she turned to rummage through Vincent’s bureau, pulling a cotton gown from it and drawing it over Catherine’s head.
 Catherine suddenly realized that this was one of Vincent’s nightshirts, the same one she had worn two weeks ago when she’d stayed Below, wracked with cramps.  That thought was inevitably followed by the memory of the hours they had shared in the warm expanse of his bed.  She shivered with pleasure, her thoughts drawn from there to the hours just past, and the greater intimacy experienced in that new-carved chamber just two hours beneath them.
 "These ties will make it easier for Father’s exam.  You can change into one of your own gowns when he’s through if you like."
 The words were for appearances only -- both knew Catherine would keep this gown on for as long as possible.  Mary turned back to the drawer and a moment later returned with a stack of clothes.  She slipped a softly woven robe around Catherine’s shoulders, then pushed her gently down into Vincent’s large chair.
 "Father will be here in just a moment, Catherine.  I’ll drop these clothes off with Vincent and get you some tea.  I’ll be back soon."
 "Thank you, Mary."
 Mary left the chamber, turning left down the side passage which led to the bathing pool Vincent shared with Father.  She had been gone for only a moment when Father appeared from the direction of the main tunnel, black bag in hand.  The anger was gone from his face now, the worried look back, concern filling him over the sudden weakness that had swept over her back at the tunnel junction.  He immediately came to her side and took her hand.  "How are you feeling, Catherine?"
 "I’m just a little tired, Father, otherwise I feel all right."
 He looked at her searchingly, his expression skeptical, before slipping a thermometer in her mouth and checking her pulse once again.  "That water from that river is freezing, I’m amazed you both seem to be doing as well as you are.  Still, I’m going to keep a close eye on you two for the next twenty-four hours.  Peter will be joining me for dinner and our monthly chess game tonight.  He can call your office for you tomorrow to let them know you won’t be in."
 He removed the thermometer and Catherine found herself responding with the same words and meek expression Vincent had used with Mary so recently.  "Yes, Father."
 Jacob slipped his stethoscope between the openings of her robe and nightshirt and listened closely.  Finally he had her slide both garments off her shoulders and stood behind her to check from the back, asking her to breathe deeply several times.
 "There are some small signs of respiratory distress, but not too bad, all things considered.  Otherwise I’m pleased to say that you seemed to have escaped your little adventure relatively unscathed."
 He spoke lightly, attempting to ease the tension he had felt from her over the last few minutes, concerned that his earlier harsh words still weighed heavily upon her.  Strangely enough he felt her muscles tense even more at his words.  He tugged her gown and robe up about her shoulders, then pulled a chair forward to sit facing her.  She didn’t meet his eyes for some minutes, busying herself with the ties of her nightclothes.
 "What is it, Catherine?"
 Her hands stilled at the sound of those quietly spoken words, so very reminiscent of Vincent.  She looked up at him, her eyes filled with trepidation.  "I have to tell you something, Father."
 Her words were a bare whisper and Jacob felt his heart contract in fear, the sensation sudden and inexplicable.  Her hands were twisting nervously in her lap, and his rose to cover them, holding them still.
 "Do you remember the talk we had, a little over a month ago?  About Vincent and me...and the bond?"  Catherine spoke haltingly, the words coming out stiff and disjointed.
 He nodded warily.  How could he ever forget that conversation, or the one with Vincent that had preceded it?
 "I didn’t mean for it to happen, Father, but I broke the promises I made to you...both of them."
 His eyes went wide with stunned astonishment, with bewilderment and concern.  The two promises she referred to rang as clear as a bell in his mind.  He remembered with astonishment their conversation about the new development of their bond, amazed now, as he had been then, that they had reached that point, that he had accepted what was fast approaching the inevitable:

 "Catherine, do you have any concerns about this new development between you and Vincent?  I don't know if I can be of any help, but I want you to be able to come to me for anything, especially now."
 "Why 'especially now,' Father?  Do you have some concerns about us?"
 Jacob paused for a moment before continuing.  "Vincent told me that he thinks there's much yet to be discovered in this connection between you.  He doesn't know where it will lead, and that worries him of course.  And though I have a hard time comprehending it, Vincent told me enough to make me realize, even if he can't yet see it or accept it, where this will lead you."  He looked at her searchingly, his gaze intent.  "But you know, don't you."
 It wasn't really a question.
 "Yes, I think I do."  Catherine met his gaze plainly.
 He watched her for a moment, then nodded once.  "Good.  Then I can count on you to be responsible.  I think Vincent will deny the possibility to the very end, but you can be prepared.  I ask only two things of you in this regard; that if and when you reach that point, you'll make sure you're Below, just in case anything unexpected happens, and that you'll take preventative precautions, again just in case.  Peter and I have discussed this over the years, admittedly as only an academic exercise until you entered Vincent's life, but now perhaps we should pursue this issue again, run some test, do some research...  Medicine and test methods have advanced tremendously in the last decade.  Who knows what we'll find out.  Do you agree, Catherine?"

 Jacob pulled himself from his reverie and turned his attention back to Catherine, stunned at the implication of her words.  "How, Catherine...when?"  It was his turn to stammer now.
 "Last night, at the way-station."  She hurried on, suddenly worried that Vincent might return before she could finish.  "I blacked out in the river, just after Vincent jumped in.  The next memory I have is of a terrible nightmare.  I don’t remember the details now, but it was terrifying.  I died...or Vincent did, I just can’t remember.  I woke up screaming and Vincent was there beside me.  Somehow he’d gotten us out of the river and back to the way-station.  I was sweating, but he was cold...so cold.  I held him tight, to share my warmth.  He never woke up.  It happened then, Father, and Vincent doesn’t remember any of it."
 Jacob sank back in his chair, a dazed look in his eyes.  Finally they rose to meet hers once again.  "Are you all right?  Did anything...?"  He couldn’t finish that sentence.
 "I’m fine.  I’ve always known he couldn’t hurt me...always."  Her eyes had softened and taken on a far-away look, pleasure filling them.
 Jacob exhaled sharply with relief, amazed that at least this one concern was now over with.  But a moment later her gaze focused back on him, and he saw, strangely enough, the trepidation of a moment ago still there.  What more could there be?
 "Tell me, Catherine."  The words were spoken in quiet command, the concern barely hidden.
 "Have you and Vincent ever discussed our bond, Father?  Has he told you anything about it?"
 "I know that he feels what you do.  I remember being so surprised when he told me he could still sense your presence, dim and far off, while you were in California.  And of course we discussed it last month, when he and I talked.  Why?"
 "Vincent feels more than just my emotions over the bond."  She paused, searching for some softer words, some euphemism perhaps, but could find nothing.  Finally she took a deep breath and went on.  "He feels my biological cycle as well.  He knows when I’ve got my period, when it starts and when it ends.  And he knows when I’m ovulating.  I only found this out myself six weeks ago.  Did you know that he always leaves the home tunnels for three days during that time?"
 Father shook his head, an incredulous look upon his face.
 "It’s true.  When I first thought of that connection, six weeks ago, I checked my calendar, going back several months.  Then it happened a month ago, and again this week.  Vincent doesn’t know that I know, but I’m sure of the pattern...and the reason for it.  He’s drawn to me strongly then, Father.  It’s the bond."  She blushed hotly, embarrassment filling her at the telling of such an intimate thing.  "But five weeks ago, when we discovered this new closeness through the bond, it changed everything.  I think the distance he imposed during that monthly separation was enough to give him the control he needed before, but the bond is so much stronger between us now, especially during that time.  What Vincent described to you, more than a month ago...  That can happen even when we’re apart."
 A look of dawning comprehension filled Father’s face.  "We didn’t see you for two weeks last month.  It was because of his response to this new development over the bond, wasn’t it?"
 "Yes.  That was the first time it happened like that, and it upset him so much.  It was better this time.  He didn’t try to block the bond from me after the last occurrence, two nights ago, and I knew he wouldn’t keep us apart once he returned.  I could feel it."
 The look of stunned amazement on Father’s face was suddenly replaced by a still alertness.  "Two nights ago?  And last night..."  His words trailed off, the trepidation in her expression at the start of this conversation now transferred to him.
 "Yes."
 "Oh dear god."  He stared at her in horror.
 "Father?  Catherine?"
 Mary called out softly and they turned towards the chamber entrance.  Jacob pulled himself together and cleared his throat before answering.  "Come in, Mary."
 She carried a tray with a teapot and cups resting upon it and set it down on the table before them.  "I brought William’s herbal blend for resting and recuperation.  I thought you’d want them to have that one, Father."
 "Thank you, Mary.  Where is Vincent?"
 "Still in the bathing pool.  Shall I get him?"
 "Yes, please.  Tell him to meet me in my study in half an hour, if you would.  We’re just about finished here."
 Mary turned solicitously to Catherine, glancing back at Father as she spoke.  "How are you, my dear?  You’ll be staying here tonight, I take it?"
 "I’m fine, Mary, thank you."
 "Yes, she’ll be staying here tonight", Jacob replied to Mary’s last question.  "I want to keep a close eye on them both during the next twenty-four hours in case anything new crops up.
 "Of course, Father.  I’ll go see Vincent now.  I’ll be back to check on you shortly, Catherine.  Try to stay awake for a little while longer, dear, you should eat something.  I’ll bring a tray in to you as soon as Father’s finished."
 "Thank you, Mary."
 Catherine was tremendously grateful for that temporary break in the difficult discussion between her and Father.  Once Mary had left the room, she turned back to him, ready to continue.  Father, too, was ready.
 "Catherine, are you certain of the timing of your cycle?  There should really only be a twenty-four hour time period that’s critical."
 "I know.  I think he stays away for three days just to make sure.  I haven’t asked him about it, but I’m almost certain that he’s very aware of that twenty-four hour time period.  Before I went below to meet him, he had sent a message to Pascal saying he would be up shortly.  That and the fact that the bond had...reacted...the night before made me think it was safe.  By that time I’d become convinced he knew my cycle better than I did.  So there’s probably nothing to be worried about, but I had to tell you, just in case."
 Jacob’s fingers combed nervously through his beard, considering all that she had told him.  "And you’re sure he doesn’t remember any of last night?  Wouldn’t he at least be likely to recall it as a dream?"
 "Believe me, Father, if he thought he had dreamed that, I would know it.  He doesn’t remember, at least not yet."
 He blushed at the look in her eyes, for an instant feeling like a voyeur, as love and longing filled her gaze.  "What will you do about this?  Will you tell him?"
 "No.  Not if I don’t have to.  He was just beginning to let go of some of those fears.  No matter how much I might assure him, he would be horrified by this.  He still doesn’t trust himself, and if he knew this had happened without his conscious consent..."
 The glance she gave him was there for only a minute, before she hid her eyes from him, but he saw the bitterness, the accusation...towards him.  He sighed in painful recognition of those emotions, knowing their source.  "I know you blame me for this, and perhaps you’re right to.  I don’t know anymore.  Once I thought it was the right thing to do, the only safe course for him.  Now...  I was wrong, at least when it came to you.  Who could ever have imagined a love like this would find him?  I never saw it, Catherine, never envisioned such a thing for him.  But I rejoice for my son now, and for you.  You must believe me."
 Her eyes met his and the bitterness and pain faded away, leaving only love and sympathy.  "I know...I do."
 They stared at each other mutely for several long moments.  Finally Father brought them back to the crucial issue, firm resolve in his voice.  "You must see Peter right away.  I can tell him about this tonight and make arrangements.  He comes Below for dinner and chess at least once a month, and Vincent knew about this visit days ago.  He would never suspect anything unusual now.  Do you agree?"
 She signed in resignation.  "Yes.  It’s the only reasonable thing to do, though I hate it that you and Peter will know about this while he doesn’t."
 "I know, my dear, I know.  But you were right to tell me, and Peter has much better access than I to the most modern tests.  And you know you can trust him."
 "I know."
 In the meantime, try to relax.  I want both you and Vincent to rest today, tomorrow will be soon enough to think about the rest.  I’ll go check on Vincent -- it shouldn’t take long.  Mary will have dinner sent in to you both here."
 "All right.  I am hungry."
 "Good.  Rest easy, Catherine."  He pressed a kiss upon her brow and left the chamber, his mind swirling with the chaotic thoughts fermented by her disclosure to him this day.

 Thirty minutes later Catherine still sat in Vincent’s large chair, staring sightlessly out over the chamber, her thoughts yet on their time in the way-station below, what ifs irresistibly filling her.  She didn’t notice Vincent enter until she felt his gentle touch upon her cheek.  Her gaze focused back on her surroundings to find him on one knee before her, dressed in his sleepclothes and a warm tunnel robe, an expression of curiosity and concern in his eyes.
 "What are you thinking of, Catherine?"
 She centered her concentration and control, smiling into the blue depths of his beautiful eyes.  "Nothing really, just drifting.  What did Father say?  Is everything all right?"
 "Everything is fine.  William should be here shortly with our supper.  I can feel how tired you are, but you should eat something first, to keep up your strength, then you can go to bed."
 As if by magic, at the conclusion of his words, William appeared at the tunnel entrance bearing a tray with covered plates and a steaming teapot.  He stayed for just a minute, setting everything out on the table, then left them alone, the warm, spicy scent of a hearty stew filling the chamber.
 "Mmmm...  If this tastes as good as it smells we may have to send out for more."
 "That would please William no end, Catherine."
 The next half hour was filled with lazy conversation as they enjoyed William’s hearty fare.  And though they didn’t send for more, they finished everything on the tray.  Vincent stacked the empty plates upon it and set it in the passageway outside his chamber.  When he returned he found Catherine lazing sleepily in the chair, sunk deep within the cushioned velvet.  He settled back in the chair beside her and let his eyes drift over her, sleep taking hold of her even as he watched.  She didn’t open her eyes when next she spoke.
 "That was delicious.  I feel much better now."
 "Good.  Take my bed, Catherine, and get some sleep.  I’ll take the guest chamber."
 "No, please, don’t leave.  Please stay here with me."  Her posture in the chair hadn’t changed, but her eyes were open now, imploring his with a yearning desire.
 Vincent drew in a gasping breath at the look he saw there.  They had shared so much during the last six weeks, still his innate shyness of this new closeness between them prevented him from making any assumptions.  He still couldn’t find it within himself to consciously initiate the intimacies they both so clearly craved.
 "I could read a little, if you’ll try to sleep."  His voice was husky and low, a tremor just barely evident in his warm tones.
 "You’re tired too.  If you read, you’ll just fall asleep in the chair a few minutes after I do anyway."  She rose to her feet to tug at his hands, a persuasive smile upon her face.  "Come to bed, Vincent."
 Vincent couldn’t resist her, neither her shockingly casual words nor her low, compelling tones, and especially not the deep gray urgings of her eyes.  Within him he felt an answering response, a deep, strong need to keep her near, to hold her close within the protective circle of his arms.  He hesitated for only a moment, then rose to his feet to follow her.
 There were very few candles lit in the chamber and they left them as they were, their warm glow cozy and comforting.  Catherine kicked off her slippers and shrugged out of her robe, laying it across the foot of the bed before crawling under the covers and moving to the far side.
 Vincent removed his slippers, but then paused.  Finally he decided the long thermal shirt and fleecy sweatpants were sufficient coverage, and his robe joined hers.  Still, he settled down with a good foot separating them, unable to make any further concessions in this regard.
 Catherine was not so constrained, however.  She slid over to rest against his side, her head upon his shoulder, her left hand stroking soothingly over the region of his heart.  It took a few minutes, but eventually she felt the pounding there slow to a soft, even rhythm, the pattern of his breathing easing to match its steady pace.  His right arm wrapped around her waist, and within minutes they were both fast asleep, the bond muted and quiet within them, a blatant contrast to its fierce urgency twenty-four hours before.

*   *   *

 Catherine couldn’t stop thinking about her time spent Below; almost thirty-three hours -- she’d counted them greedily.  Of course that didn’t include the time in the way-station, but she was trying desperately not to think of that now, afraid of where those images might take her here, Above.  And so she concentrated on those thirty-three hours, every one of them spent with Vincent, relaxing in the cozy intimacy of his chamber.  They had read and talked and sometimes just sat silently together, his cheek resting against the silky sheen of her hair.  She sighed blissfully as those images scrolled lazily before her.
 "Earth to Radcliffe, hello, is anyone in there?"
 She shook off those pleasant musings to find Joe standing before her waving a file in front of her eyes.  The teasing sound in his voice disappeared, however, with his next words.
 "Are you sure you’re feeling better?  Maybe you should have stayed home again today -- no use taking chances with the flu.  Jeff’s been out since last Wednesday with it.
 She managed a small smile, her thoughts inexorably turned elsewhere this day.  "I’ve got an appointment with my doctor at noon, and he’ll probably give me a shot or something.  I’ll be fine."
 "Good.  Why don’t you just go home from there, have a hot bowl of soup and hit the sack."
 "Thanks, Joe.  We’ll see."
 "I mean it, Cathy, I need my star investigator at full strength.  I don’t want to be accused of running you ragged."
 The teasing was back, but she felt the sincerity there too, and knew he was concerned about her.  She smiled at him, understanding plain in her gaze, and he nodded slightly before turning to leave her.

*   *   *

 Catherine sat in the small examination cubicle, glad that these preliminary tests hadn’t required the ubiquitous paper-thin gowns with the gaping front openings she had grown accustomed to on her semi-annual visits.  They had talked first, and she found, to her immense relief, that whatever shock Peter might have felt on hearing the news from Father was now gone, or at least hidden from her.  He was comforting and calm, supplying her with the fatherly support she had come to expect since Charles Chandler’s death some months before.  Finally he had drawn a blood sample and excused himself to begin the tests on it and the urine sample she had left with the nurse when she’d first arrived.  An endlessly long thirty minutes passed before he reappeared, his expression unreadable.
 Peter sat down and took her hands in his, his eyes looking deep into her own.  "I’ve finished the preliminary urine test.  Normally, we wouldn’t run this one until at least two or three weeks had elapsed since ovulation, so it will have to be rerun eventually, although the blood test will help confirm the results.  But it was positive, honey.  It looks like you’re pregnant."
 The breath she’d been holding released itself in a gasp, her emotions loosed in a chaotic swirl that was uncontrollable for just a small moment.  Shock, disbelief and a wild euphoria filled her completely.  Finally she gathered her control about her once again, Vincent and the bond ever in her thoughts.
 "Are you sure, Peter?  There’s no mistake?"
 "I ran the test myself, on two samples.  But this early on there’s always a chance that it’s an erroneous result.  I’m doing the blood test myself too -- luckily I have access to the analytical equipment I’ll need in a friend’s office in this building.  I’ll have the results by late afternoon.  That one will be more conclusive, even at this early stage."
 "Oh, god..."  Her face was pale, her eyes glazed.
 Peter chafed her hands lightly, uncertain of how to proceed.  "Cathy?  We should talk about your options now, make some plans..."
 Color flooded into her face at his words, her gaze once more focused upon him with a fierce intensity that set him back.  "No, Peter.  I’ve always believed in a woman’s right to choose, I still do.  And I choose this child.  I could never abort Vincent’s child...never!  I know how terrifying this will be to him, but you don’t know, you can’t know how much I want this.  I’ve felt it always, from the first -- this is part of our destiny."
 He stared at her in awe, the certainty and determination in her undeniable and unshakable.  He knew there would be no further discussion in that vein.
 "All right, Cathy.  But there are still plans to be made.  Jacob and I will want to keep a close watch over you during this pregnancy.  You’re taking a risk -- you must know that.  We have no idea what to expect for you.  And what will you do about your job?  Will you stay Above or go Below?  You’ll need to make some decisions.  But I strongly suggest you immediately curtail your investigative work -- at least the dangerous part of it.  You shouldn’t take any chances, especially during the first trimester, when a miscarriage is most likely to occur."
 "You’re absolutely right, Peter.  And as to making decisions -- I’ve been thinking of nothing else but that since yesterday.  I already know what I’m going to do...what I have to do.  I’m giving Joe notice today, and moving Below.  I won’t take any chances with this child."
 The determination he had seen in her a moment ago was nothing to what filled her face now.  He knew her mind was irrevocably made up.  All that was left were the details, the unknowns that none of them could yet answer.  It would fall to him and Jacob to take over that aspect of it, and he was surprised to recognize a spark of excitement in himself at this opportunity.

*   *   *

 "We need to talk, Joe."
 After this morning’s discussion he was surprised to see her back, and immediately concerned at the serious tone of her voice.  He responded warily.
 "Sure.  Sit down, Radcliffe.  Did everything go okay at the doctor’s?"
 "Wonderful."
 He stared at her in confusion, understanding neither her words nor the strange light in her eyes.  Why would a visit to the doctor’s office for a case of the flu be described as ‘wonderful’?  He sat back in his chair and waited for her to go on.
 "I’m pregnant, Joe."
 He was stunned into silence for a moment, this news completely unanticipated.  Finally his silence ended.  "Pregnant?!  Pregnant?  Wow...  I don’t know what to say."
 His mind was spinning with memories, with images of her in this office over the last three years.  She was so reticent, so closed off about her private life.  Many times he’d suspected there was someone in her life, someone special, only to dismiss that thought upon reflection -- it just didn’t seem possible that she would keep something like that a secret.  But there was no mistaking the look on her face now; she was ecstatic.  Whoever the father was, there was no doubt about her feelings for his child, none whatsoever.
 Catherine watched him silently, letting the news sink in before going on.  Their friendship meant so much to her; of all her ties Above, only Jenny and Nancy were dearer to her.  What had started out as friendship had developed, especially over the course of this last year, into something more.  He was like a brother to her.  An older, very protective brother, she thought wryly, recalling the worrying he had done over all her dangerous investigations.
 "I know this is unexpected, Joe..."
 "Unexpected?!  That’s an understatement!  You’re happy about this, aren’t you, Cathy?"
 "Very happy."
 He moved around the desk to hug her tight, then pulled back, his hands still holding her arms.  "Then I’m happy for you, too.  No one would make a better mommy than you, Radcliffe -- I’ve always thought so."
 "Thank you, Joe."
 "What about the father?"  He didn’t know how else to ask about this unknown entity.
 Catherine heard the underlying question, and the concern, answering the unspoken words instead.  "I’m sorry about that.  You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?"  She waited until she saw the acknowledgment in his eyes.  "But I couldn’t share this with you, or with anyone else, for reasons I still can’t discuss.  I can tell you this though; I love him, more than I could possibly say.  He’s everything to me, Joe, everything!"  She spoke with a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt.
 Joe’s mind was reeling with shock at her announcement.  What could be the reason for this degree of secrecy?  In his business, one came immediately to mind -- the Witness Protection Program.  He mentally scanned the major cases handled during the last year or so, trying to decide if any seemed likely.  Finally he gave up on that attempt, bringing his attention back to the issue at hand.
 "I just want to know that you’re happy."
 "Believe me, Joe, I am.  Being apart from him is the only thing that makes me unhappy.  That’s why I have to tell you this, now, today.  I have to give you notice."
 "What?!"
 "I have to.  I have reason to believe this pregnancy might be difficult, and I’m not going to take any chances.  You understand, don’t you?"
 "Well of course I do.  We can move you out of the field immediately, today.  That’s not a problem, Cathy..."
 "No.  I’m sorry.  I have to be with him all the time now, and I can’t do that if I’m working here."  She didn’t elaborate, knowing that he’d tentatively come to the erroneous conclusion she had hoped he’d reach.  "I can give you two weeks, maybe three, but absolutely no field work.  Please understand, Joe, please."
 He stared at her, the realization finally sinking in that she meant it, she was leaving.  And if what he thought were the case, then she couldn’t tell him anything about where she would be.  His next words jumped right to the heart of that assumption.  "How will I know how you are?  I’d worry all the time, Radcliffe, if you didn’t check in with me now and then."
 Her reply both confirmed his thoughts and consoled him.
 "I think that can be arranged, Joe."
 There were tears in both their eyes as she pulled him close for a long hug.  He held her tight, and it was some time before he let her go.

*   *   *

 When she and Joe had finished talking, Catherine left immediately for her apartment.  There was so much to do.  She had to talk to Jenny and Nancy, make plans for her apartment, and see her attorney about several investments.  But all that paled to insignificance in light of the one person uppermost in her thoughts.  Right now she needed to be with Vincent.  Joe had given her the rest of the week off, with the agreement that she would work half days for two to three weeks following that.  Then they had gone over her cases and divided them among the other investigative attorneys.  She would be spending her remaining time in the office or at home, going over depositions and file details while the others handled the field work.
 But not now, not this week.  This week she intended to spend all of her time Below, helping Vincent through the difficult time that lay ahead.  Peter was coming Below tonight, to talk with Father and begin their plans.  Vincent had to be told...now.
 It was early, barely four o’clock in the afternoon, when she stepped off the ladder from her subbasement and onto the tunnel floor.  Vincent was waiting for her.  As he had done so uncharacteristically five weeks before, he came forward into the circle of light to hold her close.
 "What is it, Catherine?  I’ve felt your turmoil all day."
 His words whispered out to her, the love and concern there filling her completely.  His husky tones sent a shiver through her, his physical presence a powerful aphrodisiac to her.  Her wandering thoughts strayed instantly into the realm of the erotic, and her arms tightened about him, her musings going irresistibly from there to the news she had learned just hours earlier.  They were going to have a child together...a child.  All their dreams were coming true, at long last.  There was only one difficulty remaining, and she had to admit, optimist though she was, that it was a doozy.
 "Not here, Vincent.  Take me to your chamber."
 As she knew he would, he asked no further questions, but immediately guided her into his world, his arm holding her protectively close.

 "Give me your jacket, Catherine."
 He took that garment and hung it upon a hook along the side of his wardrobe, hanging his own cloak next to it.  He settled her in his large chair and took a seat at her side, then gazed at her searchingly, his hands clasped together upon the table.
 "Tell me."
 Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to envision this discussion at all while Above today.  Everytime she’d thought about it, she had drawn a blank.  She reached out to cover his hands with her own, stroking the silky covering soothingly, trying to ease him for this momentous news.  "I do have something to tell you, Vincent, and it’s going to be very difficult for me...and for you."  She saw his pupils contract, felt the stillness of his hands beneath her own, and sensed what was almost terror through their bond.  She knew instantly where his fear had taken him.  Her hand tightened upon his.  "No.  Not that...never that.  I will never leave you, Vincent.  You must believe me."
 A ragged gasp escaped him, as if he’d been holding his breath, and his tension eased somewhat.  "If you prepare me for this much more, Catherine, I may not survive.  Please, go on."
 "It’s about our bond, about this new closeness we’ve discovered through it during the past few weeks."  She paused, deciding the best way to do this was to ease into it from as far back as possible.  "A little more than two weeks ago, when you brought me Below and I stayed the night...  Do you remember?"
 "Remember?  I remember every minute of that evening Catherine."  He couldn’t go on, the details of that night overwhelming him with their intimacy.
 "No, Vincent, I don’t think you do."
 His bashful hesitancy was replaced by puzzled confusion, and he stared at her, a question in his eyes.
 "You know how we always sleep so deeply after we’re...together...in the bond?"  She couldn’t stop the blush that stole over her, the heat reflected in his face as well as he nodded in response.  She went on.  "I woke up in the middle of the night.  When I returned to your chamber you were still asleep.  Something happened between us then, Vincent...not in the bond."
 A trembling became apparent along the large muscles of his body, fear once again filling his eyes.  She could feel him on the edge of motion, and hurried to reassure him, wondering how they would ever move on to the rest of her news.  "Not that, Vincent.  We just kissed...and touched.  I tried to stop, I knew it wasn’t fair to you, but it felt so good, I couldn’t.  It never got too far, Vincent, I swear.  It...ended...suddenly, and you never woke.  In the morning I could tell that you had no recollection of it.  I couldn’t tell you then...I couldn’t.  I knew how it would distress you -- you just weren’t ready for that.  But I need you to know how good you made me feel, how much I enjoyed it.  I feel nothing but love and pleasure, Vincent, whenever you touch me."
 His muscles still quivered, but she no longer felt him on the verge of leaving her.
 "What did I do, Catherine?  Tell me."
 She moved closer to him until they sat side by side, the arms of their chairs touching, then leaned against him and buried her face in the silky fall of his hair where it spilled over his broad chest, sparing him the intimacy of her eyes.  Her right hand rubbed lightly against his back as she whispered huskily in his ear.  "We kissed, and it was so wonderful, Vincent.  Then you touched me...here."  Her left hand drew his right one into the curve of her body, pressing his palm over her left breast.
 He tried to pull away, but she held him there tightly.  He felt her urgency and his hand grew still upon her.
 "You touched me here, and it was heavenly.  I wanted you to never stop.  I’m sure you felt my desires through the bond, each touch was just as I craved it, at one with my wishes.  I wanted your mouth there, and it was as if you heard my very thoughts."
 A shudder shook his frame at her words, the image she painted both seductive and terrifying to him.  How could this be possible?  How could he have touched her so intimately and not remember it.  No...it couldn’t be...  But even now he felt the taut peak beneath his palm tightening, and hard upon that sensation came a strange sense of deja vu, a thirst that urged him down to her with some strength of familiarity that was undeniable.  He drew his shaking hand away and wrapped his arms around her, that action meant as much to hold her close as to stop the deep response that pulled so insidiously at him.
 "I didn’t hurt you, Catherine?  You’re sure?"  The words were a rasping whisper, his heart pounding heavily within him.
 "Believe me, Vincent, you could never hurt me.  It felt so good...so good."  She crooned against his ear and his trembling muscles seemed to collapse weakly against her.
 "If I ever hurt you, it would be the end of me...the end of everything."
 She heard the tears in his voice and pulled back slightly to wipe them away tenderly.  The expression in his eyes was a strange blend of amazement and anguish.  She didn’t need the bond to know what he was thinking now.  He wondered how he could possibly have done such a thing; he wanted to do it again...here, now.  She saw it all, felt it all, and had a sudden urge to give in to those cravings, to show him that what he had taken without thought had been given to him long before.  But she shook that desire from her, certain they would never finish this conversation once they set foot on that seductive path.  Later, she promised herself, soon.
 "Vincent, you must believe me.  You didn’t hurt me then...just like you didn’t hurt me on Saturday."
 He was utterly still before her now, his eyes stark with trepidation.  She felt a sudden probing through the bond, strong and clear.  She had felt this often during the last five weeks, but it was usually subtle and distant, a gentle searching which blended almost seamlessly with the smooth currents of their bond.  But there was nothing subtle about this touch.  When he spoke, his voice was quivering and hoarse, the fear so clear in his eyes now present there as well.
 "Saturday?  It happened again while we were Below, in the way-station?"
 "Yes.  I had a terrible nightmare.  I don’t remember the details now, but it was awful.  I woke up -- thank god you were there!  You were so cold.  I held you close to keep you warm."
 Catherine leaned back into him as she had a minute before, her hands mimicking the actions her words described, rubbing them along his arms and shoulders, trying to ease the trembling which had returned.  "I was so afraid for you, but at the same time, somehow I knew that everything would be all right, for both of us.  I remember thinking how odd that certainty was, wondering where it came from.  It must have been the bond, Vincent -- what else could it have been?  You didn’t wake up until much later, and when you did...  Well, you remember -- we were both fine, despite our ordeal in the river.  I felt wonderful, and you did too, didn’t you?"  She pulled back far enough to see his eyes, and he couldn’t lie to her, his voice husky and low.
 "Yes.  I was surprised.  You were so cold when I got you back to the way-station.  I knew I should try to get help, but I couldn’t."
 "Even if you had been capable of it, would you have left me for the hours it would have taken to reach the nearest pipes and return?"
 "No.  I wouldn’t have left you."  Vincent took a deep breath.  "I need to know what I did, Catherine."
 She stared deep into his eyes for a long minute before answering.  "You made me feel wonderful, Vincent, wonderful."
 He felt the shiver that vibrated through her then, felt the truth of her words.  But it wasn’t enough.  He was still so uncertain of the very thought of these things in his life at all, much less the unconscious sharing of them with the woman he loved.
 "Tell me, Catherine.  I must know."
 She leaned back in to hold him tight, her face buried against the pulsing length of his throat.  She didn’t know how to tell him this, and finally simply said the words.  "We made love, Vincent."
 His arms tightened about her reflexively, the shaking there dramatic now in its strength and intensity and completely at odds with the weakness of his spoken response.  "No...no..."
 The words were a barely audible murmur, and somehow that was more frightening to her than anything else he could have done.  She tightened her hold upon him, and at that sensation he pulled away and began to pace about the room.  He wasn’t looking at her at all now, his gaze directed inward, his path about the chamber instinctive, following the worn carpet pattern she had noticed so long ago.  His lips moved soundlessly, and she knew he spoke only that single word, over and over again.
 "Vincent...please, Vincent."  She had to try at least three times before he responded.  Even then she wasn’t sure if it had been her own voice or the one in his head he heeded.  He leaned against the rock wall, his back to her.  His muscles flexed in a massive display of power as he pushed against the stone with all his might, the tension filling him so immense it could be felt in her own muscles, in the tips of her fingers and the palms of her hands, the rock cold and hard and strong beneath her.  She was pulled deep within the bond until she was lost in it, his sensations hers.  She felt it all then; the roiling, chaotic energy, the power just on the edge of an explosive release; fear, desire and dread all building in him to an incendiary level.  Finally that energy burst forth and a rushing roar filled the chamber.  She felt it in her chest and throat and deep within the center of her body.  The powerful vibrations thundered through her, the release almost sexual in its savage intensity.  She quivered as the fierce sensations pounded through her, then felt the easing of her muscles until, after some indefinable period of time, she once more found herself in his chamber.  Vincent was gone.

 Vincent ran as fast as he could, his heart pounding until he thought it would burst.  Finally he reached the stairway along the Abyss.  The moaning and howling cries of the winds matched the chaos within him and he slumped down to sit against the hard stone, pressing his cheek against the coolness of the rock wall.  It drew his heat, and finally he felt himself returning once again to rational thought.
 How...how could such a thing have happened?!  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember...couldn’t remember any of it.  That thought tore at him, ate at him like a cancer.  There were other memories though, memories of them sharing their emotions through the bond these last few weeks, the sensations both poignantly sweet and excruciatingly exquisite in the pleasure that had come for them both.  Hard upon those memories came another; that of the bond drawing him to her while they were separated by miles of rock.  Those emotions had been feverish and intense and completely out of their control.  But he couldn’t deny the pleasure he had felt then.  Admitting that Catherine had felt it as well had taken considerably longer, so resistant was he to the notion that she could possibly want him in that extreme state of need.  They had experienced that particular sensation twice; one month ago, and again last Friday at the way-station.  Friday...  Oh god!
 He had fully intended to stay down here until she left, certain he couldn’t discuss this with her, not yet.  But now...now another thought consumed him entirely.  He jumped up and raced back towards the hub, back to his chamber...back to Catherine.

 Catherine sat where he had left her, in his large chair by the circular table.  Her arms were folded on the table and her head rested upon them, the bond so still in her he was sure she was asleep.  He padded silently to her side and sat once more in the empty chair there.  He was frantic, wondering what he should do next, when her voice surprised him.
 "You came back."  She straightened and their eyes met, his full of trepidation and anxiety, hers with love and sympathy.
 "Yes."  That short, whispered response was all he could manage.
 "I’m glad."  Catherine leaned towards him slowly then, as if trying not to frighten him with too abrupt a movement, until she rested against the massive expanse of his chest, his muscles taut and shaking uncontrollably beneath her.  She stroked that broad width tenderly, gentling him away from his fear as much as possible.  The trembling eased somewhat, but could not be banished.  Finally he spoke.
 "You have to tell me the truth, Catherine.  Did I hurt you?"
 Her arms tightened about him, and he felt her sorrow through the bond.
 "What can I say that will convince you, Vincent?  I’ve told you over and over again that you didn’t hurt me, and you must be able to see it for yourself, to feel for yourself that it’s true."
 A ragged groan escaped him and he buried his face against the silkiness of her hair, seeking refuge there.  "I can’t remember what happened.  There’s nothing...nothing.  How can I trust what I feel over the bond now?"
 "Then trust me, Vincent.  I know I kept this from you, I felt I had to.  But I would never lie to you about it."
 There was a stillness in him that was difficult to interpret.  After a long pause, he finally spoke.  "Then tell me, Catherine, what was it like."
 "What was it like?  What do you mean?"
 Vincent was silent for a moment, and when he finally answered, his voice was shaking and hoarse.  "Were there any...similarities...to what we’ve experienced through the bond during the last few weeks?"
 "Yes, the sensations are very similar.  Why?"
 "Was it like that second time, here in my chamber, when you stood before Kristopher’s painting waiting for me to return from my class?  Or was it like this last Friday, the day before you came Below to meet me at the way-station?"
 She heard the trembling in his voice and knew immediately where he was going with those questions.  The connection had become clear to him, though she still didn’t think he suspected her knowledge of this secret he kept.  She had told him she wouldn’t lie to him, and she couldn’t now.  "It was like Friday."
 She felt his immediate response ripple through the muscles beneath her, felt the bond fill with his fear.  The probing was back, even stronger than before.  She opened herself to him completely, letting him feel every nuance of the sensations filling her at the memory of that night.  Finally he left the bond and pushed her back from him, their eyes meeting instantly in deep communication.
 "Catherine, I have to tell you something."
 "I’m listening."
 "Six weeks ago we spoke of the bond, of my sense of you through it.  Do you remember?"
 She nodded but did not speak.
 "Ever since I found you, even during those first eight months while we were apart, there has been a pull through the bond leading me to you."  He drew in a deep breath, then continued.  "It’s always there, but it’s strongest one day each month.  I always go to the deeper work chambers below then, to protect you from it...from me."  He couldn’t go on, the thought of that instinctual response, so animalistic in nature, shaming him deeply.
 "I know, Vincent."  Her voice was quiet and steady, no condemnation there.
 His eyes rose to hers, stunned amazement filling them.  "You know?"
 "Yes.  I began to think about it after our talk.  When I went Above I checked my calendar back several months and found that connection.  You went to work on level F just over a month ago, and though the work was already finished, you went back again last Thursday.  I knew why.  Please believe me, Vincent, I would never have gone to meet you if I didn’t think it was safe.  Mouse said you had sent word that you were on your way up, and the night before...  Well, after that happened...I thought we were safe."  She smiled tremulously up at him, trying desperately to ease the panic she so clearly felt building there.
 "You know."  Vincent repeated the words he’d said a moment before, a glazed look in his eyes.
 Catherine rubbed her hands soothing along his arms, trying to break the spell which enclosed him now.  "It’s all right, my love...it is."
 Her words drew him back, his gaze focusing upon her, his voice sharp and hard.  "No, it’s not all right.  That I could do such a thing at all much less then, during that time...  Never again, Catherine, never again.  When I think of the risk...what might have happened..."
 He couldn’t finish that thought, and Catherine realized with a sinking heart that though he had definitely seen that connection, he hadn’t considered it seriously, so impossible an occurrence did it seem to him.  She left the chair to stand before Kristopher’s painting and trepidation filled her, heavy and dark.  How could she tell him this now?  How would he react?  She felt fear pushing aside all else, her heart suddenly racing uncontrollably, her breath panting and harsh.  Her eyes widened in shocked surprise, the sensations not at all what had been there a moment before.  Vincent...it had to be Vincent.
 She turned around and found that it was true.  He stood behind her, every muscle trembling with fear.  Even now, though, she knew his fear was not for the news she bore, but in misinterpretation of her response to his words.  She walked up to him, her eyes never leaving his, and held his arms tightly.  "I love you, Vincent, that will never change.  I know how hard it is for you to accept everything I’ve told you today and I know how unfair it was of me to make you hear so much, so soon.  But I couldn’t keep this from you, not now."
 Vincent had pulled away from her at her first words and was once again pacing furiously.  When he next spoke, his words were cold and final.  "It’s no use.  I won’t allow it.  I can’t.  You must forget all that has happened during the last six weeks and accept what we had before.  That’s all I have to offer.  You must decide, Catherine."
 "I’m pregnant, Vincent."
 He spun around to face her, stunned disbelief and terror in his eyes.  "What?!"
 "I’m pregnant.  Peter ran the tests today."
 "No!"  He seemed frozen in place, the look upon his face unchanged.
 Catherine went to him and grasped his shoulders, shaking him with all her might.  "Yes.  It’s true."
 "It can’t be.  It can’t."
 "It can be, Vincent...it is."  Her eyes held his, the truth there within them.
 He stepped back from her and fell into the chair behind him, staring up at her blindly.  He didn’t see her.  Instead he saw himself as a child, his differences setting him apart more and more as he grew older, as first Devin left...then Lisa.  Sorrow overwhelmed him at that image; sorrow for the child he had been, for the man he had become.  His thoughts changed direction then, going abruptly back to a time he couldn’t really remember, but which held clear images for him nonetheless; images of an abandoned baby, wrapped in rags, left in the cold...the beginnings of his aloneness.  Why had his mother left him?  Had he been so terrible to look upon, even then?  Perhaps she hadn’t left him...perhaps it had been another, a relative or friend, disposing of an unwanted burden.  But his mother had let him go...or had she?  His thoughts strayed into darker territory then, an image before him of a frightened, fragile woman, screaming in the throes of an agonizing labor.  There was blood everywhere...everywhere.  When the pictures had played themselves out, he heard only a mewling cry from the small bundle on the floor.  The woman was silent...
 "No.  No!"  His voice rose to a keening wail, anguish torn from the very heart of their bond.  He went to her to pull her close, his grip almost painfully tight about her.  "I won’t let you go!  Never!"
 Catherine was truly frightened now, his emotional upheaval so extreme she didn’t know if he could withstand it.  Amazingly enough she had seen the visions of his tortured imagination, the bond opened fully between them during this traumatic time.  She focused all her strength towards sending him soothing waves of comfort over the bond, humming softly as she held him tight.  Finally she began to murmur words lowly, the sound eventually penetrating the tumultuous emotions surrounding him, their hold upon him loosening with the strength of her efforts.
 "I’m not going anywhere, I promise, Vincent.  I’m here my love, I’m here, and I won’t leave you."
 "Catherine...oh, Catherine."  The words were a bare whisper, naked in their grief and fear, his whole body trembling uncontrollably against her.
 She pushed him back onto the velvet padded chair and curled into his lap.  His arms enfolded her immediately, drawing her as close to him as possible.  "Shhh, Vincent.  I’m here...I’m here."
 A long time passed as they sat together, Catherine’s soothing words and tender touches bringing him back from the brink of that terrifying vision.  She felt his horror, his deepest fear that he would be the ultimate cause of her destruction.  But she knew -- knew it with a certainty that was unquestionable -- that those fears were only the tortured imaginings of his subconscious, a desperate attempt to enforce a distance between them that was fast disappearing.  But the emotions he felt now were true, even if the events he saw were not.
 "It’s not real, Vincent, it isn’t.  We’ll be together the whole time, and Father and Peter will be taking care of me.  They’ll make sure that nothing happens.  You’ll see, Vincent.  It will be all right."
 "How?  How can it be all right?"  The words were pulled from the depth of his soul, anguish and fear twisting through him like a knife, the pain reflected directly to her through the open connection of their bond.  "You’ll be Above.  Your work..."
 Vincent didn’t continue, but the train of his thoughts was easy to follow.  It had been bad enough, before, living with the thought of what might happen to her there, Above, if he couldn’t reach her.  Now...now there was a child...his child.  But he couldn’t approach those words, could barely even think of them, without veering off on a tangent, so unbelievable were they to him.  He hadn’t yet accepted the fact that they had made love, much less that it had resulted in this...  No, impossible.  It couldn’t be, it simply couldn’t be.
 She felt the twisted reason his logic took, and knew that neither his understanding nor acceptance would come easily.  She sighed and held him tight, for the moment concentrating fully on sending calming thoughts through the bond, her touch warm and real along his length.  She pressed her lips against his neck, warming him with a kiss that had been aching within her since the start of this difficult discussion.  The release of that one started a flood of others, and she found herself unable to stop.  She moved upward along the pulsing length of his throat, kissing his trembling flesh with a feverish intensity, desperate to let him know of her love, of her constant commitment to him.  When she reached his chin, she felt him grow still beneath her.  Finally she touched her lips to his in a warm, soft kiss.
 She held still against him, their lips barely touching, until she felt a shuddering gasp from him, then his arms pulled her close and his mouth sought hers with an urgency that would not be denied.  He kissed her with all the passion of his being and she felt the bond flooding with the tumultuous emotions which had held him prisoner throughout this painful discussion.  As quickly as they appeared, she felt them pushed aside, replaced with the love that was at the heart of their bond, everything else within it falling away in deference to its supreme presence.  She couldn’t stop her tears, his love overwhelming her entirely.  Even now, in the midst of his turmoil and fear, he couldn’t deny that love, no matter how hard he tried.
 He felt her tears and pulled away, astonishment plain in his eyes.  How had he gone from the terrors of a moment ago to this?  To this passionate embrace that required only one thing; Catherine, warm and willing in his arms.  Her tears drew him away from those other emotions, everything in him attuned to her well-being.  He cupped her silky cheek in his palm and brushed trembling fingers across her skin.  But her tears would not stop, and finally he leaned forward to kiss them away, the salty wet warmth of them irresistible to him.  As with a moment before, the realization of what he was doing overtook him suddenly and he pulled away once more, embarrassment and confusion written across his furrowed brow.
 She saw the conflicting needs in him, and the shame that resulted.  But she knew -- there was no conflict here, only the love that was impossible to deny, and just as impossible to withhold.  Neither of them was capable of that, though he wasn’t yet ready to accept such a thing.  Her hands came up to frame his face, holding his eyes with the steadiness of her own.  "I won’t be Above, Vincent.  I’ll be here, Below, with you."
 He froze for a long moment, then finally his face took on an expression of disbelief and doubt.  "Below?  You’re coming Below?"
 "Yes.  I gave Joe notice today.  I’m coming Below."
 His response was spoken without thought.  "No.  You can’t do that, Catherine.  You have a life Above, friends and a job you enjoy.  I can’t let you do it."
 Her face hardened at his words; he’d said them many times before, and she had always acceded to his wishes, but not this time.
 "I’m sorry, Vincent, but this isn’t your choice.  I know how the thought of having me here Below upsets you.  I know I’m making this difficult for you.  This has all happened so fast, and there’s no time to grow accustomed to it little by little.  But there’s more at stake now than your feelings, or mine.  There’s the child to consider...our child.  And I won’t do anything to jeopardize its well-being.  Unless the Council denies my request, I’m coming Below.
 His still silence was broken only by the sound of the words ‘our child’.  He was laid low by those words, stunned by the very concept they represented.
 "Catherine, it’s only been three days.  How could you know this so soon?  Are you sure?"  The words were pulled from him haltingly, tentatively implying an acceptance of at least part of what she’d told him today, that a consummation had indeed taken place, though he still couldn’t believe it was actually true.
 "At the way-station, after it happened, I realized there were some strong similarities to what we’d experienced through the bond the night before, and the month before that.  I had thought there was no longer a risk when I left to meet you, but afterwards...I thought I might be wrong.  So I went to see Peter today."
 Both blushed hotly at her words.  Though he had no memory of the event she insisted had occurred, he definitely remembered those bond episodes.  They had been fierce and strong, an instinctive power driving them on to complete their passion, and their bond.  He spoke quickly, anxious to move away from that image and the conflicting feelings it inspired in him.  "Peter knows that we...that I...?"  He couldn’t finish that thought.  The very idea that he might father a child was something he had never seriously considered in all his life.
 "Yes, he knows.  There’s more, Vincent.  Father knows, too."
 He hadn’t thought there was room in him for more anxiety and disbelief, but it seemed he had an endless supply, and everything she told him today drew those very emotions from him.  The agonizing fear was still there, but he was numb now, hearing her words as if through a filter.  His voice, when he spoke, was husky and weak.  "How?  When?"
 "Do you remember when I had that talk with Father, five weeks ago, the weekend we first discovered this new aspect of our bond?"
 He nodded wearily, not really certain of any of his memories now.
 "We discussed the possibility of that leading to something more.  The possibility that it might someday lead to a physical consummation."
 Vincent stared at her in astonishment.  He couldn’t believe that Catherine and Father had spoken of this, couldn’t believe that they were speaking of this.  Indeed, he found himself on the verge of cutting her off, as he had always done in the past, only to remember the event which made this discussion absolutely necessary now.  At the same time he was intensely aware that this topic, which still held such fear for him, was, in some strange sense, no longer the major issue in their relationship.  Though it was in no way yet resolved, somehow they had moved beyond it, straight to the deepest heart of his fears.
 "I knew that it would happen eventually, Vincent.  I’ve always known.  But you’ve never been willing to consider it much less discuss it.  Father knew that too.  He asked me to be responsible if it came to that, to make sure we were Below, and took precautions.  I promised him, Vincent, and on Saturday I broke both of those promises.  I told him when we returned to the hub, while you were in the bathing chamber.  I had to -- you didn’t remember any of it, and the timing left too great a possibility of conception.  He told Peter that night when he came for dinner, and made arrangements for me to see him in his office today.  I’m sorry, Vincent.  You should have been the first to know, the only one, at least for a while.  It’s what we deserved, but it wasn’t meant to be, not this time."
 His face wore a complex mix of emotions, each and every one plain to read.  He needed time to take it all in -- they needed time alone, together, she could see that clearly.  But that, too, wasn’t meant to be, at least not this evening.
 "Peter’s coming Below tonight, Vincent, so that the four of us can make our plans.  It’s seven-thirty, he’s probably here now.  He’ll also be bringing the results of my blood test."
 "Your blood test?"  His eyes focused on her sharply, his attention turned away from his internal thoughts completely now.  "What is that test for, Catherine?"
 "It’s to confirm the pregnancy.  The urine test was positive, but that’s less conclusive than the blood analysis, especially this early on."
 "So it’s possible you’re not pregnant?"
 He spoke those words with a quiet intensity and she felt her heart skip a beat in sorrow that he needed to grasp at this, the fear of that other future too much for him, despite all its glorious possibilities.  But she understood and was determined to help him see those possibilities, no matter how long it took.  "It is possible, but I don’t think so.  I don’t know how or why, but I’m sure I’m pregnant.  If you feel up to it, we could go see Peter and Father now.  They’re probably in Father’s study."
 Vincent swallowed hard, his face a study in contrasts.  Finally he nodded.  "Yes.  We need to talk to them."
 He held her hand tightly, his own trembling, as they left his chamber.

 Father and Peter didn’t notice their arrival a few minutes later, so deep in discussion were they, several texts laid open before them.  Both Catherine and Vincent studied them closely as they descended the stairs.
 Peter glanced up as they approached.  "Catherine, Vincent!"
 Jacob started in surprise, his gaze pulled from the journal he was scrutinizing.  Vincent walked to his side and looked down at the article’s title: ‘First Trimester Miscarriages; Cause, Effect and Prevention’, and turned pale, his hand reaching out to grasp the edge of the table.
 Jacob jumped to his feet to steady him.  "Sit down, Vincent."  He eased him into a chair, poured out a glass of water and pressed it into his hand.
 Vincent drank it all thirstily, beads of sweat now peppering his brow.  When he looked up, he found the other three watching him closely.  He felt Catherine’s concern through the bond, and something more, something she was trying to keep hidden from him.  But the dizzying happiness he felt from her now couldn’t be suppressed, try as she might, and he stared at her in amazement, stunned that the dread and fear filling him should be so notably absent in her, despite all her assurances in his chamber during the last hour.
 "It’s true."  The words were a barely audible whisper, and his eyes never left hers.
 She nodded, her happiness tinged with sympathy for him, for the inevitable anxiety this would cause him.
 Father spoke then, finally drawing Vincent’s gaze away from Catherine.  "Yes, it’s true.  Do you feel up to discussing this now, Vincent?"
 He couldn’t answer, instead only nodding.
 Jacob finally turned his attention to Catherine, his hand reaching for hers across the table.  "Are you all right, my dear?"
 "I’m fine, Father."
 "I’ll get the tea."  Peter rose from his chair to pour out two cups from the pot on Father’s desk.  He set them before Vincent and Catherine, and let his hands rested comfortingly upon both their shoulders for a moment before he left them to take his seat again.  "As Father said, it does look like you’re pregnant, Catherine.  The blood test is almost never wrong, and in conjunction with the urine test, and given the timing...  Well, it’s pretty conclusive."
 "Peter’s right.  Despite the early stages of this pregnancy, I think we should begin to make our plans now.  Does everyone agree?"  Father glanced around the table for their response.  Peter and Catherine nodded, and Vincent wore a glazed expression on his face from which Father read no dissent.
 "Peter and I have been discussing this while we waited for you.  We really don’t know what to expect from this pregnancy -- we’ll simply have to treat it as a special case and watch closely for any signs of deviation.  A physical this early wouldn’t tell us much, but in a few weeks we may be able to guess at the gestation period and perhaps set a due date.  Both Peter and I will want to keep a close watch on you throughout the full term, and we’ll need to decide on the hospital facilities for delivery."
 Catherine broke in quickly then.  "Here, Father.  I want to have this child Below, surrounded by my family.  I need to have Vincent with me."
 She turned her gaze upon him once more and his breath caught in his throat at the luminous light there, her love for him plain for all to see.
 Jacob considered her words for a moment, then turned to his old friend.  "What do you think, Peter?  We may need special equipment I don’t have down here."
 "I can probably get what we need.  And we can always reconsider that decision if it looks like there might be a problem.  I think we can agree to handling it Below, at least for the time being."
 "Good.  Now, Catherine, about your work..."
 "I’ve already given notice, Father.  I have this week off completely, then I’ll work half days for two or three weeks -- but only on clerical details.  I won’t be doing any more investigative field work, period.  Joe’s agreed to everything."
 "Thank god.  Peter and I will want to see you frequently."  He paused momentarily before going on.  "I am worried about your being up in that apartment alone..."
 "I want to come Below.  Will the Council agree to it?"  She studiously avoided Vincent’s face as she said that, though both Father and Peter glanced in his direction with surprise.
 "Of course.  A Helper’s request to move Below is never turned down unless there are extremely extenuating circumstances.  Nobody would deny your petition, Catherine.  Everyone down here already thinks of you as one of us as it is.  I have to tell you I’m glad you’ve made that decision; I’ll rest much easier having you here where I can keep an eye on you.  When?"
 "Could I do it this week?  It would be the perfect time, since I have it off anyway.  I could move some boxes to the subbasement as if I meant to store them there.  They could easily be transferred from there to the tunnels."
 "Good.  But I don’t want you doing any lifting right now.  Vincent can help you at night, of course, and perhaps Jamie and Mouse might be pressed into service for a few hours during the day.  We don’t want to draw undue attention with too much activity though.  How long do you think it might take?"
 "Not long at all.  I don’t intend to bring much with me.  Two or three trips should do it."
 "Perfect.  Then we’ll plan it for later in the week."
 "Speaking of lifting, Cathy", Peter said, "we should talk about the do’s and don’ts for the first trimester."
 Vincent had been totally silent up to this point, but he leaned forward to listen intently at those words.
 "The chance for a miscarriage is always at its highest during the first trimester.  For safety’s sake, we should assume that’s doubly true for this pregnancy, and until we know different, we’ll assume that’s the next three months.  Many years ago Jacob and I devised a special diet to handle all the pregnancies Below, and unless later tests indicate other needs, that should be fine for now, don’t you agree, Jacob?"
 "Yes.  I’ll speak to William right away.  Between Mary and William, you’re in for quite a bit of pampering, Catherine.  Of course, perhaps you’ll want to tell them yourself?  That’s another issue.  How do you want to make this announcement?"  He looked enquiringly at the pair before him.
 Catherine turned to Vincent and saw his hesitation.  "We’ll decide that later, Father.  William’s diet can wait for a day or two can’t it?"
 "Yes, of course, but the sooner the better."
 Peter brought them back to the issue at hand.  "As far as exercise and work go, no heavy lifting or anything strenuous, although a little walking each day would probably be okay, and even desirable as you move into the second trimester.  Since you’ll be working part-time for the next few weeks, you’ll need to walk from here to your apartment and back each day.  That’s only fifteen minutes each way, and it should be all right, but let us know if you feel anything out of the ordinary.  That brings us to the issue of sex."
 Catherine felt a flash of heat over the bond and glanced quickly in Vincent’s direction.  She couldn’t discern anything in his expression or coloring -- he was still quite pale -- but she was positive it had come from him, though she knew a blush tinged her own features now.
 "Normally that’s not a problem this early on, but under the circumstances I’d advise caution for now.  It would be best to wait until we’re sure the embryo is securely anchored to the uterine wall -- vaginal contractions might disturb that process.  You don’t want to take any chances at this point.  When we do the first physical exam in a couple of weeks, we can give you a better idea if everything is stable.  Of course there will be a point, as the pregnancy progresses into its advanced stages, when you’ll definitely want to abstain, but we can deal with that later, once we’ve learned a little more."
 Jacob looked extremely uncomfortable, but finally spoke up.  "Along that vein, there’s something else we should discuss.  The bond."
 Vincent still looked dazed, but Catherine nodded in agreement.  Peter, however, looked thoroughly confused.
 "I don’t understand.  What does their bond have to do with it, Jacob?"
 Jacob paused for a moment, trying to formulate a concise answer for such a complex issue, but Vincent spoke instead, and all eyes turned to him in surprise at the breaking of his silence.
 "The bond is a conduit for emotion, Peter.  I always feel Catherine’s presence, usually on a low level, unless she’s in danger.  But there are other times...when there’s no danger.  Stronger emotions can be generated then, too, when we’re together...and sometimes when we’re apart."  Here he hesitated, uncertain of how to continue.
 Peter immediately caught the direction he was going and jumped in, astonishment in his voice.  "Do you mean the kind of intense emotions you experience when you’re making love?"
 Catherine answered quickly, Vincent’s still silence significant to her and Father both, but unnoticed by Peter.  "Yes, just like that."
 "That’s amazing!  Well..."  He mused for a moment, deep in thought, before speaking again.  "Are these sensations restricted to the bond? Is your response purely emotional or is there some physical component to it?"
 "It’s both", Catherine said, "and as far as I can tell, there’s no way to separate the two."
 "And the physical response...is it intense?"
 "Very."
 She was definitely blushing now, as was Vincent, though his features retained the stoic cast worn since the start of this discussion.
 "Hmm...  I don’t know what to say.  If the response is the same, you should try to avoid it, at least for now.  Is that possible?"
 Vincent felt Catherine’s growing discomfort, and, disregarding his own, directed the attention away from her with his softly spoken reply.  "We don’t know, Peter.  It will be difficult.  It takes so little, and with Catherine here, Below..."  He didn’t finish that sentence, a dark blush staining his cheeks.
 Father finally cleared his throat and added a thought.  "Perhaps this won’t be an issue.  From what you’ve told me, the bond is tied to both of you on an extremely deep level.  It’s possible that particular aspect of it will be ‘turned off’, for lack of a better phrase, until the danger is past.  In the meantime, you’ll just have to do what you can to minimize its effect."
 Catherine and Vincent nodded in response.
 "Well then...  I can’t think of anything else at this time, can you, Peter?"
 "No.  We should set a date for Catherine’s physical though.  How about two weeks from this coming Saturday?  That will be three weeks from conception, and we might be able to learn something then, though probably not much."
 "Yes, that will be fine.  Catherine?"
 "I’ll be here."  She spoke lightly, and everyone except Vincent laughed in response.
 "If we’re through here, Father, we’ll excuse ourselves.  Catherine hasn’t eaten yet this evening."
 "Of course, of course.  Perhaps you should take a tray to your chamber.  You look tired, Catherine.  You should rest as much as possible now."
 "I am a little tired."  She stood up and kissed Peter’s cheek.  "Thank you for coming, Peter."
 He teased her lightly in reply.  "Are you kidding?  I wouldn’t be anywhere else.  Go eat, and then get some sleep."
 They were barely out the door before Jacob and Peter were once again deep in conversation about what they might encounter over the next few months.

*   *   *

 Vincent and Catherine ate in his chamber, their meal relatively silent.  Vincent only picked at his food, and when he spoke it was usually to urge her to have a little more.  Catherine watched him closely, trying to gauge his thoughts, the bond now silent.  She suspected the numbness evident in his expression was filling him as well, the bond a perfect reflection of that.  The silence wasn’t uncomfortable to her, though -- she knew he needed some time to assimilate everything disclosed to him this day and suspected that acceptance might be a while in coming.  At least he hadn’t continued that argument against her moving Below.  She had actually been a little worried that he might raise that objection in Father’s and Peter’s presence.  But she knew, deep in her heart, that he would never humiliate her in that way, no matter how strong his feelings on that issue.
 When they were finished, Vincent stacked their plates upon the tray and left for the kitchen.  Catherine relaxed in her chair, warming her hands about a steaming mug of William’s herbal tea, the cozy glow of the candles surrounding her.  She let her mind drift luxuriously over the wondrous news learned this day, immersing herself completely in the endless joy it inspired in her.  Deep inside her she had always known this day would come, yet somehow she had never pictured it in the here and now.  And it was glorious.  All their dreams were coming true.  She was drawn from her blissful reverie by the tentative touch of his hand upon her shoulder.  Her eyes focused momentarily, only to become immediately lost again in the azure depths of his.  She sighed in contentment, the fantasy now complete.
 "You’re tired, Catherine.  Come, the guest chamber is ready."
 Upon hearing those words the magical aura surrounding her disappeared and cold, hard reality intruded once more.  She felt her heart plummet, but quickly controlled that reaction, not wanting to burden him further this day.  She swallowed the pitiful plea in her throat, and nodded wordlessly.  Before they left his chamber he went to his wardrobe and collected together the tunnel clothes kept for her there.  That sight almost undid her, but she managed to hold tight to her emotional control.
 A few minutes later they arrived at the spare room.  Candles lit the chamber with a cheery glow, but Catherine felt no welcome there.
 Vincent set her clothes upon the bird’s eye maple bureau, his hand stroking unconsciously along the soft fabric of the top-most gown for several minutes before turning back to her.  "Tomorrow we’ll look for some extra pieces of furniture for you.  There’s a desk in the B5 storage room, and several other pieces you might like."
 An awkward moment of silence followed while Catherine fought the flood of distress filling her.  He meant this to be her chamber -- not just for this night.  Soon, perhaps by tomorrow evening, everyone would know their news.  What would they think when they found out she wasn’t staying with him?  She blinked back tears, the tenuous hold on her emotions beginning to slip, but quickly regained control, keeping her deepest response from him.
 "Is there anything you need, Catherine?"
 You, Vincent...only you.  She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
 "I’ll say goodnight, then."  But he stood unmoving for yet another long moment.  Finally he turned and left her.

 When Vincent reached the side branch twenty yards from her chamber he rounded the corner and collapsed against the wall, his hand to his heart, his breath coming in harsh gasps.  Tears sprang to his eyes and fell unheeded.  He could no longer control the turmoil raging within him.  The numbing cloak he had pulled over his emotions just before they’d left for Father’s study was now in ragged tatters, gaping holes and jagged edges tearing at his heart with a fierce fury.  Oh, Catherine...Catherine!
 He pulled himself away from the cold wall and stumbled the remaining distance to his own chamber.  Once there he fell into the deep chair she had sat in for most of their talk this afternoon.  His heart was pounding frantically -- it felt as if it might burst through his chest at any minute.  Normally that intense level of anxiety would have set him pacing furiously, but a numbing weakness enclosed him, and he had no strength, not even for that.  He folded his arms upon the table and sank down to rest against them wearily, the events of the this day playing out again before him.  When he finally reached the here and now, he had no more answers than when he’d begun.  Six weeks ago they hadn’t even kissed, not really, and now...  How had this happened?!
 The emotions filling him were stark and cold; shock, disbelief, fear and grief.  When he thought on what could happen, what might be, the terror almost overwhelmed him entirely.  He had sent Catherine away, unable or unwilling to face her in this state, but what he needed most was her presence now.  He needed her love and her warmth to soothe the tumultuous vortex spinning within him.  He pushed those turbulent emotions aside, clearing a thin stream of the bond until he could feel her.  Her emotions were still and calm, so much so that he was certain she was asleep.  He wondered at that with amazement, positive he would find none himself this night.  But he had to see her now, sleeping or no, and left his chamber.
 When he arrived at the guest chamber he paused outside, taking several deep breaths before entering.  He stood frozen in the entryway at the sight of her within.  She wore one of the tunnel gowns he had brought from his wardrobe and slept in the large rocking chair, a knitted afghan wrapped loosely around her.
 For a split second, while he watched her, the image before him changed.  Suddenly she was awake, a blanketed bundle in her arms and at her breast.  She smiled down at the babe tenderly and nuzzled a kiss against its silky, golden curls.  The vision disappeared in an instant and Catherine sat once more sleeping before him.  He gasped at the lingering effect of that picture, Catherine’s happiness and joy undeniable.
 The child...  The vision was there and gone in an instant, and he had seen no more than the pale curls of the swaddled infant.  What if...  No.  He couldn’t dwell on that, not now, panic filling him in billowing waves at the thought of what might be.  He closed his eyes tightly and pressed against the solid wall of rock behind him, focusing all the control left at his command, little though it was.
 "Vincent?"
 His eyes flew open to find her awake and watching him.  Her eyes were full of love and sympathy; his pain was hers -- he knew it as surely as if she’d said the words.
 "Do you want to talk, Vincent?"
 He started to shake his head, but his words and tone belied that action.  "You’re tired, you should sleep."
 "I would rather talk with you, Vincent, you know that.  Stay.  Please."
 He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  He pulled a straight-backed chair from the small table, set it in front of hers and sat down gingerly, still unsure whether or not he could do this.  There was so much to say, so much to discuss, and yet he could find no words.  Catherine knew though, as she always did, what was in his heart.
 "I know how frightened you are, Vincent.  So much has happened, and so quickly -- there’s so much yet to be resolved in our relationship.  And I know you fear for me and for this child."
 His breath caught and a painful tightness enveloped his chest.  "If anything were ever to happen to you, Catherine...I couldn’t bear it.  I couldn’t go on.  This should never have been, the risk is too great."  Tears swam in his eyes, and his heart beat frantically, the vision of this afternoon suddenly clear in his mind once more.
 Catherine leaned toward him and his trembling hands met hers instantly, desperate for her soothing touch.  "The fault is mine, Vincent, mine."
 "No...no.  It was me.  I should never have allowed this closeness between us.  I should have guessed where it would lead, but I needed it...needed you so badly."
 "As I needed you.  I did know, and yet I welcomed it -- I still do.  I know your fears, but I don’t share them.  On the anniversary of my mother’s death, when I was so distraught, you came to me.  You said it was the weight of the secret I kept, the other life out there that I denied, the children waiting to be born that cast a shadow over my life.  Do you remember?"
 He nodded, remembering that evening clearly.
 "I kept it from you, but I knew, even then, that there was no other life for me, no other love.  I knew I would never have any man’s children but yours, I couldn’t."
 His hands tightened upon hers, his features grim.  "It’s too big a sacrifice.  You walk in two worlds now, at home in neither.  You’ve pushed your friends away to keep our secret, and denied yourself pleasures that would be yours for the asking...all because of me."
 "And I would do it all again, and more.  We all make choices in our lives, and you are mine -- irrevocable and final.  There is no pleasure greater for me than being with you.  Don’t you see?  It isn’t a sacrifice...it’s love."
 Her eyes pleaded with him to believe her words, but she could see clearly that some part of him still refused, that truth too much for him.  "Vincent, the course of our love has never been simple for either of us, but you’ve never left me, never denied your love for me, try as you might.  Why?"
 He would not meet her eyes.  "I couldn’t."
 "Why?"  She was relentless.
 Vincent heard the question behind her demand, knew that had he chosen that course early on there might at least have been the chance that she would someday find that other life, perhaps, eventually, accept some dim substitute.  He couldn’t speak them, but she heard the words as clearly as he, because they shared that same truth.
 "You couldn’t because there is no other choice for us, not any more.  You said it a moment ago; life would be unbearable for you without me.  Why do you find it so hard to accept that I feel the same way about you?  You are my life, Vincent.  I wish that these events had unfolded differently, that they held less pain for you...  I don’t know how much of our life is chosen and how much is destined, but I believe this; the path we’re on was meant to be.  I know there’s a risk, but I’m not afraid.  I want this so much.  It’s been so hard during this last year, keeping my dreams from you.  I don’t want to keep them from you any longer.  Please, Vincent, talk to me.  Tell me how you feel.  Tell me what you want."
 He stared at her, his heart pounding, his breath a harsh, panting gasp.  "You, Catherine, I want you.  But I’m so afraid.  If I should ever lose you because of this...  I can’t bear to think on it.  And this child.  What if...?"
 She nodded encouragingly and somehow he was able to go on.
 "What if it should look like me?"  His eyes looked so bleak then, pain and grief flooding them completely.  "I couldn’t stand to inflict my aloneness on an innocent child.  To be denied the sun, the world Above...  Oh, Catherine."
 He leaned his head upon their clasped hands where they rested upon his knees and she could feel his hot tears.  She slipped one hand from beneath his cheek and stroked the silky hair along his temple.  "This child will never be alone, Vincent.  Our baby will have a loving father and mother and a whole community, a family waiting to welcome it with affection and care.  I know that if this child looks like you there will be restrictions on its life, but who, Above or Below, lives without restrictions?"
 She paused then, uncertain whether or not to reveal the secret she had always held so close, her desire for a child in his image.  Finally she decided against it -- it was too much, too soon.  Perhaps later, when he was better able to face those possibilities.
 "I don’t know what it will look like, Vincent, but I do know this; I will love this child with all my heart.  Nothing could ever change that, nothing."
 His shoulders shook as the tears flowed freely now.  He slid to his knees before her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his face buried in the soft curve of her belly.  Her arms enclosed him, and one hand rubbed against his back in small circles until the shaking there eased.  He drew in several deep, ragged breaths and sat back, brushing away the last remnants of his tears.  They sat silently for a moment while he gathered his composure about him, and she knew this talk was, for this evening at least, finished.  His next words confirmed that.
 "You need your sleep, Catherine.  You should be in bed."  He rose to turn back the comforter and sheets upon the bed, but her soft voice stopped him.
 "Please, Vincent, couldn’t I stay with you?"
 He paused, a flush rising in his face.  Catherine knew the source of that hesitation.  She was certain that the issue of a physical relationship between them would perhaps be an even more difficult topic to broach again given the course things had taken today.
 "I don’t think that would be wise, Catherine.  You heard what Peter and Father said. What if something were to happen...?"  He couldn’t finish that thought, embarrassment and shame filling him at the thought of that forgotten consummation, and the consequences resulting from it.
 "You were ill, Vincent, almost unconscious.  That wouldn’t happen now."
 "I wasn’t ill the other time."
 There was anger in his voice and she knew it was directed at himself.
 "I could have woken you.  And besides, I told you what happened then -- there was no danger."
 "There is a danger now, though, and any risk is too great."
 "Please, Vincent."
 Her plea was a husky whisper, the intensity of it surprising him.  There was something else there, something besides a simple desire to be with him, something he was missing.  "What is it, Catherine?  Tell me."
 She stared up at him and tears sparkled in her eyes.  Her answer, when it came, was barely audible.  "Everyone will know soon.  What will they think when they see me Below...apart from you?"
 Her words caught at the end, and Vincent was taken aback at the image they inspired.  He hadn’t thought of that, but now...  He could easily see the confused reactions of Mary and William and the others.  They would respond with loving sympathy, but their pity would be plain.  He couldn’t subject her to that...he wouldn’t.  His decision was made in an instant.  He turned back to the bed to smooth the covers then made a circle about the room, extinguishing all but one small candle.  He stopped at the bureau to gather up the stack of clothes there and returned to Catherine’s side, his hand held out to hers.  She sighed with relief and took his hand.
 The short walk back to his chamber was a silent one.  The decision he had made in no way altered his state of anxiety; in fact, it increased it considerably.  At the same time there was a small part of himself, deep within, shouting out his happiness that she would be by his side here Below.  He could hardly believe it.
 Once in his chamber he stood for a moment staring about him as if seeing that space for the first time.  Finally he turned to his wardrobe, busying himself with the replacement of Catherine’s clothes in the top drawer.  It took an inordinate amount of time, and when he was finished he found Catherine snuggled under the covers, the picture of her there a replicate of what had been just two nights ago, when they had returned from the way-station.  That recollection actually brought him some sense of relief; nothing untoward had happened that night, he was quite certain of that.  Her words shook him from that reverie, though his disorientation persisted -- they were the same ones she had used on Sunday night.
 "Come to bed, Vincent."  Her voice was relaxed and mellow, sleep taking hold of her easily now that she was here, with him.
 He had been thinking about the possibility of moving a cot in here for his use, thereby satisfying both their concerns, but there was really no room.  And he could clearly see that Catherine assumed the agreement to share his chamber extended to his bed as well.  He sighed raggedly, unable to think rationally -- that skill seemed to have deserted him some hours before.  One thought rang through pure and strong though; he needed her close, despite his fears, especially tonight.  His response came out a low, husky whisper.  "In a minute, Catherine."
 He turned back to the top drawer to collect his sleepclothes, choosing a long thermal shirt and soft sweatpants over the thinner, less secure nightshirts he frequently wore.  He paused for a moment, staring about the room dazedly, then left for the bathing chamber he shared with Father.  A few minutes later he returned, a warm tunnel robe belted tightly about his waist.  Unlike Sunday evening, however, this night he left it on as he slipped beneath the covers.
 Catherine appeared to be asleep, but as the mattress sank under his weight, her hand reached out to him, almost unconsciously.  He met it with his own, and she sighed contentedly.
 Vincent stayed awake for as long as he could, keeping a vigilant watch over her, but though he had thought he was incapable of sleep this night, he suddenly felt fatigue stealing over him in relentless waves.  Finally he gave in to it and joined Catherine in deep, still slumber.

*   *   *

 When Vincent next woke it was morning.  He could remember nothing of the night; no dreams, nothing.  Catherine slept beside him, her hand still tucked in his, as it had been when he’d fallen asleep.  He tuned his senses strongly within and without, and a moment later sighed in relief, certain nothing had happened as they’d slept.  He felt well rested, and much abler to face the issues of yesterday.  Panic and fear still lurked within, but they were better contained now, and he felt his emotions once more under his considerable control.
 He watched Catherine as she slept, noting the peaceful line of her brow and the smooth flow of the bond between them.  None of the turbulent emotions he still felt over these issues seemed present in her -- not at all.  How could she have accepted this situation, and all it implied, so easily...so effortlessly?  He didn’t have time to dwell on that question.
 She began to stir, drawn from slumber by his scrutiny, the bond reflecting his stunned amazement to her clearly.  His deep blue eyes were the first thing Catherine saw, and she sighed blissfully.  "Good morning, Vincent."
 "How do you feel, Catherine?"
 "Wonderful."  She paused for a moment, a wry smile in her eyes which suddenly found voice.  "Hungry."
 A shy smile was irresistibly drawn from him at her words.  "Stay here.  I’ll bring a tray in."
 "All right."  She didn’t argue at all, instead snuggling deep within the covers, the bond humming softly with her drowsy contentment.
 Vincent found himself unable to move for a few minutes though, his eyes gazing into her serene depths to draw some measure of that peace within himself.  Finally he blinked hazily and slipped from the bed, drew his boots and cloak on and left for William’s kitchen.
 He returned shortly with a loaded tray and paused in the entryway, the sight of Catherine in his bed stunning him anew.  She scooted over, making room for him, and he set the tray upon the covers, discarded his boots and cloak and settled down across from her.  She handed him a cup of tea, and he sipped the soothing brew, letting it ease the turmoil that still simmered within him.  He suspected he might just have to learn to live with it as it showed no signs of dissipating.
 "Vincent, we need to talk about how we’re going to announce this to everyone.  How is it commonly done?"
 He hesitated for a moment, attempting to put some order to the confusion her words had immediately inspired.  When he finally answered, his voice was husky and so soft she could barely hear him.  "Usually the announcement is made at a community gathering, though sometimes word is simply sent out over the pipes."
 "Do you have a preference?  How would you like to handle it, and when?"
 Once again he paused, his face tilted down and hidden by the lush fall of his hair.  Finally, hesitantly, he answered.  "The weekly Council meeting is tonight, Catherine.  Though Father is correct in saying no one will deny you the right to move Below, you must still petition formally before them.  When you make your request, the Council will ask what your reasons are for wishing to make this move."  He didn’t go on, a tinge of red showing in his cheeks.
 Suddenly she knew this was what he would choose.  To make this announcement in front of the whole community, with it yet so new and disturbing, would be difficult and uncomfortable for him.  At the same time, she suspected he disliked the informality of using the pipes alone for such a momentous occasion as much as she did.  "That’s perfect, Vincent.  I need to go before the Council anyway, and we shouldn’t wait, since I’m going to begin moving things down this week.  I’d like to do it this evening, if you’ll agree."
 He nodded shyly, at that moment, and for some time after, unable to speak.

*   *   *

 "Does anyone have any new business?"
 The minutes had been read from the last meeting and the old news disposed of -- the Council followed Robert’s Rules of Order, though fairly loosely, often to Father’s dismay.  Still, this evening’s weekly meeting had gone smoothly enough, with very little on their plate for discussion, and nothing really new, until now.  Jacob looked toward Catherine and Vincent expectantly, and she rose from her chair, indicating her desire to speak.  Vincent had stood behind her throughout the meeting, his left hand resting upon her shoulder in what the others must have found an unusual public display of affection.  His hand remained there comfortingly, though Jacob could discern the anxiety behind his son’s calm exterior.
 "I do, Father."
 "The floor recognizes Catherine."  He nodded encouragingly towards her, knowing the words she would speak next, since he’d coached her on them earlier this day.
 "I request sanctuary from the Council, Father.  I want to move Below."
 A stunned moment of silence greeting this totally unexpected announcement.
 To everyone’s amazement, and with the dignity required of this ceremony, Jacob gave the formalized response: "Sanctuary Below is never lightly sought nor lightly granted."  Here he paused for a moment, to give the words the significance they deserved.  "However, your status as a valued Helper is well known and acknowledged by this body; it will carry great weight in our decision.  Still, with this petition, as with all others, we ask to know your reasons.  Why do you wish to come Below?"
 Catherine took a deep breath and reached back with her right hand until it was enclosed by Vincent’s.  "I wish to come Below to be with Vincent, so that we can make a home together for our child."
 The stunned stillness of a moment before persisted for several seconds, then the room erupted in pandemonium.  It took Jacob at least five minutes to regain some semblance of order.  When he was finally able to make himself heard, he addressed his words to the Council members standing about the chamber.  "A request has been made for sanctuary.  Does anyone have anything to add, either in support or opposition?"
 He paused, but no one stepped forward.
 "Very well.  If you have made your decision, please so signify."
 As one, the Council turned to face the trembling pair, smiles of joy, and not a few tears, on the faces of one and all.
 Father paused as Catherine and Vincent took in that unanimous response, then gave voice to what was readily apparent to all.  "Your petition is granted, Catherine.  Welcome."
 With that benign blessing still echoing about the chamber, the others surged forward, welcomes and congratulations ringing about the room with unabashed delight.  Pascal pulled Vincent aside and whispered in his ear.  Vincent blushed and nodded, a dazed look upon his face.  A moment later the pipes rang out the joyful news.  Within minutes Father’s study was teeming with people, and William excused himself to round up some tea and a little snack -- a party was definitely in the making.
 Not even Vincent could question the response of his tunnel family to this news -- their happiness and joy was plain for all to see.  He was looking about him with stunned disbelief when he felt the tug of Catherine’s hand -- he still held it clenched tight within his own.  Dizzying noise filled the room, but he heard her softly whispered words clearly.
 "Our happy life is beginning, Vincent.  You’ll see.  All our dreams will come true, my love, soon...soon."
 Their gazes locked and held, and he slowly reached to cup her cheek in his warm palm.  He leaned toward her, drawn by some irresistible force, until their lips met in a soft kiss.  He finally pulled back, and the silence which had filled the chamber during that exquisite exchange suddenly disappeared in a boisterous cheer.
 Completely oblivious to the throngs surrounding them, Catherine leaned forward to whisper in his ear, the words meant for him and him alone: "I love you, Vincent."
 He trembled against her; the feel of her warm breath and husky tones giving voice to those words was something he would never experience without a blissful, stunned amazement.  His palm still stroked along the silky curve of her cheek and his other hand released hers to gently circle her waist, drawing her into a close hug.  He nuzzled beneath her hair and found the soft shell of her ear, the aching within him easing slightly as he breathed the words she had been waiting so desperately to hear since coming Below yesterday.  "I love you, Catherine.  I love you."
 The world disappeared and for that small moment they were completely alone, their bond surrounding them with the perfect love that waited always...waited for them to reach out and claim what was theirs...forever.
 
 

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