Part One

"Blue? No not blue. Green then. No not green. Purple? No, definitely not purple!" Catherine wiped furiously at her eyelids for what seemed the millionth time that evening, as she went from one shade of eye shadow to the next, and still couldn't decide which one to wear.

An exasperated sigh and a slump of shoulders signified her defeat, and she scrutinised her face in the mirror. That face, that many had called beautiful looked back at her wane, sullen and exceedingly miserable. Catherine saw rather than felt the tears that slithered from her eyes and she brushed them fiercely away.

Staring at her reflection, Catherine was so lost in misery that at first she did not hear the gentle tap tapping at her balcony doors. In fact she heard them not again, or again, and only when the door opened and a husky voice asked, "Catherine, am I disturbing you?" did she actually acknowledge that Vincent was standing there.

'What a time for him to see me!' Eyes red rimmed, cheeks blotched, make up smudged, Catherine did not dare look around, although knowing all too well anyway that he could easily see her face in the reflection of the mirror. Hastily she scrubbed the remnants of her labours away before she dared replying. br>

Vincent waited politely, trying very hard not to look at her reflection, trying very hard to act as if everything was right with her world, but deep inside his heart grieved him. And deep in the recesses of his heart something told him that Catherine's present mood was due to him.

Biting back anything he might have said, Vincent waited until Catherine appeared to have regained her composure enough to turn around and with a forced smile, he noticed, answered, "Vincent, no of course not, come inside. It's so cold out there tonight."

Stepping through into the apartment, Vincent closed the doors behind him, wondering if he ever might get used to this simple action. For long enough he had dared not venture into her home. It was all so, Catherine…warm and satiny and soft and it only brought home to him how very different they were.

"How was your day?" They spoke together and both grinned somewhat sheepishly at the other.

"You first." Catherine invited, not really wishing to burden him with the ins and outs of her day, especially not this day.

"Nothing untoward happened today, a minor act of diplomacy between Zach and Geoffrey but nothing disastrous. Mouse lost Arthur and it was panic stations for a time, but Arthur knew where to go back to when he was hungry." Vincent chuckled at this, remembering everybody charging around searching for Mouse's furry friend when all the while the creature was stuffing himself full of apples back in Mouse's chamber. He did not need to tell Catherine the picture that memory painted, for she had witnessed it before and she knew.

Catherine smiled - probably the first genuine smile she had given all day, as thoughts of her dear friends below sprung to mind.

"And you?" Vincent was eager to prise out of his love the melancholy he had felt within her on an off throughout the day.

"Nothing I couldn't handle." She replied non-committedly while inside she was very much aware that she couldn't handle her latest problem because quite simply it involved him.

"Would you like anything to drink? Tea, wine, fruit juice?"

Vincent shook his head, "No, nothing thank you." He looked at her a long while before adding, "Catherine we have never withheld anything from one another before." He added the last very softly, causing Catherine to hold her breath in order to hear him. How could she ever have hoped that he would not know of her turmoil?

"I know that Vincent." Walking from her bedroom into the lounge Vincent followed, and each came to bend and sit on a dinky sofa facing one another.

Vincent's eyes were troubled as he took up her hands in his. "Tell me Catherine, please. Tell me what you are feeling."

The sorrow in her eyes grieved him and she shook her head, allowing her silken hair to cover her face, in an effort to shield her emotions from him. The pain was relentless, the heartache deep. Her hands were in his, she was so near yet so far and Catherine wanted to scream, hold me - kiss me - either that or snatch up his hands and drag him into her arms. But of course she could do none of those things. So she averted her eyes from him, lest he read of those guilty secrets.

Taking her sorrow deep inside Vincent allowed her hands to slip from his and he made to stand, "I should go Catherine. It is late and you need your rest." His heart hammered painfully in his chest. He could feel the tension building between them, and he didn't like it, not one bit. Things were changing between them, though not for the better.

Broken-hearted Vincent was being forced to face the fact that the dream was dying if he did not do something about it.

As he stood beside her, Catherine looked up, her eyes were level with his thighs, and her hands ached to touch him there. Resolutely she forced them to stay put on her lap and she heard herself plead, "Stay. Please, just a little while longer."

Detecting the slim voice of hope in her tone, Vincent could not for the life of him take another step away, he sat back down, and again took up her hands in his. "What is it Catherine? Please tell me, for I cannot bear the pain you are feeling and not know how to help."

Again Catherine shook her head, but this time she replied, "I cannot."

Releasing a deep breath, Vincent sighed, "Is it me?"

Catherine's head rose, she stared at him, wondering why he had assumed that? She had been so careful, even with the bond, she had been ever mindful not to let him know how deeply she desired him.

For long moments each stared at the other waiting for a reply, each daring not to give it. Finally Vincent, unable to wait spoke again, "If there is someone…" He was unable to finish, the thought alone too painful to contemplate. But Catherine understood, and raced to reassure him, "There is no one…" Only you, she wanted to scream, only ever you! And to her dismay the tears began to fall again.

Unable to bear it a moment longer, Vincent stood, pulling her up with him and enfolded her into his arms, "Tell me, please tell me, I want to help. Has someone hurt you?" He kissed the top of her head, holding her close to him, and Catherine snuggled into the solid feel of him.

"No." She murmured, causing a frown to appear on Vincent's brow.

"No?" He repeated.

Catherine desperately tried to explain. No she couldn't tell him, but yes she was hurting, someone had hurt her, and unintentionally so was hurting her even now, just by being so near to her. But oh, to be close to him, Catherine didn't ever want to be anywhere else.

Inhaling deeply Catherine took his scent deep into her lungs, loving the smell of candle wax and old books and the intoxicating masculine fragrance that was his and his alone. Never would she smell this anywhere else and be instantly reminded of him. Simply he was the only one with it…he was the only one. And if there was one thing that she needed to complete all this, right at that precise moment, it was to feel his lips on hers. Arh yes, to have him kiss her. Catherine almost swooned at the thought.

For Vincent, sensing all these raging emotions but not understanding the source he was left confused and prompted her "Tell me. Please Catherine."

Suddenly aware, in those simple words what she was probably doing to him, Catherine stepped reluctantly back a little, "You're right Vincent, it is late. Will I see you tomorrow?"

The sudden change in her startled him, and the distance between them saddened him. Vincent longed to hold her safe and close in his arms again. He was confused and even more troubled by the abrupt change in her, but he did not pursue it.

"Yes. Will you come below? Or should I come here?" He was pulling up his hood, covering the luscious locks that Catherine had dreamed of running her fingers through so many times.

"I shall be home late, I have a function to attend. Could you come here, say about midnight?" Catherine held her breath, knowing how Vincent would insist at such an hour she needed her sleep not idle chit-chat. But for once he surprised her. "Yes, I'll be here. I'll come earlier and wait."

"Please feel free to come into the apartment, I'll leave the latch up for you, make yourself at home. If someone does insist on seeing me to my door, I will accidentally on purpose knock against it to alert you and you can hide in the bedroom until they have gone."

Vincent nodded, somewhat relieved by that. Not so much as the fact that someone might see her home, but by the fact that he should hide in her bedroom. He didn't know why, but that gave credence to the fact that Catherine wasn't intending to take anyone else in there.

His spirits lifted, though he was dismayed as to why and dismissed the thought quickly before it had time to grow.

Crossing the room to the balcony, Vincent begged, "I'll see myself out, you stay there, it is so cold outside tonight. Stay in the warm Catherine."

Catherine nodded, "I will, thank you Vincent. And thank you for coming here tonight. Be Well."

"Be Well Catherine." He did not look back, and Catherine watched as he left her apartment firmly closed the door behind him and disappeared into the night.

"Glad to hear it Cathy."

"Joe?" Catherine looked up from her desk, where she had idled for the past hour.

Joe grinned, "Said glad to hear it."

"Is it riddle day or what?" Catherine managed a grin too.

"Nope. Your problem, glad to hear it's got a name." Joe nodded, indicating the pad in front of her upon which she had been doodling.

Horrified Catherine gasped when she realised what was before her eyes and the rest of the world's if they dared to look, as Joe so obviously had.

"Hey don't feel so bad." Joe chuckled, "Welcome to the real world Radcliffe. So you got a life at last."

"Pardon me?" Catherine stammered, hastily grabbing her pad and stuffing it into the nearest drawer.

Joe burst into laughter, "Hiding the evidence won't work with me Radcliffe. But it's nice to know that you weren't fed up with the work. Know what I'd call it?"

"Call what?"

He spelt it out, "This V-i-n-c-e-n-t problem. Gee I know I was reading upside down, but that is the word you have been writing over and over and sticking all those fancy little love hearts around for the past hour isn't it?" He grinned at her the sparkle in his eyes devilish.

Catherine had the grace to blush, but said nothing.

"Well that's what I call, getting it real bad Radcliffe. So how long have you known this guy?"

Catherine could neither find the answer, nor wish to tell him. Suddenly the office seemed awfully stuffy and Catherine needed air and fast.

"You okay Radcliffe, you look decidedly green around the gills all of the sudden? Here, let me open the window." Racing behind her, Joe shoved the window open as far back as it would go, allowing an icy blast of winter air to wash into the room.

"Jeez Joe, you want to freeze me to death." Catherine grabbed the handle and yanked the window back to a safer level of eagerness for the winter's chill.

"Nope, but that sure as hell put some colour back into your cheeks. So what's the story?"

"There is no story Joe." Catherine tried not to let the sadness fill her voice, but Joe detected it anyway.

"He's married?" His voice sounded flat. Suddenly he was imagining how unfair life was. He loved Catherine, and she was dotty over a married guy. Life really sucked.

"No Joe he's not married, just unavailable."

Well that was better, wasn't it? Joe reasoned, at least it made him feel a little better, but… "How so Cathy?"

"I'm sorry Joe, I've already said too much, please leave it will you?" The sadness in her tone almost broke his heart. Joe nodded, suddenly lost for words and the desire to tease her any further.

"Well I hope it works out for you Cathy, I really do, and if anytime you need a shoulder…"

"I'll know where to find you. Thanks for caring Joe." Catherine managed a weak smile and watched his retreating back for several long moments while chiding herself on her foolishness of doodling Vincent's name all over her notepad, before slumping back into her well of misery.

"Father, am I disturbing you?"

"Vincent, no come on in. You are just in time to help me lift this last box onto the table."

Vincent eyed the table full of boxes with a critical eye, "Have you moved all of these here yourself?"

"They weren't so heavy. Quite empty in fact, I've filled them more since they have been on the table." Father told his son, without quite looking him in the eye.

"You should have called me, I wasn't doing anything particularly important. You should not lift these boxes…" Vincent's voice trailed away.

"At my age. Is that what you were going to say?" Father eyed him accusingly and appeared to look hurt.

"Anyone at any age should not lift heavy boxes. It is always best to extract some of the weight first, is it not?"

"That's what I told you I did."

"I know what you told me Father." Vincent's voice was gently scolding, slightly humorous.

"I won't do it again." Father mumbled, "Now are you going to pick up that last box, or do I have to do it myself again?"

Vincent laughed heartily, "Gotchya!" Causing Father to frown at his son's vocabulary.

"Pardon?" Father questioned.

"So let me get this right, if I don't pick it up, you will?"

Father knew when he'd been had, but edged around it, " Of course I'd lessen the load somewhat first."

"Of course."

"Oh Vincent, are you going to stand there all day making fun of me, or are you going to help?" Father asked exasperated.

Vincent chuckled, and deciding he had probably ruffled his parent more than enough for one day he strode forward and picked up the almost weightless to him, box of books and deposited them upon the table leaving Father to watch in awe. His son's strength never failed to amaze him. Struggling with all those other boxes had almost killed him but he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

"Thank you Vincent. Now was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Back to the present Vincent frowned, "Yes, if you can spare the time."

"For you, always. Now sit down. I for one could do with some tea. How about you?"

"You sit, and I'll get some." Vincent firmly pressurised Father's shoulder, easing his parent down into his much-loved chair.

"Thank you Vincent."

As Vincent worked boiling the water, and adding the herbs to the pot, and pouring the water upon them, he said nothing, but Father saw everything. That stoop to the shoulders told him things. Those eyes, troubled and grieving affected Father badly. Whatever Vincent was about to say, obviously tea would not suffice. Possibly something stronger would be necessary to loosen his son's tongue. Father waited patiently, knowing when to be silent.

Handing his father a steamy mug of herb tea Vincent took up the seat opposite, sipping on his own. The aroma and the heat infused him like nothing else and already he began to feel better.

Father thought so too, "Arh wonderful. I needed that." He drew a deep breath, took a few more sips, then passed the mug to the table before asking his son, "So, what was it you wished to see me about." As gently as he could.

For long moments, Vincent, typically of him, was unable to speak. Father could almost sense the tidal wave of emotions vying for release within his son, but did not prompt him further.

Periodically Father picked up his mug and sipped his tea, replacing it to the table between each sip until at last Vincent started to tell him what was on his mind.

"It's Catherine!" He blurted. Father was not in the least surprised, but quirked an eyebrow nonetheless.

"Catherine? Is she well?"

"Yes, in so much as healthy…"

"What then?"

"I don't know, I can't put my finger on it…but Catherine…is different somehow."

"How different? Toward you? Toward her work? Can you explain Vincent?"

"I don't know the answer to any of those questions. She will not tell me what is wrong, but there is something Father. I am not imagining it."

"I didn't say you were." Father rubbed his chin thoughtfully his kindly eyes filling with sympathy.

"I know. But it is something I thought I might have imagined, until last night."

"Last night?" Dear Lord, but it was like pulling teeth!

"Yes, I have known for some time that Catherine has been changing. I thought it was a difficult case she was working on. I thought it would pass. That if I was there for her encouraging her, she would eventually get through it."

"But it wasn't that?"

"No, I don't think so. Father, I'm so afraid." Vincent's voice shook, causing Father to lean forward and take up his son's large and furry hands within his. Father tenderly stroked the backs of his son's hands with his thumbs, offering him comfort.

"No. I believe now it was something else." There was a long silence after that omission and Father did not know what to say. That his son was suffering was apparent and Father's heart ached for him, but deep inside Father began to feel sick, as all his fears seemed to be coming true.

"Father, I asked you once, and I must ask again, as painful as that answer might be." Vincent whispered, looking up into his parent's eyes.

Father waited without replying. His heart in his mouth knowing what was to come.

"Father am I a man?"

A long outdrawn breath rushed through Father's suddenly parched lips and for long moments he was unable to reply. What could he tell him? What had altered that he might tell him anything more or anything less than he had the last time that Vincent had asked this of him? Silently he shook his head, unable to speak at all.

Seeing his Father's fight to reply, Vincent's head bowed, "You don't have to say it Father, its there in your eyes."

"I'm sorry Vincent. But why do you ask?"

"You do not know?"

"Yes I know. The question is, do you? Or more importantly are you ready to face the reason behind needing to know the answer to that question?"

Untangling his hands from his parent's, Vincent stood. Father had been half expecting this action, more surprised that it had taken so long in coming. As Vincent started to pace the room Father's heart went out to his son.

"If I was a man…I could offer Catherine her heart's desire…I could be what she would want me to be…"

"And that is?"

Vincent swept around, startling Father as his blue eyes blazed for one fiery moment, and then sunk to the deepest of depths as the enormity of what he was charged back to haunt him. He could not speak, for he had almost given himself away and that shamed him. For one moment, for one startling moment he had almost voiced his most treasured secret, that as a man he could love Catherine the way that she should be loved.

Sinking to his knees, the tears came, hot and scalding. Sobs shaking his great frame and Father hobbled from his seat to kneel at his son's side holding him fiercely, rocking him to and fro. "I'm sorry Vincent, I'm so sorry." Father sobbed along with his son, feeling wretched that there was nothing he could say or do that would bring his son the happiness he so deserved.

The clock chiming midnight only served to heighten her fears. He said he'd be there, he said he would arrive early and wait, but as the hands of the clock ticked around to 12.01 Catherine grew increasingly disturbed.

Supposing something had happened to him, supposing someone had seen him, hurt him…she searched their connection frantically feeling only slightly relieved to feel nothing from him that worried her further. He was safe, that she knew, but he had not come and he had said he would and that was so unlike him.

She'd checked for messages, checked that he had not been and left, but there was nothing and it was too cold to wait out on the balcony. And though she was tired she knew she would never sleep.

What to do? Go below and check that all was well? Perhaps something critical had happened in his world. Maybe someone was in trouble. Maybe she could help. Her mind set Catherine raced into her bedroom, tearing off her gown, to don jeans, sweatshirt and sneakers and was just about to leave the apartment, when she heard the ever familiar tapping on her balcony doors.

Whirling around and slamming the apartment door shut, Catherine raced across the room, to fling open the balcony doors and fly into his arms. "You're late. I was worried." She cried anxiously.

"Are you going out Catherine?" They spoke at the same time and Catherine smiled.

"I was going below. I'd convinced myself you had a problem down there. I thought I might be able to help."

Vincent ushered her into the warmth of the apartment, suddenly lost for words, yet desperate to reassure her at the same time.

"Catherine can we talk?"

Ominous, Catherine thought, "Yes of course. Come sit down, can I get you a hot drink, chocolate maybe?" She grinned, knowing his love for hot chocolate. "I've got some marsh mellows." She added to tempt him.

"Later, please I need to speak to you." Now, he added under his breath, before my courage and well-practised speech fails me.

Curious and a little troubled Catherine allowed him to lead her to the sofa, where he sat opposite facing her. Now they were actually sat there in her apartment as he had imagined the words almost failed him. Catherine smiled, "You know you can tell me anything Vincent." She encouraged.

"Yet you could not tell me anything last night." His eyes did not accuse, but Catherine knew she had walked right into that one.

"Touché." She told him meekly.

He grinned briefly, "I do believe dear Catherine that my words might release your inability to tell me of what was bothering you yesterday."

Catherine tensed thinking, 'I hope not' to herself, as panic charged at her from nowhere.

"It's all right, I understand." Vincent told her.  

"You do?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so Vincent." Catherine shook her head. She had tried to be so careful. How could he possibly know how she felt?

"Yes, I think I do know what it is that has been bothering you. You see those same things have bothered me also." Vincent swallowed with difficulty. Dear Lord he hoped he was right, he was laying his heart bare here and never had he done anything like it before but this wretchedness that had been between them of late could not continue. He could bare it no longer.

"I love you Catherine." The words had been on the tip of his tongue all day, yet he could not believe he had uttered them now. He stared at her, shamefully, wanting to run and hide. What must she think of him?

There was a look of incredibility dawning upon her face, quickly followed by one of happiness. Her whole face lit up with joy, "Oh Vincent!" Drawing a deep breath, Catherine continued, "And I love you too. So very much."

At her confession Vincent felt some of Catherine's incredibility charging through his mind his heart and his limbs and he wanted to roar. He was suddenly so happy, he wanted to race up to the roof and roar as load as he could! 'Gee that would really show her how human you are'. A little voice inside told him, though for once, he did not seem to mind it.

They gazed at one another, neither quite knowing what to expect next, neither quite knowing what to say. Catherine felt that at any moment she would slither right off the sofa. Her body had become liquid heat. Gazing at him had always had that effect on her but now…oh now…oh how she wanted him!

If only she could tell him so.

At a loss as to what to do, Vincent began to feel uncomfortable. He supposed that most people when telling of their love for one another would kiss. But Vincent balked at that idea. A kiss would lead to other things and he was not ready for any one of them.

He became embarrassed when his breath came out in pants, short and sharp, and he looked around wildly for escape, but Catherine ever knowing, ever understanding managed to find her feet and stood pulling him up after her. "Come its late, I can see you are tired. Shall I see you tomorrow? In the morning perhaps?" A silly grin spread across her face. He was so adorable and he had so obviously, completely lost it.

"Vincent?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow? Shall I come below? It's Saturday remember?"

Vincent nodded, "Yes Saturday." He grinned, his eyes dancing suddenly with humour. "Yes I'll meet you at the threshold at ten. Is that too early?"

'Too late more like it' Catherine thought. But nodded anyway. Her eyes were dancing with his. She wanted him to stay, wanted him to spend the night, wanted to show him just how much she loved him.

Pulling on his gloves at the doorway Vincent stopped what he was doing and hesitated as the desire to kiss her almost overwhelmed him. But he could not, just could not. Beside he was not experienced enough in those things to feel comfortable with making the first move while even knowing that he should.

"Till tomorrow." Gentle hands pushed him firmly from behind, and he felt her humour through their connection, and… He gasped! There were other feelings there too…Feelings he had only ever associated with himself before. He must be mistaken she couldn't feel that way, not for him, surely not for him? Vincent turned to face her, he had to see it in her eyes, but Catherine had seen him tense, had felt his surprise and had fought her emotions back into the tiny corner of her heart where they had been nurtured for the past three and a half years. So when he turned around her eyes told him nothing and he let himself believe that he had imagined it.

"Till tomorrow, sweet Catherine." He husked, trailing one gloved finger along the line of her cheek and thrilled when Catherine turned her head to bestow a kiss into the palm of his hand. She choked back a sob and the desire to cling to him, her heart beating erratically.

"Go with care Vincent…my love." She added softly, causing Vincent to hesitate once more. 'What was he doing? He didn't want to leave…ever!' He wanted to stay there and love her as she had never been loved before. With great difficulty Vincent forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. "Ten o'clock." He forced himself to say knowing that if he got any sleep before then he'd be lucky. Nothing short of a very cold shower would force away the fire in his loins this night.

Then never knowing why or how she could, Catherine suddenly heard herself asking him "Would you like to stay tonight Vincent?"

The question was almost his undoing! Teetering with one leg already over the balcony wall, Vincent turned back to look at her, "Stay?" He croaked. 'Oh God, yes he wanted to stay. Did she mean it?' He held his breath for her answer.

Partially disgusted with herself for asking, and horrified that she had, Catherine looked about her wildly, not knowing what else to say. She wanted him and she loved him totally, and he loved her, and right now she wanted to go inside and hug herself tightly because Vincent had said he loved her. That he really loved her and that he seemed as though he might be ready to go forward in their relationship at last.

Catherine chided herself on that thought, 'seemed' was not enough, 'what seemed' to be what Vincent wanted was not necessarily what he did want, and putting her own emotions onto him was not going to make him want her any more than she hoped. But the poor fellow still hovered on her balcony, like a half frightened baby pigeon wondering whether it should risk its first flight or not.

"I'm sorry Vincent, forget I said that. I'll see you tomorrow." Vincent could have wept. Having almost convinced himself of the possibility that the invite was genuine, he now felt completely slapped. Gruffly he responded, "Be well Catherine." And was gone before she could blink.

Suddenly the desire to hug herself vanished and Catherine felt chilled to the bone. Something was wrong she knew it and thinking back over the last few moments, Catherine did finally hug herself as planned. Vincent hadn't seriously thought she'd meant her invitation to stay had he? As the possibility brightened in her heart and mind for the first time in her life Catherine saw the sun rise in the sky at midnight.

The tunnels seemed abnormally long, or perhaps he was just going around in circles, but Vincent, unable to sleep as he had supposed, just had to walk and walk, thinking all the while about the events that had taken place in Catherine's apartment earlier. He had noticed that the traumatic emotions that had followed Catherine of late had not been so apparent, but rather there had been a shift in her emotions, more intense and deeper but not in the negative way she had drowned in so recently. This evening her emotions had been different although the same if that made any sense. Connected, yes that was the word, part and parcel of one another and suddenly stopping himself short, Vincent faced the fact that the emotions he had felt in Catherine for some time now had a name…desire!

Breathless Vincent had to sit down. Slithering to the sandy tunnel floor as his legs gave way, disbelief warred with hope. Hope that the feelings he had felt from Catherine were the same as he'd had for her. That she desired him as a woman would desire a man. Half of him recoiled at the thought and half of him revelled in it. But what should he do about either?

Vincent's natural tendency was curiosity. He had always wanted to learn, but there were some things that having believed was not for him Vincent found that idle curiosity did not even come close. If he were to pursue this with Catherine, he would need to be prepared to open his eyes fully to the facts laid bare, amongst other things. His cheeks reddened as he added the last to his mind. The thought of Catherine, naked…of himself naked…with her…Vincent limbs felt like they might never belong to him again, or that he might never be able to stand and leave that particular part of the tunnels ever. He would fossilise there and no one would ever know why he had died smiling. But there was a part of him that seemed to have a mind of its own. Full bloodied and hard, it pained him and Vincent groaned. This feeling was not a new one, ever since he had loved Catherine he had had to fight it, but tonight… never had it agonised him so much.

He shook his great head, his mane of tawny hair flying about his shoulders. He was moving too fast. Only last night, no mere hours ago he had told Catherine that he loved her and very soon he would see her again, and they would what? Say hello?

Hug as usual?

Kiss?

Vincent moaned as the latter thought sprang to mind. They loved one another they should kiss. It would only be natural. But could he kiss her anymore in a few hours time than he could a few hours earlier? He thought not.

Still the thought of those lips, those luscious silky lips…beneath his… willing… yielding… Vincent grew hot with longing… and rose unsteadily on shaky legs. He needed a shower, a cold one and fast…in two hours he would see Catherine again…he mustn't act like some love struck teenager, must he? Deep inside he could not stop the little voice from asking, well why not? Why ever not?

Sleep!

Sleep damn you! Catherine punched the pillow into a more favourable position for the hundredth time and shut her eyes tightly, but it was no good. She just could not sleep. 'If you finally fall asleep at seven Chandler and sleep past ten I'll kill you.' She told herself furiously. Still sleep evaded her and Catherine finally gave herself up to Vincent loving her in her daydreams.

This time her dreams took on a new solidity, they were real, possible and Catherine explored areas she had never dared broach before. Keeping as ever a tight restraint on the bond Catherine imagined what it would be like to love Vincent and to have him love her. His differences never came into it, except for the fact that she knew she would be thrilled if he should hold onto her neck with his mouth while they were making love. Or that he might prefer to take her from behind, as instinct prevailed. Catherine shuddered with longing, as the thoughts played out in her mind.

Gloriously happy her lids closed over bright eyes and Catherine slept on and on, never even listening to the shrill blast of the set alarm and not even knowing that one slender arm crept from beneath the covers to snuff out the sound.

Pacing the threshold, freshly washed, and newly worried, Vincent needed no watch to know the time. It was way after ten and with each passing minute his heart died another death.

'Where was she?'

He couldn't go above to her, it was daylight, yet to wait until the evening? Vincent didn't think he could.

As the minutes ticked away and Vincent strained his ears for any sound from the basement above, he sought along the connection and found that Catherine was sleeping. Sleeping! How could she sleep at a time like this?

Slumping to the floor, well out of sight should someone else open the threshold door and see him there, Vincent dwelt deep inside the bond. Something he had rarely done in the past, not wanting to impose on Catherine's privacy. But he did so now, 'Wake up Catherine. Wake up my love. Wake up its late.' He whispered over and over hoping he would wake her.

Mmm, Vincent was just about to take her for the fifth time, when Catherine heard him speak to her. What was he talking about? She was awake. She'd been awake all night, making love with him…oooh and how so…

Suddenly Catherine sat bolt upright! She'd been dreaming… What time was it?

Horrified Catherine stared, and stared…no it couldn't be…it couldn't be? Not half past eleven…No!

Leaping from the bed, Catherine hastily did her usual half a dozen things at once. Fortunately she'd had much practice before and was soon sipping her cup of wake me up coffee, before heading for the threshold and praying that no one was in the basement at that time of day.

She was out of luck Even before she arrived the blare of a radio signalled activity and moments later she encountered two men stacking crates. "Looking for something miss?" One of them asked her.

Catherine shook her head, "Just heard the radio." She told them her eyes searching over their shoulder to the threshold door. Beyond it her love waited for her, she could feel his anxiety, his underlying joy that she was there and she desperately, desperately wanted to call out to him.

"Well you're welcome to stay and listen to it. I got this new tape, wanna listen?" One of the men inserted a tape, and started to play that instead. Catherine listened for a few minutes, then stepped back outside, frantically trying to think of a way to distract the two men so she might get below.

As she stood there thinking, the music sounded through the door as one of the men started singing along. 'Got it! Perfect!' Catherine cried, and turning the door handle went back into the room, surprising the two men into near silence as she yelled over the sound of the music "You're singing the wrong words." Catherine was well aware that they weren't.

"Oh? I don't think so lady, but tell us then, how do you think they should go?"

Manoeuvring herself as near to the threshold door as possible, Catherine frantic to do anything now, started to sing, "Meet me in the park, in daylight not the dark, and I'll be there, I promise I'll be there." The two men burst into laughter, "You're real funny you know that, but that's not how it goes, just listen…

But Catherine did not wait to listen. Vincent had understood and was already moving away through the tunnels, Catherine could feel him and she dashed out of the basement leaving behind two very bemused men shaking their heads and thinking 'strange lady.'

Racing across the road, and through the park, Catherine laughed to herself, the words of that wretched song still pounding in her mind, 'meet me on the corner as the lights are going down and I'll be there, I promise I'll be there.' She thought it might be by Lydisfarn, but at that moment she didn't care if it were by the Queen of England. It had worked, she had got the message through to Vincent and any moment now she would be in his arms.

Running as though her life depended upon it, Catherine entered the darkness of the tunnel at full speed, crashing into something solid and warm, that had wonderful arms and a beautiful tantalising scent that enveloped her simultaneously. They fell together blissfully.

"Vincent."

"Catherine."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I was late. I overslept." She hugged him tightly.

"I know. But you're here now."

"Yes. I'm here now." Catherine clung to him, unable and unwilling to let him go. Something had changed, in those few short hours since they had declared their love for one another, things had changed. They were so at ease with one another and it was incredible.

"I love you Catherine." Catherine thrilled at the words. Took them deep inside and fed on them. "I love you too Vincent." She lifted her face to look into his eyes, and was stunned to see the look of longing in their depths. He wanted her! He did want her! Catherine's heart rejoiced.

Her eyes locked to his, her mind screamed, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me…oh please kiss me…

Gazing down at the invitation in her eyes, Vincent lazily passed his gaze from those brilliant emeralds to the rubies of her lips and he swallowed with difficulty, the offer was unmistakable…she wanted this…she wanted him to kiss her…

What would it be like to feel those lips, their lushness beneath his own? What would it feel like to taste her as he had dreamed of tasting her for so long? Well here, before him was the answer, the very willing answer, and finally, finally curiosity got the better of him.

He lowered his mouth to hers, touching her lips just barely with his, feeling Catherine shift in his arms, and unprepared that she might attempt to meet him half way…he almost laughed…she met him more than half way! Taking the initiative, Catherine followed through on her dreams and threaded her fingers through his hair, applying gentle pressure to the back of his head towards her lips. A mighty groan escaped Vincent as their lips moulded together and the delicious taste of her devoured his senses.

This was no sweet and hesitant first kiss - this was passion personified. Once the fuse was lit the fire roared into life between them and neither one was willing to break the contact.

On and on, deeper and deeper the kiss lengthened with bodies entwined and arms around the other as far as either could reach. Catherine's legs slightly apart, Vincent's well and truly welded between them, his body pressed tightly against the contours of hers.

A moan erupted from one of them, or maybe it was both, but it was one moan not two, simultaneously, mutual. Tongues explored avenues and textures unknown, entwined and enacting the action of making love. Catherine became aware that Vincent's persistent in and out movement of his tongue in her mouth signified his need to make love to her and that alone forced another moan to erupt from her mouth even as his body ground tightly against hers.

Forcing herself up and forward to meet that contact triggered a response in Vincent's brain, and he broke the kiss, breathless and ashamed, unable to look at her as his body shook with passion and his breath lashed out in deep gasping pants.

"Vincent?" Catherine reached out an arm to touch him she must tread carefully now. They had come so far and would go further still, but she knew how vulnerable he was, and how misguided he could be about their relationship.

Slowly he turned his eyes to hers. They spoke volumes even when his mouth could not. She could read the apology in his eyes, but would not accept it. Shaking her head she begged him, "No Vincent, don't feel ashamed. I welcome every part of you. Listen to me…" She clung to his arm when he shook his head in denial, "Look at me…" Taking his chin in one hand she forced him to look at her.

All Vincent wanted to do was close his eyes. He could not look at those lips, and not want… Not want… Dear Lord would he ever want anything else again, but the feel of her lips beneath his?

"Vincent I loved your kisses and your body close to mine. Did you feel me trying to escape?"

Vincent shook his head. Still words eluded him. He thought he must be dreaming, even more so at her next words.

"I know your need Vincent. I need that too. Take me somewhere Vincent, somewhere where we can be alone…Please."

Surprised by her own words, Catherine waited, wondering what he must be thinking. But Catherine understood her own need, knew it had been too long since she had been able to express this side of love. Her body ached for the feel of his surrounding her… within her… a part of her. Breathlessly she waited for him to speak.

He didn't. Couldn't. Instead he took her and led her by the hand to a place he had dreamed of taking her if and when this day ever came. Somewhere warm and secret where they would be undisturbed but it was a long way and Vincent found it impossible to wait that long.

Stopping periodically in the tunnel ways, he leaned in for another kiss, thrilling and delighting Catherine to the core. And they were no dainty kisses, but kisses filled with as much fire and enthusiasm as the first, much to the delight of the hidden all-seeing eyes of the sentries that they encountered along the way.

Word spread like wildfire.

Soon Father was listening avidly to a rather strange message. "What was that Mary?"

"Its not so much what it was, but what was meant Jacob." Mary replied, reciting the message, "Vincent like a thirsty man at an oasis.' Whatever does that mean?"

"Listen there's more." Father repeated and added, "Vincent like a thirsty man at an oasis, you will know what I mean when you see him.' Well we will just have to hope that he soon arrives, this I must see." Father told Mary curiously.

But they would have a long wait.

Continued in part two.