Two of a Kind
Part 16
by Rosemarie Hauer

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The last stage of their journey was every bit as strenuous as Catherine had expected it to be. There were moments when she thought she couldn't go on. Then Vincent would sit down, and she'd place her head in his lap, simply allowing herself to be held by him and suffused by his gentle strength.

Although Vincent had said they would probably arrive at the sea by early afternoon, it was already night when they finally reached a shaft that would lead them upward to the opening where the underground world met a world of fresh air and open sky. Despite their numerous stops, Catherine was feeling so weak that she could hardly manage to climb the metal rungs that had been slain into the rock. But Vincent was climbing right behind her, and she could feel his body brush against her back with every movement, every step. He sheltered and steadied her, lending her his strength when she thought she would not be able to manage just another rung.

The shaft opened into a cave, and when she finally emerged, Vincent's hands supporting her waist as she pulled herself over the rim, she gasped in awe at the sight that displayed itself before her disbelieving eyes. The mouth of the cave opened toward a clear night sky, and after having been below ground for so long, the starlight seemed to twinkle twice as brightly as normally. A crisp draught wafted in from the sea, playing with loose strands of her hair, and she could feel a tear steal its way down her face.

"This is so beautiful," she exclaimed. "Vincent, where are we?"

"I'm afraid I cannot answer that too accurately. When Devin and I were here, a long time ago, we did climb up to the surface, but we didn't go to all the trouble of finding out where exactly we were. We tried to look it up on the maps when we returned home, but our maps from the tunnels didn't extend this far back then. For some reasons you may guess we didn't ask Father about it."

That made her smile. She liked imagining a young Vincent who defied the confines and restrictions life had thrown his way, and although she shuddered at the thought of the dangers to which he must have exposed himself countless times, she marveled at his courage and his unshakable spirit. Pivoting, she hugged him impulsively. "I love you, Vincent," she said tenderly, pressing her cheek against the place above his heart.

He returned her embrace, placing a soft kiss on top of her head before he distanced himself from her in order to shed his backpacks and build a camp. She wanted to help, but he advised her to rest.

"You will need a meal and a few hours of sleep before I can take you up to the surface. It's a difficult climb and impossible for you to manage in the dark," he explained.

Too exhausted to contradict, she complied and sat back against the rocky wall of the cave, alternately glancing at the beauty of the night sky outside and watching as Vincent was preparing their meal. Her thoughts were heavy with concern. Although she knew that Vincent had sufficient supplies for a couple more days of traveling Below, the thought of him having to face the hardships of such a straining trek once more made her want to cry. She had seen the darkness of his world, had breathed it, lived with it, and fought it every step of the way. And she had been made painfully aware of the dangers that lurked down there in the bowels of the earth. The shock of almost being trapped in a cave-in was still sitting deep in her bones.

"I wish there was a way for you to come with me," she said, the words escaping her lips before she knew it.

Instantly he froze. "Catherine, I don't like to let you go out there either," he replied, walking over to where she was sitting, and squatting down beside her. "Yet this is the safest option of the few that we have. There are risks involved no matter what we choose to do. Please believe me that I'm not trying to make this harder on us than absolutely necessary."

"I know that," she said, ashamed of her lack of confidence, which she partly blamed on her fatigue. "Do you think there's a phone up there?" she asked, setting her mind on more practical matters.

"Further inland, there are houses," he said, "so you should be able to phone for help. Tomorrow is Saturday, so maybe you would like to call one of your friends. But I suggest you just call one of our helpers. This way you keep the necessity for explanations to a minimum."

"If there were a phone booth, I wouldn't have to explain anything at all," she remarked wistfully. "Unfortunately I don't have any money with me."

He rose to his feet and searched the pockets of his jeans, producing two coins and placing them in her palm. She raised one brow in surprise, and her stunned expression drew a chuckle from him. "We teach our children never to go Above without a coin for the phone," he said simply.

While they were eating their meal, Vincent told her more about the climb and the area she would have to face in the morning. As much as she tried to suppress it, her heart was still rebelling against the fact that she would be back home within a couple of hours while he had to face walking through the darkness for at least three more days.

Putting down his plate, Vincent extended one hand to caress her cheek. "Don't worry so, Catherine. I am accustomed to that kind of traveling. Knowing that you will be safe will give me additional strength."

She covered his hand with hers, squeezing it gently. "I miss you already," she admitted huskily. "As hard as the last few days may have been, being with you was worth everything."

Tilting his head, he gave her a tender look. "What a beautiful thing to say after all that you've been through," he said quietly.

Words eluded her as she met the depth of his gaze, allowing herself to be permeated by the intensity she could sense in him. Finally it was Vincent who broke the contact of their eyes. "You should sleep now," he suggested.

"I guess there isn't any chance at a bath in the ocean," she joked half-heartedly.

"No," he answered, "this cave is too high above the shoreline. It is impossible to climb down there, or up for that matter.That is why this cave is still undiscovered, I suppose."

"Then who put the rungs in the shaft?" she inquired.

"I don't know that," he conceded, unwrapping her sleeping bag and his pallet. "Maybe this cave did serve a purpose some time ago. I will fetch you some water for washing. I'm afraid that is all I can do."

She watched him as he grabbed the canteens and disappeared into the shaft. A short time later, he emerged again, pouring the contents of the canteens into a bowl. "I will go now to refill the canteens," he announced. "Please call me when you are finished."

She nodded her assent, looking after him as he vanished again. The water was cold, as was the air, and although she didn't have another change of clothes, Catherine felt wonderfully refreshed after washing up and redressing. She went to the edge of the shaft, calling down for Vincent to return, eager to have him with her again. When he reappeared in the opening, she could tell from the slightly damp curls that framed his face that he had tended to his own evening toilet already. Her love for him washed over her, engulfing her, driving her into his arms as he pushed himself over the rim of the shaft and straightened.

"Are you telling me that you missed me?" he teased softly, his voice almost a purr against her ear, as he lowered his head to nuzzle her cheek.

Tipping her face up, she heard herself whisper his name as her lips met his. "I love you," she breathed between kisses, between moans of pleasure and desire. She found herself lifted from the ground by a pair of strong arms and carried over to their bed, where he placed her gently on the sleeping bag before lowering himself down beside her. He held her to him, and she could feel his restraint, the effort it cost him not to move against her and give in to his desire for her.

"Catherine," he gasped breathlessly, "this is not advisable. You need to rest and..." He fell silent, still rigidly trying to hold himself away from her.

"And?" she prompted carefully.

"...and I feel dusty and sweaty," he added with obvious embarrassment.

"I'm dusty and sweaty, too," she retorted. "Does that repulse you?"

His answer was a groan deep in his throat as he bent over her and buried his face in the curve of her neck, gently suckling and licking at her skin. Catherine trembled under the onslaught of sensations his actions evoked in her. She tried to pull him closer, arching into him, eager to feel his weight upon her. He complied willingly, gradually increasing the pressure of his body against hers while he kissed her hungrily, passionately. An aching longing to feel his naked skin beneath her hands suffused her with such an intensity that she briefly closed her eyes to be able to contain it. When she opened them again, he was kneeling above her, pulling his vest and sweater over his head. With shaking fingers he fumbled at the laces of his shirt, sighing with exasperation when they got tangled with his impatient attempt to undo them. She rose on her knees and reached up to help him untie the knots. When she parted his shirt, exposing him to her hungry eyes, she felt him quiver with nervousness and anticipation. Leaning forward, she nuzzled the soft hair on his heaving chest, savoring its silkiness as she ran her fingers through it. How she had missed the feel of him, the taste of him, the wild, musky scent of his skin. His pulse beat rapidly under her sensuous caresses, and he moaned with pleasure when she began to trail intimate kisses along his neck and across the broad expanse of his chest. She thought her heart would burst with tenderness when her lips encountered his taut nipples, and she teased them gently with her tongue and teeth. Groaning deeply, he seized her shoulders to hold her away from him, to stop the achingly sweet torture she was inflicting on him.

"Please," he pleaded hoarsely, "no more." But his hands and body spoke a different language, pulling her down to the floor and close again, begging her not to stop. He rolled on his back, bringing her with him, and the way he arched his neck, exposing his vulnerable throat to her exploring lips in total surrender, brought tears to her eyes.

Suddenly she could bear it no longer to be separated from him in any way. She rose to her feet, swiftly shedding her clothes heedless of the chilly night air. All the while she felt his eyes on her, dark and glittering in the meager light of the lantern as they followed her every move.

"Please, Vincent," she implored him, dropping down on her knees beside him and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, "let me be with you; let me feel you."

Suddenly she found herself turned on her back, his lips and hands running along her body exploringly. His breath, as he whispered soft declarations of love, seared her skin, sending small shivers down her spine.

"Please," she begged, impatiently tugging on his shirt once more. Reluctantly, he pulled away, but only long enough to rid himself of his clothes, and within seconds he was with her again.

His kisses were quickly becoming a sensuous demand to possess her, to devour her, and she yielded willingly to their force, giving him her mouth, her tongue, her breath.

Suddenly he stopped, and a cold dread gripped her heart when she heard a strangled sob tearing from his throat. He lifted his head slightly, just enough to look down in her eyes. "I don't remember," he whispered desperately. "I don't know what to do."

She buried her fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. "We don't have to go on," she soothed, running her hands down his back with slow, reassuring strokes. "We don't have to push this."

He dropped his head to her shoulder, heaving a deep breath. "Maybe I want you too much," came his low admission. "Maybe I should..."

"...want me less?" she challenged softly. "Or love me less?"

His head came up and he gave her a wistful smile. "That would be impossible for me," he said, brushing a single strand of hair from her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear. The infinite tenderness of his gesture made her want to cry with happiness, and she hugged him to her more tightly, whispering, "Will you come and fly with me, Vincent?"

Holding her breath, she waited for his reaction. Suddenly she felt his weight being lifted off her as he braced his body on both arms, looking down at her solemnly. Behind his eyes she could see a million of warring emotions as he fought for his decision. Then, with exquisite deliberateness, he lowered his head, taking her mouth in a slow, searching kiss, a kiss that was as much a question as an answer.

She parted her thighs, opening herself to him, guiding him as he readied himself to come into her body. The feel of him within her made her heart widen with elation, and she experienced his slow, rhythmic thrusts like the beats of wings that carried her away, lifting her to emotional heights that transcended even her wildest dreams. He moaned her name as he tensed and shuddered under the force of his release, and she followed with soft whimpers of ecstasy, drifting with him on a cloud of sated contentment as the spasms of their shared passion ebbed away and subsided.

She made a small sound of protest as he rolled off her body, and lay down beside her, enfolding her in the protection of his arms. She tilted her head back, needing to see his eyes, and her heart skipped a beat when she encountered the love that shone from them. "No burned wings?" she asked quietly, caressing his face with trembling fingers.

He shook his head, his voice barely audible as he replied, "I'm not certain, though, that I liked having to land again."

Catherine felt a grin breaking on her face. "I love you," she mouthed soundlessly.

"And I, you," she heard his whispered reply.