Chapter Three

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Vincent and Catherine had taken over three hours to walk to the river region of the tunnels the day before, but their pace then had been lazy and meandering. Kanin and the others had reached them in a little over two hours and Vincent was certain they had moved at an uncomfortably fast pace to make that time. Going back now, though, was another matter. They moved slowly and cautiously, ever conscious of the fragile burden they bore. It took almost five hours, though it seemed much longer to Catherine. The pain pill was indeed strong, and she sank quickly into a hazy stupor shortly upon leaving the way-station, but the inevitable bumps and jolts of their terrain jarred her back to a painful awareness of her surroundings all too frequently. But Vincent was always there, and she needed only to gaze into the blue depths of his eyes to once again regain her faltering sense of equilibrium and stability. After what seemed like an eternity, a new voice droned its way through her foggy haze.

"How is she, Vincent?"

Father. And he seemed worried too. Mmm...

Her thoughts floated along almost lazily, the pain a continual, but low sensation buried several layers down now. Catherine wished they were closer, wished she knew how he really felt about her. Was she still a thorn in his side, the unwanted intruder into his son’s life? Or was she more? Did he think anything of her, purely for herself? Strange how those thoughts flitted through her consciousness, even as she heard Father speaking above her and Vincent’s answering reply, his words reassuring, though he couldn’t hide the worry in his voice.

"I think it’s just the pills you sent, Father. I only gave her one, but she’s slept on and off throughout the trip back."

At that moment the soft light just barely visible through her closed lids became a little brighter, and she felt herself lowered to rest upon a soft surface, then was slid over and off of the stretcher. She blinked up hazily and Vincent was still there, standing beside the tall, padded table that was used for both minor and major surgical procedures below. One arm rested gently about her torso, the other hand stroked tenderly along the planes of her face.

"How do you feel, Catherine?"

"Okay. Sleepy."

Her glance slid from his to scan her surroundings, but his voice immediately drew her attention back to him.

"You’re in the hospital chamber. Father is washing his hands and will be here in just a moment. Mary’s here now."

Catherine felt a hand upon her shoulder and looked towards the other side of the bed, where Mary stood, and was immediately comforted by her maternal presence.

"Don’t worry, Catherine, everything will be all right. You’ll see."

At that instant Father appeared behind her and Mary moved out of the way. There was a worried frown on Jacob’s face, at war with the professional calm so habitual to him when he cared for his precious tunnel charges.

"I’m here, Catherine. How are you, my dear?"

"I’ll be all right."

"Yes, of course you will. Well, let’s take a look, shall we?"

Jacob reached to unwrap the blankets, but Vincent stopped him.

"Let me do that, Father."

Jacob nodded and Vincent carefully undid the tucked ends of the blankets and sheets, baring her torso. Catherine had automatically closed her eyes when he began that process, and she squeezed them shut even tighter when she heard the almost inaudible gasp from Father in response to his first view of her injury.

Jacob was indeed stunned at that sight. Vincent had sent a sketchy outline of the accident over the pipes, but he hadn’t expected anything of this magnitude. Despite the covering, the size of the dressing alone told him of the severity of that wound. He reached to undo the bandage, but once again Vincent was there first. Though he didn’t speak, his face was grim and set when their eyes met, and Father knew he would allow no one else to remove the long strips of tape, painful though that might be for them both.

"I’m going to take off the bandages now, Catherine. I’ll try to be gentle, but it may hurt a little."

Her eyes fluttered open and immediately locked to his, the pain in his voice drawing her irresistibly.

"Don’t worry, Vincent, it will be all right."

He couldn’t speak, his throat closed tight at her words of assurance, instead only nodding. He began at the cross-wise strip of tape near the bottom edge of her ribcage, placing his palm flat along her skin and easing the tape off slowly. It took several minutes, but he wouldn’t rush it, determined that this be as painless as he could possibly make it. She winced as she felt the stress translate along the length of the raw wound, but finally it was done. Vincent moved to the next piece that crossed the bandage just below her waist and repeated that same process. When that was done his right hand slid down until his palm rested over top of her dark curls. He froze for a moment as the memory of yesterday washed over him. There had been blood everywhere then, and those curls had been coated and stiff until he’d bathed her afterwards. Now they were silky and soft, and their touch beneath him was strangely comforting and reassuring. He pressed his palm and fingers down gently, putting pressure on the more sensitive skin of her lower belly before he began to remove the strip of tape there. He worked even slower here, but he could see that it did hurt, the muscles along her abdomen quivering in response. They both let out a long sigh when he was finished, but their relief was only temporary. Both glanced towards the soft tissue of her breast, knowing that this would be the most painful of all.

Catherine hadn’t watched at all until the last, but she couldn’t resist the sight of Vincent’s hand upon her breast, despite the conditions that brought about such an unlikely occurrence. He covered the top curve and nipple with his left hand, holding her gently but firmly to stretch the skin as taut as possible without stressing the cut itself. With his right hand he began to slowly loosen the cross-wise tape, coaxing if off at an excruciating slow pace. He moved his left hand as he worked, repositioning his thumb and forefinger to maximize the tension along her flesh, thus easing the pain as the sticky fabric was loosened from her tender skin.

It seemed to take forever before he finished with one side and began on the other. His left hand shifted yet again, and Catherine found the sensation of his palm moving across her nipple amazingly arousing. He bent over her, concentrating completely on his actions, unaware of how the silky strands of his hair caressed her skin. She held her breath and felt heat flare in her face, and kept her gaze resolutely turned down to spare him at least that, though she knew, from the sudden tremor of his hands, that he felt her response clearly through the bond. The trembling stopped almost immediately though, as soon as he began the tortuous process of removing the tape from the other side of her breast.

The pain began again, but this time Catherine distracted herself by consciously allowing her mind to focus instead on the strands of hair that soothed her, on his palm and fingers upon her, imagining them in an erotic caress of his own volition. She was lost in that fantasy completely and gasped in dismay when his hand left her. Regret twinged through her, and for a moment, just a moment, she almost thought that some of it might actually have come from Vincent. But no...

She was quite sure he wouldn’t allow anything of that nature to intrude upon his concentration during that difficult time, much as she might wish otherwise. The effect on her body, though, was impossible to miss. Despite the pain, she could not help but respond to him, her nipple tautly erect as his palm slipped away. A flush swept over her chest and up her throat, covering her face completely and she looked away, biting her lip with dismay.

A tremor quivered through her, and she knew it had come from their bond - from Vincent. He gave no outward sign, though he moved surreptitiously to stand between herself and Father, and she fervently hoped the sight of her body’s traitorous response - especially in light of the severity of her injury - was not seen by the stern patriarch. Mary, however, was another story. She stood on the other side of the table and couldn’t possibly have missed it, though for some reason that thought did not trouble Catherine much at all.

She found herself suddenly lost in those conflicting thoughts, a hazy pain overlaying all, and was only brought back to the room about her when she felt Vincent begin on the two long strips of tape that traversed the length of the wound, along either edge of the cloth bandage. The flush disappeared abruptly, her skin returning once again to the wan paleness of before. A clammy chill enveloped her and she shivered uncontrollably, until she felt the comforting touch of his hand upon her shoulder, calming her.

Through the bond he sensed her growing fatigue and decided to try to remove both remaining strips at the same time. There was only a half inch of tape covering her skin along either edge of the long bandage, and he hoped their removal would be a little easier than did the thick cross-wise pieces of tape. Once again he rested his right hand upon her soft curls, resolutely ignoring the sudden presence, and just as sudden suppression, of her response to that touch through the bond. He pressed down firmly on either side of the cut, holding her skin taut, then loosened both pieces of tape with his left hand. He pulled back on them and the cotton bandage together, moving his right hand upward to maintain pressure close to the leading edge of the dressing. As he had done while suturing the cut, he switched hand positions when he reached her breast, once again cupping her tenderly with his left hand while his right one finished removing the last of the outer dressing. This process went a little more quickly than did the cross pieces, but both breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he was finally done.

Catherine closed her eyes once again as Vincent removed the outer wraps, revealing the last of the bandage underneath; the rag strips that had been soaked in peroxide and water. They had dried out almost completely during the trip back, and Vincent tested them carefully, determining that they weren’t sticking to the wound before peeling those back also.

Finally the bandages were removed altogether and Vincent moved back slightly, giving Father his first unobstructed view of her injury. This time the older man controlled his response, swallowing the words on the tip of his tongue: Dear god! It was so long - at least seventeen inches - and looked quite deep. There had to be over a hundred stitches! He silently blessed Vincent for that, realizing quickly what a difference it would make in the healing of such a severe injury. He gently probed the wound, his glasses slipped down quite low on his nose as he leaned over her. It was still very raw, and draining in several places, though Vincent’s skillful job in both suturing and bandaging had kept the edges of the torn flesh tightly closed during their long trip back. He’d always known his son had the soul of a physician.

Turning aside from the wound for the moment, he quickly ran through a physical check; temperature, pulse and blood pressure. The latter was low, her pulse fast and somewhat thready, just as he’d expected them to be. Her temperature was high, 102.1 degrees, and he realized that it would be amazing if there was no infection present. Well, he wouldn’t take any chances with that, he thought, turning to do a cursory check of the cabinet behind him. Yes, he had the antibiotics he needed.

"Catherine, I’m going to take a blood sample for analysis."

She nodded but didn’t look at him. In fact, come to think of it, her eyes had remained closed for most of the exam. Mmmm... Well, no time to think about that now. He swabbed a spot on her left inner elbow and drew out a sample. Mary appeared out of nowhere, took both the needle and attached vial from him and turned to the desk to prepare and label it. As always, she would have everything ready for his follow up work the minute he finished with his patient. And that would be soon, he realized, because there was really very little else he could for her now.

"Catherine, I want you to take this." He held out a pill similar to the one Vincent had given her in the way-station and Vincent lifted her head gently to help her. "It should control any residual pain and let you sleep through the night. You need to stay as still as possible for the next few days to make sure this begins to heal adequately. Mary, the wound should be cleaned again, followed by a series of hot compresses to draw out any remaining contaminants. And after that a simple hospital gown -- no bandages for the time being."

"Of course, Father."

Mary had obviously anticipated that request; the words were barely out of his mouth when she was back at the bedside, a steaming basin in hand. She set it down on the tall stand beside the bed and reached for the contents within it, but Vincent stopped her gently.

"Thank you, Mary, I’ll do that."

Jacob left them alone for a few minutes, moving to sit at the small corner desk to fill out his patient log and prepare a slide for his microscope. Mary, too, busied herself with disposing of the bandaging materials and a few other unnecessary minutia, trying to give them what little privacy there was in this place of medicine.

The chamber was quite silent now, though Catherine could make out several distinctive sounds; Father’s pen moving slowly but surely across the pages of his patient journal, and water being wrung out into a ceramic basin. She sighed, waiting for the stinging heat, anxious for this to end, to cover herself from his sight. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of Vincent’s voice, preparing her for the wet warmth to come.

"This will be hot, Catherine, but it shouldn’t feel quite as bad as it did earlier. The wound is already showing signs of healing."

His voice was low and steady, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond to his optimism with any enthusiasm, and only nodded in resignation. He pressed the hot cloth fleeting against her at first, giving her skin time to acclimate itself to that change in temperature. It really wasn’t so bad. In fact, by the time he had finished cleaning the cut and laid the first compress along its length she found the warmth along her torso quite pleasurable, a drowsy haze beginning to steal over her as he worked. Vincent’s low, even voice interrupted her wandering reverie and she wondered dazedly how much time had passed.

"Mary, could you bring me a front-tie nightshirt?"

Mary brought the gown immediately, but made no pretense of attempting to help Catherine with it, handing it directly to Vincent instead.

"Here you are, dear."

"Thank you. Let me help you, Catherine."

He gently guided her right arm into the long sleeve, and immediately following that she gratefully felt most of her torso covered as he draped an edge of the gown over the front of her body, effectively covering the long gash there. He tucked the edge of the gown along her side, pushing it several inches under her back, then moved to the other side of the bed. She had tried to lift her torso up to help him with that simple procedure, but her muscles quivered in protest and she quickly gave up. Once on her left side he slid his hands beneath her until he found the edges of the rolled gown, then gently pulled it across until it lay smooth and cool beneath her, no wrinkles at all left in it to cause her discomfort. He guided her left hand into the remaining sleeve and then tied the front laces securely. It wasn’t until then that Catherine opened her eyes once more.

Vincent looked down at her with tender concern, one hand gently holding hers. His other hand rose to cup her cheek and his thumb stroked soothingly along its silky surface. "You’re tired, Catherine. You can rest easy now."

"Yes, of course she can, in just a few minutes." Father came back to the bedside. "Do you think you could eat something, Catherine, some broth perhaps? You’ve been through quite an ordeal and need to keep your strength up."

Catherine drew a weak smile, hoping to reassure them both. "What, soup again?" She sighed dramatically, and both men smiled in turn. "I’m really not hungry, Father, but I’ll try."

"Good. Mary, could you ask William to send in some of that beef stock he has simmering, and a pot of herbal tea?"

Mary appeared next to him, a calm aura of competence surrounding her. "It’s on the way, Father. I sent for it five minutes ago."

The other three smiled helplessly at that response.

"You are amazing, Mary. How would I ever get along without you?" There was a light, teasing note in Jacob’s voice, but underneath it they could easily hear the sincerity there, his respect, affection and love for her plain to them all.

Mary patted him gently on the cheek. "God willing, you’ll never have to, Jacob."

Her hand was caught and held against his face for a moment, and the two smiled tenderly at each other, for the moment completely oblivious to the watchful eyes of the other pair in the room. Their stillness was broken suddenly by William’s entrance.

He bustled into the chamber in a flurry of nervous energy, setting the tray he bore down upon a side table well out of the way of the active center area. Rubbing his hands together nervously he approached the group, his eyes full of worried concern.

"How are you, Catherine?"

He gently stroked the back of her hand and she turned it to enclose his own comfortingly. His hesitancy vanished then and he squeezed it tight, his relief plain.

"You had us so worried."

"I’ll be fine, William. Please, don’t worry. Tell everyone."

He nodded, his red-rimmed eyes speaking volumes. He stayed there a moment longer, then without another word, turned and left.

Vincent left her for a moment and returned with two mugs, which he set upon the stand next to the bed. He slipped an arm around her shoulder to raise her up a little bit, and she slowly sipped at the warm broth. It tasted delicious, and before she knew it she’d finished it completely. The steaming tea followed, and its aroma alone was a balm to her tired spirit. She drank all of it too, then Vincent eased her gently back onto the padded surface. At that moment, Father joined them once again.

"You do have a slight infection, Catherine. I’m going to start you on antibiotics. Do you have any medical allergies that you know of?" Catherine shook her head in response, and Father turned to the cabinet behind him. He found what he needed and handed both the pill and a glass of water to Vincent, then waited until Catherine was settled down comfortably once again before continuing.

"I’ve sent a message to Peter, but he’s out of town until the day after tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll come down right away once he returns. You can decide then if you’d like to go above for the remainder of your recuperation. For the time being though, I want you right here, where I can keep an eye on you. We can have a helper call your office to tell them you’ll be out all this week. Hopefully we can hold off any worried inquiries until Peter gets back."

The tone of his voice brooked no argument, and Catherine meekly complied.

"All right, Father."

There were so many issues that she should consider; primarily which helper it would be best to send the message through and how to phrase it to keep Joe contained for a few days, but she couldn’t concentrate on any of that now. The pain pill Father had given her earlier was definitely beginning to work; the throbbing in her side had receded to a dull ache and a hazy fog was beginning to sweep over her. Suddenly she found herself unable to maintain her focus for a minute more and sank into a deep sleep.