They All Fall Down

Catherine Maya Keister

1. Descent
April, 1989

Curled against the headboard of her bed, she cried quietly. Three hours now she had been sitting here, feeling miserable. She waited... but he didn't come, no one came. No one was going to come, and she had to accept that. 'Pick yourself up,' she told herself. 'Be independent now... at least for the night. Make-up, dress... black dress. Funeral...' but still she didn't move.

Staring at her balcony doors she pulled her knees up to her chin and rocked on her feet. ‘Sleep.’ Sleep sounded wonderful. ‘Wonderful sounds: Vincent's voice, pipe messages, water, trees in the wind. Wind: warm, cold, high, calm, breeze, Vincent's hair.' She couldn't stop. Her mind wandered as she stared into the blackness of the night.

'Night: darkness... sleep... moon, stars, black. Black: cloak, misery, dress. Black dress: make-up, funeral, death... Vincent. Funeral... you have to go.' Finally she found the strength to get up off the bed.

The bathroom was the first destination. All she wanted to do was sleep. She wanted to lose herself in the nothingness of her mind, assuming that her mind wouldn’t plague her with dreams. ‘No... keep going. Shower, and clean your face up.’

She scrubbed her skin as if there were something underneath it, refusing to wash off. It had never felt so good to scrub her face. Any trace of left over make-up was gone. All that was left was raw, red skin. She began washing her neck, and flinched when her fast and sharp scrubbing contacted her jaw-line. She touched the welt gently a few times. ‘Collapse. Sleep. Nothing matters.’ She pushed hard on the injury, forcing it to sting. It felt good to inflict her own pain; it always hurt more when someone else did it. ‘Pain; sharp, cut, injury, strike. Strike; today... Stop!’

The mirror was fogged when she came out of the shower, but she didn’t bother wiping it off. She didn’t want to see herself. Not yet. She wrapped herself up in her bathrobe that seemed to let all the cold into her body.

She came out of her bathroom and rested against the doorframe, starring at the room as she had left it. Her blankets were strewn everywhere and some things were thrown in the heat of anger. Only one thing in the whole room was in its place; a red, leather bound book. Great Expectations. She stared at it for a whole minute, just remembering her first sight of the precious book. ‘Don’t think. Just keep going.’

Nothing fancy. Just a plain black dress. She slipped it on and was thankful for the long sleeves. She had forgotten just how comfortable this dress was. She was going to need that tonight. Comfort was key to making it through. She looked over to her vanity table in the corner; make-up and perfume bottles thrown and knocked to the floor. Her vanity. Vanity.

She sank into the chair in front of the mirror, and for the first time Catherine Chandler starred at herself. This used to be so easy. Just sit down, apply lotion, base, eye make-up, lipstick, blush, and fix the light hair that brushed her shoulders. It was different now. Her skin was raw and tough, much more than before. Her eyes had darkened to a steely green, it would be hard to compliment them with the eye shadow she owned. Instead of accenting her eyes, mascara and liner would only darken and anger her features. And that hair that used to simply wisp back, easily clipped together, had grown long and layered. Now at the middle of her back, it had grown so thick that there was no way to simply clip it into a bun. Maybe no one would notice how drastically she had changed in only a year.

She saw all of her movements in slow motion. The strokes of brushes, putting in her silver earrings; she even thought in slow motion.

She picked out a purse, piled her keys and wallet into it, threw her coat on and left her apartment. She knew she was late, but she didn’t rush. Every piece of her journey was methodical. New York City was one big network of monotony, never changing. Everything ran on schedule. There was a language of the city’s own that was easily learned for the lack of words. They were gestures and grunts. Raise your arm for a taxi, wait at the stop for the bus, and avoid human contact on the subway. It was a simple jungle if you obeyed the rules.

She chose to raise her arm for the taxi. It was faster, easier, and maybe a little more expensive, but she didn’t care anymore. Every part of her theory proved true when she climbed out at the funeral home.

Her legs were weak. She wanted to let them fall out from under her and just sleep on the pavement. ‘No. Keep going’ She pushed herself through the doors.

People never greeted her, only a sea of black and white. They all flowed as they walked, in a wave-like motion. The faces stared, but they never spoke, they just hid behind their black waves. They all seemed to know, as if they could see the movie of what had happened that afternoon playing in Catherine’s head.

A hand on her elbow made her flinch and she spun to face whoever had disturbed her entrancing haze. It was Carol from data-entry. Catherine had spoken to her a few times, mostly for information and typing favors. She couldn’t fathom why Carol would want to speak to her.

"Cathy..." She moaned and looked around the room melodramatically, at least to Catherine, "isn’t it horrible?"

Catherine didn’t answer. She figured that Carol wasn’t looking for one anyway. She was the type of person to get overly upset about little things. Well, this wasn’t a ‘little thing’, was it? Was it? Who was she here for again? Someone from work, she knew that. ‘Think Catherine!’ She scolded herself. But every time she tried to concentrate, she just saw that horrific scene that she was trying so desperately to forget. It was no use, though. No name or face, except Vincent’s, came to mind.

Suddenly, through the fog of her thought process, she heard Carol exclaim.

"Oh my goodness, Cathy! What happened?" Carol was horrified and, like a mother hen, attempted to fuss over Catherine. She touched the stitches on Catherine’s chin and both women flinched away. "What happened? Does it hurt?" Carol pressed.

Catherine contemplated letting her sarcasm take over: ‘No, actually, it feels fantastic! Thanks!’ But she didn’t. "I’m fine. I just cut myself. I was... cooking."

"Oh..." Carol cooed at her. She would have gone on fussing, but she spotted someone new and she allowed her ADD to take over. "Well, feel better, Cathy." The woman said in a hurry as she slid past and caught her new prey.

Catherine didn’t even hear her. Her mind was a fog, even her steps were unconsciously made. She found herself focused on the table she nearly ran into. Glasses of champagne were set on the table, not so much for drinking as for display of the family’s money. Why was she here again? Whose funeral was this?

She glanced around at the sea of faces surrounding her, swarming her, but never looking at her. They never saw her. The story of her life: a swarm of people gathering around her, looking at her, but never seeing her. They’d poke and prod, and once in a while someone would take her down off her pedestal. Oh how that felt good! But it would only be to play with her for a short while, muss her up maybe, but they always put her back up there on display, leaving her with another heartbreaking phase of hopelessness.

Until Vincent, anyway. She had fallen off her pedestal, but he picked her up, dusted her off and, though he was forced to keep her on that pedestal, he became the box protecting her doll’s life. A clear box that said "look, but never touch". Pressed against him, she knew there was life beyond, but wanted no part of it anymore. She was happy to be in his box and was proud that no one was allowed to come near. She was Vincent’s, and she wasn’t to be played with.

She took a glass of champagne and gulped it down. ‘Wash it away.’ But the memory lingered, so she grabbed another.

She forgot how many she had to drink, but the table was only half full of glasses now, and she hadn’t encountered anyone else at the table in the last hour. She was getting dizzy and threatened to sink under the table from lack of energy. She took another glass. Just something to steady her nerves.

"Well... Cathy! I didn’t know you two were so close." A young man’s voice whispered sarcastically through the haze. She looked up and saw Jesse Fuller. He was younger than she, but had been with the D.A’s longer. "Don’t worry about it." He whispered confidentially to her. "The guy was an asshole. We all knew it!"

Catherine cleared her throat and shook her head to clear it. It didn’t work; she swayed a bit, woozy and desperately trying to see through the fuzz.

Jesse quickly grabbed her elbows to steady her. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, and added a groggy "yes" as she broke her arms away gently.

"You’re sure?" He ducked down to try to see into her eyes. But her nodding just made her more dizzy and he caught her as she was falling into the table. "No, you’re not." He wrapped her up and walked her outside. "Come on!"

People stared as they passed, but he just stared back. His only concern at the moment was now half lying in his arms.

He sat her on the steps of the building and watched her fold her arms and hunch over her knees. "Do you need to throw up?" He asked, a little loudly, to keep her concentrated on him.

She shook her head and shivered. "It’s cold." She mumbled.

"No, it’s not." He slid close and rubbed her arms vigorously to warm them. "In the middle of a heat wave and you’re getting cold chills." He mumbled ironically. "So, what’s wrong?"

"Why do people always assume that something is wrong, huh? Maybe I just like to drink!" She began to rant in her slurring, woozy tone. "Maybe I like the taste of champagne! Maybe I just feel like getting drunk! You’re young, you’d know about that!"

"At a funeral?" He watched her skeptically. "You hate champagne. I was watching you drink, it looked like it burned you all the way down. You seem more like someone who likes harder drinks."

She smiled faintly. "Something harder would be nice," she cooed.

"No, it wouldn’t." He laughed a little. "So," he was serious again, "what’s wrong?"

How to say it? Not at all, was the best solution, but Jesse wouldn’t give up until he knew. Jesse liked to find answers, to put puzzles together. That’s why he worked for the D.A. Put it in terms he would understand, that was the key.

"My... boyfriend... he left me this afternoon. We, um... well actually I don’t know what happened." She spoke reluctantly, but it almost felt good to tell someone other than her pillow.

"And you’re here?! Geez, you’re nuts!"

"Did you just say ‘geez’?"

They laughed about that for only a second or two, and then the night was quiet. Smog billowed from a vent down the street and drifted their way. A cat in an alley knock over a trash can.

"How long were you two together?" He broke the silence with a whisper that sounded like a roar.

She sighed. "Three years." She let the number fall out and the scene played again in her mind.

"Crazy." He commented in monotone. "Any marriage plans or anything?"

She sighed again and smiled ironically. "No. There was only the dream of it."

"I’m sorry," he said quietly.

"He’s done this before." She didn’t know why she was still talking. She tried to stop herself, but it didn’t work. "He’s um... got, kind of a... low self-esteem," she stumbled. "Has this crazy idea that he doesn’t deserve me. And what he can’t get through his thick head is that I don’t deserve him." She laughed, but it quickly became tears that she couldn’t stop.

"Hey..." he fumbled, not sure of what to do. Finally he just tightened his arm around her. "Listen Cathy. You are beautiful, and you deserve the best guy you can find. I mean it! You’re intelligent, and you have a great sense of humor. I’m having trouble even imagining anyone leaving you."

Catherine didn’t really hear much of what he said, but she heard the last part and looked up at him. She was starting to sober-up, but that haze was still there. He looked like a little cherub through that haze, blurring his features, except for the tinted blonde hair and grey eyes. Yes, he was definitely a little baby angel sitting next to her. "They do it, though," she replied with a strain in her voice. "Every one of them."

It was that moment, as she spoke, that Jesse saw the gash in her jaw and the stitches holding the skin together. He touched it gently. "That looks nasty. What happened?"

Catherine immediately pulled away, nervous and agitated. She tried to hide it by tucking her chin, putting her hand over it. But the numbing affect that the champagne had was wearing off and now it really hurt. "Nothing, I cut myself."

Jesse watched her closely. Her shaking hands, and how she nervously glanced over her shoulder at him. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Of all the people in the world, you are the last person that I could see in an abusive relationship."

Mortified, she turned back to him. "No, no, it’s not like that."

"Really?" He was suddenly angry. With her or Vincent, she couldn’t tell. "Then what is that?"

"An accident!" she insisted quickly.

"I don’t believe you’re sticking up for him!" He refused to look at her.

"God, how I hate men!!" She yelled at him, now thoroughly frustrated and confused. The headache was setting in and she let the weight of her head fall into her hands. "You’re all so pig-headed!" she yelled at him from her hands. "None of you understand! You play the kind, understanding man just to make us feel better, but you really don’t get it! You jump to conclusions and assume that we’re so weak-minded that we couldn’t possibly comprehend, much less fix it, but it’s you who don’t let us! You come up with all of these excuses just so that you can keep yourselves all wrapped up, safe and secure in your damned little lifestyles! You’re afraid of everything we think and say because it just might ruin the little haven, the bubble you’ve formed around yourselves!"

There was quiet as Jesse slowly turned to look at her. "What did you say?" He watched her through squinted eyes of confusion.

Catherine laughed into her hands and then stood slowly.

"Where are you going?" He was on his feet in a flash.

"I..." she began, hooking her purse over her shoulder, "am going to go inside, throw-up a little, and go someplace where I can get something that will wash out my brain and start fresh."

"Well..." he started to protest, watching her walk back to the door.

"I really don’t give a damn what you do, Jesse. Stay, go... whatever. See ya." She ended by opening the door and closing it behind her.

Catherine stepped back out into the night of New York City, feeling overheated now. Her stomach turned from lack of food and too much champagne, but she refused to throw-up one more time. She sighed heavily as if it would clean out her mind of her thoughts, it didn’t.

Suddenly Jesse was in front of her, waving for a taxi. She watched him curiously.

"Feel better?" he asked over his shoulder, still waving.

"A little," she admitted, still watching him skeptically.

"Good! I figured if you were gonna get trashed on the streets of Manhattan, I may as well go with you. Ya know, me being a veteran and all. Besides, somebody’s gotta look after you." He held the door of the waiting taxi open for her.

She laughed and quickly crawled in with him.

 

2. The Children’s Song
May, 1997

Catherine Chandler rolled into the sunlight beaming from her skylight that spilled onto her couch. Was it Sunday or Monday? God, how she hoped it was Sunday. She shielded her eyes from the sun, rare to New York City, and pulled herself into an upright position. She had fallen asleep while watching television again. She would get scolded for that.

"Mommy!!" The inevitable voice of her seven-year-old called.

"In here, sweet pea!" Catherine replied, wiping her eyes that seemed glued shut.

She waited as the little girl, no more than four feet with straight and silky tawny hair, and green eyes like the sea scrambled into the living room. Her sweet face was all scrunched in disappointment. She had a pair of jeans and socks on, but everything above the waist was still in pajamas. Her hair, in a braid when she had fallen asleep, had pulled apart and now hung in strands all over her shoulders. She found her mother, stood far enough away to observe her, and folded her arms confidently.

"You’re going to ruin your eyes," she stated plainly, but that cute little face stared at her disapprovingly. "Not to mention your back."

"Thanks for the advice, Doctor Chandler." Catherine smiled, climbed off of the deep couch, and towered over her daughter.

"What if I had a scary dream? Huh? Then what would we have done?" The indignant child followed her mother into the kitchen and sunk into the chair at the table.

"I’m sorry, babe. I fell asleep by accident." She turned the switch on the coffee-maker and started her daughter’s toast.

"Well... just make sure you don’t do it again. Otherwise I’ll be all alone. No more, okay?" She clumsily poured herself milk when Catherine set it and the glass in front of her.

"Okay." She promised with a hint of a mocking tone. She often found herself hating her little girl’s sense of reality. Imagination was something Catherine herself was never short on as a child. Why couldn’t her little one be the same? Besides, she herself didn’t even want to be reminded of reality sometimes.

"Thank you." The girl nodded stately. Quickly, she began digging in her canvas backpack that was much too large for her. "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" Catherine set the toast and scrambled eggs in front of her child.

"You gotta sign this paper with me," she instructed and triumphantly retrieved the photocopied sheet.

"Well, how about you write it out and I will help while I get ready for work?" she pulled her own toast out and took a sip of the coffee she’d just fixed.

"Okay!" the girl agreed, happily independent. She picked up a pen off of the table and scanned the page. "Child’s name." She read off.

"So, what do you put there?" Catherine prompted.

"My name," she stated proudly, looking up for praise.

"You’re full name." Catherine enforced with a nod.

"Full." The girl whispered, falling back into her form. "Caroline Anna Chandler." She worked out loud as she wrote in her odd child’s handwriting. "Mother’s name." She read again.

"Catherine," she informed, chewing her toast. "C-a-t-h-e-r-i-n-e. And then, Chandler."

She finished writing the name and scanned with the pen for the next empty spot. "Father’s name," she read off quietly.

Catherine was quiet for only a second, but quickly caught herself. "You’re gonna leave that one empty, Ann."

"But..." she began with an ulterior motive, "they say they want my father’s name. We gotta..."

"Anna, that’s only for the children with fathers who live with them. Your daddy’s not here, so that part doesn’t matter to them. Understand?" Catherine explained with practiced skill. It hurt to admit it though. It hurt so badly. But Catherine’s tone was straight and strong, informative.

Little Anna nodded sadly and then pushed the paper toward her mother. "You gotta sign it now." She took her first bite of toast and then slid out of her chair. "I have to get dressed."

"But why?" Anna whined. The secret plan had fallen apart. Now, nearly jogging to keep up with her mother, the two were at the point of arguing. All discretion had been thrown to the wind.

"Because I say so, Ann." Catherine held her seven-year-old’s hand tightly to be sure not to lose her in the hurry of morning traffic.

"I dunno one kid in my class who doesn’t know their father’s name!" she argued. "Why not just tell me?"

"Why do you need to know? He’s not here, he’s not a part of our lives. His name isn’t even relevant!" Catherine glanced at her watch; they were late. The walk signal was going to change soon. She sped them up to try to catch it.

"It is too rel-ev-ant!" Anna objected, sounding out the new word. "People ask me all the time: ‘Oh, hello little girl," she played with the voices of her characters, "and what is your daddy’s name?’ I sound dumb if I say that I don’t know!" She stamped her foot to make it final.

Catherine sighed and mumbled to herself. "We’re not gonna make it." They didn’t. They stood amidst a crowd, waiting to cross the street.

"Mommy, why not just tell me?" She fed her the most logical little face and waited patiently.

"No, Ann. And that is the last I want to hear of it. You’re late." Catherine nearly dragged the child across the street and around the corner to her school.

"Mommy, please, just tell me." She gave it her last shot and immediately regretted it.

"Caroline!" Her mother warned. Using Anna’s first name always meant that she was really angry. She took a deep breath and knelt to the girl’s level. "Do you want to know why I won’t tell you?"

She thought about that for a second. "No. I just want to know his name."

"Well, you can’t." Catherine told her, beginning to loose her calm. "Listen, you and I are both really late, but I will tell you this and I don’t want you to tell anyone else, deal?" Anna nodded. "Okay... you can’t know his name. If you knew his name... people could get hurt." She couldn’t help but think of what this sounded like to a passerby. "His name is very secret. Understand?" Again Anna nodded, though she didn’t completely comprehend. "As for him as a father... he isn’t one, as far as I am concerned. He left us and he didn’t look back. But that’s okay with me..." she painted a smile on her face and hugged her daughter tightly, "because I have you all to myself! I don’t have to share you or anything. You are mine. And I love you so much." Anna, pressed against her mother, nodded once more.

"Now, you are late for school, and I am late for work." Catherine pulled the girl out of her arms. "I love you." She kissed her cheek. "Do you have your lunch?"

"In my bag." Anna nodded.

"Good. Make sure you get on the bus with the others, and I’ll pick you up at the YMCA at 6:00." Catherine re-reminded her of the plan.

"You’re not gonna be late again, right?" Anna reassured with a smile.

"Nope, I promise." Catherine crossed her heart. "I’ll tell Uncle Joe that you need me desperately, and I must rush to your side," she said dramatically.

"I’ve been stolen by pirates," Anna built on the story.

"Pirates this week, huh?"

"Yeah! And they are ransoming me for more gold and silver." Anna giggled. "And drugs, of course. They’re always looking for drugs."

Catherine smiled and shook her head. "Something like that." For a moment she thought her daughter was simply in a fairy tale without a care in the world. She should know her daughter better by now. "Okay, sweets! I’ll see you later!" She waved as the child bolted into the school, her dark blonde hair sweeping behind her.

"Bye mommy!"

"Bye!" Catherine looked at her watch again. She was so late! A cab would be the fastest solution. She laughed to herself. ‘Good luck finding a cab this time of day.’ She had enough change, she’d walk until she could catch a bus.

She headed for the main streets and stopped at the crosswalk to make sure she had enough change in her purse. She dug and dug. She was sure she had enough.

"Penny for your thoughts." A voice from the street floated up to her. He was a tall African- American man, a guitarist who didn’t typically sit on this street.

Catherine only glanced at him in her haste, but that was enough. He was a Helper, and had been long before she ever knew of the tunnels. She stopped and stared at him, not sure if she wanted to even acknowledge his presence.

"You know, you keep telling that little girl all that junk, you’re gonna have a mutiny on your hands." He nodded, matter-of-fact.

"Have you been following us?" she finally acknowledged him.

"Just a couple days. I heard that this was her school. Thought I’d check up on you two." He shrugged casually.

"We’re doing just fine without you. Throw us to the wolves and then you want to know how we’re doing?" She brushed him off angrily.

"Hey, this was just me. I was making sure you were all right." The man defended himself.

"After seven years?" She watched him shrug. "Well, we’re fine." She told him curtly, trying to walk away.

"Not from what I see. Girl, you’re so bitter it’s even rubbing off on your kid! Now that’s sad." He strummed his guitar trying to catch the attention of a stream of people that passed them.

She tried to respond, but no good argument came to mind. She turned to leave, brushing him off as if he had never been there.

"Catherine!" he called. She turned to him, very slowly, trying to talk herself out of it. "His name’s Jacob. He’s seven. He has your smile and Vincent’s eyes." Her hard edge wavered and she evaded his eyes. "Here!" He tossed her the extra quarter she needed. "Catch the bus."

Catherine caught the coin and quickly turned away from him. She heard him strum a few chords and then begin a sad, jazzy number to attract eyes. She hurried away.

Her defense mechanism was shattered. ‘Jacob... his name is Jacob.’ After Father; a name wasted on her beautiful baby. ‘Stop thinking about him. If you don’t think you don’t wonder and you can concentrate on what you have. You have Anna... his twin. Jacob and Anna. Stop it! You don’t have another child. He isn’t yours. Let him be, and you and Anna get on with your own lives.’ It sounded easy enough, but there was suddenly a deep pain in her heart. That gaping hole; that wound had been reopened... and it hurt so badly!

*************************************************************

A large flowing cape spread out behind him as he ran from the drainage tunnel of the park. Candles bent with the breeze he created, and the dirt he kicked up left traces of him as he passed. It seemed as if his dark blonde hair spread almost as long as his cape behind him. A chill of thrill shivered up him as he grabbed the rock wall to steady his spin into the corner he turned.

He was in the hub now, flying past tunnel dwellers, fast as a breeze. People were out walking, children on the way to classes, a few women were doing laundry.

His skin was numb from the speed of his pace and, as his fur was blown around, it felt like a foreign feature to his face. His tiny frame ran past Mary who was out with Father.

"Slow down, child!" she called with a laugh.

Little Jacob slid into his father’s chamber calling to him all the way down the iron ladder. "Father! Father!" That sweet little smile radiated the dark room. "Father! I saw it! I saw it!" The boy found Vincent behind a door of his bureau and let his story spill as he climbed onto the bed.

"Where have you been this morning, son?" Vincent, amused, watched Jacob fidget with anticipation.

"I went down to the park entrance and, and, guess what I saw!" He had piqued his father’s attention, but he innocently continued before Vincent could scold him. "It was a dog!! I’ve never seen a dog in the sun! It was so pretty! A Golden Retriever, I think! I have to ask Cat, though. She has the book."

"Jacob." Vincent finally cut in. "How many times need I tell you? You cannot go Above during the daytime. If someone saw you... who knows what could happen."

"You go Above all the time!" The child argued, his mood making a sharp turn to anger.

"At night, Jacob. And I keep myself hidden even then. To go Above during the day... what if someone saw you?" That argument was Father talking, but he wasn’t sure if he should scare his child with reality. But, then again, how else would he learn? "Jacob... listen to me." He sat on the bed and stood his son in front of him. "Do you know what could happen if someone saw you?" He waited for the boy to shake his head, puzzled. "Well, terrible things could happen. You could be taken away. Far away, where you would never see me, Mary, Grandfather, Cat, or anyone else ever again. You would only ever see the people who would..." he stopped. "Jacob, you know that you and I are different, don’t you?"

He nodded solemnly. "We look different."

"That’s right, and that is not a bad thing, Jacob, but it can put limitations on us. The people Above, they don’t know anyone else like you and I. They would be afraid of us at first, possibly to the point of harming us. After that fear passed, once they knew that we meant them no harm, they would want to know how we are the way we are. Jacob," he pulled his son closer to him, "if they were to catch you Above at any time of the day or night... they would take you away and they would probably hurt you in many ways. Do you understand what I’m telling you?"

"I think so." Jacob’s wide blue eyes never left his father’s.

"Trust me about this, son. It has happened to me before. It was the most terrifying experience of my life."

"How did you get home?" Jacob made himself comfortable on his father’s lap, a new story to feed his imaginative mind was always welcome.

Vincent paused, and one of his rare smiles emerged from the memory. "Your mother. She found me and rescued me from the men who held me captive."

Jacob’s smile spread with delight. "You see," he began proudly, "mother will find me and save me too!" He looked down at his fur covered hands and then cautiously back up at his father. "I was at Lena’s. She said... she said that I’m a lot like my mother. Do you think so, father?"

"Nothing of the sort." A sharp voice sounded from the top of the iron ladder. It was Father, staring down at them.

Vincent’s harsh eyes fixed on the old man and they never broke for the duration of the man’s stay. He slid Jacob off of his lap, his eyes ever fixed on Father. "Jacob, I believe you have a class to attend this morning."

"Yes, father," the seven-year-old admitted sadly. He was about to turn away, but Vincent pulled him close again.

"I believe that you are exactly like your mother." Vincent whispered secretively, and then spun the boy away from him. "Now, you go on. Be sure you’re not late."

"Yes, father!" Jacob happily nodded and ran out as fast as lightning, leaving his father and grandfather alone together.

"You fill that boy’s head with utter nonsense, you know that." Father watched his son, frozen with fixed and furious eyes. "You really should..."

"What I choose to tell my son about Catherine is my business, Father. If you believe that my telling him stories of us together is filling his head with nonsense, then..." he was a bit at a loss for words, "... I will have to ask you not to voice your opinions around him. I will always regret what I did to her, and how much I lost because of it." In a flash he was out the other exit with school book in hand.

 

3. When The Music Stops
April, 1989

Monday. Definitely the worst day of the entire week.

Catherine rolled in bed and hit her alarm clock. She threw her covers over her head and tucked her knees into her chest. ‘Go away.’ She curled herself tighter. ‘Everything. Erase the whole week and I’ll do better this time!’ she promised to no one. ‘Just make everything go away!’

The alarm clock buzzed at her again, insisting that she get up and face the world. She hit the off button hard, hoping it would break. It didn’t. She crawled out from the covers, savoring them and their cocoon effect until she had finally left them in a tangle on the bed. She went into the bathroom, and immediately began a shower. She suddenly felt so dirty.

‘Wake up!’ She scrubbed harder. She hit her stitches more than once, but never flinched at the pain. Everything was numb now. She simply glided through her normal routine.

She put on her make-up, which was now an innate impulse, but no matter how much or what colors she tried, she still looked horribly sick. What she had on would have to do for today.

Catherine went to the bed to pick up her purse and felt a breeze. She turned quickly to find her balcony doors open, the curtains fluttering softly. The air was humid and heavy, but that was the furthest of her concerns. She pushed the doors open further as she ran through them. "Vincent!"

Nothing. Nothing but the thick air and the sunrise. ‘It’s too light out.’ A part of her rationalized. ‘He wouldn’t come in the morning light, Catherine.’

‘Maybe he didn’t.’ The other half of her hoped. ‘Maybe he was here last night. Slept here.’ But there was no one there. No one but her and the humidity and the sunrise.

‘Catherine,’ that fearful rationalization spoke again gently, ‘he isn’t here. Go back inside. He’s not coming. You left the doors open last night. Go back inside. Go to work. Be as strong as he always said you were.’

Catherine went back inside, closing the doors of the balcony behind her. She gathered up her things and headed out to work.

Everything was routine. Stop and get coffee, pass the security guards and flash your badge, sit down at the desk and persecute the bad guy once more. It actually felt good to be at work. Her mind and hands were occupied, other thoughts had no room to fill in.

Maybe Monday would be a good day. Maybe today will be the clean slate. She could get all of her work done, without over-time, from the pace she was going now. If she was done on time then... maybe, she could go Below for a while, try to talk to Vincent, see the children. Yes. Maybe this could be a good thing, put the weekend behind her and charge back into her life... Vincent’s life.

Catherine grinned, and then smiled, and then laughed. Everything was okay now. Everything was going to work out.

"Hey!" A voice shouted at her, and then laughed. "I don’t pay you to giggle around here, Radcliffe! This is slave labor! Get back to work!"

"Yes, Mr. Maxwell!" She saluted as she shouted back, the very essence of her beaming now.

"And here’s an extra link in that shackle." Laughed a new voice, standing at the other end of her desk.

In her dizzying happiness, Catherine whipped around to deliver the next sharp witted comment. Her mouth was open, she was ready to speak, but when her eyes fell on Jesse Fuller all the excitement drained out of her. He stood there, as he had at the funeral home, only now he held out a paper for her instead of his arms. She took the paper nervously, and instantaneously became busy with the work on her desk. "Thanks," was the only thing that she mumbled out.

But he didn’t leave. He leaned on her desk and watched her work for a few seconds. "How have you been?" He asked with an amused grin.

‘Just ignore him. He doesn’t exist. This weekend never happened.’ And she did just that with a nonchalant; "I’m fine."

"Uh-huh." He grunted, pushing himself off of her desk. But he came around to the back, next to her, leaning over now. "Really Cathy; how have you been? I’ve been worried. You were there, and then..."

"Jesse," she began, but he stopped her.

"Well, that’s good. You still remember my name." He grinned sarcastically.

"Jess... don’t do this, okay?" she pleaded quietly, never looking away from her papers. "We were both so drunk, and..." she sighed, "I did not have my judgment intact that night."

"What judgment?" He paused, choosing his words and leaning closer into her ear. "Cathy... the man hits you!"

That spun her from her work. "He does..." she suddenly realized she was yelling and quieted down to a whisper, but the fire still burning in her eyes. "He does not! It was an accident! Get it through your head!"

"Whatever you say." He backed down with a sarcastic stare. She turned back to her work sharply, and he leaned back in tighter. "An accident like this?" He touched the scar by her ear gently. She groaned her frustration and ignored him, but he just egged her on. "You told me some pretty wild things Friday night." She froze. "Just from that, Cathy, he’s hurting you."

"What did I tell you??!" She panicked, spinning to face him again.

"Not a whole lot. I couldn’t understand most of it. What is he?"

She was stiff. At that exact moment, Catherine swore off alcohol of any kind.

"Is he, like, an ex-con or something?" Jesse accused, no longer looking at her, but the stitches on her chin.

She breathed. He had no idea, she had been totally incomprehensible, as he had been. The most life- threatening part was over. "That is none of your business, Jesse."

"None of my business?! Cathy... you’re right, we were both very drunk, and we were both a little hard-up." She gave him a quick look. "That much I did get. Cath... we slept together, it’s not a crime. He’ll never have to know."

The world was spinning. A downward spiral was plummeting her back to Earth. No! Anything but that! Anything!! It wasn’t true. She didn’t remember anything like that! He was lying. Maybe a kiss... did she kiss him? No! She wouldn’t have! Oh God, she had! And she had a strange hazy recollection of leaving a room... a bed... a man... and she was in her underwear. No! No, this wasn’t happening! How could she! How could she have lost herself so completely? No! Vincent!

Oh, dear God, Vincent! What had she done? She prayed that he had shut her out long before... but she knew that he hadn’t. He had been there all through that terrible night.

"Cathy..." Jesse interrupted her, seeing that she was shaking and had gone visibly white as a sheet, "really, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell him."

"You don’t understand! He already knows!" She dropped down to a mumble, only meant for herself. "Oh God! He felt every moment of it! Shit!"

Jesse studied her for a moment as she mumbled insanely to herself. Slowly he stood up straight, realization dawning on him. "You don’t remember, do you?"

"It’s hazy." She explained, angry and now packing up her work. "I thought I was dreaming."

"That good, huh?"

"Jess," she stopped for a second to look at him, "it never happened, okay? Please do this for me."

He stood there, in her way, dumbfounded and disheartened. "Cathy..."

"Please Jesse! Please! Just say it."

He stumbled, reluctant. He wanted to yell at her. Maybe they were drunk, but it had meant something. She was kind and beautiful, he just wanted to help her. But she stood there, waiting, with her purse and bag in hand. Her ocean-deep green eyes pleaded with him. She was going to him, going to beg forgiveness. He knew it all too well. She would be beaten, possibly killed if this man was violent enough. Did he just like to torture, or could he be driven to kill? And could this be the turning point?

But if Cathy was telling the truth... what then? Maybe it was just an accident and there was no reason to "save" her. ‘Say it never happened’. But it did and he wasn’t ashamed. He stood there, blocking her exit, contemplating it all.

"Say it!" She yelled.

He gaped at her, not saying anything, just staring.

She shoved past him impatiently. Skidding past Joe, who had come out to see what drama the entire office was fixed on, she told him she was sorry as she ran out of the building.

"What the hell happened?" Joe charged on Jesse.

Still he had trouble speaking. "I’m... I’m sorry, Mr. Maxwell."

"Yeah, I’m hearing a lot of that lately." Joe quipped, not amused. "You wanna tell me something?" He prompted.

The world paused as Jesse looked at the door that Catherine had escaped through and then back at Joe. "No." He answered quietly and simply.

A block from the DA’s office was a deli owned by a couple, Helpers who had a tunnel entrance in the back room, as many did. That was where Catherine headed. She breezed in, nearly running into quite a few people. She stopped at the counter where Ginny was filling an order.

"Catherine!" She greeted with a smile, still putting together the specialty bagel. "A bit early for lunch, hon."

Catherine panted, trying to force words out of her panicking face unsuccessfully. "I need... to get... to the back."

Anthony, marching in from the kitchen, was immediately quieting her down. "Not so loud! You want the whole world to hear you?"

Ginny finally took her attention away from the order to see Catherine bouncing with worry, biting her lips to keep herself quiet. "Anthony," she called her husband away, "finish this, would you?" He didn’t move right away, so she rushed over and pushed him toward the counter. Ginny unlatched the little door separating them and pulled Catherine in, watching the rest of the customers as if they would rush the two women.

"Thank you, Ginny!" Catherine mumbled as she jogged past her and back through the kitchen.

There was no hesitation. Catherine’s feet made it to the bottom of the ladder and she was running through the tunnels. Everything was familiar here. She didn’t have to think about where she was going, she simply knew. This was home. This was her family. ‘Oh God, what have I done?"

She passed people who tried to talk to her, but she didn’t stop. She had a purpose, a destination, and she followed it. She followed it around corners, over bridges, and through the kitchens. She was under Manhattan and close to Chinatown before she slid to a stop.

She gathered her courage, praying that he would have no idea why she was upset. Catherine crouched low and stared into Vincent’s chamber. She swung her legs over and let her feet, now cramping, fall against the ladder. She leaned in and found him writing in his journal, his back turned to her.

She simply watched him for a minute or two. He was hunched over his desk, his pen moving like lightning in order to keep up with his thoughts. His hair fell heavily down his back and, in the candlelight, it seemed to be a glowing halo. He in the glowing light, she crouched in the shadowy darkness.

"Vincent?" She called softly with a deep shake in her voice.

The pen stopped, only for a moment, but Vincent never moved. He continued writing.

"Vincent, please speak to me." She curled her hands into a ball nervously. "Please?"

"You shouldn’t be here." The simple statement was all that he allowed her.

She closed her eyes and nearly smiled at the sound of his voice."I need to be here." She replied, her eyes still closed. "I need you."

"No," his voice rumbled like a coming storm, "you don’t . You have proven that you can make it without me. Go back to him, Catherine. I’m not an option anymore."

"Vincent, please!" she begged, close to tears and longing for him to hold her and make the world go away. "It was an accident!"

"An accident?!" he finally turned on her, but never took a step forward. "There are no accidents, Catherine. Only fate."

"Fate brought us together, Vincent!" she cut in. "Please don’t take that away from me. I made a mistake. I was upset and I had too much to drink and I’m sorry... please!"

"Catherine," even her name on his lips was painful to both, "our fate went astray before him." He breathed. "I hurt you. I hurt you at the worst time of all."

"I’m fine!" she insisted for the millionth time. "I’m fine, it’s all right!"

"It is not all right! It’s nowhere near all right!" He fumed at her, but she didn’t move an inch. "It will never be all right." He softened a little and he let his eyes sink into hers. He watched her with the most wanting eyes and then spoke slowly. "I will always regret this," he promised her. "Leave. Leave now. And don’t ever look back."

"No," she told him quietly, her face growing more angry. "No, you don’t get rid of me that easily."

"I said leave!" He hollered.

"I am not Lisa, Vincent!!" she screamed back. The world hushed as she breathed heavily and he watched her, stunned by her statement. "I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved another human being."

"Human..." he began with disdain, but was stopped.

"Vincent! Listen to me! You were upset, I was upset, and we both made mistakes. I am sorry for that. But... I will not run! I won’t! I won’t leave the only good I’ve ever done for myself just because he is afraid of himself! Just because he is afraid of me."

"It’s not that I’m afraid of you." His speech was labored; coherent thought was not easy at this point. "It is that I’m afraid for you."

"You keep saying that." She shook her head. "But Vincent, who pushed you? Who always pushes you... too far sometimes? Me. I blame no one but myself for everything that happened this weekend. I pushed too hard, I know that. You are afraid of me. I make you test the boundaries."

There was silence between them. Interminable silence. Her logic sunk in, but he pushed it aside, preferring to wallow in his pity. "You should leave now."

"You are so afraid of who you could be." Her pitying stare bore down on him, forcing him to believe her words. "You’re afraid of what you could become. I am not Lisa! I will not run from you. I will stay and wait." She folded her arms decisively, her eyes never leaving his.

"Catherine..." the last time her name passed his lips, "he made you happy. If only for a moment. That is a moment I can never give you. Leave... and don’t ever look back."

Slowly she shook her head and sat up straighter. She defied his desires for the first, and the last time.

Silence in the tunnel world. Everything was still. The smallest of creatures waited for what would happen next. And then: "Leave!!" He challenged, taking a step forward.

Catherine sat back. With that one word and one step he had sent an emotion so full of hatred and anger that it forced her backwards. But she held herself still.

"Leave!!"

Again that shock of emotion inched her back a bit more. But she was prepared this time. This time she blocked his forced emotion with what little strength she had, and again held herself firmer and more indignant.

None of his tactics worked. She stayed perfectly still, never flinching from any of his blows. So, he took another step forward and struck her for the last time with only a few, short words; "I don’t love you."

He had done it. Her eyes, once steely and ready for anything, widened and watered. Her strong form melted into herself. She watched him, felt his sincerity, as she tucked her knees up carefully. She nodded to him in acknowledgment as tears began to stream. She let out one barely audible; "I’m sorry, my love." And as quickly and unexpectedly as she had come into his life, she was lost to the world Above. The darkness of the park which had once given her to him, now swallowed her up, never to be seen again.

 

4. Pursuit
May, 1997

"Here’s that deposition." Catherine dropped the manila folder on Joe’s desk with a flourish. "You should make me a saint for sitting through that!"

"That would have been done long ago if I had the power." Joe assured as he skimmed the report. This one was gruesome, as many were, but it was especially hard for Joe and Catherine to deal with. Then again, it was their living to fight against these people. "How do you suppose a person gets this sort of thing in their head? All of these kids. Seven-years-old and some shrink is going to have to explain to them why this man hurt them. Unbelievable! How many were there? Six?"

"Eight." Catherine corrected with some difficulty. "The last two were him as well. He just changed his MO."

"And he killed them?" Joe searched for it in the file.

"Yeah. All of it’s there. He described everything. Right down to how he picked them out. Seven-years-old, African-American, welfare families." She shook her head to try and clear it of the image of that man sitting only a few inches away, stone-faced. It didn’t work. She needed to get away from it, immerse her brain in something a little less unnerving. She checked her watch; perfect timing. "Joe, I’ve gotta get going."

He immediately dropped the folder, happy to switch topics. "You need to pick up Anna?"

"Um, yeah. She’s down at the Y." Catherine fidgeted a bit. Her daughter’s profile was very different from the other children, but still too close for comfort. She just needed to get away from everything. Pick up Anna, and keep her safe.

"How’s she doing?" Joe tried to keep the conversation going.

"She’s fine, Joe." She assured him... or herself. She laughed a little as she brought her head up. "You just saw her two days ago."

"Well, you know..." Joe came around the desk and sat on the edge, "Radcliffe, she’s like my own daughter." His tone suddenly switched to a joking laugh. "Don’t laugh, I do have a soft spot in there somewhere." He patted his chest.

"Well, that’s good to know." She nodded with mock-sincerity, then turned and began to head out of his office.

"Hey, Cathy..." Joe caught her attention by the time she reached the door, "you know that... whatever you need, I’ll always be there."

Turning back only slightly, she nodded with a smile. "Yes, Joe. I know."

He advanced, a little too close for her. He leaned against the wall and door, keeping her from leaving. "Do you really? Cath... I know that you don’t like to hear things like this, but..." he leaned a little farther in and she squirmed nervously, "I love that little girl like she was my own. And I want to say that..."

"Joe, I really have to go." Catherine stopped him, knowing exactly where he was going. She tried to pull the door open, but he held it shut.

"You know, you’ve been avoiding me for almost a month, Cath." He watched her closely. "Eventually you’re gonna have to let somebody in."

"Really, Joe. I’m serious." She tried to pull the door open with no success. "I can’t be late again."

"Who are you holding out for?" He asked quietly. There was no menace to his voice, only genuine curiosity and concern.

"Joe," she finally stopped and looked into his eyes, "please. I can’t do this."

"Why not?" He asked, leaning in a little closer now.

"Joe." Her tone pulled him away a bit. "Don’t. Just don’t." She pulled the door open easily and slipped out quickly. And she was free, she had evaded him once again. She breathed heavily as she made her way back to her desk.

Joe had been coming after her for a long time. He had truly gotten over that shy banter around the time Anna had turned five. Now he was on to full out advancements. She wasn’t sure why she never gave in. She just couldn’t. Everything still hurt. Looking at her own child still hurt sometimes. Memories hurt. But what hurt most was moving on, essentially... finding someone else. Joe was there; sweet, thoughtful, adored Anna... and loved her. But it wasn’t right. Joe just wasn’t... oh how she hated to even think this... he wasn’t Vincent.

She grabbed her purse and rushed past Joe’s office, out of the office and away from all of those thoughts, memories, and emotions.

 

5. A Momentary Lapse of Recovery

June, 1989

"Good morning, starshine!" Jenny sang as she yanked the curtains back and let the sun shine on the couch where Catherine rolled and grumbled. "Come on. Up, up!" She chirped.

"No!" Catherine protested, throwing the blankets over her head.

"Yes!" Jenny mimicked her friend’s grumble. "We talked about this last night, you are going to work today."

"I changed my mind." She mumbled, her face in her pillow.

"Nope, not allowed. Our deal is binding. Get the hell off my couch, you crazy woman!" Jenny was joking, they both knew it, but there was still an undertone of seriousness.

"Jenny... please don’t make me go." Still Catherine was under the covers, and her mumbled pleas were almost lost into them.

"No, Cathy." Jenny straddled the arm of the couch where Catherine’s feet lay and talked down to her. "You’ve been lying on this couch for two weeks now..."

"I’ve gotten my work done! What’s the difference?" She argued.

"Half your work. I can’t keep telling Joe you’re not here, he’s caught on already. We’re not fooling anyone." She tried to pull the blankets off of Cathy unsuccessfully.

"I’m fooled." She insisted, tucking the blankets even tighter.

Jenny finally gave her last tug on the blanket and gave up. She threw the little she had gained back at her friend and set her hands on her hips as she sighed in frustration.

"Well, maybe I can’t make you go to work, but I can make you get off my couch." There was no joke in that. "When was the last time you were home?"

"I dunno." Catherine grumbled. "April... May, maybe."

"Yeah... Cath, that was a month ago. You’ve been hopping from house to house, avoiding your own. My goodness... at least get some more clothes so that you aren’t doing laundry everyday."

"Fine, catch me a cab to Sears." Catherine rolled.

"Cute." Jenny stared sarcastically. "Look..." she sat back down, "this is getting ridiculous. You had a hard break-up, I get it, but..."

"No." A hard voice that didn’t quite sound like her friend resonated from the blankets. "No, you don’t get it, Jenny. No one ever will. I’m all alone." Her tough voice began to quiver. "He left me all alone to deal with this. I have no one who ‘gets it’."

"You have me." Jenny jumped in.

The covers suddenly revealed a weathered face that looked strangely like Catherine Chandler. But it wasn’t her completely. Things had changed. The biggest was her speech, but it even came down to the consistent darkening of her eyes. Finally the face’s mouth opened and a voice, that sounded as if it belonged to Jenny’s long lost friend, came out. "I wish you could understand. You’ve always been here. But, I’m sorry, Jen. I can’t tell you this one."

"Okay..." Jenny began slowly, obviously trying to hide how heartbroken she actually was, "then, maybe you could talk to one of his friends. They can’t all have disowned you."

Catherine shook her head more than she answered. "I can’t face them."

"Are you sure they even know, Cath? Just talk to someone who knows what you’re going through. You can’t mope around my house forever. Eventually you will have to get your life back together."

The two sat in silence for a while. Jenny had been logical, but Catherine was sick of logic. She was sick of people. They were always there for some reason, handing her things. ‘Here, some flowers. How about some make-up? A new dress would be nice, wouldn’t it? And new watch for your troubles while we’re at it!’ What if she didn’t want any of this? What if she just got rid of everything? What if she escaped with Vincent to the depths of the earth, in rags, and only a lantern to guide them? No people. No questions. Nothing but them.

There was only one problem with that. It couldn’t happen. There would always be people... and she had lost her Vincent. She was dying without him; slowly withering away to nothing. But... she wouldn’t get him back, not any time soon. Maybe, just maybe, she could pretend that he was near if she was still with his family. Close by association. She sat up slowly on the couch and weakly nodded to Jenny. "Okay."

*******************

"It’s good to see you, Cathy." Peter came around her chair to sit at his desk in front of her.

She knew that this process would have to go slowly. She couldn’t just run down to the tunnels and announce her intentions. No, she had to establish that common connection. Peter happened to fill that criterion quite nicely. So, here she sat in his office, fists clenched together and the room spinning slightly.

"We’ve, uh..." he searched for the word as memories flooded back, "we’ve been very worried." Cathy’s face was a little uneasy and agitated. "How have you been?"

"I’m... I’m fine. You know..." she dropped off, her voice falling into her tensed hands.

"So fine that you haven’t been to work in two weeks?" He watched Catherine raise her head curiously. "When I didn’t hear from you, I called your office."

She smiled ironically. "Someday Joe’s going to give out information about me to the wrong person."

Peter gave her a weak smile at that. An awkward silence fell and he shifted in his seat. "Cathy," he finally decided to just let it out, "Jacob told me what happened."

"I assumed, Peter." She granted him nothing more than her quiet voice.

"Is..." he tried not to let his eagerness override his sensibility, "is this final then?"

"Ask him." She sat up straighter and shrugged venomously. "He sent me away."

"I’m sorry." He said sympathetically, knowing that there was no comforting her. She lifted her eyes to meet his and for a moment, a brief moment, he saw a little girl in front of him. He saw ten-year-old Cathy Chandler sitting in front of him. The same face, small and innocent; her expression so sad that even when she wasn’t crying, she looked as if she was. That grief stricken child being told that her mother would never again play with her, or talk to her, or comfort her. For a moment, he felt as if she had lost her mother once again.

Catherine swallowed hard. "I don’t suppose Father’s sorry?" She asked delicately, hopefully.

"Well..." Peter began nervously, "you know that... Vincent means the world to Father. With him being gone so long... it’s only natural that Father’s very upset."

"Vincent’s gone?" All concern for her surrogate father’s approval was gone. She sat forward in her seat, swaying a bit from sudden dizziness. She had hardly moved in two weeks. Now activation of muscles was bringing on frequent dizzy spells.

"He has been for nearly a month." Peter nodded. He waited for the normal reaction to such news. The look, as if searching for him in her own mind. The frantic eye movements, setting a plan into motion. But there was none of that. She simply sighed, shook her head and sat back. "Don’t worry about Father, Cathy." He brought the conversation back. "He’s had high hopes for you and Vincent... once he got to know you." He smiled. "And I will admit that I hoped too. Two children whom I treated from birth, finding each other. I hoped for many things from you. Maybe that was wrong of me."

"What’s so wrong with that?" Catherine suddenly burst, as if the question had been pent up for years. "I hoped too. Why is that so wrong? Why couldn’t we be more to each other? Why does there have to be limits? Why can’t everyone be as blind to his differences as I am?"

Peter simply sat and watched her. The questions fell out of her mouth as if she had rehearsed it on the way over. Maybe she had. It was difficult to listen with no answers, but that was all he could do.

When she finished, she was panting and staring at him, waiting for some sort of response. All she got was a helpless expression and a small; "I’m sorry." Swiftly, she was on her feet. "I don’t even know why I’m here."

"Wait, Cathy, please!" Peter was up, coming around the desk to stop her. He didn’t need to.

The room was spinning in circles and she swayed with it. Sound was delayed and her eyes focused and unfocused. Suddenly the world was a complete haze and then... black.

Peter barely caught her, and he had a difficult time of that. He was losing his strength as he gained years, and he was quickly realizing, that weightless newborn he once held was now 30-some years older and passed out in his old, weak arms. As gently as possible he helped her down to the floor.

"Chandra! I could use some help in here! Chandra!!"

 

6. Compared to a Summer’s Day
June, 1997

Little Anna Chandler, victoriously clutching her permission slip, walked as fast as she could without stepping on her classmate’s feet. She always hated the concept of lines. They were so terribly orderly, strict. One child follows the other, and so on. Everyone goes at the first child’s pace. How horribly constricting. It made no logical sense either. School was for getting children ready for being a grown-up. Grown-ups didn’t have to walk in lines.

The single row of seven and eight year olds reached the bus waiting for them outside of the school. The children filed on, hardly orderly, handing their permission slips to the teacher in their excitement. Anna was in her seat, alone, when another child, the last on the bus, approached her.

"Can I sit here?" The boy ask innocently. He was an odd child, awkward even around the teachers. He wasn’t the stereotypical runny nose, wide-rimmed glasses little boy, but he was shy and unsure of himself.

Anna, with a little hesitation , slid over. She liked being alone in her seat. She was never lonely, she just didn’t want to talk to anyone, she wanted to ride quietly. But, this boy was of the same mind-set and the bus was full. "Sure."

The two children glanced at each other, nowhere near discreetly. It was so awkward, not really wanting to talk to each other. So... they didn’t. They sat in silence through their trip, but it was enjoyed by both. It was really nice to sit with someone her age, not needing to talk, just enjoying a ride.

The bus stopped in the middle of Central Park West and the teacher stood up from her seat in the front of the bus. "Okay... I want all of you to listen to me! Are you listening? We are here for school purposes only. No running off on your own. And don’t think I won’t know if you’re gone, I’ll be taking head counts often. You are to stay with us at all times, you should always be able to see one of the chaperones. Understand?"

"Yes." All of the children nodded in agreement.

"Alright, everyone file off the bus and wait by the door."

The herd of children crowded outside the bus and the chaperones wrangled them into something of a circular formation.

"Now, everyone knows who their parent is, correct?" The teacher asked.

"Yes." The second graders agreed in unison.

Anna flinched, never answering the teacher. The whole concept of unity bothered her. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be their own individual self? School just didn’t make sense.

Never-the-less, she obediently followed her designated parent and the rest of the children in her group. The back of the group was where she preferred, behind everyone else, but Sarah’s mom insisted that she walk behind them so that she could keep a closer watch. Anna was stuck in the back next to Sarah and her mom.

Sarah was a nice girl, but Anna didn’t normally talk to many people. Many times her teachers had called home concerned that there was something wrong with her. But her mother would always explain that Anna simply thought that their conversations were never very interesting. Adults, however; now they had fascinating conversations! But, Anna had tried to talk to Sarah’s mom on their last field trip. Sarah’s mom just told her to go enjoy herself and play with kids her own age. She just didn’t understand that. She had always spent more time with adults than children. Her mom was busy and she had no daddy, as the other children repeatedly pointed out. ‘Going over to play’ meant sitting in Uncle Joe’s office and listening to him talk about politicians that meant nothing to her. Fun was sitting with Peter and Chandra, his assistant, and performing ‘experiments’ on potatoes. Other children weren’t any fun... what did they know? Adults had stories that she was assured she would understand more in the future. School was tedious.

"Kids!" Sarah’s mom stopped the group suddenly. "You all have your sketch pads and pencils?" The children held up their materials. "Good, you can sit anywhere you like, but I should be able to see you. Remember, once you sit down, you can’t move. You have to draw everything you see, right from there. Understand?"

"Yes." That out-of-tune chorus sounded again.

There weren’t many people in the park, not noticeably anyways. A few joggers, some teenagers skipping school, and not one homeless person to be found. Sarah’s mom let the children spread out a little more than she was wanted to, but it was so nice that morning. She only made a few kids sit close to her so that she knew they wouldn’t run off.

Anna moved to a far tree. This was a dumb reason for a field trip. There was no purpose to it. What were they learning, how to look at things? She did that just fine. Still, she didn’t complain. She wouldn’t have anyways. It was such a pretty day outside. She desperately wanted to climb the tree she leaned against; to get so close to the sky that she could touch it. But she didn’t need the hassle of getting in trouble. So, she sat down and observed her surroundings. What did she want to draw?

Nothing was particularly interesting. She had seen it all before. Benches, trees, grass, a few fences, garbage. There was that drainage tunnel down the hill, but it looked really dirty, and who wants to draw something like that? ‘Bet a lot of homeless live in there.’

As if in answer to her thoughts, an outstretched hand from the tunnel was revealed in the sunlight. It was a tiny hand, and it twisted and turned like it was trying to catch the sun’s rays. After a few seconds, a head of thick blonde hair poked out and took in its surroundings. Soon, when the area seemed empty and secure, a little boy emerged into the sun. He immediately began spinning in circles as if trying to dance between the rays. He was dressed in neatly placed rags. It was the type that a homeless boy would wear, but the presentation was what seemed odd.

Anna inched around the tree, glancing at Sarah’s mom (who was scolding the boy nearest to her), and watching the boy to be sure she didn’t frighten him away. She flipped open her sketch book and began scribbling. It wasn’t turning out to be what she wanted it to look like. Actually, what she was drawing hardly looked like the little boy who was now hopping over the drainage stain. Oh, how she hated being young at this very moment. This was interesting. This was something out of the ordinary.

She tried her hardest, drew as best she could. She needed color. Crayons, or markers. Color would make it look better, she was sure. But she didn’t have anything with her.

Without thinking, Anna banged her fist on the sketch pad and growled her frustration. Realizing what she had just done, she quickly looked down over the hill to make sure he was still there.

He was. He was standing against the open mouth of the tunnel staring up at her. It was there, in that position, staring at each other, that Anna noticed the strips of hair along his face and the odd flatness of his nose. It was here that he saw a rustic porcelain face with soft sandy hair. They watched each other move; him swaying in the sunlight, her laying over the hill in the shade.

"Caroline Chandler?" Sarah’s mom called out, distracting Anna.

The boy was gone when she looked back. There was not even a hint or a clue that he had been there.

"Caroline Chandler?"

Anna looked down at her open sketch book, lying on the ground in her panic. It almost looked like him. It needed more. There was more to this boy.

"Caroline Chandler!" Sarah’s mom was angry now.

Anna twisted around the tree and gave a reluctant, "Here! But I’m Anna." She insisted quietly.

"Well, what are you hiding over there for?" Sarah’s mom smiled pleasantly, if not condescendingly. "Come on, honey, we’re leaving."

 

7. The Creature That Has Never Been
June, 1989
 

"You shouldn’t move." Peter’s voice, straight and clear, broke through the haze.

Catherine blinked hard, trying to clear the fuzzy picture she was seeing. She reached up to wipe her eyes and she realized that she was attached to a tube. She squirmed a little; everything felt so uncomfortable.

"Really, Cathy," Peter touched her shoulder lightly, "don’t move." She shivered a little and he pulled the blanket up on her. "I called Joe and Jenny. I let them know where you are, but I didn’t tell them anything else."

"Peter?" Her eyes were focusing, finally, and she attempted to analyze her surroundings. "What’s going on?"

"You passed out in my office, Cath. And I am telling you this right now," he was leaning over her now, his voice was harsh and stern, odd, "you are going to have to take care of yourself from now on. I really don’t give a damn what Vincent has done to you."

She watched him in a little fear. He had never been so stern and aggressive. Peter was always like a fun-loving uncle. He was never harsh. She struggled to sit up, as if it would help her process this easier.

He pushed her back down, gently, but he still seemed angry. "I mean it, Cathy. Lay still." He hit a button on the side of her bed and she began rising to a sitting position.

"What am I doing here?" Still she squirmed uncomfortably.

"You’re malnourished. Just judging from all your symptoms, I’d gather you haven’t slept much either." He checked her arm to make sure the tube was still intact. "We had to hook you up to a feeding tube. What have you eaten in the past week?"

Catherine shrugged, still trying to clear her head. "I had, um... some juice this morning."

"Okay, well that would account for the dizziness and passing out. The juice was a shock because you haven’t eaten." He was still very harsh, even as he processed her chain of events. Peter rubbed the corners of his eyes and seemed to drop into the hospital chair. "Cathy... why didn’t you just tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Oh, why wouldn’t her brain return to normal?

"Don’t pretend, please Cathy." Peter closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Peter, I didn’t even realize that I haven’t eaten in a week. I really have no idea what’s going on." Coherence was beginning to take over. It was getting easier to understand and respond.

He merely stared at her for a few seconds. Then he sat forward and watched her closely. "I thought that’s what you came to tell me. I didn’t figure it was just a social call."

"It wasn’t really. It was complicated. I needed to talk to somebody without worrying about saying something I shouldn’t." She rambled, but her following question was clear and definite. "What are you talking about?"

Peter gaped at her for a moment. He truly believed that she knew. He had just assumed that was what she was there for. "Cathy, you’re pregnant. About a month or two."

Her eyes grew twice their normal size. "No." Was her only answer.

"Cath, I ran the test twice..."

"No! No, something went wrong. I’m not pregnant!"

"Cathy." Peter’s calm, soothing voice was back. He was up and by her side quickly, trying to keep her still. "You have to listen to me now." He tried to calm her darting eyes. She was trying to find a way out. He knew that look; Vincent had it too. "This man... that you were with. Cathy, are you listening? Did you use any protection? Cathy!"

She was still frantic and the nagging thought of ripping the tube out of her arm was starting to win. "I don’t even remember it happening. Not really."

"Cathy!" He warned, suddenly. "If you rip that thing out of your arm, you’ll be bleeding for the next hour. Sit still!"

"Peter," she began, quietly now, "do you think that Father will let me stay Below?"

That took him a bit by surprise. "Well... I suppose. I wouldn’t think that you’d want to be that close to Vincent right now."

"Peter," she began, another thought, "do you still have samples of Vincent’s blood? From when he was sick?"

"I don’t know." Rapid questions after such shocking news confused him. He thought she would spend more time being upset by this. He knew that Catherine’s pregnancy from another man would tear her and Vincent further apart. This reaction was completely unexpected.

"Find out!" She implored with wild, intense eyes.

"Cathy, maybe you should..."

"I have to know if he’s the father! Test the baby. Vincent could be the father."

"I know you don’t like coming Above, Jacob, but this needed to be discussed away from the others." Peter explained, whispering to his friend outside Catherine’s hospital room. The woman was asleep, sedated, but Peter hardly left her side. He didn’t completely trust her yet.

"Peter, you’ve been a good friend to all of us," Father began, "but I can’t say that I can support Catherine right now."

"She says that Vincent could be the baby’s father." Peter argued for the thousandth time.

"And you said that she was unstable and irrational. I have trouble believing that sort of accusation from an unstable person."

"This is Catherine, Jacob. She’s never lied to us before."

"I’m not saying that she’s lying. What I’m saying is that she is unsure of everything right now, and I think she is accusing Vincent because that is what she wants to believe."

"Would you please stop saying ‘accused’? You make it sound as if she said he raped her." Peter defended harshly.

Father sighed, acknowledging, but not relenting. "Did you do the DNA test?"

"I couldn’t. I threw out all of Vincent’s blood samples. People started questioning. I didn’t want anyone to get curious. We can’t exactly say that we need to test the fetus for non-human DNA, either."

"I agree." Father nodded. "The risk is too great. Did you ask her about the other man?"

"I didn’t have a chance. We had to sedate her or she would have pulled the tube out of her arm. I need to call her boss, see if he or Jenny knows anything." There was silence between the men. Peter looked up and saw Father, seeming to be cursing something... or someone. "Jacob, Cathy is going to need surveillance. When she came in she was sleep deprived, malnourished, she’s been in a heavy depression. Honestly, I don’t trust her to take care of herself, or this baby, alone. She wants to go Below. I told her that I would talk to you about it."

"I’m not sure if that’s the right place for her right now." Father chose his words carefully.

"Look, right now, I don’t give a damn who the father is, I just..."

"It’s not Vincent." Father told him sharply.

Peter smiled and shook his head. "Open your eyes, Jacob. Vincent’s not a boy anymore. He’s a man, and he has been for a long time. Eventually you’ll have to come to terms with that. Cathy is a grown woman and, no mater what has happened, she still loves him. A couple in love... it was only a matter of time."

Father shook his head. "No. Vincent would have told me. I would have known."

"Maybe he was ashamed of it for some reason. Maybe that’s what started their argument. Have you considered the possibility," Peter rationalized, "that maybe Cathy’s just as innocent in this as Vincent is?"

"I know what I need to know, Peter." Father whispered harshly. "I know that something happened that Vincent felt he needed time alone. I know that Catherine went out, got drunk, and slept with another man. I know that now she is pregnant and my son has been gone for a month. I hold no sympathy for this girl anymore."

"Listen," Peter was much more collected than Father, and it was obvious to any passerby, "no one but Vincent and Cathy know what happened between them. At this point we can’t assume anything. I am concerned for Cathy and that baby right now, no one else. What I want to know is if you are going to be kind enough to take her in without judgment or anger." His eyes fixed on his friend and he stared the man down. "Are you going to treat her the same way you treat every other person who has ever needed a place to go?"

Father was stuck, and he knew it. Peter had played on his one weakness; his ideals. He glanced around pensively and finally settled back on Peter. "Can I go in and see her?"

Peter nodded shortly. "I’ll be in my office."

Father stepped delicately into the immaculate hospital room. The pure white sheets and the beeping machines, it was a bit of an unnerving place now. He was always afraid someone who knew him before the tunnels would find him in a room like this and history would be replayed. He found Catherine in the far bed, asleep. Her arm twitched as she dreamed and her hair was twisted behind her neck.

He only watched her dream, tossing her head back and forth. "What are we going to do with you?"

 

8. Children of the Night
June, 1997

"Will you promise me that you’ll go to sleep tonight?" Catherine asked her daughter, standing at the door, ready to shut the lights out.

"Maybe after a couple more chapters." Anna sat up a little, her bright face beaming at her mother. She was aching to know what was going to happen to Laura Ingalls and Almanzo Wilder.

Catherine smiled back. "That was not a negotiation, Miss Anna." She flipped the switch and the room was engulfed in shadows.

Light spilled in from the next room and there Anna’s mother stood in the center of it. The light was emanating from her, Anna was sure of it. She was an angel, the most beautiful she would ever see. In the scheme of things, nobody else really mattered. She had her mom and that was good enough. She would have rather lived in a world without anyone but her, than a world full of friends.

"Goodnight, baby." The door shut and the room was pure blackness.

Anna fell back in bed and sighed heavily. ‘Would Pa let Laura marry Almanzo?’ Anna closed her eyes, imagining the dashing farmer and the fifteen year old wild-child sitting next to each other up in that wagon. She began to slip into sleep. That image in her mind was slowly becoming her dream. But just as she was dozing off...

"Hello?" a tiny voice called.

Anna sat straight up in bed. Every little movement of a shadow caught her eye and she edged into the corner of her bed. "Is someone there?" She whispered to nothing.

There was silence. The room was eerily still. Not even the curtains on her window stirred for any reason.

"I know I heard you! If you don’t come out, I’ll call my mom. She’ll call my Uncle Joe, and he has connections, I mean it!!" She spoke in an emphatic whisper. She didn’t actually want to let her mother know she was awake.

"No!" The other voice choked. "Don’t call anyone. I just wanted to talk to you." The voice was coming from the fire escape beyond the window.

"Who are you?" Anna jabbed her words at him.

"My name is Jacob," squeaked the boy, "I was at the park last week. You didn’t yell or anything. Why?"

"Oh you!" She scolded. "You got me in a lot of trouble!" She crossed her arms definitively. "I believe you own me an apology."

"I’m sorry," he quickly and sincerely replied. "I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I’m..."

"Well, you did! I was supposed to be drawing nature. You got in my way." Anna’s indignant tone cut his quiet one.

"I’m sorry." Jacob’s innocent voice broke the air. "You chose to draw, though," he argued logically.

Anna let that soak in. She tilted her head curiously. "You don’t talk like regular kids."

"Neither do you." Jacob was gaining ground in this tete-a-tete.

"I’ll bet you don’t look like regular kids either." There was no response. Anna glanced around her room, and listened. Her mother was occupied in her news program. "You can come inside if you want to."

"I better not." His answers were quick and precise. "I don’t look like other children." He confessed.

"So?" She shrugged. "Come on!" She climbed out of bed and went to the window to find him. "I don’t want to talk to a window!" She found him on the side of the window, linked her arm in his and helped him in. Never even looking at his face, her attention went to his clothes. "It’s the beginning of June, aren’t you hot in that?"

Jacob looked down at his layered tunic and long sleeves and pants. "No. I’ve always worn this." He leaned back against the sill and let the breeze sweep by him.

Anna climbed back up onto her bed and starred at him. "You can come sit if you want."

"No. I think I should go." He turned away.

"Wait!" Anna promptly stopped him. "I thought you wanted to talk. I wanna talk to you too." She slid off of her bed as he turned back. "We can sit on the floor."

"What’s your name?" Jacob watched her curiously.

"Anna. Well, Caroline... but my mom likes to call me Anna. It’s my middle name. What’s your middle name, Jacob?"

"I don’t have one." Jacob eased onto the floor. The rug began to fascinate him. This one was different from what any of the Helpers had.

"That’s silly. Everybody has a middle name!" Anna insisted.

"Well, I’m not like everybody." He was suddenly defensive and watching her every move.

"I’m sorry." She reproached herself. "What do you look like?"

"I look like my father." He answered simply.

Anna sat up proudly. "I look like my mother! Well, that’s what everybody says, but she says I look like my Dad sometimes too."

"My father says that when I smile, I look like my mother." Jacob smiled his mother’s smile at the common ground they had discovered.

"Where is your mother?" Anna tucked one knee up to her chest.

"I don’t know." He shrugged. He seemed a little frustrated as he sighed. "I think she died."

"You think? You don’t know?"

Jacob shook his head. "My family doesn’t like to talk about her. My grandfather didn’t like her, and my father misses her so much that he won’t talk about her. But he loved her. He tells me that everyday."

"Was she pretty?" Anna smiled coyly.

He nodded sincerely. "She had hair like silk, eyes like the sea, and a face like an angel." He quoted his father.

"She sounds wonderful." Anna’s smile was large. "I wish I knew that much about my dad."

"Don’t you know your father?" Jacob asked sadly.

Anna shook her head as Jacob had. "Mom says that he left us a long time ago, before I was born."

"He died?" Jacob guessed.

"No. He just left. He didn’t love mommy anymore."

"I don’t think that’s true." Jacob doubted. He had been raised on morals and principles. In his mind, people didn’t just stop being in love. Either they were, or they weren’t.

"Well, that’s what he told her," she stated grimly.

"I’m sorry, Anna." There was quiet for a few minutes. Jacob made circles on the rug with his index finger, afraid of eye contact with this odd new friend.

"Jacob?" The little girl slid toward him, at which he immediately slid back. "How did you find me?"

He was quiet for a minute, thinking of how to put it into words. Finally he shrugged, "I don’t know. I wanted to find you... and I just found you."

"Oh." Anna nodded with a smile.

Somehow Jacob thought that the smile she gave him looked familiar, and even stranger, it looked as if she completely understood what he had just said.

"Jacob, do you live in that place that I saw you?" Anna asked as she laid out on the floor, exhausted even if she refused to show it.

"Kind of..."

"Anna!" A distant voice sounded down the hall.

Jacob jumped up immediately and ran for the window. Anna was on her feet and running after him just as quickly. "Wait!" She whispered after him.

Her mother’s voice was closer now. "Caroline Anna Chandler, you had better be in bed!"

Jacob stopped at the windowsill and looked back. He knew that voice and was strangely drawn to it.

"I am!" Anna called back and then realized how idiotic that was. "Come see me again!" she whispered to Jacob and pushed him onto the metal landing outside the window.

"Anna..." the door opened, light flooded into the room behind a cross-armed Catherine, "back in bed... now."

The child nodded quickly and scurried from the window into her bed, throwing the covers over herself.

"Go to sleep." There was no rise in Catherine’s tone or voice, only a emphatic warning.

Anna nodded vigorously. "Sorry."

Catherine glanced around the room, making sure no toys were still out for her to play with. The only thing she saw was the open window, with the curtains waving slightly in the subtle breeze. "Oh Ann," she made her way over to the window, causing her daughter to sit up nervously, "how many times have I told you, you can’t leave the window open and keep the air conditioner on."

"Sorry." She mumbled again, keeping a close eye on any and all movement outside her window.

"Okay," Catherine did another quick once-over, "please go to sleep. Goodnight."

"Night, mommy." She dared not move, but her eyes whipped back to the window. There was nothing there.

Jacob knew her voice somehow. How could Anna’s mother be so familiar? It was so soft even in its anger. It seemed almost melodic.

Anna’s mother came closer and Jacob flattened himself up against the wall. She couldn’t see him, but Jacob tilted his head and peeked through the window at her. She was beautiful, a bit worn, but graceful and bright. She looked as many new tunnel members did when they first came Below.

Anna’s mother looked up to latch the window lock and Jacob could see her green eyes, shining and even sparkling a little. There was so much knowledge behind her eyes that Jacob wanted to stare into them forever. They were so curiously indulgent.

Then, as quickly as she had come up on him, she was gone behind Anna’s bedroom door. Anna’s mother seemed to him almost like a princess in a fairytale; one that has been through much in her young life and now lives trapped in a tower with no way out.

He crawled down the metal stairs and into the streets. His father would be furious to find out he was out beyond the park.

 

9. Guiding Light
June, 1989
 

Father didn’t take her down right away. He wanted to know if this was real. He wanted the DNA tests. He wanted to know that there was a real reason to cloister her in a place where it wasn’t just Vincent and Father who felt that she had betrayed them, but the entire community seemed shocked and angered by the affair.

She couldn’t stay in the hospital. Peter knew that from the start. Too many questions would crop up and it was too easy for blood work to fall into the wrong hands.

"Make sure she sleeps enough. She may dream too. If she does, just give her more time to sleep in. She needs as much rest as possible," Peter explained to Joe and Jenny who nodded obediently. "She has to eat as well. She doesn’t skip any meals. Feed her twice if need be. Make sure she gets enough iron and calcium in her diet.

"Also, if you can, make her go back to work. She needs to stimulate her brain. It will take her mind off of all of this, temporarily. She needs as much of a normal routine as possible."

"What should we..." Joe stuttered a bit, "what about the baby?"

"Relax." Peter smiled. "Give her all desk work if you want. It can’t hurt you, it’s still inside her, barely bigger than your pinky finger. But try to get her to exercise. Exercise and sleep are all the baby specially needs. But for both of them, make her eat."

"She keeps asking about the DNA tests." Jenny brought up, grimly. "What should I tell her?"

"Don’t," he advised. "Let me handle that. It’s a very delicate issue right now."

Both friends nodded obediently. They followed Peter into the hospital room where Catherine sat up, watching her television set. Her hair was combed out nicely and she had just a hint of make-up on. She almost looked like the ‘same ol’ Cathy’. Except that she sat there, channel surfing at the speed of lightning, with the most empty expression any of them had ever seen on her.

Joe approached her first. "Hey there, Radcliffe," he smiled, trying to hide his nervous knots.

Catherine looked away from the screen immediately. "Joe." It looked like she was attempting to smile, but just couldn’t bring herself to it. But she didn’t stop trying. Her eyes, which used to sparkle, were merely flickering now, but she was trying so hard to be happy.

"Hey, we came to get you." Jenny came around Joe and stood at the foot of Catherine’s bed.

"Came to get me?" The attempt to smile was dropped and now she starting to panic. "Where am I going? Peter?"

"Cathy, calm down." Her doctor came up beside her. "I think it’s best that you leave the hospital. You are in perfect health now and we will need this room for other patients eventually."

"Oh, please Peter! Don’t make me leave." She dropped her voice to a desperate whisper. "If I have to go, send me Below. Please!"

"Cathy..." he kept his tone official, not allowing her to pull him into that secretive discussion, "I need you to do this. If I hear anymore news I’ll let you know immediately, but for right now you are going to go with Joe and Jenny, alright?"

"No, no! Peter..." she pleaded, ignoring her friends behind her, "Peter, I can’t stay up here! I need to go home! Please, Peter!"

"You are going home, Cath." He pressed emphatically, and giving her a warning look. "You’ll be staying with Joe and Jenny, back and forth. Won’t that be fun? Like a sleep-over." He was using that voice with her now. The mock-fatherly one that he used whenever he told the story of how they met. He pulled the food tray away from the bed and began unhooking all of her moniters.

Peter wasn’t giving in and now she was desperate. "Jenny, please. Tell him that I can’t leave."

But the woman at the end of the bed took a step back and shook her head. "I don’t know anything but what I’ve been told. I’m not the doctor, Cathy. Maybe you should listen to him."

"Joe..." Cathy turned and made her eyes go soft and pleading. She used the ‘damsel in distress’ face with all her might and even took his hand. "Please."

Joe struggled for a moment. He was trying, trying so desperately to deny that face. He couldn’t fix this for her though, and wouldn’t. He would do as the doctor had told. But still he couldn’t deny those beautifully tragic eyes. So, all he got out was: "Hey Radcliffe, my place isn’t that bad." With a half-smile.

"Okay, here we go." Peter had pulled the wheelchair up next to the bed and watched her, expecting her to get in, and letting her know so with a look.

She swung her feet over the edge and began to slide off, her knuckles pushing her mostly. She stopped just before she stood and looked back at her friends, just one last effort. "Really, you two, I can’t put you out like this. You both have lives. I have a life."

"Cathy," that stern voice of Peter’s came again, "sit in the wheelchair."

She did, in a hurry, and immediately leaned back when she saw Peter’s hands clutched to the arms of the chair and his face leaning closer into hers. "Your life is your baby’s life right now," he whispered harshly. "And it will be for a long time. We’ve already discussed the possibility of abortion," she opened her mouth but he pressed on, "and I know that’s not what you want. But, until you give me a name, until we can prove that this baby is not... the other man’s, you have no where else to go." His voice dropped to an even softer whisper now. "Father is being terrible, unreasonable, and maybe even as far as cruel. But, that doesn’t change his decision. Now, if you would like to give me a name..." he watched her shy even further away, "then this is the best that I can do for you."

"It’s not so bad." Jenny attempted her upbeat, chipper voice, but there was a large portion of sympathy in it. "Think of it like a continuous slumber party. Remember when we used to do that in the summers? Circulate, a week at each girl’s house? It’ll be fun! You’ll see!"

But Catherine wasn’t excited or even smiling, in fact she was resonating with misery. She didn’t even look at them, even when Joe joined in to argue with Jenny. It was obvious what they were doing; trying to make her smile with their verbal banter, but her mind was far away.

"No, Jen, I don’t doubt that to a teenage girl that would be a lot of fun." Joe babbled next to Jenny as they followed Peter, who pushed Catherine down the hospital hall in silence.

"So?" Jenny pitched her voice.

"So, I resent being considered ‘one of the girls’! Next thing I know, you’ll be painting my toenails in the middle of the night!"

"Oh, don’t be over dramatic!" Jenny waved him off. "Cathy needs her rest, who would hold the flashlight for me?"

"I’m sure you’d think of a way," he accused light-heartedly.

Catherine went toward the white beckoning light ahead of her. She tried resisting, but she was pinned to her chair with fear. She could barely hear her friends behind her, carrying on. Finally she passed through into the blinding sun, those protective white walls lost behind her.

 

10. Secret Games
July, 1997
 

Anna yawned widely, her head in pain from trying desperately to conceal it. She should not be so tired at 1:00 in the afternoon. Jacob had stayed late with her the night before, however, and she was still recovering. She had never been awake at 3am before. The night had been so exciting that even when he left her room she still couldn’t sleep. Jacob had allowed her to turn on the light and look at him. His furry face glowed so in the artificial light that Anna was reminded of when she first saw him in the park; dancing in the sun. He had also invited her to come and see his home. She didn’t want to get her hopes up in case there was simply no way to sneak her out, but she was allowed to dream it would happen and she did... all night and all day that day. Granted it would be difficult to get her from her window on the top floor of her apartment building to the "tunnels" of Central Park, but she had to hope!

Well, the whole night had drained her of any energy she might have had in the daytime. Now she was trying to hide all of this from the adults. They would never understand hers and Jacob’s relationship. She didn’t even understand it. They were the best of friends all because she had drawn him one day on a school field trip. It didn’t make sense. He was just as aware as she was that coming to her room every night was dangerous: their parents could possibly find out, or some thug could catch Jacob as he traveled on the streets. Yes, the little seven-year-olds were probably the only children of their age completely aware of every risk, and even still they accepted that chance. The two had formed a fast and furious friendship over the last three weeks; an intense bond that not even her mother, his father, nor anyone else who wanted to get in the way could break. They were even beginning to sense each other’s presence coming closer and closer. Some unexplainable force had tied these two together and no one, not even they, could sever it.

She yawned again, suddenly getting a head-rush from her attempt to suppress it.

"Annie, did you get enough sleep last night?" Joe asked, handing her the hotdog with melted cheese and ketchup that she asked for.

Joe had called her Annie for as long as she could remember. She had heard her mom and him arguing quietly over it one day. She argued that she had not named her daughter Annie and she didn’t like the sound of it. He said that Anna was already too grown up to have a name that made her sound even older. So, he called her Annie. Even when she was misbehaving (which rarely happened when she was with Uncle Joe) he would warn her by calling her Carrie Ann instead of Caroline Anna. It was nice to have someone like Uncle Joe to baby her every once in a while. She always felt relieved of some weight when she was with him, as if only then was she allowed to be a child.

"I had trouble falling asleep." It wasn’t a lie, and that she was grateful for. Although she had proven that she could lie over the last few weeks, she didn’t enjoy it, nor did it relieve any guilt on her shoulders.

"I’m gonna talk to your mom about getting you into bed earlier from now on." Joe took her free hand in his free hand and, as he bit into his hotdog, he led her into Central Park.

"I’m okay." She panicked, but attempted to sound casual.

"You’re a growing girl, Annie. You’re going into the Third grade in September, kiddo." He tried to emphasize the importance of both points. "You’re going to get more work to do, and you’re going to have to take more tests... you’ll need your rest."

Anna only shrugged, trying to seem indifferent, but inwardly hoping her mom would tell Uncle Joe that her bedtime was fine and to ‘butt out’, as she had taken to saying for the last few months. The hostility between her mom and her surrogate father had been quite uncomfortable for weeks now. Anna wasn’t sure what had happened between them, but the attitude change was unexpected and sudden. It was an advantage at some times, but then she always felt guilty afterward.

Even now, as they walked across the park to find a free bench, she felt terrible at the thought of her mom and Uncle Joe arguing. She really did hate manipulation, but she seemed to find herself constantly doing it. She supposed she learned how from her mom, who basically manipulated people to agree with her for a living. Anna had to wonder then... what did her real father do?

Settling on an empty bench and throwing the hotdog wrappers away, Anna and Joe sat in comforting silence, listening to the clapping of horse hooves, falling feet of runners, and the zooming sounds of bicyclists. For a moment she wanted to tell him all about Jacob. For some strange impulsive reason she wanted to let all of her excitement, pent up for the last three weeks, burst out and scatter all over the world. But instead, she held her tongue and curled her legs under her, making herself a little taller. She cleared her throat and tapped Uncle Joe on the shoulder. "Try the lady in that carriage over there."

He glanced at Anna sideways, and then concentrated on the woman in the carriage, picking up the game that Anna had brought on. It was a simple, judgmental game. What can you tell about a person from only looking at them? It was a harmless game that made Joe feel somehow directly connected with the odd curiosity in Anna. "Hmm... well, she’s very pretty."

Anna smiled slyly. "Not relevant." She used her new word with pride "Stick to the game, please."

"She’s tall with short hair. Maybe a divorce because he felt inadequate compared to her and she needed a change to move on," he finished and waited. Had this been any other child next to him, he’d have never said anything like what he had; that other child wouldn’t ever understand the concept. But this was Annie, who had invented the game that she cherished and played with him whenever possible.

She rolled her eyes and smiled in such a smug way that she looked suddenly like her mother winning a match of wits. "You talk like a TV movie. She looks like a model, and did you even see the man she’s with? He looks like he just stole something. They’re obviously having an affair."

"So, this is what you do with my daughter when I’m not around, huh?"

Anna and Joe spun in their seat to stare up at Catherine who stood, hands on her hips in a flowery sun-dress, watching the two of them with a smirk that was identical to the one Anna had given Joe. "Is this what you do when you take Anna to the park? Fill her head with all the things you think she’s too young for?"

Anna glanced back and forth between the two of them, waiting for her mother to erupt. But Uncle Joe seemed to like the idea of the alternative to an argument. And Anna relaxed when her mother actually smiled at him.

"Well," Joe began, "you can’t really blame me. I’m not the one who put this all in Annie’s head. I believe you should share a little guilt."

"Uh-huh, and why?" Catherine crossed her arms and watched him closely.

"B-because..." he stumbled, "you brought her to work last month and spent an hour lecturing her about the Grenwald case."

"True." Catherine admitted, smiling. She quickly bent low to Anna. "By the way, have I told you yet never to go out alone?"

"Only a hundred gazillion times!" Anna exclaimed, falling dramatically back into the bench.

"Good." Catherine nodded, satisfied, and then took her daughter’s hand. "Come on Ann, you know how much I hate this park."

Anna jumped off the bench and followed obediently. She did know exactly how much her mother hated Central Park. But there were shouts of protest from behind them, and they stopped for it.

"Hey now! Hey! Now wait! Wait just a minute!" Joe was standing now and marched up to them as a determined cartoon character would. "It’s my afternoon with Annie, and I’d like to spend it with her," he told them indignantly.

"Joe," she began incredulously, as if he had no idea the sky over Manhattan was supposed to be blue, "it’s past four. We’re going home to make dinner."

Joe stood struck for a moment and then quickly caught up with them, determined not to be left behind. He walked out of the park with them quietly, listening to their gleeful conversation of the lunch she’d just had with Aunt Jenny. Joe stayed close to his two girls, feeling a mixture of protectiveness and rejection. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, why he wasn’t going home just as they were, but he had a rash impulse and he seized the opportunity when it came.

"I am starving." Catherine proclaimed at the corner, just past the block of park they had emerged from. "Dinner’s going to take about an hour," she said more to herself than anyone else. "Who else wants a pretzel?" She suddenly opened the conversation to her companions.

Both Joe and Anna shook their heads ‘no’. Joe was in a far off place in his own mind, planning and scheming. Anna was watching those passing by so intently that they noticed her and sped up to evade her stare. Catherine took no notice of the behavior that was so typical of both of them and spun on her heel, marching up to the small vendor behind her.

Joe, in a split second, noticed that he and Anna had been left alone and he set his plan in action. He bent low and whispered in her ear. "Annie, ask your mom if I can come for dinner."

"Why?" Anna didn’t even bother whispering. "Ask her yourself."

"I can’t, honey, I need you to do it. She’ll get upset if I ask. She’s not too happy with me right now. I’d like to know why." Joe filled her in quickly.

This was hardly news to Anna, and she didn’t try to conceal it. "Uncle Joe, if you wanna ask her out, just do it."

He sighed and stood up straight. "Annie..."

"Alright," Catherine closed in on them, "‘just do’ what?"

There was an awkward silence where Joe nudged Anna several times, all of which she nudged him back. Finally he elbowed her forward towards Catherine’s waiting ‘mother face’.

"Uncle Joe wants to come over for dinner," she spit out with a roll of her eyes. Anna had expected a silly smile from her mother and a laughing ‘of course, Joe’, like she always did.

But this time she walked to the curb and hailed a cab without a word to either of them. After a few moments, the cab pulled up and she held the door open. "Come on, Ann, climb in."

She was thoroughly puzzled, but she was not about to argue, so she climbed in and slid over to the opposite window.

"Where are you going, hon?" the driver asked.

She quickly gave the address and cross roads and waited for her mother.

But, instead of climbing in herself, Catherine stood just inside the door and called Joe over to her. Anna didn’t hear much, but what she heard made her go red with embarrassment, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

"If you want to talk to me Joe, you don’t do it when I’m cornered in your office and you most especially do not do it through my daughter!" She was whispering, but that part was loud enough for Anna. "... pathetic excuse... butt out... a life... please. And don’t you even speak to Anna again with the intention of using her as your puppet. ...worse than her father..."

Then, a voice cut through the haze of concentration that had become Anna’s train of thought. "Hey lady! Do you mind? I’m in the middle of traffic!" The cab driver yelled in his thick Brooklyn accent.

Catherine climbed in without another word to Joe, the cab driver, or Anna. She only looked straight onward, and never glanced at Joe’s pale and horrified face sinking into the distance.

"Mommy?" Anna slid up next to her. "Are you okay? Do you need a therapist?"

Catherine turned her head slowly to look down at the wide green eyes watching her. They stared at each other for a moment before Catherine burst out into giggles and wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling the stunned child tight into her side. She was definitely laughing, but she was also crying as she clutched the little girl closer. "You were always wanted, baby. Always. And don’t you ever let somebody use you like that again!"

Anna was too overwhelmed to defend her Uncle Joe and she simply could not think of a logical argument that would beat her mother’s. So there she lay, crushed against Catherine’s side for the rest of the trip.

 

11. Fly Away Home
August, 1989
 

Jenny grinned as Catherine laughed openly. It was such a rare thing to see lately. Even a smile sometimes seemed to be beyond her friend’s capacity. So she felt relieved to hear such a genuine laugh coming from the tiny face behind the large belly on the couch across from her.

Catherine was five months pregnant and in Jenny’s opinion she looked ‘ready to pop’. She was like an inflated balloon that looked as though it would burst soon from the pressure. She saw Peter twice a week, but no matter how they argued or pleaded, Joe and Jenny were kept far away during her appointments.

"You’re terrible!" Catherine threw a handful of popcorn at Jenny from the bowl that rested on her overgrown belly. She laughed, her eyes squinting and her nose scrunched up.

Jenny shrugged, lightheartedly defending herself. "Well, it was the only way I could get him to relax. If I hadn’t we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere!"

Catherine laughed so hard that she was suddenly clutching her side where a cramp was forming. "I don’t think I’ve heard anything so ridiculous!" she cried, gasping for air.

The laughter was so pure that its effect was contagious and Jenny began to laugh just as hard.

"Oh Jenny... I’m staying here from now on. I’m never this entertained at Joe’s!" Catherine took a drink to try to contain her laughter, but she ended up hiccuping from it which made her laugh even harder.

Jenny was doubled over now, resisting the urge to point and laugh as Catherine’s belly pulsed with hiccups. "Not after last night you’re not! If he were to find out you were here overnight..." she tried to finish her sentence in the jumble that was now her thought process, "I’ll have to start back at square one!"

"No, seriously..." Catherine hiccuped, now in a lot of pain between the hiccups and the cramp in her side, "the man’s a bundle of nerves whenever I’m around. He won’t let me do anything. The other night when I told him that I was going for a walk, I thought he’d have a stroke! It’s been horrible lately. I never get a moment’s peace!" Finally the hiccups had ebbed away.

"Well, Cathy..." Jenny began with that serious and almost parental tone that Catherine had grown to hate. "You know that Dr. Alcott said that you shouldn’t take those walks anymore. And I for one agree with him. You always come back depressed. It’s disturbing really."

"Oh," Catherine sighed, waiving her friend off, "Peter doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The exercise is good for me."

"Yeah, but the mood isn’t. Where do you walk to, anyway?" Jenny leaned forward curiously, wondering if maybe she had caught Catherine at a weak point and she’d slip.

But no, Catherine was quick and vague to answer. "Oh you know, around. Sometimes I walk to see a show." She lied. "And sometimes I just walk to be among other people." Big lie. "Sometimes I walk to the park and watch." She mumbled the truth.

"Watch what?" Jenny began to pickup the strewn popcorn, satisfied that she wouldn’t get a straight answer.

"Everything. The people, the trees, the animals... you know, the nightlife." Catherine mused, lost into that world.

Jenny froze in place, then brought herself up slowly to meet Catherine’s gaze. "Joe lets you out at night?" she asked, furious.

"I’m not a pet, Jen." Catherine replied, just as angry. This treatment they were all giving her was getting to be too much.

"It’s not safe, Cathy!" she insisted, standing tall to make it final.

But it wasn’t. Catherine came back quickly, as if this exact scene had been playing in her mind for days now. "Where and when I go somewhere is my own business," she stated firmly. "I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need you to watch me 24/7. I know what’s best for me and this baby."

Jenny promptly interrupted. "Cath," she began quietly with a tone that told her friend to get a grip on reality. "You don’t eat unless we tell you to, you’re hardly sleeping and when you do, you dream. Sometimes violently. Why do you think you’re living with Joe and me? Dr. Alcott is worried that you don’t know what’s good for you. At this rate, without someone watching you, you’ll fall apart. Wherever you go at night... it’s not helping you."

"I know where I need to be." Catherine told her friend with a strain to keep her emotions under control. "And... I can’t... yet. That’s where I go, Jenny. I stare at it for hours just in case there is some shred of chance that the doors will open and... he’ll be there, waiting for me." She had begun to cry. "And every night I’m alone, cold... and staring at a locked door." The vague details flowed out of her; she was unable to keep it all in anymore.

With something that was almost comprehension, Jenny sat on the edge of the couch and took her hands. "Please tell me what’s going on."

Catherine looked back up at her friend with red eyes and a sorrowful face that would make anybody’s heart sink with despair. "I wish I could. You have no idea how I wish I could."

"Who is the father?" Jenny asked reluctantly. She had never asked before. Countless people had harassed Catherine about this for months now, and she was not about to be added to her best friend’s ‘hate list’. But now, it had welled up inside her for so long and Catherine had actually opened up the subject, if only accidentally.

Catherine was silent. Jenny couldn’t tell if she was thinking of what to say or ignoring her. But finally she spoke. "I don’t know." She whispered. It was her first admission of this. For months she had insisted that she knew exactly who the father of her baby was (though she never gave a name), and finally she had said what everyone had been saying behind her back and even to her face. She didn’t know.

************************

The walls seemed to be closing in on Catherine, sitting on the examination table, belly exposed. She was beginning to panic as Peter eased her down on her back. "I don’t understand, Peter." Catherine’s eyes were wild and she looked as though she were searching for some stalking predator.

"Just relax, Cath." He began to smear on the thick ointment for the ultrasound.

"I just don’t understand. Another month?" She tried to sit up, but she was pushed back down gently. "Is that what he said? Are you sure? Have you been telling him about everything?"

"I’ve told him all about the latest examinations, Cathy. Believe me, I’m your advocate here." Peter prepared the paddle as he spoke, allowing her to get out all of her frustration and talk about anything she liked. She needed that now.

"Everything?! The erratic heartbeat, the strange form?" Peter nodded as she ticked down the list. "Did you tell him that you weren’t even sure it’s a girl?"

"Cathy, I’ve told Jacob all about your condition and the baby’s." Peter had already begun the ultrasound and was now searching for the oblong and oddly limbed life growing within Catherine. "Right down to the most obvious and convincing fact that according to your growth, you are seven months pregnant."

"Except that I’m only five months," she finished, having heard him repeat something similar to that for the last two months. She watched the creature inside her wiggle on the screen. She heard the erratic heartbeat that she had grown accustomed to on the monitor. "And he said another month?" She asked again, quietly.

"I don’t know why, Cathy." Peter had to be honest. He couldn’t defend his friend this time. "Your case is just getting more and more strange. I don’t think there’s any doubt about her parentage anymore." Peter watched the screen ruefully.

Catherine was quiet for a moment. Peter believed. It had taken a while, but he really believed her. Vincent was the father. Finally, someone other than herself believed it. She gave him the tiniest of smiles, and then turned back to her baby. She found the oddly shaped torso and, from there, her perfectly normal head. "I’m trying so hard to be happy about this. Finally... proof, and yet I almost wish that there was no way to tell. Then at least I wouldn’t worry. I mean, did I do this to her, Peter?"

"No." He quietly differed her fears. "You had nothing to do with this. This just an abnormality. Pure genetics cause something like this."

"Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better." She stared still at the black and white form on the screen.

"Cathy, I’ve been thinking." His serious tone drew her out of her trance. "I don’t agree with Jacob. I think your condition deserves special attention. Now, I’d like it to come from him. But, right now that doesn’t seem like an option."

"What are you saying?" Catherine brought herself up on her elbows, hope welling in her.

"I’m saying that within the next week, either Father will take you or you’ll be staying in the hospital under surveillance."

"Really?" Catherine breathed, feeling real joy for the first time in weeks.

"Really." He smiled at her excitement. "Now this means that you need to pack your things at Joe and Jenny’s house. And make them help you."

"Don’t worry, that won’t be a problem," she answered, obviously annoyed by all the ‘help’ she was getting already.

"Oh, speaking of which," Peter handed her a towel to wipe the greasy ointment off of her belly, "Jenny called me. I thought I told you no more walks."

Catherine sank back down on the table with a sigh. There was no hiding from Peter. He knew where she went, and why, no matter if she actually told him. "Has anyone seen him?" she asked quietly, referring to Vincent.

"Someone thought they saw him while they were working in the Catacombs. Mouse tried to catch him, but..." Peter let his voice trail off.

"Do you think he knows?" She asked ethereally, a hand placed on her baby, starring at the ceiling.

"I don’t know." He answered delicately, not really prepared for this type of question. "I’ve never understood what the two of you shared."

Catherine laughed ironically. "Neither did we." She sighed again. "I don’t even know if it exists anymore."

Peter let her revel in that thought for a moment before cutting in. "But I do know that I need you to go back to Jenny’s and pack. You and the baby need to be fairly out of reach A.S.A.P. in order to get Jacob to let you Below. So, go back, pack, and for both of you... rest. No more nighttime excursions, I mean it. Especially when you have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice."

Suddenly Catherine had newfound zeal. She would finally be out of Joe and Jenny’s apartment. Even if she couldn’t go Below, she would be in the hospital and there she would be away from suspicion and questions, and close to her only link to her home.

With a bit of difficulty she slid off the examination table, kissed Peter’s cheek, and made her coat fly behind her as she rushed out the door. She was going home, she could feel it. And she wasn’t the only one; the baby rolled and kicked with equal excitement.

"Cathy, honey... your clothes!!"

***************************

"I just don’t understand!" Jenny protested, as she watched Cathy fold her clothes into her suitcase at lightning speed.

"Join the club," she quipped, "we’ve got pins!" Two books were tossed in the suitcase.

"But you and Dr. Alcott... you both said everything was all right. For months you’ve been saying everything is fine." Poor Jenny watched helplessly as her friend flung a t-shirt into the suitcase. "And now you have to go into the hospital again on observation?" In frustration, Jenny simply grabbed Catherine’s shoulders and held her still. "Cathy!! What happened?? I deserve to know that at least!"

Catherine sighed. She had been trying to figure out how she would explain this to Joe and Jenny, but... she didn’t even want to speak to them. She was going home. There was a possibility of seeing Vincent again. Life Above simply didn’t matter to her anymore. There was no anger toward her friends... only indifference. "Jen... I really can’t explain. You probably won’t see me for a while. Peter... isn’t allowing me any visitors." It was all she could think of. "Just, please Jen..."

"Oh God, Cathy!" Jenny whispered. "What’s wrong?"

"I can’t tell you!!" Catherine suddenly burst out, breaking away from her friend. "Stop asking... please! If you want to know how I’m doing you can call Peter! I appreciate your concern," Catherine continued packing only sounding half-hearted in her thanks, "but please don’t ask me questions. Would you just help me pack? Please!"

"No, Cathy! That’s not good enough! Yeah, I could call Dr. Alcott, but I want you to tell me! I want to hear it from you! Cathy," Jenny took a breath. "You’re my best friend. I’ve known you for years... this isn’t you. You changed a lot after your accident... I am proud of you for that! But then... something happened. You’ve completely withdrawn from us. Joe and I love you, Cath. That’s why you’ve been here for the last four months. And, this baby... I don’t know, maybe it’s the baby that’s changed you. Or maybe," she paused, trying to decide how she was going to say it, "it’s the way you got pregnant that’s changed you. I’ve known you for a long time, Cathy Chandler. I know your weaknesses and your fears... and my best friend would know who the father of her baby is. She wouldn’t even hesitate. You know, sometimes I can’t even tell if you love this baby. And that is not the Cathy Chandler I know.

"I care about you, Cath. So does Joe. We both deserve an explanation!"

Catherine just starred. And as Jenny listed all of her reasoning, she thought it through.

She was no longer "Vincent’s Catherine". Not because of their accident, or their argument, or even Jesse. It was just her. She had changed. She was not the woman who led that glorious double life anymore. She could no longer run to her Vincent’s warm embrace, or make those wonderfully vague remarks when someone would ask why she wasn’t dating. She was no longer the woman Vincent had fallen in love with. No matter the fault... she was oh, so different... and she couldn’t go back. Vincent was gone and their relationship forever scarred even if he did come back.

But Joe and Jenny were still there. Joe and Jenny were always there. She and Jenny had been through a lot together; high school, college, and beyond. Jenny had been there through Steven and Tom. She had been there through Elliot... and even if she didn’t know it, she had been there through Vincent. A lot of changes... a lot of broken hearts and crushed dreams.

Joe hadn’t known her quite as long, but there was not one moment since the day they met that he didn’t help her. He helped her when she didn’t even want to be helped. He was there through all of the rough spots to give advice, a patient ear... and occasionally some time off.

And then there was the baby. The child. Their child. This little creature inside her had changed her. The child changed everything. It had made her insecure and fearful. And, Jenny was right, there had been times when she had doubted the paternity and she had hated the life growing steadily within her. But now there was proof. Someone actually believed her now, and that gave her reason to believe herself.

Joe and Jenny had never questioned, though. They had never given her strange looks or bothered her when she would stare at her own belly, obviously deep in thought. They had given up their lives to her and Vincent’s child... even if they didn’t know. They had saved this precious little life. They deserved something.

Catherine took a breath and closed her eyes. She never once opened them as she spoke. "His name is Vincent. I love him. I always will. But... he just can’t love me. I hurt him and I’m paying for it by losing him. This is his baby and I love every movement I feel every moment of every day. But... Vincent is different from other people and I’m afraid that the baby may be also. So, Peter and I think that it’s best if I’m kept in observation. Just in case." She took a deep breath, still her eyes were clamped shut. "I need you to keep everything I just told you a secret. No one can know. You can tell Joe what you will, but I know that he’ll try to find Vincent. I don’t want that. If you could keep him confident that everything is fine and nothing has changed... I will owe you the last three years of my life, because they were the best!"

There was a still silence in the room. Catherine wondered if Jenny was curious why her eyes had remained closed, but she just seemed to understand every vague description.

Catherine felt the sudden impact of a tiny frame against hers and only then did she open her eyes. She immediately hugged Jenny just as tightly as her friend held her. They both laughed as Jenny shrugged.

"You always have fallen the hardest for the wrong guy."

"Yeah... So why does it hurt so badly now that I’ve fallen for the right one?"

 

12. The Escape
July, 1997
 

"Isn’t it funny?" Anna posed the question as she lay next to Jacob on her bedroom floor, midnight now ticking away on her dresser clock.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, staring at the stars as she did.

"How whenever there is a problem, something that seems unfixable, people always look at the sky? It’s like they think that looking at the sky will help them. Like a cloud will spell it out, or a star will twinkle in Morse code."

"And isn’t it funnier," Jacob finished, "that looking at the sky does seem to help you solve your problems?" He sighed contentedly as Anna fidgeted next to him until their heads were touching. There was a thick silence in which the pair lay head-to-head. They knew what the other was thinking, but it took Anna to voice it after whole minutes of silence.

"Jacob... it’s not solving our problem." She rolled onto her side so that her nose was almost touching his ear.

"I don’t see the problem, Anna." He insisted, turning as she had done so that they were now touching foreheads.

"Your dad caught you out! If he catches you again, he’s not gonna let you come back." There was true fear behind her eyes.

"I know." He admitted quietly, sympathetically. "But father knows all about this. He would understand if we told him." He told her for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Jacob... if we told your dad, he’d want to tell my mom. Trust me, I know parents. They’ll want to check with each other to make sure its okay. My mom would never allow this." When she finished there was quiet as she stared into the little boy’s blue eyes that reflected her own. Slowly she sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I’m scared that one night, you won’t ever come back."

Wordlessly, Jacob sat up with her, still staring out the window at the stars. He sighed, wishing, as Anna was, that the night sky really was telling the two children what to do. Looking at Anna, who had now begun to cry, he immediately hugged her with no hesitation. She clung to him as if he’d disappear as she cried quietly. They sat there, hugging and crying under the stars that refused to answer them.

It was almost 12:30 before they let go of each other, relenting to the necessary separation. Anna’s flushed cheeks were stained with her tears and Jacob looked as if he may begin to cry soon as well. They watched each other, catching their breath as they did and found something in each other’s eyes... something neither had seen before. They stared, allowing a wave of emotion that was not their own to wash over them. It took a few minutes to realize that it was each other’s emotions that they were suddenly feeling.

Jacob smiled at Anna widely. They both suddenly felt all of their problems melt away. Nothing was complicated anymore. They were children; inseparable, untethered, and indestructible. Mortality was a far away concept, it barely existed in their new world. Where would it fit within all of this wonderment? Together, they were invincible, and they knew it!

Jacob climbed to his feet and lifted Anna to hers. She smiled brightly at him now, knowing exactly what she was about to do, and not caring about the consequences.

"Come on!" Jacob whispered, pulling her to the window in a way that reminded Anna of Peter Pan leading Wendy to Neverland.

She broke away for only a moment in which she buckled her sandals onto her feet. She practically flew back to the window, taking his hand and escaping with him into the dark and dangerous night.

Jacob helped her down the metal stairs, for she had never climbed them before, and the moment her feet made contact with the sidewalk he took Anna’s hand and pulled her down the street. Their feet flew beneath them; one block... two blocks... three blocks...! They just kept running, their pace and stamina the same as they raced New York City’s night life. Jacob followed the back alleys as he was taught and seemed to know them by heart, down to positions of trash cans and neighborhood alley-cats. It was a familiarity and freedom Anna had never known and she reveled in it.

Around a corner, down a small business street, Jacob pulled Anna behind him, crouching low in front of a small deli shop door. He knocked rapidly, alerting the older couple within to his presence.

It seemed odd to Anna that a deli shop would have been open so late that the owners were only just cleaning and closing up. The woman came to the door for them, checking the streets and staring suspiciously at Anna. She opened the door and bells jingled above them as they entered.

"Jacob Wells, do you know what time it is?!" The woman scolded.

"I’m very aware." Jacob whispered, pulling Anna closer to his side. "May we go through the back?"

"Does your father know you were out here, boy?" The man asked harshly.

"No, sir. But he’ll know soon. I’m going to tell him." Jacob nodded earnestly, clutching the hand growing steadily sweatier in his own.

"Jacob, do you know how dangerous these streets are?! Especially to you?!" The man added his scolding, but Jacob never got a chance to answer.

"Who’s your little friend?" The woman seemed much nicer than the man, but she watched Anna as though trying to match her face to someone she knew.

"Her name’s Anna." Jacob granted shortly, trying to get around the questions and to the mysterious back room.

"What? She can’t speak for herself?" The man demanded more to Anna than Jacob.

"I..." she stumbled, "I-I’m Anna Chandler. It’s nice to meet you." She whispered meekly. These people were almost terrifying. They obviously knew Jacob well, but it seemed odd for anyone to accept Jacob the way she did, and yet they did just that.

The couple’s eyes had grown twice their size at the mention of her name and they simply watched her for a moment and even the man’s face seemed to soften as they stared. "Anna Chandler?" the woman confirmed sweetly. "Is that what you said?"

Anna nodded with a couple of mere jerks of her head. The woman smiled broadly at her and Anna suddenly had a strange impulse to hide behind Jacob.

"Well then... Anna Chandler... you’ve met our Jacob. Are you two getting on well?" The woman obviously wanted to strike up a conversation and Anna felt Jacob bounce impatiently on his toes.

"He’s my best friend," she stated, proud and short. She took a step forward, hoping Jacob would follow suit and just walk to the back.

"Is he really?" The woman wouldn’t let them leave. "Well... that’s wonderful!" For some reason her eyes began swimming with tears. "That’s... that’s just wonderful!" She suddenly came toward Anna and scooped the little girl into her arms, hugging her tightly. But, Anna held fast to Jacob’s hand, refusing to loose him.

When she finally let Anna go, Jacob tugged her back to him and she gratefully followed. "May we please go through the back?"

"Oh! Most definitely!" The woman, wiping her eyes, stepped out of their way.

"Thank you." Jacob called behind them, already at a jogging pace. They passed the man at the counter who had not said a word since Anna had introduced herself. He watched her go by as if he had never seen anything like her in his life.

It was a mere fraction of a second and then he was gone. All that lingered was the couple’s voices as Jacob and Anna reached the storeroom.

"Did you hear all of that, Anthony?" the woman asked wildly.

"Yes Ginny. The girl even looks like her," he answered quietly.

The children’s hands parted only for a moment as Jacob cleared away a few boxes and wrenched the extra piece of plywood from the wall. He climbed down the hole first, assuring her that there would be light when she reached the bottom.

She jumped the last three rungs of the ladder, landing hard, but immediately taking Jacob’s outstretched hand. They ran just as they had in the streets, only with a small amount of reluctance from Anna. They passed great halls and people dressed just like Jacob, out walking. The walls were lit by torches, illuminating a golden atmosphere that reflected off of Jacob’s excess hair beautifully.

"Come on!" Jacob attempted to whisper back to her, but it came out fairly loud. "My chamber’s just up here!"

They rounded a rocky corner and Jacob stopped short so that Anna had to grab hold of him so that she could stop herself. He held a finger to his lips, "Shhh." Anna nodded obediently, still taking in her surroundings. Jacob led her through a living room type of space, though it was extremely small and cramped, it was very livable. On the far right side of this space was a open doorway and on the far left was an identical arch. Jacob led her, tip-toe, through to the left archway. Once inside he slid a curtain across, concealing the room from the rest of the chambers.

This was Jacob’s bedroom, obviously, but it was so different from her own. It was darker, even after he had lit the candles and the lantern. There were very few trinkets or toys. Only a dresser and a bed in this small space, with some things piled on the dresser and a large sea trunk in the corner opposite the bed.

Jacob flopped on his bed that creaked and sprung back up on him. His arms stretched wide, and a smile just as broad, he was quite a vision in his contentment. Anna wandered the room a bit, breathing heavily as Jacob did, and then settled next to him when he sat up.

"Jacob," she began, her smile fading. "I shouldn’t be here."

"You don’t like it here?" he asked, mortified.

"No, its not like that," she insisted. "Its just... what if my mom realizes I’m gone? What if she tries to find me? You said this place was supposed to be secret."

"It is. She won’t find us." He shrugged. He found himself suddenly indifferent to anyone else’s feelings except Anna’s. There were no other people in the world, just them.

"Jacob." A new voice sounded from the doorway and it made the boy freeze, wiping the smile off of his face. "Where have you been tonight?" The voice asked coldly.

Jacob turned slowly to face Vincent, standing tall and imposing, arms folded with a harsh expression. "Father, I..." it was as if Vincent’s stare was prohibiting his speech, "I just... I wanted to see..." Jacob glanced back at Anna; her eyes wide and frightened. He stopped and closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. Slowly, he looked back up at Vincent. "This is Anna... my best friend."

Vincent hardly glanced at the little girl, focusing on his son’s discipline. "Ah... so this what you’ve been sneaking out, risking your life, my life, and everyone else down here for. You have more explaining to do than you know, son." He watched Jacob bow his head and then looked over him to the child behind. "Anna? Is that your name?" His tone was softened for her frightened and cowering face, but harsh enough to show seriousness. "Well, do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused by coming down here?" He stared into her sea green eyes, and when neither child answered, he continued. "Grandfather will be quite angry with you both." His eyes were trained back on Jacob. "You have to learn that when you venture out, it is not just your life that you take into your hands, it is all of ours as well." Jacob nodded, his eyes still averted. "And Anna, you’re probably missed somewhere Above. Do you have a home?"

Anna nodded slowly, her eyes transfixed on Vincent in the candlelight. "I live on 134^th with my mother."

"Well," Vincent paused a moment taking in her sweet, soft features against her ruddy skin, but quickly snapped back. "She’ll be missing you then. We’ll get you home soon."

Jacob slowly reached over and took Anna’s shaking hand. "What are you going to do, Father?"

Vincent had never seen the true fear in his son’s face as he saw then. Jacob was fearless, he passed through barriers and ignored limitations just as his mother had, which made it difficult to discipline. But he clung to his new friend just as she did to him, as if Vincent were about to sentence them to a fate worse than death. He knelt down in front of them, a furred hand on each of their knees. "Don’t be afraid." He looked specifically at Anna. "Please don’t be afraid."

Anna tilted her head a bit as if examining a strange painting, her green eyes bearing into him. Her fearful expression was gone and a determined face, that he recognized briefly, replaced it. "I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid that you’ll split me and Jacob up. I don’t want to be without him anymore."

Vincent gave a half-smile and looked at the two children together. Their hands intertwined, they looked as though that connection was all that was keeping them from falling off some invisible cliff. As their eyes begged him, he had to wonder: is this what he and Catherine had looked like, all those years ago, to Father who was left to decide their fate? Were they these children in the old man’s eyes? He sighed heavily. What should he do now that he was the "Father" to these children? "That is an admirable statement, Anna," he began slowly, once again seeing a flicker of someone he recognized in her, but shaking it off. "But, you must understand that Jacob and I... we’re not meant for your world. It is dangerous for us to even venture beyond these walls. We cannot-" he was cut off.

"No!" Jacob yelled, standing up to his father in protest. "You told me that you used to visit mother every night! Why can’t I see Anna?!"

"That..." Vincent suddenly realized he was yelling back and stopped to collect himself. He didn’t mind talking about Catherine briefly, but after more than one reference he started losing control of his emotions, and these children were like a flashback. "That is very different. There were different circumstances then."

"Like what?" Jacob challenged with Catherine’s fire in his eyes.

"Well, for one thing, your mother and I... we were not seven years old, Jacob. We were old enough to be responsible for the fact that we were risking our lives." He leaned in closer, intimidating his son, mentally forcing him to sit back down. "Do you understand that? We could have been caught or killed. We nearly were quite a number of times. I am not willing to allow you to take that chance."

"Father..." the little boy began in that harsh tone again, but was stopped.

"Jacob," Anna held his shoulder with her free hand, "please don’t." Her soft whisper echoed in the chamber. "It’s pointless to argue. He’s right. It’ll be okay. I promise." She nodded sincerely.

Vincent wasn’t sure what he was watching now. He had been reminded of himself and Catherine from the moment he saw them together, but these children were different; their relationship held no romantic threads. But they stared at each other as if they were having a conversation without words. And then, without warning, they hugged each other. They held each other tightly, comforting without words. If they felt that strongly...

Oh how he missed Catherine. It was an infinite circular pattern in his mind. He missed her so, but he tried not to think of her. He kept wondering if she would have had the answer to all of his problems if she were here. Would she have had the answers to Jacob’s insignificant little questions that he always took so seriously? Would she know what to do now?

Yes, she would have. She would have taken one look at this odd pair and asked him what he would have wanted someone else to do for them.

"Jacob... Anna..." Vincent sighed deeply and only allowed himself a moment to think about what he was about to say, "I... you’re right, I can’t deny you two. We’ll think of a way. We’ll find a way," he promised.

Both children beamed at him, and then at each other. "I told you!" Anna stated proudly as she hugged Jacob. "I told you it would be all right"

"Don’t punish Jacob, please." Anna walked alongside Vincent through the streets of Manhattan. "I asked him to come."

Vincent walked her home, 3:30 in the morning, his mind reeling with the events of the night. His child was missing for hours, he finally returned home with another child claiming that he couldn’t live without her. There were too many coincidences to make him comfortable, and now that they climbed the metal stairs he had trouble even speaking. What had he gotten himself into?

"Anna, Jacob broke a rule, no matter what it was for. I’m sure your mother would agree with me." Vincent stopped for a moment on one of the landings. "Anna, does your mother know about all of this?"

She stopped as well, pausing in mid-stride on one of the steps ahead of him. She shook her bowed head mutely. "Please don’t tell her. She wouldn’t understand the way you do."

"Well," he began climbing again, "I don’t believe that is true, but I promise I won’t tell her."

"Thank you." She smiled meekly, and climbed the rest of the way without a word.

Anna climbed through her window quickly and crouched to talk to Vincent on the other side. "Now, remember, you promised." She told him resolutely.

"I won’t forget. Now, you get some sleep, and let’s hope that your mother didn’t come looking for you tonight. And Anna... please don’t do this ever again. That’s our agreement."

"Don’t worry, I won’t." She grinned, leaned through the window and hugged Vincent tightly. "Thank you so much!" She whispered.

In that moment, with this child’s arms entwined around him, he felt more whole than he had in a long time. It was as if that hug suddenly vanquished every terrible thought and feeling in his heart. How could this tiny little thing make everything so complicated, suddenly right.

The hug was brief, too brief, and then the little ray of light in the darkness had released him, retreating into her room with a slurred "goodnight".

"Goodnight, Anna." He helped her close the window and watched her scurry into bed before climbing back down to the brutal streets.

 

13. The Painted Smile
August, 1989
 

There was no hesitation; not even one night spent in the hospital. Catherine was to be stowed away, tucked deep into the tunnels, immediately. The council had met for only the amount of time it had taken Peter to explain her condition, and they were well convinced that, for safety’s sake, Catherine had to be kept Below.

For the time being she would be missing Above. Only a select few people knew of her whereabouts, and even they only knew that she was safe with Peter. Nothing more. She would be in hibernation, deep within the earth for months... and she couldn’t be more pleased!

But, as they painstakingly descended the ladder leading into one of the passageways, Peter watched Catherine with worry and fear. He hadn’t told her much of the tunnels since her pregnancy. He had wanted to protect her, but he was wondering if he had been wrong to do so. The tunnel world, her friends, everyone and everything down there had grown harsh. They saw Catherine’s actions as betrayal, and though they were allowing her Below, it was only for the safety of the child and their secret... not for her.

So, with his arm around her shoulders, Peter walked Catherine through the tunnels as slowly as possible to delay the inevitable. He could feel her anticipation and excitement and, as hard as he tried, he just couldn’t talk her down. She was convinced that things would be set to right. She would see everyone again and they would make her world brighter as they always did. She would see Vincent and they would fix this mess so that they could finally achieve their dream.

She just went on and on, her excitement grew and grew until she had to stop and rest from the baby’s response to all of the emotions and activities. Her recovery was swift, nothing seemed to keep her grounded. She was walking on air, taking no notice of Peter’s nerves.

"Who’s on duty tonight?" She bounced (as much as she could) as if a child, almost skipping ahead of Peter. "I want to stop and say hello!"

"I don’t know, Catherine." Peter answered quietly. And his demeanor only saddened more when she seemed to take no notice of his use of her full name.

"Where do we go first? Are Father and Mary waiting for us in the study? I was thinking; we should have Mouse build a crib. He would build such a beautiful one!" Catherine never stopped, she just kept building and building. "This place is so wonderful! A community of such helpful people! I don’t know why I ever talked myself into staying away. And just think; we have babysitters right at our fingertips. Now, how many parents can say that?" She drew breath, but she never let Peter speak. "I want to have a naming ceremony right away! I already know what I’ll call her. I’d rather not try to keep it a secret. That is, if Vincent doesn’t mind, of course. But I don’t think..."

That was it. She had broken the proverbial camel’s back. Peter reached out and grabbed her arm. She almost stumbled to a halt and found herself suddenly facing the old physician in complete confusion.

"Cathy... honey, please listen to me very closely." He held her shoulders to be sure that her focus didn’t stray. "I’m not... things... everyone down here..." he stuttered, unable, or unwilling, to let the words out. "Cathy, don’t be surprised if... if everyone... well, I hope not everyone... but, some of your friends..." he breathed, trying to process this thought and form it into delicate words. "This isn’t easy for me to say. You’ve lost so much in your life, and now... I wish to God I didn’t have to take this away from you too."

"Peter... what’s going on?" Her confidence and comfort lost, Catherine suddenly had the unnerving feeling of being watched. It actually scared her that she would be so nervous about being watched. That hadn’t happened since her very first time in the tunnels. Since then, the ‘watched’ feeling was comforting; it was a sense of home. There were people watching out for her.

Quietly, Peter proceeded. "You’re not here because you need to be. You’re here because the baby needs to be here." He was quiet for a moment as her gaze fell to the dirt and rock floor. "What happened between you and Vincent..."

"They blame me." She mumbled, seemingly to her baby; as if including the child with her angry family members. Slowly she lifted her eyes back to Peter’s. She gave him a small grimace that looked almost optimistic. "Well then... we’ll have something in common now, won’t we?"

Catherine continued walking the familiar path to Father’s study, leaving Peter trailing behind her in slight amazement.

Only minutes before Catherine had every expectation of seeing the smiling faces of her family members Below. But those dreams were shattered now, along with all the others she had clung to for so long. By the time she and Peter had reached the study she thought she would cry. There were so many dark and stern faces... there was no joy of her return as there had always been. Even when she was a stranger among them, she had never felt so unwelcome in every way.

To see Father was almost a relief. She knew that disapproving, unyielding face. She was used to it. She knew how to steel herself against it. His voice was much colder than she was used to, but she knew how to defend herself against that too... even as he explained the situation much more vividly and eloquently than Peter could bring himself to.

The children were innocently glad to see her. She was thankful for them, but as soon as questions began filling the air of her strangely large stomach, the little ones were shuttled out of the room.

Quite a few faces, beyond unfriendly... hateful even, nearly broke her to tears. The people behind these faces were friends, her family, her refuge. Suddenly she was one of their hated enemies. Walking among them was nearly unbearable. There were a few... a very select few, who smiled at her. Fiona even spoke to her. Just a "hello, we’ve missed you". It wasn’t as sincere as Fiona had tried for, but for those few seconds, Catherine had stopped shaking.

Once in the guest chamber, the one that she typically used, she and Peter were left together for a few moments before Mary was expected.

Peter perched himself on the overstuffed mattress, resting his old legs for the trip back to Father’s study, and watched Catherine busy herself with putting her things away in the assorted drawers.

"How are you feeling?" He posed the question, masking his concern for her with a medical question.

"I’m fine." Her voice was quiet, timid even, as if it were terrified to venture out of her mouth. "I’m starting to get tired, but... it’s probably just from the walk."

Peter watched her pour a glass of water and sip at it gently, obviously afraid that her shaking hand would spill it. "Cathy, are you sure about this? If you want, I can take you back... you can stay in the hospital."

"No, Peter," she gave him a weak smile, "no. I can’t stay in the hospital, and you know it. There are too many people. We’re both safe here." She ran her hands over her child.

"But are you going to be happy here?"

"That’s not really the issue to be dealt with at the moment. I haven’t been happy for months, Peter. A little longer won’t hurt. Here... I’m with people who... they’ll care for us. I know they’ll do that much. Vincent has to come back someday, and when he does, I’ll be here. We’ll be here, waiting for him." She was quiet for a moment, and then, as if a child telling the end of a fairytale, she whispered; "And everything will be all right again."

Peter watched Catherine sadly. He had so many hopes and dreams for her. Occasionally, when he held one of the newborns, he would wonder what the future would hold for such innocent and clean souls. When he held Catherine Chandler for the first time... he hadn’t only wondered; he had dreamed. There had been something about that angelic face and foamy green eyes that made him believe that there was something different, unique, about her. She was destined for something; what it was, he wasn’t sure of until about 30 years later.

The same had happened with Vincent. That squirming, screaming, sickly newborn stared at Peter with bright blue eyes... and though he knew he shouldn’t have too much hope for the dying child, he dreamed. He imagined this unique child growing into a man. Who he would become, how he would pass his time.

And then, those two uniquely different people found each other by pure chance. And a whole world dreamed along with them. But here, in this dark guest chamber, the dreams were crumbling before his eyes as he watched Catherine wrap her arms around the child and try to find some confidence in herself.

"Peter," Catherine sluggishly met his eyes. "It’s all right. You can go. You don’t have to wait with me."

"I want to," he insisted, trying to fill that paternal void that she obviously yearned for.

"It won’t be necessary, Peter." Mary, with an extra blanket folded over her arm, stood in the doorway, watching Catherine with the most enigmatic look seen on the old woman.

"Mary." Catherine seemed to make an attempt at stepping toward her mother-figure, but something held her back. There was a moment of hesitation that seemed to blanket the air. Then, Catherine drew a deep breath, as if suddenly coming to life. "You can go now, Peter. Thank you."

"Are you sure, Cathy? I could stay a little longer." He offered, practically able to feel the odd tension between the women.

"Peter," Mary gained his attention, "go on. You have patients waiting Above. Let me attend to mine." There was a strange coolness to her statement that held them all planted for a moment, unsure of what to do; how to react.

"Peter..." Catherine spoke softly with less confidence as she would have liked, "I’ll be all right. I’m home now. Thank you."

Peter looked between the two women, worried and anxious for both of them. Soon he stood and hugged Catherine tightly as he dared. "You call if you need me."

"I will," she promised, allowing both him and herself the moment to indulge in a bit of comfort.

And too soon, Peter was gone, leaving the two women staring at each other. Each hesitated, waiting to see what the other would do.

With a complete lack of courage and conviction, Catherine shamefully spoke. "You know, then?"

Mary hesitated for a second, unsure of how to respond. And then, with all the strength and conviction Catherine had lost, she charged toward the bed and began fitting the extra blanket over it. "I don’t know what I know, Catherine. Rumors turn into stories, which are somehow taken for fact... you never know what really happened."

Catherine, with child-like gestures, sunk into the nearby chair. "It’s all true," she confirmed quietly, almost sulking. She wanted Mary to see her, to notice her shame. She wanted just one person in this whole world to see how much she was ashamed of herself. To see how their disappointment in her would never even compare to hers.

Mary paused for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted to look at her young friend. She ultimately decided not to. "Don’t say that, Catherine. I’ve heard some very wild accusations. You’re not that kind of person."

"I don’t know what’s been said... but I assure you; I’m not the same person anymore." Catherine waited. Anything! A look of pity, an outburst, something to prove that she wasn’t just a ghost floating among her friends.

No such luck. Mary finished fitting the blanket and turned to finally face Catherine. But she never raised her voice, in fact, Catherine had to strain to hear her. "Catherine... I hope, for your sake, that this child is Vincent’s. If you think that everyone is being harsh now... imagine what will happen if the child isn’t his." Without another word Mary left her alone in the dim guest chamber.

She had thought of such things, but never let her imagination run wild! The child was Vincent’s... of that one thing, she was certain. She could feel the heartbeat; the erratic, irregular heartbeat that she had grown accustomed to. She had even learned to copy it in her own breathing one night. It left her coughing from hyperventilation one minute, and gasping for air the next. That heartbeat... it was all the world to Catherine. It was her solace and her joy, her fear and agony... her lover’s memories, her dreams for the future.

She marveled now, how this tiny creature, this unique infant, so important to some and so reviled by many, could keep her so safe. The child kept her sane, it gave her reason to dream and hope. The child was the reason for her return to the tunnels; to her home. How could this unborn life inside her save her, protect her the way it had since conception?

The child was Vincent’s, that’s how. She had lost Vincent, but in losing him she had stolen a piece of him, the piece she had first fallen in love with. She stole that ‘white knight’ quality of his; ‘Lancelot’, she began calling it. And ‘Lancelot’ was kept hidden from the world, tucked deep within the womb where it grew with such power and strength.

Oh, how the child grew! So connected were mother and child that Catherine was sure that she could feel her ‘Lancelot’ stretch and grow within her. She knew when the child had developed eyes and ears, even before the ultrasounds. She swore to Peter, Joe, and Jenny that her baby would be born with hair, as she felt it tickle her womb. ‘An obsession’, Joe had called their connection so many times. But Joe had never known of Vincent and Catherine’s bond. This connection was all Catherine had left of the crumbled remnants of their bond. And so, Catherine clung to it with all the strength in her.

‘Dear Lancelot... you have brought me home... but to what family?’ Catherine sank back into the bed and cradled her unborn child. ‘Where is you father? Will we be alone again, with no one to comfort us? No. Never alone when we have each other’s strength. We don’t need anyone else.’

"Catherine?" A soft voice echoed in the chamber.

Catherine jumped at the sound of another’s voice. Her heart leapt for a moment. She had wanted to hear Vincent’s voice so badly that he tentative sound of Olivia’s had cause her to believe for a second that it was him. She met her friend’s eyes in an instant and attempted not to look too disappointed at her company.

"Well," Olivia marveled at her, "look at you! You look positively thin as a rail!" Without hesitation, she set the tea set on the end table and began to serve it. "If I were as thin as you when I was pregnant with Luke I would not have the body image problems that I do." She sat herself next to Catherine and handed her the steaming tea.

Catherine just stared at her friend blankly. It was as if there had been no time between them. No time, no whispered rumors, no controversy. There was only acceptance of change. How? "Olivia..."

The sweet woman took Catherine’s hands and whispered. "I don’t care, Catherine. I don’t care what everyone’s saying, I don’t care what they think of you, I especially don’t care what they think about this baby, and I don’t even care if it’s all true." She leaned confidentially into her friend’s ear. "And I’m sorry, Catherine, but I don’t even care why Vincent left. He’s gone like this before."

"Never so long, though." Catherine mumbled out of guilt.

"He hasn’t been gone this whole time." Olivia confided. "And don’t you let Father make you believe that." Catherine’s eyes were trained on Olivia as if she could suck all the information out before the woman could speak it. "Catherine, with all the threat to this place recently, do you honestly think that he’d leave us here for so long?"

Poor Catherine tried her hardest to grasp this. "I know..." she stumbled, "I know that Mouse saw him, or thought he saw him..."

Olivia stopped her. "There’s been a lot of water pressure from the sewers recently. Kanin, Mouse, Cullen; they’ve all been working on building the walls stronger, but they don’t have the strength." Olivia went back to casually sipping her tea despite her friend’s anxious face. "They come back in the morning and all of the heavy labor is done for them."

Catherine was now breathing heavily, and her eyes widening. A smile began spreading across her lips, and Olivia could see her mind begin to wander with dreams and possibilities.

"Catherine," Olivia delicately touched her hand, "don’t get your hopes up. He hasn’t spoken to anyone since you left."

Catherine mumbled, her bright face growing darker. "Not even me. He closed the bond." She explained. "I can’t hear him anymore... I can’t feel him. All I feel," she smiled and ran her hands over her ‘Lancelot’, "all I feel is this child."

Olivia quickly snatched up the opportunity to change the subject. "Uh-huh! We’ve heard all about this little one! Peter says it’s a girl?"

"Well, he’s not positive. I think he just wants it to be a girl." Catherine smiled... a genuine smile.

 

14. Though They Sink Through The Sea, They Shall Rise Again
August, 1997
 

August was nearly gone. September was coming and Joe just kept feeding Anna with horror stories of how much harder Third grade would be. Jenny came home from her vacation in Florida, and seized Anna’s time immediately, much to Joe’s protest. It was a week full of movies, lunches, and shopping for Anna. She hardly saw her mother, which, after an entire week, became tiresome, so they began pulling Catherine out of work early to go with them. But Anna never stayed over at anyone else’s house, and never had she even hinted to her mother of her midnight visitors.

Jacob came Above only with Vincent now and only at select times... but it was better than nothing. He was punished for his secret trips Above, but Vincent couldn’t bear to make it too severe. So, Jacob worked three hours a day in the kitchens with William. For weeks this was how he paid the cost of all of his visits to Anna.

Catherine shut off the television for the night, glancing at the clock. It was midnight, the eleven o’clock news only just over. She had a full day in court coming up and she needed sleep, even if she was far from tired. She would take a shower now so that she could sleep in for the morning. She dragged herself down to the end of the hall to the bathroom, convincing herself that a shower would feel great.

She switched on the bathroom light and glanced at Anna’s door, just across from it. Decisively, she tip-toed to her daughter’s door and slowly pushed it open. She would only check on Anna, make sure she was asleep (as she had not been lately), and then take her shower. Light poured slowly into the room, spilling onto the bed in a V-shape pattern. There lay Anna, tucked into her blankets and sound asleep. She rolled to her other side and curled with a slight snore. Catherine smiled and pulled the door shut softly.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a moment, stripped from the waist-down, and began to think of Joe. ‘Why Joe?’ Her head reeled. She usually thought longingly of Vincent at these moments. But her thoughts of Joe weren’t of any sexual nature, like her thoughts of Vincent, but of friendship. Why, stripped half naked, would she think of Joe in a friendly way?

She pulled her sleeveless shirt off, feeling the ache in her shoulders. The pain was worse as she reached around to unhook her bra. Now completely naked, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back, rolling it on her shoulders to stretch her neck. She heard the minor creaks and snaps of the muscles in her neck and down her spine. She tried to work out her shoulders, rolling them and massaging them, but it didn’t quite work. Finally she gave up and just climbed into the shower.

The steaming water seemed to open every pore in her body, everything was suddenly relaxed and any excess was washed away. The water falling heavily on her hair, down her back, felt like a thousand fingers running up and down her spine. She shivered at the sensation, breathing with it, and lathering her shoulders and across her neck.

Joe was sweet. He was like this lost puppy who would cling to whoever seemed to take to him. It seemed doubtful that he had any real feelings for her. He was a good friend, maybe a bit overbearing, but he cared about her. He cared about Anna. He had always been there for her. He would even take Anna to the doctor’s if Catherine was thrown into court that day. He played with her, he taught her, he loved her. That was a real father. The only person Anna had as reference to a father. So why, why, was she so fixed on a man who abandoned her so many years ago? Why did Catherine deny Joe and every other man who got too close? Did she perhaps, in the back of her mind, still believe as she had when she was pregnant, that Vincent would someday come back for her?

Vincent... The water fell on her, running gently down her arms as she half-mindedly shaved her legs. That night, under the park for the concert... it had rained. That was a glorious night! The music and the night and the rain. They had nearly kissed that night, as they had almost done on many occasions. The water ran down her hair now as it had that night. She had fallen into Vincent’s arms, both of them laughing. His large, muscular arms wrapped securely around her. His downy fur brushing softly across her skin. She washed her stomach, down and across her thighs. The water fell on her back, heavy fingers needling at her skin. The memories of all those precious moments when she was, for one reason or another, pressed against him flooded in. Those moments of closeness when she was sure that he loved her as much as she loved him. Their lips so close, but never touching; their eyes meeting, but quickly averted. Catherine ran the loofa across her breasts and purposefully waited until every bit of the soap had been washed away by those imaginary fingers. Their pitiful excuses for a kiss were treasured and kept sacredly in her heart. And that day... Their eyes met, then their lips, and then their bodies. The water caressed and the steam engulfed. Those few moments of ecstasy that she was willing and did suddenly give everything for. The water fell gently now, and it began to cool.

Joe was sweet. He did care for her dearly, and he was devoted to Anna. She knew what was right for her daughter, but her heart ached with the thought of giving up the hope of Vincent forever. There would never be any fire with Joe. She would never have the passion for him that she would always have for the father of her child... children.

She fell against the wall of the shower, now standing directly under the streaming water. The only connection Vincent had to Anna was a biological one, and she knew it. But she always wondered what would have happened if she had fought them harder... if Mouse hadn’t left. Would she have had both of her children? Would Vincent have come back?

Why did she bother? It didn’t happen that way. Joe was the only father Anna knew, even if she did strive to know her biological one. Catherine knew Vincent wasn’t coming back, which was why she never let Anna grow attached to the idea of him. He tended to leave the effect, even if the person didn’t know him, of someone who would always be there, always come to the rescue. She knew that all too well. She had been drawn in by that savior security that Vincent often instilled in the people he met, and once he let her down, that idealism turned to bitterness. She wouldn’t let Anna feel that towards someone she didn’t and would never know.

Joe had given Anna that same kind of security; she didn’t need Vincent. Still, Anna would see Joe as a poor substitute for a ‘real father’ for a very long time. Eventually, Catherine would be forced to tell her, and she would have to endure the retelling of every horrible event leading to Vincent’s abandonment. Luckily she knew that she had a choice regarding her daughter’s brother. That would always be a far too tender subject and she never intended to explain the situation to her daughter.

The steam still lingered in the bathroom, making the sweat and water clinging to Catherine’s body indistinguishable. She ran the towel quickly through her hair, getting out the excess water and then brushed it out until it looked like one silky, dark strand down to her shoulder blades. She half-heartedly dried off the rest of her body and then immediately wrapped her bathrobe around herself, tying it securely around her waist.

She opened the door to air that was only slightly cooler that the steam in the bathroom. She still seemed to stick to herself and there was definitely more sweat than water on her now. She stretched as if there were someone pulling her arms in opposite directions, and muscles and joints snapped and creaked as they had before that wonderful shower.

She had taken only a step down the hall when she heard mumbling and then a hushed laugh. She rolled her eyes; Anna must have been faking, or she had woken up randomly. She hadn’t done this since she was three. It was beginning to get truly annoying that she wasn’t sleeping through the night, because it always meant that she was tired all the next day. Catherine spun around slowly, sighed heavily and then stepped up to her daughter’s door.

"Anna! Why aren’t you asleep, young lady?" She called, her hand on the door handle.

There were hurried whispers, rushing footsteps, and a couple squeaks, but Anna never answered. Catherine thought she heard something like, "Hurry, she’ll see you!"

There wasn’t much hesitation before Catherine turned the handle and pushed the door open, casting light into the room like a stain. That glorious and horrible light revealed the room and every one of its contents.

Anna stood, frozen near the window. Her wide eyes were transfixed on the silhouette of her mother in the doorway. She clung to another hand, seemingly to have been pulling it to the window.

Catherine followed that captured hand all the way to the face of it’s owner. The little boy before her stared as Anna did, as if he were a hunted animal that had just been spotted by the hunter. His patches of dark blonde fur glinted against the artificial light, and he swayed slightly in the uncomfortable position he had frozen in.

Catherine was not to be left out of this sight. She was also glued to her spot, staring at the two children in front of her. She was horrified and amazed. She was entranced and terrified. Her son, her beautiful baby boy stood before her, linked to Anna as if they were melded together. It took a moment for her to realize that she wasn’t dreaming. She opened her mouth, but even if she tried to say something, her mind was blank.

"Jacob...!" A voice sounded. Someone was suddenly in the window looking in on the scene.

All eyes turned and fixed on Vincent, holding either side of the window sill, his body halfway in the room, and his frightened and amazed face added to the rest of them. Catherine and Vincent’s eyes locked, both of their mouths fell open a little wider and they watched each other in absolute fear. It was an eternity that they stared at each other, searching for any sign or clue that their eyes were playing tricks on them. They never moved an inch, even their faces seemed to be plastered in that position.

Finally Vincent gained the courage and the passion to actually form a word. "Catherine." He breathed softly.

Catherine’s eyes widened further, as if his speaking her name just confirmed that it was him that she was staring at now. His hair glowed in the moonlight and his deep russet skin blended with the darkness of the night. His face was beginning to turn into a smile at the sight of her. But, out of the corner of her eye was Anna, near the window that Vincent leaned through.

"No." She said with a strange gravel in her voice. Before she could process rational thought, her first impulse took over. "No!" She shot forward and pulled Anna away from both Vincent and Jacob, holding the child tightly against her. "No!!" She backed up against the door, Anna pinned to her. "No, you can’t have her! You won’t take her! She’s mine!"

"Jacob!" Anna wailed, managing to free one arm and reaching for him.

Catherine seized her outstretched arm and pinned it in, continuing to yell at Vincent. "She’s not yours! She’s mine! Get out! Get out!!"

"Anna! Father, help her!" Jacob insisted as he backed away from Catherine, who never stopped screaming.

"Stay away! Get out! You can’t have her! Stay away from us!!" Catherine held Anna tighter and tighter.

"Mommy, let go! Jacob!" Anna wailed.

"Father, please!" Jacob only glanced at Vincent, keeping a protective eye on Catherine and Anna.

"Catherine... I didn’t know." Vincent’s whisper was lost in the room full of shouting.

"Get out! Get out!" Catherine insisted, struggling to keep a hold of Anna now.

But before she could scream at Vincent one more time, Catherine suddenly found herself face to face with Jacob. He stood as tall as he could in front of her for only a second before getting a tight grip on Anna’s hand and yanking her away from Catherine. The children stumbled back and ended up, wrapped in each other’s embrace, at the end of Anna’s bed.

The room was silent and still as it had been only a minute before, but now all eyes were fixed on Anna and Jacob who clung to each other, staring harshly at both adults. Tears were welling in Catherine’s eyes and she fell back into the wall.

The twins each kept a close eye on both adults, tightening their grips whenever one parent would try to start forward. But Catherine eventually caught all of their attention, for she was now attempting to control her sobbing, tears streaming relentlessly down her cheeks.

"Anna," Vincent bravely spoke, and all eyes shifted to him. "Is this your mother?"

Reluctantly Anna nodded, and quickly locked her fingers around Jacob.

"Anna," Catherine slowly reached out, her sobs growing more violent, "come here."

Eyes wide and fearful, Anna immediately shook her head. Jacob tightened his hold and actually pulled her a step away from her mother. His father may have been generous to them, but her mother obviously wouldn’t be.

"No! Anna, come here... please!" Catherine, bending at the waist and reaching out, looked as if there were a deep chasm just beyond the tips of her toes. She begged from that position, pleading with her child just to take her hand before she lost her to that chasm between them.

The twins took another collective step back and were now against the wall, closer to Vincent than Catherine. "Mommy," Anna tucked into Jacob, "don’t make him go. Please. Don’t separate us. Please, don’t separate us."

Catherine stopped and tucked her arm back in, folding it protectively into the other. She took heavier breaths now, which began to calm her, although her shaking still seemed to worsen. Her tears were under control now and she suppressed a few hiccups left over from her sobs.

"Catherine..." that deep, voice sounded again from the window. All eyes slowly returned to Vincent. He seemed to be attempting to get something else out, but was failing horribly.

Catherine’s hard and unforgiving eyes turned on him and she almost verbally dared him to speak. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. She looked back at the twins, her eyes going softer than they had in a very long time. They seemed confused and a little fearful of this change.

This was amazing, beautiful. Anna and Jacob were finally together again. This moment should go on forever, but it couldn’t. Vincent was leaned through the window, waiting to take Jacob away... again. No, she couldn’t bear to separate them this time; to loose her baby again. However this had happened, it had to stay this way. The only way to do that was the one thing she didn’t want to do ever again in her life.

She took a shaky step forward and gained a little confidence with that step, that her other movements toward the children weren’t so jerky. They visually squeezed together as if trying to become one person. There was nowhere else for them to go as Catherine crouched in front of them and took both of their hands.

"Anna..." she looked at her son and nearly lost control, "Jacob, listen to me. It’s very late, and you both need your sleep. I want you both to climb in bed. I don’t want to see either of you leave this room at all, do you understand?"

Their confused stares turned to wild smiles as they realized that they were being ask to do the exact opposite of what they feared.

"All right? Do you understand?"

They nodded simultaneously. "Yes, Mama." Anna agreed happily.

"Good." Catherine smiled as wide as they did, and kissed Anna’s cheek. In an immediate impulse, she was about to kiss Jacob as well, but she pulled back when he did. She gave him a reassuring look, and reached up and stroked his fur-laden cheek. Her stomach rolled and her heart jumped as he smiled back at her.

She stood slowly and reluctantly stopped her caressing of the boy’s face. "All right then, hop in." She steered them past her and into the bed. Her gazed drifted slowly up to Vincent, her features hardening with each second.

Vincent was watching the scene with growing tears and when he found himself staring at Catherine, he lost his smile as she had. He took her meaning and, glancing at Jacob, backed out the window.

She went back to the children, watched them tuck in next to each other, and began to back away. "I mean it now. Go right to sleep."

"We will." Jacob affirmed, watching her as she watched him.

"Okay." She smiled at both of them one last time before turning to face the window. It was as if she switched into a different person; her smile was gone and instead of giddy butterflies in her stomach, there were knots and an unmistakable sick feeling. She took a heavy breath. ‘I can’t do this.’ Her heart insisted. But she had to, because she could feel her twins’ stares trained on her. She had to do this for them. She had to do this for herself, for a conclusion... or maybe a beginning.

She braced herself on the window sill, put one foot on the edge and pushed herself through that invisible wall she had formed, into the dark night that used to be her home.

 

15. Waiting
December, 1989
 

And so Catherine coped for the following months. Olivia became her only close friend Below. It was a difficult friendship, with the rest of the community shunning Catherine, it stood to reason they would bestow the same courtesies on Olivia. Kanin fought with his wife for hours until they finally came to the conclusion that he couldn’t stop Olivia from visiting Catherine, but he put his foot down when it came to their son.

The whole situation was like something out of The Scarlet Letter. The children were not allowed to go near Catherine, much less speak to her; as if they would catch some rare disease from her. And the adults all found reasons to condemn and avoid her. Father and Mary had no choice but to tend to her, but Father hardly spoke during the examinations. Mary had claimed that she had no opinion on the matter either way, but she had softened to Catherine when it became clear that the baby was far from ordinary. Many of the dwellers saw Catherine’s actions as a betrayal to them and especially to Vincent. Mouse was the worst. That happy-go-lucky face that Catherine had become accustomed to greeting her, was now harsh and fierce. Lena spoke to Catherine only once in her entire stay. She had pulled little Catherine away from the elder and whispered harshly, "You had Vincent. You had everything. You threw it away when others could have had a chance!"

Catherine couldn’t blame them. She agreed with everything they whispered and rumored about her. If it were her choice, she wouldn’t even be around herself. Everything built; one after the other until she spiraled into another depression. This one of a deadlier kind; self-loathing.

Months passed and the child within Catherine grew, but the child’s father was no where to be found. Strange sightings were reported to Father as Vincent, like a ghost, seemed to appear and disappear from the tunnel community. He always seemed to have just labored heavily whenever a dweller would see his form disappear behind the stone walls. One of the children had been so excited to see ‘the ghost of Vincent’ that he had forgotten the rules and ran straight to Catherine, filling her in on the newest sighting as if he’d experienced something straight out of one of Father’s Halloween stories.

"He was all wet!" The little boy gushed. "And I just stood there. I couldn’t move. He walked by, stopped, and then looked at me! He nodded his head, like this," the boy demonstrated the acknowledging bow awarded him. "And then he just kept walking!"

Catherine had sat forward, thoroughly captivated by the story, and hoping beyond hope that it would end with her beloved walking into the chamber. "And? Did you go after him?"

And then, as if her words had actually been reminding him of the new unwritten rule, the boy backed away from Catherine with wide eyes. She had tried to call him back, but the child ran off in fear of punishment.

The emotional toll that the lack of interaction had taken on her was nothing compared to the physical toll that the baby was causing. She was so large that by the end of her fifth month she could hardly leave her bed. The ‘aches’ that Olivia had assured her were perfectly normal, had progressed to shooting pains continually down her spine. Eventually she was forced to consent to Mary and Olivia helping her walk to the lavatory, the kitchen, or wherever she was absolutely required to be. Finally, by the beginning of her seventh month, Father was forced to sedate her whenever the pain was too unbearable and she was begging him to make it stop.

"How much longer?" Olivia charged into Father’s study, taking no consideration of the meeting in progress. "How much longer, Father?"

"Livy," Kanin stood to try to contain the fire that was visibly crackling in his wife’s eyes.

"How long?" She had pushed past her husband and was now leaning down to be face-to-face with Father. "She’s been in excruciating pain for four days straight! This isn’t normal, Father! You have to do something!"

Calmly and rationally, Father (with a raise of his hand) put the meeting on hold and answered the frantic woman. "What do you propose I do, dear?"

"Something! Anything! Just make the pain stop! She can’t stand it anymore!"

"I can do nothing more than sedate her, Olivia. Any medication to reduce the pain would hardly have an affect on her. And anything stronger could injure the child."

"Then send her to Peter! This isn’t normal, Father!" She readily argued.

"She won’t go Above. Don’t you think I’ve tried?" He answered with a little more malice than he had wanted to slip out.

"Oh, I’m sure you have." She added smartly.

"Olivia!" A scold from her husband.

She breathed to collect her thoughts. "Father, please. I am begging you, for her sake, you have to do something."

"Olivia, dear, we’ve been going around in this circle for weeks now." Father sighed and began again for the hundredth time. "There is nothing-"

"Father!" Kipper skidded into the chamber and panted out his message. "Mary says to come quickly! There’s something wrong with Catherine!"

 

16. The Dragon Princess
August, 1997
 

Vincent watched, transfixed as Catherine climbed out onto the fire escape. She was just the way he had seen her last; dark, silky honey colored hair, porcelain face, and eyes that (like their color) were deeper than the ocean itself. He had always loved her, just this way. Those nights that he would land on her balcony and find her absorbed in the work she was doing, were always the times that he found himself loving her even more than the last time he had seen her. She was always so driven, intent on fixing any and all problems. Their passions were so alike, it was no wonder they had fallen in love so quickly. Now, after watching her with Jacob, and feeling her so near to him, he wondered how and why they had spent eight years apart.

She came through the window easily and shot him a disgusted look as she made one fluid motion to the opposite side of the landing. She had stabbed him with that look. In it he saw everything; how the years had aged her, her anger of their necessary closeness, and even worse... exactly how and why they had spent eight years apart. Facing away from him, her arms folded and the wind sweeping her hair slightly, she looked as though she was physically holding in the desire to lash out at him.

"So..." she began in a fairly calm voice that almost sounded disinterested, "did you know about all this?"

Vincent had to restrain a smile at the sound of her voice. It wasn’t completely the way that he remembered it, but it was close enough. "Jacob brought Anna down with him a month ago." He began slowly. "I found them. Since then I’ve been bringing him up to visit two nights per week." In an attempt to redeem himself he quickly spit out the rest. "I had no idea that she was yours, Catherine, honestly. I’m so sorry."

She held her hand up to stop him, and wrapped it back around herself again quickly. "How about... how they met. Any ideas about that?"

"Well, no. The children themselves seem to have forgotten that detail." Vincent kept his eyes on her. There was too much of a risk of this dream ending.

"Oh, how convenient." Her voice pitched with a grimace.

The thick, heavy silence fell. The tension seemed to radiate off of both of them, clashing between them like opposing swords. He wanted to reach out to her, to maybe even touch her. But she was stiff, unrelenting, angry. An invisible bubble covered her so it seemed that anything within a two foot radius would simply bounce off. Perhaps everything was happening too quickly for her. He was overjoyed to see her, although she was everything but. He wanted to bridge that gap that eight years had left. Whatever had happened in the past, it was the past. Here they were, the children asleep inside. He wanted his life to fall back into her comforting arms and he never wanted to leave them again.

In an effort to attempt this, Vincent spoke tentatively. "Catherine, I want to..."

"I don’t really care what you want, Vincent. You won’t take her from me." She had finally spun around to face him. It was the first time she had spoken his name since she saw him, and something suddenly ignited in both of them.

Vincent actually took a step toward her, not in anger, only concern. "I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about."

She squirmed a bit at the mere inches closer he was, but it was her only sign of weakness. "Don’t try to pretend with me, Vincent. We both know what happened, and I will tell you this right now... you may have gotten Jacob, but you will never get Anna. She’s not yours, she never will be. She’s mine!"

"What are you saying? I’m not going to take Anna away from you. Why would I do that? That’s ridiculous. She’s your daughter." He watched her closely, lost on this accusation that had begun the moment Catherine had seen him.

"Well, I suppose that’s why you allowed her and Jacob to keep visiting each other. Did you think of the consequences? Did you think of what this might do to her? Or maybe you thought that you could just waltz into her life as if nothing happened?" Her eyes were fire, and if they could turn red to match her face, they would have.

"Once again," he began calmly, "I say that I am very sorry. I didn’t know that she was your daughter."

"Oh, save it!" She turned away from him. "You know," she changed her mind, turning back around, her voice a hoarse whisper, "you are the only thing that little girl in there has ever wanted in her whole life. Do you have any idea what it’s been like trying to keep her from finding out about you? I knew that the moment she did she would run straight to you. And I knew that she’d be all right for a while, and then eventually everything would come crashing down around her. Because I know what happens to people like Anna and I down there. You have no idea what it was like for me after you left. You have no idea what it’s like to have the only family you know hate you." She had begun to cry again, despite her efforts to control it. "Don’t try to pretend that you care about her. She may not accept it now, but you relinquished all rights to be her father when you walked out on me." She was facing away from him again, gulping breath to fight her tears.

The wheels in Vincent’s head were turning... he was finally understanding. But the more he explained this to himself, the less he believed it. He could feel that horrible pit of truth in his gut and the ache of his heart as everything clicked into place. But still, he was in denial. "Catherine," he began, a choke in his voice now, "who is Anna’s father?"

For such a slow and sincere question, the response was fast and sharp, painful even. Very painful. She had smacked him across the face so quickly, that he hadn’t seen it coming. His hot cheek stung, and that demon within him threatened to come to the surface, but Vincent forced him back down. His eyes came up slowly to meet hers. He could see the fire in them, and he was suddenly shocked with the emotion that flooded in from her. She wanted to scream, yell, and hit him a few more times if possible, but her tense body was holding it all in somehow. Her blood was boiling and it was as if the only thing that kept her from literally exploding was her delicate skin.

"You bastard!" She whispered emphatically instead of screaming it. And suddenly she had ducked out of his shocked view.

Vincent caught her elbow before she could get the window too far open. Both of them froze. His grip restrained her, but it was not tight. Catherine swept her eyes up slowly, first focusing on his hand, then up to his face. Vincent expected her to demand that he let her go, but once again she had reacted unexpectedly. Her expression was as strong as it had been, but there was a strange wanting in her eyes. It was as if Vincent could gaze into them and find a battle being waged between the want and denial within her.

"Catherine," he found his voice, "am I her father?" His eyes locked on hers, conveying his sincerity.

Even if she’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have let her pull away from his gaze. Simply and quietly she spoke, "You really don’t know do you?" He didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. She watched him for a moment and her expression changed slightly. Now she was confused. "Why would you think that she wasn’t? Who did you think...?"

"I thought..." he stopped, not quite able or wanting to say it, "maybe that... that other man." He was barely audible, and he bowed his head away from her.

"What?" Now she was truly not comprehending him. "No. No," she went just as quiet as Vincent, "I never saw him again. He moved away a few weeks later."

Vincent brought his head up to meet her eyes again. "Then how...?"

Catherine looked as though she was going to make an attempt to step away, but she stood her ground. Whether she was trying to show him how strong she was (which was not necessary), or she was fighting to stay because she wanted to be near him, Vincent couldn’t tell. He hoped it was the latter, but she suddenly seemed angry again. "What do you mean, ‘how’? Anna is your daughter. She was born three minutes before Jacob with your face, my eyes, and some stranger’s unrelenting sense of reality. I have no idea where she got that one from."

"I don’t understand." He cut her off slightly. "Are you saying that Anna is Jacob’s twin?" His blue eyes bore in on hers as if they could suck any and all information out of her.

Catherine stared back at him with a wild and confused face. "Yes, of course. What else?"

Vincent broke away from her, releasing her arm which actually proved to be a bit emotionally painful for both. But this was beyond his petty physical wants. He braced himself on the fire escape rail, keeping his back to Catherine, who he could hear returning to her corner as well. He had a daughter. He had a little girl. He was a father... again. Jacob had a twin sister. His daughter, Anna. Anna. Catherine had named her Anna. She was perfect, beautiful. He turned slightly and peeked into the window. The twins, lying there asleep together, were the picture of perfection. ‘Born with your face’, Catherine said. But no, she looked so like Catherine accept for her darker skin... her father’s skin. His daughter, Anna.

He pushed the window back down and set his hand against the glass, watching the children. He could feel Catherine’s stare behind him, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was lost in his own world... with a daughter.

Finally, he couldn’t ignore her any longer. She had crept up next to him and was also now gazing in at their twins. He gave a heavy, complicated, but almost content sigh.

"I had no idea. I never knew. Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked quietly, and immediately regretted it.

Catherine’s eyes grew to the size of half dollars. She pulled his hand off the glass, spinning him to face her fury. "You were gone!" She didn’t yell, so as not to wake the children, but her whisper was harsh enough. "And after what you put me through, I was not about to come crawling back to you! I asked for my forgiveness! For two years I asked for forgiveness and when it was never granted, I stopped trying and decided that it was your turn! I did my penance; I look at her every day, and every day she reminds me of everything I have gone through in the last eight years! Here’s the real question... why didn’t you come to me?"

Finally, the argument had taken a turn in his favor. It was his turn. It was his child now. "Where were you, Catherine? I was taking care of our son! Do you remember him? I’m not sure how you could... you haven’t seen him in seven years!"

She went quiet this time, and took a step away. "Don’t start on that. I’ll bury you."

"What was the matter, Catherine? Was he just too much to handle? Was the week that he cried too much on you? Maybe you were just ashamed of him! Maybe you didn’t want to look at him anymore because... he was just like me!"

Catherine stared at him, looking like she may hit him again, but she didn’t. She just looked at him, confused and shaking her head. "Who are you? What have you turned into? You don’t even accept that I was the only one who didn’t care what..." she was obviously going to say something else, "Jacob looked like. The only one who loved him because of it!"

"You left him Below!" Vincent burst out. The only thing he had ever been angry at her for was finally out in the open.

"I had no choice." She almost sounded as though she was whimpering.

"You had no choice?" He repeated bitterly. "You had a choice, Catherine. You chose to leave Jacob with Father and run back up here where you didn’t have to face us anymore. Or at least you thought you didn’t."

Both were silent for a moment, taking each other in. Vincent was angry, which was rare and Catherine was a little taken aback by it. But she was completely confused and hurt by his accusations. "Vincent," she began, "what has Father been telling you?"

There was quiet. He had pretty much just explained the sum of what Father had told him. Catherine continued. "I never wanted to leave Jacob there. I wanted to stay with him. I did. But your Father took him out of my arms and forced me to leave. He was going to take Anna too, but since she could live Above, he let me keep her. But he banished me from the tunnels. I never left willingly."

Vincent let her story sink in. He wanted to believe her, but it was horrible what she was accusing Father of. Not to mention; the exact opposite of what he had been told and believed for years. He turned away, and gave her the easiest answer. "That’s not true."

"Believe what you will." She told him coldly. "I was there. I know how it feels to have your beliefs, your friends, and your child taken away from you in one moment. I don’t care if you don’t believe me. You’re not part of my life anymore. You’ve been long since gone. I’ve accepted that."

"I don’t know what to believe anymore," he added quietly.

"I’m sorry that you’ve apparently been lied to. But those are your own demons." She leaned against the window frame and gazed in at the children.

"I have to go," he said more to himself than her.

"I know." She answered quietly, almost bitter, as if she expected it.

"Jacob..." Vincent turned and mirrored her position, but never crossing the invisible wall between them.

"Let him sleep," she quickly pleaded, never actually looking at him. "Please?"

It wasn’t as much a plea for Jacob as it was for herself, and Vincent sensed it clearly. He hesitated. "You must have things to do tomorrow."

"I’ll cancel," she answered immediately. "Please."

He was still hesitant. She had begged him not to take Anna away and she seemed to be asking the same for his son. But the years of listening to Jacob wishing for her, and he himself hoping that one day Jacob would know his mother, played against his negativity. "I’ll be back tomorrow night," he told her quietly.

She nodded, her forehead against the glass. She looked as though she had regained some confidence when she turned around. "Vincent..."

But he had taken a hold of the roof and pulled himself up and onto the open garden above her apartment. He would climb across the roofs until he came to the home or shop of some Helper.

 

17. And Then There Were Two
December, 1989
 

Sleep was when he was most vulnerable. In the waking hours there was no trouble pushing everything away, closing off the Bond. But... though he had gone away to attempt to forget his Catherine, he found himself unable to think of anything else. His Catherine; hours, days, weeks, months he had tried to erase that possessive phrase from his memory. For three years he had kept himself on a tight rein while he was with that beautiful, delicate creature. So many urges and temptations diverted and suppressed during those precious moments alone with her. The ironic tragedy of it was that now, after everything that happened, those urges swelled in him with infinitely more power. While he was awake he could keep all of that at bay more firmly.

But what happened in his dreams, he could not control. That day... ‘the incident’, became a reoccurring dream. Those dreams seemed to have opened a floodgate of sexual fantasies that played themselves out every night. It was rare for him to not dream of anything sexual, but even when he did, it was still of Catherine. The Bond seemed to peak open in his sleep where he found his Catherine again. He never saw her or heard her in these dreams. They were mere platonic emotions. It was always a jumble of feelings, as if Catherine couldn’t decide what emotion to wear this-or-that day. But, at the root of all of it was beyond sadness, it was despair. He would assure himself that the pain would fade in time, for both of them. But the months progressed and each time the uncommon dream would creep it’s way in, the despair seemed to be much more terrible than the last time.

This night was a first. The dream flared and sparked in his subconscious. The heat, the passion, the friction all reaching their height together. And then it stopped... it was gone. No star-bursting climax, and no horrible sight of her blood on his hands; just no conclusion. The Bond opened suddenly, unexpectedly. Catherine was in pain... terrible pain. Every muscle in his body ached along with hers. His abdomen clenched and released with the shooting pains. She was bleeding.

He awoke to the pains, nearly sending his body into convulsions. His first instinct was to run to her. Fear emanated from her. And then his name. He heard her, as if she were somewhere in the distance, calling to him, screaming his name.

He didn’t move. He hardly breathed. He was too afraid that the rise and fall of his chest would be just enough initiative to make him run to her. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. To run to her would be to claim her as his own. No, someone else would have to be trusted to care for her now.

"Vincent!!"

He grabbed his ears, clinging tightly, breaking skin.

"Vincent, help me!!"

He rocked feverishly, holding his head with furious determination, and forcing himself to recite something... anything!

"Vincent, please!!"

He threw back his head and let out a deafening roar to drown out sweet Catherine’s cries.

***********************

"Vincent!!" More of an outcry of pain than the actual formation of a name.

Mary smoothed back Catherine’s sweat-soaked hair, trying desperately to calm the woman who was near convulsions. "Shh. Catherine, honey, it’s going to be all right."

"Oh God, Mary, it hurts!" she cried out. "It hurts so badly! Make it stop! Please!"

"I know. I know." Mary cooed. "Don’t think about the pain, sweetheart. All right?" She glanced at Father, painstakingly preparing a sedative at just the right dosage. "Catherine, listen to me, dear."

"I can’t! I can’t! It hurts!"

"Just listen, Catherine." Mary kept her calm, smooth-as-silk voice. "Father’s going to make the pain stop. You’ll be able to sleep. And when you wake up..."

"No! No!" She grunted and whined, squirming for comfort, but achieving the opposite.

"Catherine, are you listening? When you wake up, you will be a mother. You’ll have a beautiful baby. Catherine..." Mary captured the poor woman’s grappling hands. "Hold on, sweetheart. Just hold on." She looked back over to Father. "Jacob, are you almost finished?"

He sighed heavily. "This is the best I can make it. Let’s pray it puts her out." He took a deep breath with a silent prayer and injected Catherine’s arm that Mary held still.

The two elders watched Catherine closely and within the minute her thrashing calmed. She took labored breaths and finally one deep breath, lulling her into sleep.

Mary released Catherine’s hands, folding them across her chest peacefully. "What do we do now?"

"I’ve done all I can to stop the bleeding," Father rubbed his eyes. "Peter should be here soon. I don’t want to continue without him."

"Are you sure? The baby could be dying for all we know." Mary implored.

"You and I have delivered dozens of children, Mary." He put his arm around her shoulders as they stared at Catherine’s inflated belly. "But, Peter is a specialist... he’s been with Catherine from the beginning. If anything... unexpected should happen... I want him here."

"Request granted." Peter announced, entering the chamber and immediately setting to work.

"I just put her to sleep." Father informed, falling a little awkwardly into the role of assistant.

"Perfect." He rounded the bed to stand opposite Father with Catherine between them. "Let’s deliver a baby." He smiled, obviously forcing his confidence.

Caesareans were an art commonly practiced by both doctors, and even Mary, but the complications involved in this particular one were increasing by the moment. They couldn’t find the head at first. Then, once finding the proper place and making the incision they found the amniotic sac to have already broken and been expelled.

But they finally reached her. A baby girl, a perfect girl, held easily in Peter’s two hands. Her skin was already bronze and her eyes shown a bright green. Catherine was right; she had hair thickly matted to her tiny head. Peter held her, cleaning her. She was perfect, the image of her mother as an infant. Her glazed eyes stared back at him as if analyzing who this new person was. How could such a perfect child have caused such a fuss? What were they seeing on that monitor to believe that this precious little girl would be deformed?

"Peter..." Father called, staring into Catherine’s womb in shock.

"Father?" Peter reluctantly looked away from that sweet face.

"There is another." It was all he could get out, the puzzlement overwhelming him.

Mary practically stole the baby girl out of Peter’s arms, happily taking her charge and placing the babe meticulously in Catherine’s arms to bond. Peter peered through the masses of organ walls and blood to find a quivering child, half the size of the baby girl. He maneuvered the child out of the womb and merely stared.

"Twins. How did we not know?"

The baby boy screamed and squirmed in the cold tunnel air, being separated from the warmth of his mother’s womb and his sister’s embrace. A towel was immediately fetched to wrap around the child, and new instruments were found to clear his air passages. His cries never quieted, partly from the delicacy with which he was passed around between the three adults.

Peter and Father had just finished stitching up Catherine when Mary set the boy in the crook of Catherine’s free arm. Only then did the boy’s cries quiet down. The little girl was already asleep against her mother, but the boy remained awake, alert. His flat nose twitched and everything below it followed suit; the cleft in his upper lip to his puckered mouth. His skin, though red and raw, was obviously much lighter than his sister’s, more the creamy color of his mother’s. The same with the short hairs that coursed across his face; they matched the thick honey hair that barely brushed the top of his head. The beginning of a thick mane had already begun its growth on the baby and his cloudy blue eyes sparkled back at the awed adults.

"How is it that we didn’t catch this?" Father finally found his tongue.

"I just don’t know." Peter stared, wide-eyed. "I mean, I’ve had surprise twins before, but it’s usually with identical twins. It’s rare to have surprise fraternals."

"My goodness!" Mary gasped quietly. "They’re just so beautiful!" Tears were forming in her eyes and she blushed as she wiped them away.

"He’s so small." Father smiled, remembering how small Vincent was when he was first brought down.

"She must’ve been on top of him this whole time." Peter speculated. "He’s so small, she’s so much bigger... we just didn’t see him. He was pressed against Catherine’s back."

"The pain." It dawned on Father. "If he was pressed on Catherine’s spine, the slightest movement could hit a nerve. That was why she was in so much pain."

Mary smiled ironically. "Well then he was quite an active little one!"

Catherine tossed her head, moaning in discomfort. The group dispersed around her. "We had better move the children. It’ll be a shock to her." Mary circled to take the boy, but Father got there first, stealing him away from her. Quickly, she scooped up the girl and followed Father to the single crib in the corner.

The crib was built for one, but Father and Mary managed to fit brother and sister in together. The children instinctually curled in to each other. The two surrogate grandparents watched, amazed, as the girl stubbornly pulled her tiny arm out of the blanket and delicately draped it across her brother. Only then did the little boy’s eyes flutter closed to drift into sleep.

"Peter?"

"Good morning, Cathy. We have a surprise for you."

 

18. ‘The Lie He Will Tell You Is True’
August, 1997
 

It was late. So late that the tunnel world that Vincent traveled through was silent and still. No one seemed to be awake anywhere in the hub of homes built into the earth of New York City. But that was all the better for him. His mind reeled with the night’s activities and events. Jacob was Above for the night. It was the first night that he had slept away from the tunnels, and he would be Above for the whole day tomorrow. Vincent smiled, knowing that when Jacob found this out, his son would have a wish fulfilled.

Jacob could spend the whole day with Anna. Anna... his sister. That honey-haired, dark-skinned child with a smile that could brighten the entire city. She was so sincere and logical all of the time. ‘She got that from me’ he thought dreamily. She never seemed to be angry or truly sad whenever he saw her. She was so bright and happy. Catherine had done a wonderful job.

Catherine. Vincent closed his eyes as he sank into his chair, preparing to put all of this down in his journal. He remembered everything he had seen of her tonight. The sweet smell of her freshly washed body, the intoxicating aroma of her shampoo that had lingered on the balcony... on their battleground, and the incredible warmth that still emanated from her, even in anger. She seemed even more beautiful to him now; her features toughened with time as though she could battle the world, and did often. He pictured her in his mind; her wet hair falling in her face, her steely eyes, her soft skin, her full lips. Her body clad in only a wet bathrobe, it clung to her every curve, and the memory sent shivers up Vincent’s spine.

He set pen to paper and wrote. He wrote until his hand was numb and cramped. He wrote until he couldn’t say anymore. He wrote of Anna and any little thing he could think of to prove that she was his daughter. He wrote of Jacob and wondered how he had found Anna in the first place, and what may have happened had he not. He wrote of Catherine and the thoughts roaming in his mind; thoughts he hadn’t had since, what he dubbed as, ‘the accident’. And finally he wrote of Father and the dreaded confrontation that would have to occur the next day. Had Father been lying to him all this time?

‘Why not?’ A part of him asked. ‘He lied about Anna. There’s no doubting that Anna is my child. There is no other way to explain the strange bond between her and Jacob.’ The connection that he had seen the children share had left him wondering in the past, but now it made much more sense. So what else had Father lied about?

‘He didn’t lie to you, Vincent,’ the other part of him said. ‘Why are you trusting the woman who abandoned you and your son, over the man you have trusted for your entire life? Why would she tell you the truth? It is obvious that she has the same loathing for Father as he has for her. Why would you trust that?’

‘But then on that basis, why am I trusting Father?’ he argued back. ‘He has been bitter about Catherine ever since I came home. What’s to stop him from lying to spite her?’

‘This is your Father you’re talking about. The man has been protecting you for your whole life.’

‘Maybe that’s the point. He was protecting me from the heartaches I would have had to endure with Catherine.’

His hand was cramped and his eyes burning. He crawled into his bed, terrified of the events that would ensue once he woke up. He wrapped himself in the blankets as if they would protect him from all that he would face the next morning. Vincent let his head relax on the pillow and allowed himself to fall asleep, visualizing Catherine and Anna, standing together, hand-in-hand until he could no longer keep his eyes open.

Vincent awoke quickly out of a dream he had forgotten the instant it ended, feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all. Maybe he had only just closed his eyes, and it was still that horribly early morning hour it was when he had finished his journal entry. But his keen ears caught the muffled hustle and bustle of the tunnel dwellers beyond his chamber. It was definitely morning.

He pulled himself out of bed weakly, his body aching with the lack of rest it needed. He used to be able to sleep only five hours and be the first up and about in the morning. He was getting older, it was terrible to admit. He hated the idea of not being as agile and flexible (in any and all aspects) as he used to be.

Pulling on a loose shirt that he didn’t bother lacing at the top, and a pair of dark brown slacks to match, Vincent stretched, which woke him up a little more. With a wide yawn and a rumple of his hair, Vincent made his way across his chamber and through into the tiny living area. His eyes swept over the room, taking in the lack of life within it.

"Jacob." He called, crossing into the boy’s chamber. "Jacob, are you awake?" There was no response. In fact, there was no Jacob. His bed looked as though it had never been slept in. Vincent stopped, repeating his sweep of the chamber as if he had missed something the other two... three... four times. Immediately, Vincent spun on his heel and he was back in his own chamber in a flash, flipping through his journal. He found the pages he had stained with ink the night before, and reread them as if a fascinating story.

He had not imagined or dreamed it! It was real. He had seen Catherine last night. His daughter had been revealed to him, his son had been asleep alongside her when Vincent left. Everything had happened, even the end had happened. He read the last page again, drinking in every word he had scribbled in his haste to keep up with his thoughts.

This was the day he would confront Father. Vincent remembered everything now. He would take as much of Father’s time as necessary to get the truth out of him. A dread plummeted to the bottom of his stomach, sitting like lead in that terribly uncomfortable position.

With much hesitation, but with resolution, Vincent made his way out of the chamber and down to his Father’s study. The night before replayed itself in his mind. Over and over in his mind, he stared into the intense and driven eyes of Catherine, and saw Jacob and Anna standing between their parents, completely unaware of any past happenings. Again and again he watched them hold each other in their innocence; terrified of Catherine, and not sure of Vincent either. He was at the threshold of Father’s study before his musings ceased.

In the space those musings made empty came the sight of Father, old and feeble with the years, reclining with a book blocking the view of his face. But it didn’t matter how little of the old man Vincent could see, it didn’t ease his nerves growing tighter in his abdomen. Slowly Vincent descended the steps and with a boost of determination, stood before his Father.

Suddenly the book revealed Father’s old, wrinkled, and weakening visage. "Ah, Vincent! Good morning. Where is young Jacob this morning?" He inquired cheerily. Usually Jacob tagged along with his father for most of the morning, and his sudden absence seemed odd to Father.

"He’s..." Vincent was going to answer truthfully, but he was determined for answers of his own before he heard Father’s ranting. "Father, I want to ask you a question, and I want you to answer truthfully."

"All right." Confused, Father agreed, marking his place in his book with his finger and waiting patiently for Vincent. Whenever he used that tone, got that look in his eyes, Father knew it would take him a moment to collect what he was about to say.

"I want to know..." Vincent stopped for a moment. And then it was as if another person inhabited his body. This person was angry with Father, he suddenly felt betrayed, and hated the patient and pleasant smile Father wore as he waited. It was not the other- the dark one- but, someone with infinite courage. He simply let the words fall out of his mouth in the most indelicate nature. "I want to know why you lied to me!"

"You haven’t asked me the question yet." Father told him diplomatically.

Vincent ignored him and allowed the other person to take over, for he had more courage than Vincent at the moment. "I want to know how you could lie to Jacob for all these years! I want to know what happened to Catherine! I want to know... about the girl. Anna," he finished with a strong determination in his voice that came out quietly.

"Anna. Is that what she named the girl? I might have known." Father gave his own form of admittance, with his head bowed, avoiding Vincent’s focused face barring down on him.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Vincent insisted, getting angrier by the second.

"Because," Father began, frustrated, "I knew that the moment you knew, you would run straight to Catherine, no matter what I said."

"That was my right. I’m Anna’s father. The child doesn’t even know I exist." Vincent paced, every once in a while shooting an angry look at Father.

"Yes, because that’s how we planned it would be. Why do you think I don’t approve of you speaking of Catherine to Jacob? We all arranged it so that the children could carry out normal lives with one of you, in your places, where you belong." He meant it in a fatherly tone, but it only came out condescending.

"It was my right to know!" Vincent erupted in something of a roar. "Who were you to decide what was best for me? For Jacob and Anna?"

"I happen to be your father." Vincent opened his mouth, but Father was quicker. "Besides, it wasn’t only me, Vincent." He immediately defended. "Catherine did have a hand in this too." Vincent stopped his pacing. "It’s time you took her down off of that pedestal, son. She is not the purest soul to ever walk the earth... as you well remember." He ended harshly, referencing to that topic always quickly and skillfully avoided. "I didn’t lie to you Vincent. She did leave... with the girl, granted... but we had a meeting and we discussed the futures of the children. This was the solution we came up with... all of us."

"Why did she leave Jacob behind?" Vincent resumed his pacing, only stopping when Father slowly opened his mouth. "The truth!" He demanded.

"I’ve told you the truth, Vincent. Jacob belonged here. She couldn’t care for him, she could the girl..."

"Anna." Vincent cut him off. "Her name is Anna." He stared intensely at Father, who took the message. "And... that’s not the story that Catherine gives." He saw Father visibly go ashen. "In fact she was overjoyed to see him again. She was afraid that I would try to take Anna away from her. Why would she think that Father?" Vincent blatantly accused.

"It seems you’ve already got a few theories of your own." Father rubbed his eyes, more than ready to be finished with this conversation.

"Please Father." That other person was gone, and all that was left was Vincent now. "I want to know the truth. Tell me what really happened."

"I can’t tell you anymore that what I have, Vincent. That’s all I will say. Now I want to know the truth." Father could be just as determined as his son. Maybe more so. "How did you find out?"

"Jacob made a new friend." Vincent answered simply, anger edging its way into his mannerisms. "Her name is Anna Chandler."

"I see." Father said quietly, bowing his head.

After an interminably long silence, Vincent quietly climbed the stairs out of the study and left his Father alone in his thoughts. He spoke to no one except a child running by to his class with William. The children had never even met Catherine, or if they had they were too young to remember her. No, they were as innocent to this as Jacob and Anna were. But, anyone who had known her, had helped her, whom she had helped... he suddenly had the distinct feeling that they had all lied to him... every last one.

Vincent sat at the mirror pool and watched the life Above pass by. Jacob was up there among them. It terrified him, it gave him joy, it fascinated, and it tortured. Jacob, Above, with Catherine and Anna... in the sunlight. It must be a dream.

 

19. Twelfth Night
December, 1989
 

"How are you feeling?" Olivia asked, cradling the baby girl, watching Catherine feed the boy.

"Like I could fly!" Catherine beamed at her friend and then winced slightly. She looked down at the infant suckling at her breast and stroked his fur-covered arm. "Hey you... that hurt." She smiled back at Olivia. "He’s a bear! He’s eaten three times since this morning."

"Can you blame him?" Olivia made herself and the girl comfortable, sitting cross-legged at the foot of Catherine’s bed. "He’s so tiny! He’s got to eat a lot so he can grow up big and strong like his daddy!"

The two women smiled at each other at that, lost for a moment in blissful normalcy. Vincent was still no where to be found, but for the last four days it just didn’t matter to Catherine. For the last four days he was merely off to the crystal cavern or navigating in the Catacombs. She allowed herself to believe that he would be back soon. That, in no time at all, he would come home to his loving Catherine and his new twins. In just a day or so they would be a family. It was the first time in months that anyone had seen Catherine smile for no reason. She was just happy and no one was about to take that away from her. They gladly agreed to keep up the fantasy... at least just for now.

The excitement of the two new arrivals seemed to throw every restraint into the wind. The children were regular visitors to Catherine and the two newborns. Many of the adults came to apologize and congratulate Catherine. Lena had been the first to come to her. With little Catherine in tow, Lena had apologized and tearfully explained how wrong she was, how she should have been the first to understand, and how she so wanted to be part of the twins’ lives. The next were Jamie, William, and Pascal who claimed that they had never hated her, but thought it best to quietly comply with Father’s wishes. Upon her forgiveness, Jamie begged to sit and hold the twins for ‘just a minute’ that turned into a half an hour.

Mouse had been the last. Catherine had actually been terrified that he wouldn’t come. But she smiled at him when he tearfully, but honestly approached her. "It’s wrong what you did," he proclaimed. "But it’s okay. Mouse had to be punished once, but did something good, so it was okay. Catherine had to be punished, but did something very good. So it’s fine with Mouse."

She smiled largely at him. "Okay, Mouse."

"Okay, good!" He bounced enthusiastically, glad to be friends again. "Okay, fine."

"Okay, good. Okay, fine." She had repeated him quietly.

Contrary to what she had claimed before, Catherine decided against a naming ceremony right away. She had taken one look at her twins and decided that she would wait for Vincent. But the children harassed her for a name for the twins. She hated to give them names before she knew that their father approved. Still, she agreed that it was getting tiresome calling them ‘girl’ and ‘boy’. The children had suggested names, the most laughable being ‘Thing 1' and ‘Thing 2'. Apparently Dr. Suess’ Cat In The Hat had become that month’s popular favorite, and taking note of how active the twins seemed to be, the two creatures released to create havoc was the perfect name according to the little ones.

Catherine hated to see the children try to get attached to a name that would be changed soon. Although she did agree that, for the time being, temporary names would be all right.

Samantha had approached her with them first, logically explaining that it would be fun, and since the names really didn’t fit the twins, the other children wouldn’t be so inclined to keep them later on. Catherine had thought it over for a minute, then smiled, and then giggled. Shakespeare; the perfect filler names. Samantha suggested the twins from Twelfth Night.

Viola and Sebastian.

 

20. Cloud’s Illusions
August, 1997
 

Jacob awoke slowly, rubbing his eyes furiously against the blinding light that fell on him unrelentingly. He climbed his way up the wall that he had laid against to a sitting position, and finally cleared his eyes enough to open them.

In a moment he had processed the entirety of his surroundings. The walls were a brighter purple than he had ever seen, the crumpled bed sheets were a stunning white, and the carpet that had always fascinated him was a color that resembled the off white of many tunnel clothes. The curtains were pulled full open letting in every shred of light filtering into the city.

Panic set in instantly. He was Above, in broad morning daylight! Oh, how beautiful it was! No, this was bad! He had to remind himself of that.

Anna lay asleep next to him, perfectly sound and content. He immediately shook her awake.

"Anna!" Jacob practically rocked her back and forth with all his shaking. "Anna wake up!"

She was awake now. She was sitting upright in bed next to him, shaking her head to clear it of the sudden confusion. "What?" She mumbled with a yawn. "What’s the matter?"

"I’m up here!" Jacob whispered in his panic. "What do I do? Anna? What do we do?"

Still disoriented, Anna looked around herself, examining her room and the brightness of it. "Jacob? What are you doing here?"

"I just woke up, and I was here! What happened?" He asked, desperately grasping for her explanation and attention.

"I dunno." She looked around her room once more and eventually came back to Jacob. "Where’s your dad?"

"I don’t know." He looked as though he were about to cry.

This was scaring Anna now. The seriousness of the situation was becoming suddenly very clear to her. She slid off the bed and with fierce determination, took Jacob’s hand. "Come on, maybe my mom will know."

Jacob hesitated. He remembered the night before. This strange woman had been screaming and yelling at his father, holding Anna hostage against them. She had frightened him beyond belief. And then he also remembered the aftermath of it all. Her soft green eyes and something in her that he felt strangely familiar with. Slowly he followed suit, sliding off of the bed and following Anna.

Her bedroom door opened to a onslaught of smells. The children recognized some of them, but others were a mixture that they couldn’t decipher. Pancakes, waffles, bacon, eggs, and some type of burnt smell that threatened to overpower all of the other wonderful smells. Anna led Jacob cautiously through the single hallway of her apartment in wonder.

It smelled like a restaurant. The good kinds. Her house had never smelled so wonderful before. Was she dreaming? She had to be. Vincent would never leave Jacob Above during the day. This was a dream... Anna was certain. It was just so real, she could sense everything around her. Maybe she was awake.

The pair rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped just at the threshold. Anna gazed in wonder as her mother, with quick, sharp movements pulled burnt toast out of the toaster. Steam, smoke and snapping sounds filled the entire area. Her mother seemed to appear from the smoke as she rushed to the garbage can just inside the threshold.

"Damn! Ow!" She threw the toast in the garbage and whirled back the way she came, plunging back into the smog.

She never saw the children standing there with wide eyes and smiling faces. She simply set her concentration on the stove. She flipped bacon, pancakes and french toast. She rolled sausages, unstuck the eggs and then dropped some more toast into the toaster. It was a sight to behold, from what they could see. The smoke was getting worse.

Without warning a siren wailed in alarm. Catherine ran to the smoke detector and began waving her towel in front of it, cursing at it as quietly as her adrenalin would allow. The siren finally stopped and Catherine dropped back off of her toes with a large sigh. And there, standing before her were Anna and Jacob, pulling their hands away from their ears. Any distress was instantly gone. Her brightest smile was in its place as she greeted the children. "Good morning! Breakfast?"

"Mommy... what did you do?" Anna pulled Jacob cautiously into the kitchen. She looked around as if something would jump out and attack them.

"Oh," Catherine began breathlessly, hurrying back over the stove and putting more well cooked French toast on an already growing pile. "Well, I didn’t know what Jacob liked, so I just made everything we had. What would you like Jacob? Go on, sit down. Don’t be shy." She spared at second to look back at him with her glowing smile.

Cautiously, Jacob slid into the chair at the far end of the kitchen table. He watched her every move, studied everything about her. Her hair was pulled into as high a ponytail as she could manage, and her pajama bottoms were tied tightly around her waist, her sleeveless nightshirt falling well beyond the waistband. She moved differently from anyone he’d ever seen. She was quick and precise. She never tried to embellish her work, as William did at times to show off. No, she was focused and, though fumbling, she had every move planned while she was finishing the previous action. He scanned the length of the counter at all of the steaming (and sometimes burnt) selections.

"Jacob?" Catherine rolled the last of the sausages onto the waiting plateful. She shut off all of the burners and stepped back to survey her work. "Well... what would you like?"

"How much did you make?" Anna spoke before he could, amused by her mother’s obviously short lived ‘good idea’.

"All of it," Catherine assured her. She looked straight at Jacob now, and waited. After a few seconds, she saw how uncomfortable he was and finally just took charge. "Okay, we have... French toast, pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast. I can make you a different kind of egg if you’d like. We have ingredients for omelets, and I can make scrambled, or..."

"Are we feeding the city today, mom?" Anna again piped up, already pulling a plate out for herself.

"I hope that’s for Jacob, Miss Anna. He’s a guest... and today is special." Catherine smiled back at him again.

"Of course. Who else?" Anna lied as she set the plate in front of the boy and whispered ‘sh’.

"So?" Catherine prompted Jacob again.

He glanced around nervously, and finally spoke his fears. "Where’s my Father?" He asked innocently.

Catherine faltered for only a moment. Thoughts of Vincent were to be left behind today. She didn’t want to think about how or where he was, just for this one day. This was Jacob’s day, Anna’s day... her day. But he needed an explanation, she understood that. She couldn’t be childish about this. "Your father and I..." it was the first time that common phrase had passed her lips and she let it sink in for a moment, "we agreed that there would be no harm in letting you spend the day with Anna. He’ll be back to get you tonight."

Jacob beamed with excitement. "Really? I get to be Above? All day?" Catherine nodded in assurance. Jacob jumped out of his chair and hugged Anna, who bounced with excitement.

God, they were so beautiful together. Her babies. Catherine watched them with as calm a smile as she could manage. It had been silly to think this day would be ‘Vincent- free’. Jacob looked so like him. Those odd and beautiful features... the first thing she saw after she recovered from the attack, the first thing she saw after she gave birth. His beautiful golden mane, only slightly darker than his father’s. And those eyes... the azure blue that she couldn’t help but loose herself in. But, everyone else had been right... he had her smile.

Anna couldn’t be left out. Her dark skin, her blonde hair that fell so gracefully it could easily be taken for a waterfall. Her every motion as smooth as a cat. And as she danced around the tiny kitchen with a boy that she had no idea she had once shared a cradle, much less a womb, with, Catherine found herself dumbstruck with wonder.

These children had miraculously found each other. Perhaps she and Vincent were not meant to live happily ever after, but their children surely would. She was positive of that through every passing moment that day. She promised with everything in her at that very moment, she would do everything in her power to keep them together. This time she would fight harder... and with a vengeance.

"All right" She settled them down. "Are you going to stand around celebrating or do you want this breakfast before it gets too cold?"

"We want it!" They exclaimed, jumping into their chairs and picking out their favorites.

There was still mounds of food left by the time all three of them had eaten their fill of the delicious foods. Jacob had eaten the most, taking six pieces of bacon, four sausages, and four pancakes. He explained to Catherine (who didn’t really need to be told) and Anna that many forms of meat were rare to receive Below.

Anna fell back in her chair dramatically, sighing heavily. She wrapped her arms around her full belly making sick faces at Jacob.

"Well," Catherine mimicked her daughter, "I’m about to explode."

"Make sure you clean up the mess afterward." Anna quipped smartly.

Catherine made a face at her daughter, causing Jacob to burst into giggles. "Anna, would you help me clean this up, please?"

Anna nodded obediently and hopped down. But Jacob sat up quickly and eagerly. "I can help." He volunteered. "It’s all I’ve been doing for the last month anyway." He said ruefully.

Catherine furrowed her brow, not really comprehending what he meant by that. Anna immediately explained. "It’s his punishment for coming Above without his dad."

"Ah." Catherine nodded in acknowledgment. "Well then..." Jacob slid off the stool, waiting for a task, "feel free to not work today." She smiled at him.

He had taken a step forward before what she had said sunk in. He returned the smile happily and backed up against the wall to be out of the way.

"So Jacob," Catherine began, raising her voice over the running water, "I feel a little reckless today. How about you?"

Still a little awkward around this incomprehensible woman, Jacob shrugged. "It seems to be a reckless day so far. Why stop now?"

"Exactly what I say!" She smiled down at Anna who watched her mother curiously. "So, how would you like to be shown around the city today?"

The room was stone quiet except for the constant sound of the running water. Anna glanced between her mother and Jacob, as if she believed that her mother had gone blind and did not see that Jacob couldn’t be exposed to the city. Jacob actually began shaking. His mind was racing, and Anna could actually see his heartbeat increasing rapidly.

Finally Anna began tentatively. "Momma, Jacob can’t..."

"I know all about that, Ann. Believe me, I know." She smiled slightly and spoke sincerely. "My question still stands; would you like to see the city?"

Jacob was frozen, his mouth hung open. "I... I can’t..."

Catherine whirled around from the sink, and approach him calmly, sinking to his level and taking his tiny, furry hands in her own dripping wet ones. "Jacob," she stared into those beautiful blue eyes, "for one moment, I want you to forget. Forget about who you are, what you look like. Just pretend that none of that matters, for one moment." She stared so hard into his eyes that she was sure that she felt something stir inside her, something that went well beyond a motherly passion... something that had been lying dormant in her for many years. "Close your eyes," she whispered. Without any hesitation he did, and she tightened her grip on his hands. "Now forget. Forget all of it." Slowly she watched her own smile crawl across the little boy’s face. All of a sudden Catherine felt so free! She could fly if she wanted to. Tears welled in her eyes at this magical feeling and she smiled with Jacob. "Open your eyes," she whispered. His eyes fluttered open and she was again staring deeply into that enigmatic blue ocean. "Would you like to see the city today?" She posed the question as if it was the first time she had asked.

Jacob’s smile just got bigger. He nodded furiously, conviction within the very depths of him. She had made him truly believe that he could. And he held onto that feeling with everything in him.

"Good." Catherine smiled and let go of his hands, standing back up. She turned around to Anna and found her daughter’s emerald eyes swimming with tears. She wiped her own eyes and sniffed back her emotions. "We’re having a picnic on the roof today." She informed both of them.

Anna’s eyes grew twice their normal size and her smile exceeded even that. "You can see almost the whole city from the roof!" she informed Jacob who was still staring at Catherine, entranced.

"We’ll take the key and lock it so that no one can follow us. What do you think, Jacob?" She smiled down at him. "We’ll spend our day in the clouds."

Catherine had no warning... no time to prepare. Jacob simply launched himself at her, wrapping his tiny arms around her waist and holding her tightly. She had been startled, but melted into the hug, pressing his head against her stomach and running her fingers through his thick mane. Jacob didn’t let go. He held her tightly, refusing to lose her it seemed. It was then that Anna noticed her mother crying. It was a rare sight, and Anna moved closer to see this odd scene better. Catherine immediately wrapped one arm around her daughter and pulled her as close as she had Jacob. Anna wrapped one arm around Jacob, and one around Catherine as her best friend buried himself in her crying mother.

The wall around the rooftop was high. High enough that both Jacob and Anna had to climb on tip-toe to see down over it. The half of the roof against the adjacent building (which was a few feet shorter) was a garden that a few of the tenants would keep up. Jacob spent the first half an hour up there, sitting within that garden, asking for names of each flower he saw. But finally he moved to the wall where he was able to watch the world he loved, in the daylight. Catherine called the children over near the garden where she had spread out a picnic for lunch.

Jacob stared at Catherine, confused, his head swimming a bit. "Why?" he asked innocently.

"I’m just curious." She smiled, quickly recovering with; "You’re Anna’s best friend now... I’d like to know a little about you."

Anna trotted over to the blanket spread across the concrete of the roof. She picked up a cracker and a piece of cheese, and popped them into her mouth, shrugging at Jacob when he gave her a slightly panicked face.

"Okay." He answered timidly, not sure what this would entail.

"Are you just called Jacob? Or do you have full name?" Catherine scooped a little dip onto her chip and carefully balanced it into her mouth.

"Just Jacob. My grandfather’s last name is Wells, but we don’t use it or anything." These seemed like easy enough questions, and he felt free to speak of whatever he wanted around the mother and daughter. He and his father were the big secret of the tunnels. Once you knew about them, the rest of it was nothing.

"He was named after his grandfather!" Anna proclaimed for her friend. "Just like I was named after Grandma Caroline."

"Mm hm." Catherine acknowledged quietly, busying herself with picking up the lunch items.

Jacob, in his innocence, just kept going. Catherine had asked for information. How was he to know how much certain details stung her? "My grandfather is a doctor! He used to live Above, but he found the tunnels, and brought my father down there. We do all sorts of things together. He reads to me whenever I’m sick and father can’t be there. He took care of me for a long time after my mother left." He was quiet, reflecting on his own thoughts. He didn’t even see Catherine freeze and begin to bite her lip. She did all she could to move away from the story, packing up food and pulling out games, but her curiosity pushed her to listen. "I was just a baby. No one really likes to talk about her. Sometimes people tell me that I look like her. They say that I have her smile. Grandfather denies that completely, though. But... grandfather has never liked her. He said so himself! Everyone else says that she was really kind. Beautiful too! Father says that she had ‘hair like silk, eyes like the sea, and a face like an angel’." He was suddenly quiet and solemn. "I don’t think that she left, though. I think that she died."

Catherine was still, and finally looked up into Jacob’s far-away eyes. "Why would you think that?" She tried to make it sound casual, but the question arose in her with such heartbreaking passion.

Jacob seemed to come back to her, eager to share with someone who didn’t mind speaking of his mother. "Sometimes, whenever I’m sad, or I don’t know what to do... I can hear her. She whispers the answer in my ear... sometimes." He looked away, slightly ashamed of his confession.

The rooftop was silent for a few moments. Catherine was working her hardest to not show her pain at his words. He thought she was dead. What would happen when and if he ever found out who she was? What would he think of that voice in his mind he had so long believed was her speaking to him. ‘Damn you, Father!’ These children would be forever scarred by this, she was sure.

"What was her name?" Anna’s sweet voice compassionately broke the quiet tension.

Catherine looked up quickly at the two children. If anyone had told Jacob her name, that would be the end of the preciously kept secret. The truth of everything would be revealed that moment, 3:00pm, on Catherine and Anna’s apartment building roof. The world seemed to watch Jacob in anticipation.

Finally, the boy’s large, bright blue eyes met both mother and daughter’s faces. Sadly he spoke, "I don’t know. Father’s never said."

Catherine realized that she had been holding her breath as she exhaled it all. Relief washed over her. There was still time. Time to understand this situation before she was forced to explain it to her twin children.

"Mom won’t tell me my dad’s name either." Anna stated, an obvious jab as she glanced at Catherine.

Finally, something she was practiced at. "Ann, not now." She gave her routine answer.

"I was just pointing out something we have in common." Anna smiled with mock innocence.

Catherine smiled, and shook her head. She climbed off the picnic blanket and mussed Anna’s hair as she walked past to the concrete wall on the edge of the roof. She let the tension go in her body as she leaned against the wall. The last few hours were some of the most glorious and stressful of her life. She had been holding so much in... everything. It had taken every ounce of control to not hold Jacob for every second of those few hours that they had spent together. She was exhausted now, and, like always, as she gazed out at the city its power seemed to pull all of the tension away from her. She didn’t look, merely smiled slightly as she sensed a presence move next to her.

For a few seconds there was calm, peace... the kind right before the storm hits. Catherine wasn’t herself, not the one that she knew at present. She was someone that she had left behind years ago. Young, energetic, willing, determined, and idealistic. She was tormented and happy; she was in love with a man buried deep below their beloved city. And for those seconds, standing there the way she was, it was Vincent standing beside her. And she and he were looking out at the world that rejected them in this daylight, but would soon embrace them as night fell, as they had done countless times in the past.

Catherine looked at her side, and was not at all surprised to see Jacob at her hip, staring into the distance with her. She smiled and ran her fingers through his mane of wavy honey hair. The boy never flinched, as if this were a common reaction from a total stranger. She pulled Jacob close to her side, and found Anna on her other side. Holding her children close, and gazing out at the bright city below them, Catherine remembered the time she and Vincent had been seen by the watcher. Only for a second did she panic... and then she pictured what this must look like to anyone who might be watching. Vincent had imagined that if someone were watching, they would be smiling on the pair. Well, here she stood with their children. Were they smiling still?

For the first time in a long time, she truly hoped so.

 

20. Remember The Mission
December, 1989
 

"Hi, Catherine." Mouse meekly peeked into the guest chamber. "May I come in?"

"Of course." From her position on her stomach, she sat up on her knees and set her book aside.

Mouse stepped cautiously and a little awkward. "How are the twins?"

"Asleep." She nodded confidently, and then second guessed herself. "At least I think." She leaned over the side of the bed where the cradle was hidden. She nodded in affirmation and tucked her book back into the drawer next to her. "Sometimes it’s so hard to tell. ‘Viola’ is so quiet when she’s with ‘Sebastian’. If she wakes up she won’t cry until he does."

Mouse smiled coyly, still awkward in his steps closer, but trying to see over the bed into the cradle. "Knows not to wake up little brother." He joked.

Catherine laughed quietly, then crossed her legs and set her hands in her lap. "What can I do for you, Mouse?"

He fidgeted for a moment and then couldn’t contain his excitement anymore. "Going to find Vincent!" He burst.

"Shh!" She put her hand out to quiet him. "You’ll wake them." She watched him blush and put his finger to his lips in a promise. "Now, what’s this all about?"

"We’re finding Vincent." He spoke in an exaggerated whisper.

"Who’s ‘we’?" She was only half interested, but politely continued the conversation.

"Me, Jamie, Pascal, Cullen, Kanin... lots of us!" He bounced with excitement, working his hardest to not let his voice go above a whisper.

"Mouse," she began sweetly, "this really isn’t necessary. Vincent will be home soon. Just be patient."

"Needs to come home now, Catherine." His zeal quieted and he sat next to her, comforting and more confident. "Can’t stay away so long." He insisted. "Shouldn’t stay away from you." He added compassionately. "Vincent doesn’t know Viola and Sebastian. Needs to come home, Catherine. Now."

She took in his words and only when he was finished did she allow her two weeks long fantasy to break. She sighed heavily. She didn’t like the idea of Vincent being dragged back to her when he wasn’t ready. But Mouse was right. She missed him terribly and he needed to know about the twins. He needed to know that there were people waiting for him to return. Secretly, she hoped they would drag Vincent home with them, just to make him see all those who had missed him and the new ones who were waiting.

"Alright. When are you leaving?" She consented with a smile.

"Tonight!" Mouse came off the bed, beaming. "Won’t even tell him, Catherine! Twins will be a surprise!"

Mouse bolted out of the chamber before Catherine could protest.

 

21. Hidden in the Shadow of the Past
August, 1997
 

"That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as the fair narrator herself." Catherine, nestled comfortably at the foot of her daughter’s bed, read aloud. Jacob slept next to Anna contentedly. The children were long since asleep, but Catherine continued to read, maybe to fend off any anxiety of the approaching confrontation. But for these precious moments, there was nothing but them. Nothing but Catherine and her twins asleep before her. For a few minutes the world hushed to hear the children’s slow and methodic breathing and the constant rhythm of their mother’s voice. Catherine smiled as she read the next line aloud. "Everything just as it should be, you see. Off we skip like the most heartless things in the world, which is what children are, but so attractive; and we have an entirely selfish time, and then when we have need of special attention we nobly return for it, confident that we shall be rewarded instead of smacked.

"So great indeed was their faith in a mother's love that they felt they could afford to be callous for a bit longer.

"But there was one there who knew better, and when Wendy finished he uttered a hollow groan.

""What is it, Peter?" she cried, running to him, thinking he was ill. She felt him solicitously, lower down than his chest. "Where is it, Peter?"

""It isn't that kind of pain," Peter replied darkly.

""Then what kind is it?"

"Wendy, you are wrong about mothers."

Catherine stopped for a moment. Her mind ran rampant with the different ways, the different things that Jacob and the other children Below thought of their parents. These children are the Lost Boys. She kept reading.

"They all gathered round him in affright, so alarming was his agitation; and with a fine candour he told them what he had hitherto concealed.

"Long ago," he said, "I thought like you that my mother would always keep the window open for me, so I stayed away for moons and moons and moons, and then flew back; but the window was barred, for mother had forgotten all about me, and there was another little boy sleeping in my bed."

Oh Jacob! He wasn’t just one of the Lost Boys. Her son was Peter Pan. She had closed her window on him. She had spent so many years refusing to let him in, refusing to remember him. She had given up on him. She had simply let her child go.

"I am not sure that this was true, but Peter thought it was true; and it scared them.

""Are you sure mothers are like that?"

""Yes."

"So this was the truth about mothers. The toads!

"Still it is best to be careful; and no one knows so quickly as a child when he should give in. "Wendy, let us go home," cried John and Michael together.

""Yes," she said, clutching them.

""Not to-night?" asked the lost boys bewildered. They knew in what they called their hearts that one can get on quite well without a mother, and that it is only the mothers who think you can't.

""At once," Wendy replied resolutely, for the horrible thought had come to her: "Perhaps mother is in half mourning by this time."

"This dread made her forgetful of what must be Peter's feelings, and she said to him rather sharply, "Peter, will you make the necessary arrangements?"

""If you wish it," he replied, as coolly as if she had asked him to pass the nuts.

"Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you between them! If she did not mind the parting, he was going to show her, Peter was, that neither did he.

"But of course he cared very much..."

There was a tap on the bedroom window.

Catherine was still for a moment longer, trying to pretend that she hadn’t heard it at all. ‘It was nothing. There is nothing but Jacob, Anna, and yourself. No one could possibly ruin this moment.’

Vincent tapped on the window only a little harder now, trying not to wake the children.

She couldn’t ignore it now. If he tapped any louder, not only would the moment be broken, but also her heart. Jacob would wake and run to his father. She knew he would. It was going to be hard enough seeing him leave without rushing it.

Begrudgingly Catherine climbed off of her daughter’s bed, set the book on the night-stand and climbed onto the fire escape.

The night breeze swept across her, sending a chill up her spine... or maybe that wasn’t the wind at all. Vincent stood tall and strong, his blue eyes watching her; bearing into her. He stood near the stairs, easy access out of the uncomfortable situation they were currently locked in. Catherine wasn’t sure what it was... maybe it was the day she had spent with their son, maybe it was that she was so grateful to him for that, or maybe she was just so lost in her memories of so long ago. No matter the reason, a warmth for him filled her.

Vincent’s breath caught in his throat. It was not unexpected, he had often been left breathless from her beauty and the power about her. But then, as if no time had passed between them, she smiled at him. It was small; hardly anything, really. But it was there. A smile. She was glad of his presence. He smiled back, hoping that she’d see his happiness at their second meeting. He wasn’t sure if she saw him, for as soon as her smile fell, she turned away.

Starring out at the city, she tried to steel herself against her own feelings. There were so many memories of times just like this. They were wonderful times! But, she didn’t want to be glad to see him, because that would mean that she would want to see him again, and again. She knew that, she had experienced it. But she had also experienced what it was like when he never came back. So, she was back to the tactic she had always used on herself when it came to Jacob: don’t feel anything, and you won’t be hurt.

A mental wall had been thrown up between them, and Vincent could feel it. It had happened before and it was not surprising that it had happened again. Actually, he was quite pleased. It meant that she had seen him smile and she was trying to blockade her emotions because of it. He had made her feel, if only for a moment... it was a glimmer of the woman he had fallen in love with in a shadowy park nearly a decade ago.

Catherine was the first to speak. It was pointless to delay the inevitable. "Would you like me to wake him, or do you want to?"

"I..." Vincent stumbled for a moment, grasping for words, "I... want to know something first."

She turned to face him slowly, the pair now watching each other from opposite ends of a metaphoric chasm. "Yes?"

"Did you say anything?" Vincent struggled for the right words when Catherine wrinkled her brow at him. "Did you tell them... about us?"

She was quiet for a moment. ‘Us’... they hadn’t been ‘us’ in so long. What a wonderful feeling that two letter word instilled! She took a breath to calm herself. "No." She finally answered. "I didn’t want to tell them until... we had gotten a full grasp on this situation."

Vincent nodded, relieved that at least one confrontation had been avoided.

"Besides," Catherine continued, "I’m not sure if I want them to know."

That immediately caught Vincent’s attention and his head snapped up to meet her stare. "Catherine... we have to tell them eventually."

"I’m not so sure about that." She looked away again, unaware that Vincent still knew all of her give-aways; she wasn’t being sincere. "I think they could live perfectly fine this way. Let them go on being friends like this. It’s simple and innocent."

"You don’t want Jacob to know that you are his mother," Vincent whispered harshly, "because it’s inconvenient for you?!"

"No, Vincent," she verbally charged right back at him, "I just don’t want our children to have to go through this mess that we’ve made for them!"

There was no come-back for that. She was right, plain and simple. But there was more. There was always more. "I agree that this is a terrible mess that we’ve made, but..." how could he express a desire that has no name, "there’s something more, Catherine. This isn’t just about us, about what happened, is it?"

"What have you been telling him?!" She suddenly turned in a fury. "What have you been saying about me?! What have you allowed others to say about me?!" She actually advanced on him now, backing him up close to the edge of the metal gate. "My son, my own son, believes that it’s best to simply believe that I’m dead because of all the things that he’s heard of me! My son thinks that I’m dead, Vincent!" She turned away, sparing him a moment of her flaming eyes. "And what happens if he finds out that I’m alive? What then?!" There was a strange choke in her voice. She was trying to swallow her tears. "What will he think when he knows that I’ve been here the whole time? Will he hate me? Will he dismiss me because I wasn’t there to see his first step; to hear his first word?" She turned back to him, her meaning conveyed completely in her eyes. "Will he push me away because I wasn’t there when he needed me?"

At a complete loss for words and stunned by this news, Vincent simply gaped at her. "I didn’t know... Jacob never asked... I had no idea that he thought you were dead."

"Well, he does!" She took a moment to quiet herself. "I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. It’s been seven years, Vincent. What’s left to say?"

He gave her a minute to think, but quickly jumped on the situation. He knew exactly what needed to be said. "Catherine, I spoke to Father." She watched him, waiting, with a strange indifference in her eyes. "I’m not satisfied with his answer." Still she only stared at him, making him squirm slightly. "I want to know... about the children... about why you left."

She gave him a grimace of pure disgust. "Father’s talent for lying isn’t what it used to be, huh?" He offered her no response, only an acknowledging silence. She sighed, wrapping her arms about herself and attempting to form a wall for herself. "You want to know what happened." She stated in an eerily dark tone. "All right. But, know this... here and now... you will take everything I say. Every accusation, every horrible detail, you won’t dispute it. You want the truth... I’m going to give it to you. Because if I’m going to re-live that here, tonight... with you; I won’t sugar-coat it just because you don’t want to hear it."

"That’s all I’m asking for." Vincent answered her quickly and gratefully. "Please... tell me."

 

22. The Banished Princess
January, 1990
 

A shuffle of small feet made Catherine smile. ‘Sebastian’ had long since fallen asleep, and ‘Viola’ only just now. Sweet ‘Sebastian’ had the bothersome and adorable habit of wailing if he couldn’t touch either his mother or his sister for more than five minutes. And little ‘Viola’ was disturbingly silent, watching all around her, only crying if it was well past her feeding time, or if no one noticed that she needed to be changed.

So, the two children slept in the crib beside her bed, wrapped up next to each other. As always, ‘Sebastian’ had fallen asleep first, listening to his sister’s steady breathing next to him. And ‘Viola’ shortly followed, only after she had assured herself that her brother was beside her, the bed next to her own cradle, and her mother was perched atop the bed. Catherine had laid down with them, her arm draped over the edge of the bed, rocking the crib lightly, lulling her twins to sleep.

So, the soft scuffle of feet at the threshold made her smile, knowing that one of the children had walked in on their scene. The feet scuffled a little more... the child was trying to decide whether or not to disturb her.

"I’m not asleep," she said softly to keep the messenger from leaving.

"Catherine?" Young Geoffrey’s voice whispered through the chamber.

She rolled over and sat up, leaving the crib’s rocking to play itself out. She smiled at the little boy who was still uneasy around her; still unsure if he was breaking some unwritten rule. "Hello Geoffrey," she whispered. "How did your classes go today?"

"All right... I still have two more." He smiled back at her, more at ease now. Catherine adored him for that sweet, toothy, freckle-faced grin of his. He was such an innocent child, despite his ordeals Above.

"You’ve got that scene today, haven’t you?"

Geoffrey nodded. "It’s been tough to learn without Vincent," he blurted out and then realized what he’d said. He shamefully glanced at her, but she seemed unscathed by the remark, so he tentatively continued. "But... Nicky and I think we’ve got it!"

Catherine smiled, putting her finger to her lips; the international sign language to be quiet. "That’s wonderful," she whispered. "Tell Nicky I wish you both luck."

Geoffrey grinned again. "I can’t do that, Catherine. It’s bad luck."

"Oh. Sorry. That’s right!" She giggled softly. "Well, break a leg, both of you."

"Thanks. Maybe you could come!" The thought occurred to him and he bounced with excitement of the new idea. "It’s not for another couple of hours."

"I’d like that." She beamed at him. "Well, I don’t want you to be late. You’d best get back to your class."

"Oh! I forgot!" He rushed over to the bed and handed her a delicately folded note, then leaned over the bed to peer at the twins. "Father said it was urgent."

She read the note and sighed heavily. "I hate to wake them." She joined Geoffrey, staring at the babies. "Maybe Mary is..."

"Mary’s in the kitchens." He cut her off. "And Lena and Olivia went down to the waterfall with a bunch of laundry, they won’t be back for a while. Father says to just bring the twins with you."

"Oh..." she groaned slightly, "they just fell asleep." She rolled off the bed, which Geoffrey immediately clamored onto in order to get a better look. "Did Father say what this was about?"

"No. He just said it was important." Geoffrey answered, entranced by the synced breathing below him.

"No one’s come back yet." She mumbled as she pulled on a large quilted coat. She slipped her arms into the thick sleeveless straps and fluffed it out until the bottom rested at her ankles. "I would have heard, something would have come over the pipes." She began buttoning from the middle of her chest and down, fumbling with the large buttons. "Where did that carrier..."

"Good morning, Viola." Geoffrey cooed sweetly over the bed.

Catherine spun and found her daughter blinking silently at her. "Goodness..." she smiled, despite her exasperation, "you just will not stay asleep, will you?"

"Can I hold her?" Geoffrey sat up excitedly.

Catherine glanced between him and her daughter and then giggled softly. "All right, but I’ll warn you, ‘Sebastian’ doesn’t like to be without her. He may wake up. Well," she lifted the silent child out of her crib delicately, "I don’t suppose it matters now." She carefully set the baby in Geoffrey’s waiting arms. "Careful now. Hold her head." She instructed, and when they were properly fit together she moved away. "Now... where is that carrier?"

"Hello..." Geoffrey spoke quietly to the baby girl. "Do you remember me? I was here a couple days ago."

Victoriously clutching the second baby carrier, Catherine began the painstaking task of strapping herself into it. She fought and fumbled, having never had to do this alone before. But every few seconds she would steal a glance at her baby laying in sweet Geoffrey’s arms.

All of the other children had been immediately drawn to ‘Sebastian’, understandably. He looked extremely like Vincent and that fascinated not only the children, but the adults as well. But Geoffrey, though he too was fascinated by the abnormal baby boy, took an immediate attraction to little ‘Viola’. He loved to hold her, to watch her sleep, and he was always talking to her as if the two of them were carrying on a perfectly normal conversation. Catherine grinned largely and then went back to her task.

"I’ve got a big test today," Geoffrey continued his one-sided conversation. "Your mom’s gonna bring you to see it, I’ll bet. It’s Shakespeare. You’ll learn all about Shakespeare when you meet your dad." Catherine’s smile grew even larger, and the boy’s conversation never faltered. "At first I thought it was pretty boring, but then, your dad, he taught me how magical it could be. You’re gonna be so lucky to have him, Viola. He’s gonna teach you everything." Aware of her gaze, Geoffrey smiled up at Catherine.

She smiled back, adoration radiating back at him. "Yes he will." She confirmed quietly.

‘Viola’ squirmed suddenly in Geoffrey’s arms and he fumbled nervously with her. Immediately the odd purring cries of ‘Sebastian’ sounded from the crib.

"And there goes the other one." Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed.

"What do I do?" Geoffrey panicked, trying to hold little ‘Viola’ still.

"It’s okay," she soothed all three children, "just set her back in the crib. He just noticed that she wasn’t there. Everything’s okay." She guided Geoffrey’s hands, teaching him how to gently situate the twins in their crib for one. Immediately the cries stopped and ‘Viola’ placed her tiny hand on her brother’s abdomen. "You see," Catherine’s voice was velvet soft as she spoke, "everybody’s just fine."

Geoffrey grinned at the twins. "Sorry Sebastian. We were just visiting."

"Alright, well, you’d best run off to your class, Geoffrey. I don’t want you to be late."

"Okay." Geoffrey reluctantly moved away from the crib and started out the door. He stopped at the threshold and turned back to Catherine just as she had clipped the two baby carriers together. "Catherine?"

"Yes Geoffrey?" She kept adjusting the make-shift carriers, not looking at him.

"I’m really glad you came back." He nodded his sincerity.

She looked back at him, smiling at his freckle-faced grin again. "Thank you, Geoffrey. I’m glad you too."

"And also," he added quickly so as not to loose her attention, "I know Vincent will come home soon."

"Yes." She acknowledged with just as much conviction and certainty. "He’ll be home soon. And then maybe you can show him your scene."

"Yeah!" He started out again with new-found excitement, but back-tracked once again. "You are gonna come today, right Catherine?"

"Geoffrey, I wouldn’t miss it for the world," she answered enthusiastically. "Now go on!"

"Okay!" He bolted out of the chamber, eager to tell his friends of his time spent with Catherine and the new twins.

Catherine sighed, setting her hands on her currently voluptuous hips. She smiled ironically at her twins. "Well... this will be interesting." She chose ‘Sebastian’ first and attempted to set him comfortably on the carrier strapped to her shoulder.

*************************

It was the first time Catherine had walked through the tunnels on her own, just her and the twins, since they had been born. There was a freedom and security about it at the same time.

Everything seemed so quiet. She didn’t know why she was surprised, since half the tunnel community was off looking for Vincent. The passageways and chambers seemed so quiet... so empty. Of course there were some others to greet her along the way. So many of them hadn’t seen the twins yet, so Catherine indulged in the other’s admiration of both children for just a few minutes.

It took close to a half an hour to finally reach Father’s study. She assumed that she would be chastised for it, but it had been worth it to show off her twins. His unyielding face was no surprise to her, she’d been living with it for months. But, the smile he gave as he stared at the children strapped to her chest was more than welcome.

"You said it was urgent." She descended the stairs slowly, so as not to jostle the children too much.

"Ah!" Father’s focus was the twins, but Catherine didn’t mind. "Hello, you!" He kissed ‘Viola’s forehead. "And you..." Without question or thought, Father pulled ‘Sebastian’ out of his carrier. It threw Catherine a little bit off balance, but she just giggled at the focus that Father gave to his grandson. He cradled to baby boy, now wide awake and increasingly alert, bouncing him slightly and speaking to him as if he understood every word. "Did you take a walk with your sister? Look at you... you are getting much bigger! Is he eating all right?"

It was the first time he had acknowledged Catherine’s presence and she stammered a bit.

"Um... oh, yeah!" She smiled. "Believe me, he has no trouble eating."

"Uh-huh." The focus was back to ‘Sebastian’. "Well, neither did his father, so it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise." Father made a parade of nonsensical sounds and bounced the baby boy for a few more minutes.

Amused, but anxious and tired, Catherine sank into the nearest chair and unstrapped the baby carrier, leaving ‘Viola’ inside, but cradling her as she watched Father. "Is there something wrong?"

"What?" His attention pulled to her quickly as if she had screamed at him. "Oh! No, no, everything’s fine," he told her shortly.

She leaned forward, trying to capture the old man’s gaze, but he had eyes only for the baby in his arms. "Your message said it was urgent." She was quiet for a moment, and he pretended not to hear her. "Has... has someone returned from the search?" She asked, trying desperately not to sound too hopeful.

"No." He answered with a touch of bitterness, but his gaze never strayed from the babe. "No, they’re off on their mission. Bound and determined to find him when he doesn’t want to be found."

Catherine looked down and her eyes were caught by her daughter’s enigmatic gaze. "I have to admit," she began quietly, trying to sound ashamed, though secretly not, "I’m a bit anxious for him to return. I mean-"

"As are we all, Catherine." Father interrupted, hobbling to the chair across from her. "Don’t think for a moment that you are the only one down here who misses him, loves him, and needs him."

Catherine was completely taken aback and she was nearly at a loss for words. "I... I would never think-"

"We all care very deeply for Vincent. We don’t like to see him in pain, and we miss his presence." Father seemed to pierce her with his words, though his eyes never left the child.

"I know that, Father," she implored, leaning toward him again. "I do."

Father faltered slightly, glancing at her, but quickly averting his eyes. "He will come back when he’s ready. No sooner. No matter what they think they’re going to accomplish."

Again, he focused his attention on little ‘Sebastian’, seeming as if he was avoiding something. And again, Catherine ventured slowly to find the cause. "Father? Is everything all right?"

There was silence in the dimly lit chamber before he answered. ‘Sebastian’ began to squirm and Catherine recognized the soft mewing cries that would eventually lead to the wailing storm that his separation from she and ‘Viola’ elicited. Father seemed serenely unagitated by the baby’s fidgeting and only answered after he’d had proper time to think it through. "Everything’s going to be all right, Catherine."

She smiled weakly at him, trying to encourage the secret out of him. "Thank you, Father. But..." she paused and again Father took no noticed of her falter, "I assume that you didn’t ask me the come urgently just to tell me that. What’s going on?"

He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment and the child in his arms fussed even more. "I need..." he faltered and clarified himself, "we need to talk about this."

"What?" She glanced around herself, growing nervous.

"You love Vincent." To Catherine’s concealed delight, Father’s comment was a statement of fact, not a question. "And... neither of us want to see him hurt." He paused. "Agreed?"

"Of course." She jumped, not realizing he had expected an answer.

"But you’ve already hurt him... badly." Father raised his eyes and, for the first time, his stare bore into hers.

She tried to look away, now truly embarrassed and ashamed, but his gaze held her steady and she was forced to look into his eyes and answer. "I know."

Father rose and began to pace, rocking the baby as he did, finally acknowledging the whimpers issuing from the child. "I know what happened, Catherine. I’m not blind."

She knew what he meant, but she chose to feign ignorance. "What do you mean?"

"Catherine..." he sighed her name out as if exasperated by some game they were playing. "A long and thick cut in your chin, you were both dripping wet... and I suspect it wasn’t from the water. And he wouldn’t come near you. I knew... from the moment I stepped into that chamber... and you were sitting there as if your clothes didn’t fit quite right..."

"What are you trying to say, Father?" She interrupted him, not wanting him to go into more detail than that memory held.

"I am saying that I know what happened between you two that day," Father answered with a harsh edge.

"Well, I should hope so." She suddenly smiled at him incredulously. "There is a little boy in your arms who should tell you what happened that day."

"No, that’s not what I mean." Father’s pacing never slowed, but he also didn’t acknowledge the baby who was growing louder by the minute. "Not exactly anyway."

"Father..." Catherine’s smile fell instantly, and she squirmed slightly at the formation of a nervous knot in the pit of her stomach.

"He hurt you, didn’t he?" Father approached her slowly as if trying to unlock her secret by the mere closeness.

She gapped at him slightly, then swallowed hard and began to stammer. "I... he... he didn’t know. It was an accident!" She insisted, tears now forming. "I pushed him. I pushed him too far."

"You pushed him away." Father added quietly, not looking at her as he moved his pacing to a wider area, farther away from her.

She nodded stiffly, swallowing to hold back her tears. "I tried to reassure him, Father, but he just wouldn’t listen to me." She was suddenly angry and ‘Sebastian’ began crying. "He’s just so stubborn and pig-headed!"

"Yes..." he spoke slowly, his voice a rumbling storm rolling in, "you tried so hard that you felt it necessary to go out with that other man the same night."

Catherine clutched her daughter close, as if the infant could hear and understand what had just been said. But still Catherine was angry. "Father, don’t..." she warned quietly. "I think that I’ve done my penance for it. I’ve put it behind me. It doesn’t matter now."

"Yes Catherine, you’ve put it behind yourself, but has Vincent?" The question hung in the air like a lead balloon ready to pop. "That mess, that whole situation, is the reason why he’s been gone so long. You do know that, don’t you?"

"Of course I know that." Catherine answered stiffly, her tight jaw beginning to quiver. ‘Sebastian’ was nearly wailing now, and Catherine sighed. "Here... I’ll quiet him." She held out her free arm.

"He’s all right." Father withdrew farther from her. "Sometimes babies just need to cry, Catherine." Father’s eyes fell on the baby who wiggled and turned to no avail. "God knows, his father cried for days once."

She was a bit offended by the condescending remark, but she settled back, complacent to hold ‘Viola’.

"What do you think is going to happen?" Father restarted the conversation rather quickly.

Catherine looked up at him, the innocence of her stare was reflected in her baby girl’s eyes.

"When Vincent does return," he clarified, and before she could reply, he had barreled on. "If they manage to drag him back here, what will happen? What do you suppose he’ll say when he’s suddenly confronted with you and your children?"

"I don’t know," she stated honestly, her eyes never left his face even as he paced. They were having to raise their voices over ‘Sebastian’ now. "I hope that he will accept them, love them. I hope that he will want to talk with me for once, instead of running away. I hope, ideally, that in a few weeks, maybe months... we’ll be a family."

"That’s a lovely dream, dear," Father replied quickly and coldly.

"Why?" She asked, her anger growing again. "What do you think will happen?"

"Honestly..." he stopped and moved closer now, each step toward her seemed to quiet ‘Sebastian’ more, "I don’t know. But, I don’t think he’ll be quite as understanding, as quickly as you think. This situation you two seem to have gotten yourselves into-"

"Is our business." Catherine finished for him. "I... we both have appreciated your advice and council in the past, but..." she stopped, trying to find delicate words. Her instincts were beginning to win out and she leaned forward. Just a few more inches closer and she could touch ‘Sebastian’. "Father, we’ve made our mess, you have to let us clean it up." All of this was said in a flood of words, she was growing increasing impatient. "If you just hand him to me, he’ll stop crying," she added impatiently as if it were a part of her previous thought.

"He’s quieting down now." Father replied calmly. He watched her take a deep breath and sit up straight, resigning to the fact that he would not release her son to her. "I admire your strength and conviction, Catherine. But, I just don’t think that you’re being realistic."

"Father..." she stared up at him curiously, "why don’t you trust me?"

He didn’t try to deny her words, not even a look of confusion. He just thought for a moment and then calmly continued. "Because you are just like Devin. You’re impulsive, full of these fantastic dreams..."

"Fantastic?" she interrupted incredulously, but he continued over the top of her.

"You build up his hopes and then you destroy them just as easily. You behave as if your relationship with him is a game."

"Excuse me?" Completely offended she interrupted again. Father hadn’t moved from his spot, but ‘Sebastian’ began whimpering loudly again.

"And then you’ll break his heart, Catherine. You’ll leave and break his heart. But... I supposed that ‘s something I can’t protect him from. You’ve already done that."

Near tears and furious, Catherine simply glared at him. The strain to keep her emotions under control was evident in her voice. "Why does everyone seem to think that I’m here to hurt him? Look at them, Father!" She indicated to the twins. "They’re so amazing and so beautiful! They couldn’t hurt him. Look at them! They are what I’ve given him. They are why I’m here. These amazing and beautiful peace offerings! How can they hurt him when they make the rest of the world so bright?" She sucked back the impending tears. "They’re a gift, Father. Vincent gave them to me and they saved me. Once again, Vincent saved me! Now I need to give them to him. I need to help him heal again. And you’ve got to let me do it!"

A moment went by, just a moment in silence. Father looked into Catherine’s eyes, and then into the distorted and unique face of his grandson. Only a moment’s silence before it happened. "I think it would be wise if you left, Catherine."

Completely taken back, she only stared at him, trying to capture his attention. "I’m sorry?"

"You need to go... leave." He answered, turning away and moving again to the larger pacing area of the chamber.

She laughed nervously; knowing, hoping, praying that this was a joke. "Where am I supposed to go? I’ve got two children, and I can’t take care of them alone."

"We will care for the children and then,"

"Father?" his seriousness was startling to her and she was beginning to recognize that he meant this.

"When Vincent returns," he continued over the top of her, "we will-"

"Father!"

"-break this to him as gently as possible."

"Father!!" She yelled, her son now screaming at a three foot distance from her. She stared at Father, trying to read his eyes, looking for some flicker of irony. He couldn’t be serious.

But he was, and she could feel that revelation burning a hole in her heart. Now she was terrified. He was really serious. He wanted her to leave not just the tunnels, but her children and Vincent as well.

"Father, please give him to me." She said as calmly as she could muster, raising her voice over the baby’s screams. ‘Viola’ remained eerily silent even as Catherine balanced her in her crossed legs and reached for ‘Sebastian’ with both hands.

"He’ll be all right. Everything will be all right. It’s not as if this is forever. Just a chance for Vincent to get adjusted."

"No Father! I’m not leaving. Give him to me now!" She argued, yelling out of necessity, but she’d have yelled anyways.

"It’s not an option, Catherine. I’m sorry." Father backed away from her, but Catherine was on her feet in a split second, wrapping Viola’s carrier straps over her shoulders hastily.

"Give him to me NOW, Father!"

 

22. Secrets and Lies
August, 1997
 

Anna awoke, devastated to find that she was all alone. Jacob was gone. When she wandered out into the living room, she found her mother, bent over the morning paper, as she had found her for years. The apartment was empty, devoid of all the wonderful smells that had flooded it the day before. It was as if none of it had happened; as if she dreamed it all.

"Good morning, sweet-pea!" Catherine gave a weak smile as her daughter entered the room. "Did you sleep okay?"

Anna nodded as she ran the back of her hand over her eyes, trying to wipe away the excess fatigue. She looked around the room and then quietly asked. "Where’s Jacob?" The question was posed with some hesitation. It was as if she had dreamed the last few weeks, and maybe such a person never existed.

Catherine looked up from her paper slowly and held out her hand for her little girl to sit beside her. She molded the child against her and held her there for a moment before she answered. "His father took him home last night. We didn’t want to wake you. You’d had a long day."

Anna looked up at her mother. "Will I ever see him again?" She asked, fear emanating from her very being.

"Yes, honey. You can see him any time you like. And he can stay any time he wants." She kissed the top of Anna’s soft hair.

"Will Vincent still bring him every week?"

Catherine paused a moment. She didn’t know what she had expected. She certainly didn’t expect Anna to call him any variations of ‘father’... but Vincent’s name on his own child’s lips was so cold and distant. It unnerved her almost to the point of blurting out the truth to the little girl, left so in the dark. "They’ll come visit whenever they can, Anna. In the meantime, you have to understand that you cannot tell anyone about either of them! Not a soul!"

"Mom..." she had much more confidence, happy in the knowledge that she had not lost her best friend, "I’ve known Jacob for weeks! And you had to catch us to find out." She giggled slightly.

Catherine laughed with her. "Well... I’m not sure if I’m angry or proud of you for that. But, I’m glad I know that you can do it!" She hugged Anna closer and allowed the silence to fall.

Anna brought her head up slowly, only just now realizing something. "Mama... do you know Vincent?"

Immediately, Catherine regretted the silence. Ann would have figured it out anyways, she rationalized. But this was a conversation she didn’t want to tackle for a little while longer. There was no choice now. "Yes, honey. I knew Vincent. I was a Helper for a few years before you were born."

That was a bit of information Anna hadn’t expected. "Why didn’t you tell me?!"

"You know why not." Catherine told her logically. "I couldn’t tell anyone! Not even you."

Anna accepted that explanation. "Why aren’t you a Helper anymore?"

"Well..." Oh, why couldn’t Ann have been older when all of this came out? Instinct told her to blame it all on Vincent... but she couldn’t do that. She’d already created enough of a bias between Vincent and Anna, she didn’t want to add this on top of it. Not to mention, none of them were ready for the full truth to come out, and that would certainly be a catalyst. "Ann... when I stopped Helping... a lot of things changed when I found out I was pregnant with you. I had to build a whole new life around you, I left my job for a while. My entire lifestyle changed."

"And my dad left." Anna added quietly, having heard all these things before.

Catherine swallowed hard. "And your father left." She admitted. "That was the hardest of all."

"But they could have helped you!" Anna insisted with all of the innocence in her. "They’re such nice people!"

"Yes... they were wonderful. But... your father..." She breathed. "Caroline, I want you to be very grown-up for me. Can you do that for me?" Her seven-year-old nodded. "When adults do things... many times it’s because they are confused. They don’t know what to do, so they just do the first thing that they think of." A deep breath for courage. "I’m going to tell you something about your father," Anna’s face brightened ten-fold, but Catherine quickly stopped her, "you are not to tell anyone this! Do you understand? Not even Jacob! I mean that! Do you promise?" Her excitement deflated only slightly, but she still eagerly nodded her head in agreement.

"I stopped Helping when your father left. I wanted to stay... I would have loved to stay. But... your father was a member of the community. When he left... I wasn’t considered one of them anymore."

"My dad lived in the tunnels?" Anna leaned in closer as if she had just been told that her entire life was a fairy story that she’d just been sucked into.

"Yes. That’s how I met him. Everyone loved your father! He was a lot like you. He could meet someone and just instantly form a friendship."

"Like me and Jacob!" Anna interjected excitedly.

"Yes." She admitted quietly. "Exactly like you and Jacob. So after your father and I split up, the people in the tunnels... they were confused. So, they took sides and we all decided that it would be best if I just didn’t come back."

"Were they mean to you?" Anna asked darkly.

Catherine hesitated. Lie and protect her, or tell the truth and color her thoughts on a world that she was still innocent to? "They were upset," she decided. "They were upset with me... with your father, too I think."

"Was Vincent one of them? One of the ones who was confused and upset? Is that why you guys were fighting?" Anna starred up at her mother with an expression of desperate striving for understanding.

"Yes." Catherine answered with complete sincerity. "Vincent was very confused and very upset with me. Maybe more than anyone else."

Anna was quiet for a few moments, and then lifted her head back up to her meet her mother’s gaze. "I don’t think he’s mad at you anymore," she stated plainly.

"No? Why’s that?"

"Cause... when he looks at you... he’s never mad. Even when you were fighting... he wasn’t looking at you like he was angry at you."

Catherine tried to brush off the innocent remark that she wished hadn’t made her heart leap into her throat. She ruffled Anna’s hair. "You two were supposed to be asleep."

"Well..." she sighed melodramatically, "it’s your fault for making it so interesting."

Catherine laughed. "You are incorrigible, you know that? Come on," she resolutely shifted herself and her daughter off of the couch, "we’re going out!"

********************

"What do you mean, ‘he’s come back’?" Jenny leaned over the table, whispering so that no one could hear.

Catherine kept a close eye on Anna, who sat inside the bookshop happy and attentive at the storytelling in process. Catherine took a sip of her cappuccino and glanced through the window as if assuring herself that Anna couldn’t hear her. The outside café adjoining the bookstore was not the ideal spot for this conversation, but she had to make do. "I mean, he just showed up at the apartment the other night."

"Just out of the blue?" Jenny’s wide eyes bore into Catherine’s as if trying to figure out if this was all a practical joke. "What does he want?"

"I haven’t figured that part out yet." Catherine sighed. "He says he just wants to get to know Ann."

"After what... seven, eight years? He’s just gonna waltz back in and be a dad all of a sudden? How did he even find out about her?"

"Oh... mutual friends, I suppose." Catherine answered nonchalantly, falling back into her old talents of vague lies. "I don’t know, Jen. I mean, honestly, I’m torn. Part of me is saying that he’s just going to hurt her. He’s going to promise to be there and then he’s going to get scared and leave."

"Just like he did to you." Jenny interjected quietly.

"Yes... exactly. But the other part of me... he’s her father, Jen. I want them both to know each other." She sighed deeply. "I was in love with him, Jen. I really was."

"I know you were." Jenny nodded sympathetically. "But, Cathy... he’s been gone seven years. That’s longer than your relationship lasted! And now he just wants to jump on the band wagon and be a father? It just doesn’t work like that."

"I know." Catherine acknowledged sadly.

"Does Anna know? That he’s her father?" Jenny asked, simultaneously looking in to check on the girl.

"No. She has no idea. But she’s drawn to him. She was just so fascinated by him, it was almost disturbing." Catherine looked in and Anna was spread out on the floor on her belly, with her eyes closed, envisioning the story... and looking oh so like Vincent. "He has that effect," she informed her friend with apparent irony in her voice. "You can’t help but be fascinated by him."

"Especially with Anna’s curious little mind." Jenny added on.

"She’ll figure it out, sooner or later." Catherine let her thoughts out sadly. "Unfortunately, she is his daughter, so it’ll probably be sooner rather than later."

Jenny studied Catherine’s far away gaze into the bookshop window. "How do you feel about him coming back?"

"I’m scared for Anna. I don’t want him to hurt her more than he’s already unknowingly done."

"No, Cath. How do you feel? Anna aside, what are you feeling right now?" Jenny watched her friend critically, seeing the faintest of a whimsical smile appear and then quickly vanish.

"I don’t know." She dropped her head and sighed heavily.

"Yes, you do." Jenny stated plainly, causing Catherine to look up at her in slight shock. "You know exactly how you’re feeling. You’re terrified. It’s written all over you. Cathy," Jenny leaned over in confidence, "I remember how you were while the two of you were together. I didn’t have to see you together to see how he made you feel. You were the happiest I had ever seen you! More than that... you were content, I’d even go as far as secure. You were so sure of everything."

"Yes, well..." Catherine mumbled, deliberately interrupting, "he has that effect on people... until he gets scared and leaves."

"Regardless," Jenny brought her friend back to the point, "you were completely, fully in love with him. More than I ever saw you with any of your boyfriends, even Steven. And now he’s come back with the claim that he wants to be a part of his daughter’s life. And you’re terrified."

"That he’s going to hurt me again." Catherine finished her thought.

"That you’re going to fall in love with him again." Jenny corrected her. Catherine dropped her eyes trying to hide inside herself, without success. "And worse still," Jenny tilted her head, trying to capture Catherine’s eyes, "it’s too late. It’s already happened."

Catherine met her best friend’s gaze with heavy guilt. Her deepest feelings had just been revealed to her, things she’d never even admit to herself had just been flung into the air, unable to be snatched up and tucked away again. She swallowed hard. Jenny didn’t have it quite right. She hadn’t fallen in love with Vincent again... she never stopped loving him. ‘Bury it! Push it away! Think of what he put you through!’ But wasn’t it worth it? To have Anna and, in a strange distant way, Jacob too? He was back again and he didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. She wanted to hope so badly!

"Mommy?" Little Anna approached her mother slowly. "Why are you crying?"

 

23. Behind The Smoke Screen
January, 1990
 

The rising sounds of sobs and pleading were beginning to echo in the park. A baby wailed along with this woman that the officers rode toward. A routine surveillance of the park had, in the last five minutes become a chase to find the woman whose cries echoed off of every tree.

"Please! No! Don’t do this! Please!"

The baby screamed as if trying to reproduce the mother’s words that pierced the night air. The two officers came up and over a hill, hoping that they were following the sounds in the right direction.

"Let me in! Please! Give him back to me! Please! Please!!"

The baby drowned out the mother’s words for a moment.

"Please don’t take him away! You can’t do this! You hypocritical...! Vincent!!"

The female officer slid off of her horse and ventured into the dark drainage tunnel. Fiercely determined, the officer pulled out her flashlight and shined it into the tunnel. The light filled the area, illuminating every inch to the officer. A woman, with a baby strapped to the front of her, had laced her fingers into the metal grate against the wall of the tunnel and was shaking it fiercely. She seemed to take no notice of the officer, of the foreign light that was now trained on her.

"No!! No!!"

The baby screamed in sync with her, as it was rocked by the mother’s shaking. Slowly the officer approached her.

"Ma’am?" the officer called gently.

Catherine whirled around and pinned herself to the gate, as if a trapped animal. She made no attempt to quiet the screaming child, she only stared at the officer, waiting for the next move.

"Can I help you, ma’am?" The officer took in Catherine’s clothes and the make-shift baby carrier, immediately determining that this woman was homeless. Catherine shook her head slowly at the officer, stiffening as she came steadily closer. "Will you come with me please?" The officer reached out her hand at which Catherine shrank away, finally wrapping her arms around her baby protectively. "I won’t take your baby, I promise." The officer inched closer now, so that she could just barely reach to woman’s arm.

Catherine turned back to face to gate and gave it one more strong pull. She cursed something at it and the officer caught a mumbled, "please just let me in". But the gate did nothing but squeak at her and refused to budge.

"Come on." The officer was close enough to put her arm around the woman. "I’ll take you somewhere safe."

"Somewhere safe?" Catherine repeated with irony clear in her tone. "There is no such place." She ran her hand along to gate as she allowed the officer to lead her and her sobbing baby out of the tunnel.

"What’s your name?"

"Catherine. Catherine Chandler."

"Is there somebody we can call for you, Catherine?"

"Joe." Catherine answered, sounding to the officer as if the name was an admittance of defeat. "Joe Maxwell."

"Joe Maxwell? The D.A?"

The dark tunnel, left behind, seemed to sink within itself as Catherine was lead away. That entrance that used to be such a beautiful and magical portal, became a dark and dirty piece of tin. Before, it had led to such a wondrous and warm world. Now it was a place of deception and lies. Central Park, once a place of change where two different worlds met one night and fell in love, was now just grass, trees, and a lot of painful memories.

"Come on, Catherine. We’ll take you to the station."

 

24. A Sea of Troubles
August, 1997
 

Jacob had slept in his father’s arms for most of the way home. He had cried almost to the point of waking Anna when Vincent had tried to separate the two. He was amazed at the intensity at which the two children; his two children, were attached to each other. He had heard and read of twins, separated at birth, but still connected to each other, as if they had always known each other. Jacob and Anna’s was such an intense and blind love that matched, maybe even surpassed, the most true romantic love... the love that he had for their mother.

He thought about this love so long and hard as he walked his son home, that he was tempted to wake Jacob and tell him about his mother... everything about his mother. The only thing that stopped him was that he didn’t know everything. What Catherine had told him, horrified him. He didn’t want to believe that his world, his family had been capable of such terrible things. And if these facts horrified the father, they would devastate the son.

Sweet Jacob was light as a feather in his father’s arms. The stress and years had taken their toll on Vincent, as on any man, but he retained his strength. That abnormal strength that had saved and ended many lives. Ended; the thought struck him as it hadn’t for a few years now. So many terrible things happened in those brief years he had loved Catherine. Limits were tested, boundaries crossed, hearts broken, and worlds collided. Everything he did, he had done for Catherine. It was understandable that Father had worried so. Would he wish young Jacob to run off at any and all times, just to return possibly injured and forever scarred... all in the name of a woman? Oh, what a Civil War had been waged between the three; Catherine, Father, and himself. But two children had been born from the ashes of this metaphoric war. Two innocent children armed with their parent’s knowledge and strength. Yes, Catherine had retained her strength as well, and had gained more over the years it seemed. She looked as though she’d been fighting for years and had simply grown accustomed to it. What had she been fighting? Was it others, as she promised she had once... or was it just herself?

Given, Father had a reason to disapprove of Catherine. Now that he himself was a father, Vincent could see that. The night he found Catherine, Vincent lost a piece of innocence that no father is ready to see their child lose. But Jacob... he hadn’t lost anything... he had gained something.

The image of Catherine sitting with Jacob, reading to him, flared in Vincent’s mind. Jacob hadn’t lost any innocence at all, in fact he had gained it. By finding Anna, he had gained a sister... and a mother he never knew. Sweet little Jacob, so bright-eyed, locked in the darkness of the tunnels and longing for the sunlight!

What was it about these women... ‘the Chandler girls’... how easily they seemed to take in these men... ‘the Wells children’... without a second thought? How could they be so willing and capable of saving Vincent and Jacob... fulfilling all of their wildest dreams? What were they? Princesses, angels... the sweetest of sirens?

Vincent laid Jacob in his bed, marveling at how the child never stirred. Simple innocence, comfortable complacency... all the things that every adult longs to have back, shown through the little boy’s face.

"Father?" Jacob’s eyes never opened, and his voice seemed distant, as if he was speaking from a far-off dream.

"Yes, Jacob?" Vincent sat beside him, waiting. A strong hand was placed on the boy’s slowly rising and falling belly.

"I like Catherine." He whispered.

Vincent smiled. That was it, the moment when he knew all that Catherine had told him was true. No one could abandon that sweet face, those soft tones, that fierce determination for life! "Yes, Jacob... so do I. But I’m afraid we may have walked into a battle."

Jacob, shook his head and moaned a negative response, his eyes still closed. "She’s just scared. She’s very lost." He rolled on his side away from Vincent, falling back into his deep slumber. "She just wants to go home again."

Vincent’s heart ached. Jacob was connected to Catherine, whether or not either of them knew it, he was able to feel her in a way that Vincent hadn’t allowed himself to in years! There was a moment of jealousy, and then pride, and then the deepest of despair.

What was he thinking? What did he think would happen? That she would come running back to him? That suddenly everything would be exactly what they had planned from the beginning? Why would he assume that she would want to fall in love with him again? All the pain he caused her, not even including the twins, why would she want to come back? She had carried such a burden for those first three years. There was so much that she wanted from him, and so much that he refused to give her! And then... when he had tried to love her, the way she wanted to be loved...

Why would she ever want to come back? He couldn’t give her what she needed, what she wanted. Why had he allowed himself to dream? Why had he carried this love for her when he knew that it could never be from the beginning?

But now... now that she was so near. Now that Jacob had found her. Now that he had found Anna... how could he give her up again? How could he let her go?

Jacob wouldn’t lose her, even if Vincent was forced to. Jacob would always have her... he would see to it! "Jacob," Vincent lightly touched the boy’s shoulder, "she’s alive. She didn’t die, Jacob. She’s always been right here."

The quiet snore that answered him made him chuckle softly. How perfect his son was... how incredible Catherine was to give him to the world. How beautiful and smart Anna was... and how lucky Catherine was to have her. How had this happened? How had he gained so much by a walk in the park on a whim one dark night so many years ago?

Jacob awoke, and with only one glance around his chamber, his eyes filled with tears. He groped at his pillow, hoping to find Anna within it, but the pillow only disappointed him. His father was no where to be found but, Below, Jacob had become accustomed to that.

His first destination of the morning was the same as always; his grandfather. He ran at lightening speed, his clothes clinging to him, as he hadn’t changed them in a couple of days, Jacob pushed his sleeves high up on his little arms, exposing the heavy fur on his arm without a second thought. "Grandfather!!"

"Jacob!" Father greeted him happily. "Good morning! I didn’t see you all day yesterday, what adventures have you been on?"

With sweet innocence, Jacob beamed and hopped into the chair next to his grandfather. "I saw a garden... in the sun!"

"Jacob..." Father began with a heavy sigh, "your father and I have told you, over and over..."

"Father let me!" Jacob’s defenses immediately went up.

Father took a beat, and studied the suddenly angry and defensive little boy. Vincent had never been so quick to get angry. "Your father... allowed you to go Above during the day... to see a garden?"

"I didn’t see it with Father!" Jacob had tucked his knees beneath him, trying to make himself just a little taller.

Father took another deep sigh and shook his head quietly. "Yes... your father told me of your new friend. She encourages this behavior?" Certainly, a daughter of Catherine’s would.

"Anna didn’t do anything, Grandfather! She’s my friend!" Jacob breathed heavily, a fire burning in his eyes that would only be quenched if he could let out his anger. Vincent had been the child to calmly and rationally discuss a situation... why was Jacob so impulsive? "Father let me stay with Anna... Above, all day yesterday. I got to be Above!" Father opened his mouth to protest, but Jacob talked right over the top of him. "And Anna’s mother, Catherine... she took me to see the garden!"

Father rose and paced the room, stiffly leaning on his cane for support. "Of course," he fumed. "Of course she did!"

"We had bacon for breakfast! Lots of it! And then we had a picnic!" Jacob listed, the fire in his eyes being replaced with his mother’s smile. "Catherine showed me the whole city! We could see the whole city from the roof! And then, Catherine... she didn’t want to cook... so guess what we had!" His grandfather was still, not looking at his little namesake. "We had pizza! I’ve never had pizza! And it had pepperoni on it too! And then... Catherine read to us! Me and Anna. She asked me what my favorite book was, and I said ‘Peter Pan’, so that’s what she read to us!"

"Jacob," Father turned and closed in on the little boy, towering over him, a form of discipline ensuing, "no matter who you are with, you must understand that the world Above is dangerous."

"How come everything I like is dangerous, Grandfather?" Jacob readily argued.

"Jacob..." Father’s voice was calm, but harsh, "I’m going to tell you something I should have told your father long ago. There are so many dangers that await you outside these walls. Do not be persuaded to risk your life just because it seems like a good idea. Catherine should have known better than to endanger your life. She should have known as an adult, and as a parent. Do not be persuaded by her ideas, please Jacob."

"Father." That deep rusty purr of a voice sounded from the stairs above the child and the old man.

Little Jacob smiled largely up at his father, who came down the steps to stand before them. His big, strong hero of a father. "Father! Why didn’t you let me say goodbye last night?"

Vincent gave his son a light smile. "You and Anna were both quite tired. We wanted to let you sleep. Especially," he bent low and close to Jacob, "since you have work to do in the kitchens this morning."

Jacob sighed heavily. "Father... do I have to?"

"Yes. Now, go on! William is waiting. Go on, Jacob." Vincent smiled as his son, disheartened, scampered past him and out of the study. His gaze returned to his own father. "I believe that we spoke about this, Father."

Father was angry now. "You let him stay Above with her? What are you trying to do, Vincent?"

"I don’t know yet, Father." That maddeningly calm voice rumbled through the chamber.

"And what do you expect of Jacob?" Father tried to calm himself. "Vincent, no matter what you have clung to for the past decade, Catherine is not the safest person to go in search of."

"I didn’t search for her, Father, Jacob did. And now that he’s found her... for both of us, no matter the risk, Jacob is going to get to know her." Vincent’s voice was smooth, but resolved.

"Did you hear, Vincent?" Father fumed again. "She took him out... in the daylight!"

"It isn’t as if he’s allergic to the sun. Yes, I heard, and it must have been wonderful for him. She fulfilled a little boy’s dream. You talk of the heartache she causes, but look at what she has done for both Jacob and myself."

"It is all fine and well to grant a wish, but it is not always practical! What if someone had seen him, Vincent? What then?"

"All my life you taught me to live in fear of myself!" Vincent suddenly raged. "And now you want the same for my son?"

"If it keeps you both safe, then yes! That is something I am willing to do!"

"Father, look at me! Look at what your ‘protection’ has done for me! Because of your ‘protection’ the woman who I will always love is cold as ice to me, I have a child I never knew, and my son is becoming more and more like me everyday! Jacob isn’t me! Jacob is and, I hope, forever will be Catherine’s child. He is in love with the light, he is suffocated down here! He’s not content to simply take life as it comes. He wants to make life happen for himself, and let every higher power known to man help whoever tries to take that away from him. He has the courage and conviction that was never given a chance to flourish within me! I want to give my son everything that was taken away from me because you told me that it was too dangerous!"

"So," Father began, as if he’d been readying himself for years for this argument, "all those years that I taught you and showed you what life could be for you despite your difference, they are suddenly a burden I’ve laid on you?"

"No, not on me, Father. But on Jacob," he breathed, the calm returning quickly. "I am content to go Above at times, to be a part of the night. To come back here to my home and write my feelings in my journals, and read the books I’ve read so often, and then wake the next day to fix the lower tunnels, and teach the children. But Jacob isn’t like me, Father. He’s not content. He wants so much more from his life! He’s like... Catherine." Vincent finished with a smile.

"You cannot endanger your child by trusting him into her care. Look at what she has done to him so far, Vincent! Just leaving him here for you..."

"No!!" Vincent screamed, practically freezing the clocks in time. When he continued, he was near tears. "Don’t even try to lie to me, Father. I don’t want the proof of that."

"Proof of what?" Father asked quietly, suddenly sensing that he had just lost this long, long battle.

"Catherine told me. And I believe her, Father. She never left him here of her own free will. She never could! How could she leave her own child? How could she willingly separate such extraordinary siblings? And to think of all that you put her through... I can’t even look at you!"

And Vincent was gone again, out with a flourish. It always hurt when Vincent said such things to him, but Father only stared at the chamber doorway, a look almost like disappointment playing across his face. "Catherine..." he sighed, "we live in a web of half truths. All right... it’s your move. Who will tell the whole truth first?"

 

25. The Homecoming
February, 1990
 

"Father!" Mouse came to a breathless halt in front of the old man, and then fell into stride with him, trying to contain his glee.

"Yes, I heard, Mouse." Father hobbled along the corridor. "Where is he?"

"Not far behind. Mouse ran ahead." The little man suddenly looked around himself and the corridor. "Where’s Catherine?"

"She’s gone." Father answered pointedly. They rounded a corner and, true enough, a large group of dwellers, headed by Vincent, approached them.

"Gone where?" Mouse tried to capture Father’s attention. "Father? Catherine’s okay, right?"

"Not now, Mouse." Father answered a bit gruffly as Vincent approached steadily.

"Father." Vincent breathed the title easily. He stooped to embrace the man lightly, the hug signifying to all, a homecoming.

Father stepped back to take in his son’s obvious health. "Well, you look fine... as always."

"It’s good to be home." Vincent answered quietly.

"Good to have you." The pleasantries dispensed with, he carried on. "I’m sorry to confront you with this so soon, but there’s a matter of great importance to discuss."

"Please, Father..." Vincent stopped him, knowing that this discussion was about to involve the one woman he’d tried hardest, and failed, to forget. "A moment. I just need a moment."

"I’m sorry, son." His heartbreakingly sincere apology didn’t go unnoticed by any of them. "But this won’t wait." He led his son ahead of the crowd of tired travelers.

"Father?" Mouse called. "Father! What about...?"

"Later, Mouse." Father brushed him off quickly.

So dark and cold the little chamber was, but a flood of light rushed in as Vincent flung the curtain open with no thought of discretion. Mary stepped slowly away from the lightly rocking cradle, keeping her eyes on Vincent’s slack-jawed face. The large imposing figure bent over the cradle and examined the single child within.

His thick honey-colored hair lined his sweet features. His nose twitched in his sleep, and his defined jaw opened and released something between a sigh and a purr. The child emitted such a golden glow of his own that there was no need of candlelight.

Father was rambling on about something. Something about a week’s worth of crying and the babe’s physical health. Vincent knew that there were sounds all around him, and candles releasing waxy, musty smells, and there were faces to behold that he hadn’t seen in many months. But he couldn’t fit them in his mind at the moment. This golden boy was filling him up; his five senses working at full scale to take in every molecule of this child’s being.

The sounds around him hushed as he reached down and lifted the child out of the cradle. The boy never squirmed or fretted in those big trembling arms; in fact, he remained peacefully asleep. The little one merely breathed in the scent of this new person who held him so securely, and then buried his face in Vincent’s folds of clothes.

Eyes glistening with tears, Vincent lifted his head to Father and Mary’s waiting faces.

"Where is Catherine?"

 

26. Casual Pleasantries
November, 1997
 

The months passed quickly. Anna was back in school which put a slight strain on the visitation schedule. The practiced argument was almost automatic now. Catherine and Anna would pass the threshold into their apartment, the door would click shut behind them, and round 1 would begin.

"Can I see Jacob tonight?"

"No, Anna."

Vincent tried to bring Jacob as often and as early as possible, but both children had early bedtimes and Anna’s homework was steadily growing more difficult.

Jacob was being difficult about the situation as well. The constant arguments seemed endless to both parents who truly wished that there was something they could do to make the whole arrangement easier. Even Father was growing steadily weary of his grandson’s perpetual temper. And suddenly Anna had become unwilling and unresponsive to any time spent with Joe or Jenny.

The tunnel community remained in the dark about the sudden discovery of Anna and Catherine, for the time being. Suspicions rose when Jacob would allude to a new friend that he wanted to visit that night, but they were quickly passed over. Everyone just assumed this was a child of one of the Helpers.

Weekends were always something to look forward to. Catherine was sometimes preoccupied and busy, but Jacob was always welcome to stay Friday through Sunday. In their own quiet ways, Catherine and Vincent looked forward to those precious nights as well. And though the routine was always the same, they took the time to stand out on the fire escape to arrange the weekend’s events and discuss the things Anna had planned for Jacob during the three days. A slow, but steady friendship had begun to weave its way around the estranged lovers, as if they had simply started back from square one of their relationship.

There was no use hiding the affection that both parents had for their twins. The words were never spoken, but both Vincent and Catherine treated the children as if this was how it had always been; as if the past seven years were just a terrible dream.

"Jacob!" Catherine cried with a flourish of her arms and scooped the little boy up into her embrace. "Oh! We missed you!"

"I missed you too!" He hugged the women tightly, wrapping his legs around her waist and sitting back in her arms.

"Did you have a good week?" She set her forehead against his and crossed her eyes to look at him, making a ridiculous face in doing so.

Jacob giggled at her and then nodded happily. "Where’s Anna?" He suddenly bounced excitedly, swinging his legs.

"In the living room. Her Aunt Jenny brought her a new game, she’s setting it up for the two of you to play." She set him on the floor gently and smoothed his mane of hair as he turned to Vincent.

"Bye Father!" And the little boy took off running.

"Have a good weekend, Jacob. Be good!" He called after the boy, knowing his son only half heard him. His sheepish smile made its way back to Catherine.

She smiled at him, suddenly uncomfortable without the buffer of a child between them. "How have you been?" she asked politely.

"Well," he stated flatly, feeling horribly idiotic in doing so. "The water pipe on the lower East Side burst two days ago... that was finally fixed today. So..."

"Good. Good." She nervously tried to fill the void of silence.

This was ridiculous! At one point in their past, silence between them had been golden moments. Conversation had not consisted of the twin’s visiting schedule or the status of the pipes in the tunnels, but of poetry and music.

"You’ve been well?" Vincent asked quickly to end their awkward silence.

"Yeah." She rubbed her arms out of nervous habit. "Slammed at work, but everything’s been good."

Had they really been reduced to this? Years ago she’d have fallen into his arms after a day like today. She would have cried about the young woman who was murdered in her apartment this morning; or pondered with him the thoughts of the man committed to a mental hospital this afternoon. Now her job was stoically ‘going well’. So detached and polite.

Heavy running footsteps closed in on them suddenly. They turned just in time to see a flash of color enter the room. There were no words spoken by the little imp, she merely attached herself to Vincent’s waist with as tight a grip as she could manage. "I haven’t seen you all week!" Anna implored, her face still buried in Vincent’s many folds of clothes.

Vincent chuckled softly, holding the little girl against him until her grip loosened. He knelt down to her height and took both her hands. "How has school been? Your mother says you’ve been having trouble."

Anna shook her head quickly and she seemed as if she’d tried to explain this to everyone she’d met. "I’m just bored. I know it all already. And I don’t like the other kids."

"Why not?" He watched her curiously.

Anna shrugged simply, unable to verbalize her feelings into tangible thoughts. Instead, she just changed the subject. "Will you teach me a new word?"

Vincent suppressed a smile. "Only if you can show me your alphabet first."

Anna’s fingers suddenly seemed to fly before them. Her fingers twisted and curled around each other to form simple shapes in her tiny hands. "Aaaand, Z." She finished with a zig-zag sweep of her finger.

"That was good!" He beamed at her. "But don’t curl your finger so far to make an X." He demonstrated, bending his forefinger and she mirrored it.

"Teach me a new one!" She bounced in a way identical to Jacob.

"Okay..." Vincent snapped his fingers, and then hit his side, "that’s ‘dog’."

Anna repeated his movements exactly and added, to reaffirm the word to herself, "dog."

"And..." with his two fore and middle fingers, he slid them across his cheeks quickly, "cat."

Anna giggled at the irony of Vincent trying to simulate the features of a cat on himself. Catherine shot her a warning look, and she immediately mirrored the movements. "Cat."

"Anna! What does this do?" Jacob’s voice echoed down the hall and mechanical beeping noises immediately followed.

"Careful with that!" Anna laughed, running after the voice. "That’s my GigaPet!"

Vincent looked curiously at Catherine. She laughed and then rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the newest technological fad. "Just don’t ask."

An awkward silence fell again. Both adults squirmed nervously. Catherine opened her mouth , but quickly clamped it shut before letting her thought out. Suddenly, simultaneously they let their thoughts out in a jumble of words.

"Would you like some tea?"

"I should go."

The silence fell again and the two smiled sheepishly at each other. Quietly Vincent began, cautious not to step on Catherine’s words again.

"Thank you for the offer. I should go, though."

"All right," she nodded, embarrassed. "Don’t worry about Jacob. He’ll be just fine."

"I know he will." Vincent stared at her a little longer than usual, making sure the meaning reached her. "Catherine," he started toward her, his voice dropping low in confidence, "I’m glad that Jacob can have this time with you. I’ve always hoped for the opportunity for him to get to know you."

She sweetly bowed her head, grinning again. Slowly she raised her glistening green eyes. "Thank you, Vincent. So have I."

He turned to leave, but immediately turned back to her, slowly. Gathering courage with each passing second, his timid eyes met hers. "Catherine..." he began, and his courage faltered at the odd wanting reflected in her eyes. That inner battle was raging again, as it seemed to always do when he was around her. He felt terrible to be inflicting such turmoil, but he had to admit to himself... it was flattering and inspirational to know that he could still cause such a stir of emotions in her. He had closed off their Bond long ago. It became second nature so that now, seven years later, both Vincent and Catherine highly doubted its existence. And though he could no longer feel her emotions filling him up, intermingling with his own, he could see in her such conflict that he longed to simply hold her and take it all away.

But she wouldn’t allow it. Distance had been very carefully observed between them and, no matter the conflict within her, she would not release that control.

How absurd it was to Vincent! Here they were, years later, and instead of him fearing for the worst, keeping a safe distance, holding tight on erratic emotions, it was Catherine. Instead of her attempting to establish a familiar closeness, feeling every wild emotion without restraint, throwing caution to the wind in the name of love... it was Vincent. How freeing it was for him to feel all of this without restraint! How horrible to have inflicted on Catherine all of his doubts and fears.

Closeness. Closeness was the key to cracking the shell she had formed around herself. Vincent couldn’t deny that the desired closeness to Catherine was part of the reason that he blurted out his question.

"I’d like to take Anna." He was still, waiting for a reaction. "Just for the weekend." He rushed on. "She and Jacob could spend some time together in our world." He went quiet. "I’d like her to see my world."

Catherine swallowed hard. Her eyes had widened a little, giving only the slightest sign of panic. She dropped her head, suddenly fascinated by the carpeting of her daughter’s bedroom.

Quiet, so the children playing in the living room wouldn’t hear, Vincent continued. "I want to get to know Anna the way you’ve gotten to know Jacob. I want to know my daughter."

Nodding slowly, silently, Catherine raised her eyes to his, pure fear emanating from her. "Let me think about it," she whispered.

"Thank you." He gave her a half-smile, trying to be encouraging. He touched her shoulder, feather light, just for a moment, a second of reassurance. Immediately that harsh and unyielding brick wall was thrown up between them. Catherine’s barely noticeable cringe backed him up another step away from her. He backed away slowly, watching the regret in her eyes form. "I’ll go now," he nodded, not so much a statement of fact, as a reassurance that one would give to a frightened animal.

Quickly, suddenly, he was gone. Out the window and down the fire escape. Somehow the thought seemed less whimsical to Catherine now. She remembered the light-headed elation she used to get just at the thought of him climbing over her balcony to see her.

"With love’s light wings did I o’er perch these walls/ For stony limits cannot hold love out."

They had been the ultimate Romeo and Juliet couple. Caught between two worlds; him banished from hers; and one night of passion before both of their worlds crumbled.

Why are things so much more simple in literature? There is always a definite end. The story concludes eventually and the characters are put to rest. Why wasn’t life so simple? For a long time it seemed as if the love story of Vincent and Catherine, like Romeo and Juliet, had ended, very simply, with their deaths. But it hadn’t. They had held on, they had lived for their children, but the death of their dream had clouded their hearts. They were forced to bear the burden of so unexpected a death, oh so silently.

And now... when suddenly there was a pulse of life, like a lightning bolt in that metaphoric storm cloud, it hurt Catherine to hope. It shocked her that she was the one pulling away now. Vincent had so often tried to pull away from her, but now... it was she who resisted all of those tantalizing temptations. She had closed up and resigned to her solitude; comforted only by her single child. She had been hurt in the past; broken hearts were par for the course in her life. But none had hurt her as she had been hurt by her relationship with Vincent.

"Mama!" A little voice broke her out of her trance.

A small furred hand suddenly closed around hers. For a moment, as she stared into Jacob’s beaming little face, she believed that it had been him who had called her. Her eyes were beginning to glass over in wonderment until the voice sounded again.

"Mama!" Anna called from the living room.

Jacob’s cat-like mouth had not formed that little word she had longed to hear from him. He only laughed and tugged her hand.

"Mama! Come look! Look at me!" Anna called hurriedly.

Catherine allowed Jacob to pull her into the living room. Halfway there he released her hand and took off at a run ahead of her. She followed the sounds of his giggling, prolonging the experience for as long as she could. Finally, she stepped into the scene.

Jacob stood behind Anna, giggling uncontrollably. Anna was in a tangle on the Twister mat. She was belly up with both arms crossed, both legs crossed and her head straining around her limbs to find her mother.

"Look Mama!" she grinned. "I won!"

Catherine simply burst into laughter at the sight of her daughter so ridiculously happy to be stuck like a pretzel on the floor.

Jacob laughed even harder now and, unable to resist temptation anymore, he stuck his finger out and poked Anna’s belly. Out of annoyance, she attempted to brush his hand away, but in doing so she lost her balance and fell flat on her back. Jacob fell to the floor next to her in raucous laughter.

Tears now coming to her eyes from the hilarity, Catherine joined the children on the floor, trying, to no success, to keep from laughing. "Baby... Ann, are you all right, honey?"

Anna’s focus never shifted. She was trained on Jacob and wouldn’t yield. Her lips pursed, she sat up and folded her arms angrily. "That wasn’t funny!" She insisted, even though both sets of uncontrollable laughter contradicted her. "It’s not funny! I could have fractured my spine and been deformed for the rest of my life!"

That just made Catherine laugh even harder. Now hardly able to breathe, she rubbed Anna’s back to calm her and assure her that no such thing had happened.

Jacob wrapped his arms around Anna’s neck tightly, holding her to him, still laughing. No matter how she fought him, she couldn’t get away. "I’m sorry, but it was so easy!"

"You wouldn’t be laughing right now if I had died!" she persisted, still trying to fight Jacob off.

"No one’s ever died playing Twister, Ann. You’re all right." Catherine was beginning to calm down and she pushed herself off of the floor.

Anna finally ducked out of Jacob’s embrace and climbed to her feet. With her hands on her hips she mumbled at the Twister mat. "It’s a dumb game anyway."

"Don’t say that." Jacob hopped to his feet gracefully. "It was fun!" He implored, staring into her eyes.

Catherine stood, frozen, curiously watching her children. They stared at each other in silence. Every few seconds or so she would see the flicker of a smile pass across one of their faces. Even more noticeable, one would nod or gesture to something, as if they were having a conversation without speaking. This was becoming a normal event, but still Catherine had to watch, fascinated every time it happened. A full three minutes were spent in entrancing silence before Jacob reached forward and hugged Anna.

"I’m sorry." He released her and she smiled at him.

"What now?" She bounced on her toes.

"Let’s watch a movie!" Jacob’s face lit up and he immediately slid back to the floor in front of the entertainment center.

"No," Anna sighed. "That’s boring!"

Catherine was about to say something until Jacob came back at her with his father’s sarcastic smile. "Would you rather go another round of Twister?"

Anna sighed dramatically and dropped to the floor next to him. "Okay, what do you want to watch?"

"Anything! I haven’t seen any of these!" Jacob leaned in and scanned the minuscule selection of VHS tapes.

"That’s not true! You saw this one last week." Anna pulled out her favorite movie, the one she’d persuaded him to watch last Saturday.

"Yeah... that was kinda dumb." Jacob went back to his perusal of the tapes.

Catherine had to suppress a smile. The children had developed a tendency to use each others’ words; words they had never used before in their lives. It was becoming more and more amusing as time went on. Willing herself to move away from them, Catherine retreated to the kitchen. "Do you guys want some popcorn?"

"Yeah!" the two called in unison, giggled, and then ducked their heads back into the stack of videos.

A silent visitor watched from an adjacent rooftop. He craned his neck and squinted to see into the tiny living room where a little boy and girl held up videotape after videotape that were repeatedly denied by their mother. Finally, the brother held up a VHS box and his mother consented. The two children clambered up onto the couch, on either side of their mother, and dipped their hands into the popcorn bowl as the movie began. Soon the dark living room was filled with warm, flashing colors, and the children sank into their mother’s arms. Such a beautiful and peaceful scene. The comfort of such a scene, a sense of home, could make any lost and lonely soul long for it. Quickly and silently, as he had always been, Vincent climbed over the building and escaped into the cold streets of Manhattan.

***********************

It was Wednesday. Friday was closing rapidly in on Catherine. She had calmed down and warmed up to the idea of Vincent and Jacob’s weekend visits, but to send Anna... that was something completely different. So many steps were going to be taken if Anna went Below... whether either parent liked it or not. They faced the very real possibility of someone revealing their secrets. Catherine had to wonder; would Anna go down there and never want to come back; would someone, still bitter toward Catherine, try to take it out on her daughter; what would Father say about her to sweet Anna, who wouldn’t understand? What would be said?

The children thought that it would be a weekend like any other, and, secure in the knowledge of that, Catherine felt free to worry and stress. Anna wouldn’t know the difference. Until...

The apartment door opened and Catherine guided Anna inside before her. She watched her daughter run to the couch to strip off her backpack as she closed and locked the door.

"Mom?"

The nightly ritual began.

"Mm?" Catherine sifted through the mail, ready to deny the request that Jacob come up to visit.

"Can... I go stay with Jacob this weekend?"

Catherine froze. She’d been putting it off all week, and here it was, staring her in the face with bright, hopeful green eyes. Catherine breathed, trying to calm her increasing heart rate. She searched her brain, trying desperately to think of a good reason to deny her.

"Just for the weekend." Anna assured quickly, knowing her mother’s frantic looks.

"Um..." she began lamely. She wanted so desperately to say that they could talk about it later, but fought the urge, knowing that this couldn’t wait anymore. With a deep sigh, her eyes still fixed on the envelopes in her hands, she began the conversation she’d been dreading for seven years. "How much homework do you have, Ann?"

"Just sentences for English!" Anna’s face lit up, having expecting an immediate ‘no’.

"All right," another heavy sigh, "you do those, let me get changed, and we’ll talk about it. Okay?"

Beaming, her eyes the size of half-dollars, Anna snatched up her backpack, hopped up onto the couch, and immediately began work she would normally have complained about. "Okay!" She confirmed as a second thought.

Dinner ended up being the debate ground that Catherine and Anna stood on that night. It was over steak and macaroni and cheese (an absurd concoction when Catherine was single and childless) that mother and daughter determined exactly how far this odd arrangement with Vincent and Jacob would go.

"I’ll tell you this, straight off," Catherine began, "I don’t want you to go down there."

"Because they were mean to you?" Anna guessed, biting into her mac&cheese, unable to ignore her rumbling tummy anymore.

With a bit of hesitation, she consented. "Yes... that’s certainly part of it. But, there are many other reasons."

"Is Vincent one of them?" Since that brief conversation where that sliver of information had been given to Anna about her father, she had not mentioned Catherine’s relationship to Vincent or the tunnels. True to her word, Anna had silently carried that bit of information, tucked away only for herself. But now, she knew that the incident that had led to her mother’s departure from the tunnels was about to become very relevant. So, trying not to look too eager, she prodded the conversation on.

Catherine found herself happy to answer that question. "No. He is the least of my worries." Catherine suddenly reached over and gently took Anna’s hand. "He loves you. You know that, right? He loves the time he gets with you the same way I love it when Jacob stays with us."

"I know that." Anna granted proudly. "And I love seeing him."

"Good!" Catherine assured her. "That’s really good."

"But sometimes..." Anna grasped for words, "you don’t look so happy to see each other. You fight sometimes. I didn’t know if that’s why I couldn’t go Below."

"No, honey. He and I..." she choose her words carefully, "we have problems that were never resolved before. We’re working through them now. It’s a difficult process, but it has nothing to do with you and Jacob. We both agree that, no matter what, you two should be as close as you want."

"Mom... are you afraid I’ll see my dad down there?" Anna worked her hardest not to look thrilled at the idea.

Catherine swallowed hard. How to work around this one without blatantly lying? "Yes." She finally granted and Anna’s face brightened, as she knew it would. "I know that it is a very real possibility that you will meet him down there and... as much as I know you would love that..." she sighed heavily again and thought out loud. "You are so young. I did not want you to go through this yet."

"I can do this, mom." That sweet little voice encouraged unexpectedly. "I’ll be with Jacob and Vincent. They’ll help me."

Catherine smiled weakly. She longed for the days when she had such blind faith. "I know they will... but I didn’t want you to have to deal with this yet... at all."

"Mommy, I want to. I really do. I’m not afraid."

Three innocent little words. This tiny little girl was so sincere about such a large emotion. ‘I’m not afraid’. Catherine had said those same words to Vincent once, concerning the same topic. The unknown, the uncertainty fast approaching, their relationship reaching a pinnacle moment, Catherine had assured him that she wasn’t afraid. And now, with those earnest green eyes, Anna was proclaiming the same for herself.

Her matching eyes, steady on her daughter, she began a long, emotional journey. "Vincent..." his name didn’t come easily, "has asked for you to stay with him this weekend."

Anna bounced in her seat. "Really?"

Catherine nodded silently. With a deep, cleansing breath, and a sudden fascination with the food on her plate, Catherine finished. "If you have all of your homework done and your room is clean by Friday night... you can go."

Anna let out a high-pitched squeal and bolted out of her chair. She hugged Catherine briefly and then took off at a run to her bedroom. "I’ll start right now!"

"Anna!" Her mother called in a warning tone. "Dinner first!"

**************

Vincent,

If the offer is still open, Anna would like to spend the weekend in the tunnels.

Sincerely,

Catherine

Gathering her courage, Catherine re-read her note for what seemed like the millionth time. Stepping swiftly out of her office building and into the flow of sidewalk traffic, she folded the note carefully so that Vincent’s name showed on the top. She rounded a corner, changing from one herd of people to another, and encountered the precise man she was looking for.

Sitting cross-legged on the dirty cement and strumming his guitar, he watched Catherine approached him curiously. His last encounter with her, months before, had given him the impression that she didn’t want to be bothered by anything connected to her prior life. Now she approached him steadily, though obviously not confident. True to his routine, he only acknowledged her the way he would any other passerby who stopped for a moment to hear his music. She stood in front of him for while, fingering the small note in her hand. He kept playing, watching her more carefully as time passed. Finally, she dropped the note into the guitar case. He glanced at it long enough to catch the name carefully drawn onto the top. With only a hint of surprise he looked up at her and she smiled sweetly at him.

"Thank you," she mouthed soundlessly to him.

He nodded obligingly at her, his whole body keeping time to his music. Trying to resist the temptation of knowing, he snatched up the note and stuffed it in the nearest coat pocket.

 

27. Rock-A-Bye
January, 1990
 

"Where is she?" Peter raced in as fast as his feeble body would carry him.

"There." Lt. Sampson pointed to Catherine on the other end of the room. She was sitting on one of the station benches, rocking the bundle in her arms. "I hope she’ll talk to you. She hasn’t spoken a word since they found her. Not to the officers here that she knows... not even to Mr. Maxwell. He’s pretty shaken up about it."

"Where is he?" Peter, ever the physician, made sure his examination wouldn’t be disturbed.

"Getting her coffee."

"That’s the last thing she needs." Peter shook his head. "No. When he comes back, tell him to keep the coffee. It’ll do him more good than her. Tell him to bring crackers, bread, anything like that; and some milk, whole milk. She needs something heavy and substantial in her stomach."

"Okay." Sampson wrote it on a sticker note and stuck it to his desk to remind himself.

Peter sat next to Catherine silently, feigning comfort. Finding a comfortable position, he settled himself and cast quick glances at the woman who seemed not to notice him. "Cold out today." He stated blandly. There was no response, she only fussed over the babe in her arms. "Cathy?"

Her eyes rolled toward him, but never acknowledged him with a look. She continued rocking the little girl.

"Cathy," Peter’s voice broke to a whisper, "honey... where’s ‘Sebastian’?"

Catherine took a deep, shaky breath. She stiffened a little, but soon went back to her rocking, humming softly now.

Peter stood, a thought occurring to him. He held out his hand to her. "Cathy? Will you come with me?"

Catherine’s eyes fell on the hand outstretched to her. Such a giving hand, so warm and safe. That hand was the first worldly thing to connect with her. That hand meant help and fatherly strength. It seemed to speak to her. "Everything will be all right, darling. Just come with me." Or was that Peter talking? It didn’t matter. She took his hand and climbed off the bench, the child held securely to her breast.

Inside the confines of the conference room, Peter set her in a chair and pulled another up next to her. "Cathy... what happened, sweetheart?"

Catherine’s breath shook with impending tears. The baby in her arms fussed. But she didn’t speak.

"Cathy, honey... just tell me that he’s safe Below." He took her jerky head movements for a nod. "Thank God. All right, tell me what happened."

Tears came rushing out of Catherine before she could stop them. "I can’t!" She finally gasped. "I can’t!" She grabbed Peter’s collar and fell against him. All that mattered now was that she was in the arms of the sure and steady. She had Peter, who she knew would never leave her, nor push her off. He took the silent baby from her arms easily, and simply let her cry into his chest. The little girl’s bright eyes stared up at him inquisitively. Almost as if she were already intelligent enough to ask him, "what’s wrong with Mommy?"

The door broke open to the excitement and noise of a police station, but neither Catherine or Peter broke their positions. Joe came running into the conference room, his arms full.

"What can I do?" He began piling groceries onto the table. "I brought coffee, but then, I thought maybe she was hungry. Cathy..." he seemed to only just have noticed that she was crying, "it’s okay. It’s all right now."

"The coffee’s for me." Peter commandeered the cup and examined the groceries on the table as Catherine cried harder. "She won’t want to eat for a while. Why don’t you just sit, Joe? Let her cry it out some. Here..." Peter held out the baby, but on second thought, consulted the mother. "Catherine, can Joe take her just for a little while?" Catherine nodded, without a second’s hesitation. Whatever Peter wanted was perfectly fine with her. She was safe now, she knew.

Finally positioned correctly, Joe held the tiny infant in his arms. He began to tremble a little. So much power of life in this tiny being. Just as there was power of strength in her mother. And they had almost lost them. The temper in Joe flared at the thought.

"You were supposed to be talking care of them!" He suddenly hurled at Peter. "You did this to them! You were supposed to be protecting them!"

Peter kept his calm, serene face, though deeply wounded. "I thought I sent them to a safe place." He stroked Catherine’s hair as she convulsed with sobs against him. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

 

28. What Dreams May Come
November, 1997
 

"Stay warm now." Catherine fussed over Anna, wrapping her up in her red scarf. "And be good. Listen to what you’re told. Have fun... above all, have fun!" She kissed her and watched the girl giggle.

"You act like I’m never coming back. I’ll see you on Sunday. We’ve done this loads of times with Aunt Jenny."

"I know." She admitted quietly, unwilling to announce her fears. She wrapped Anna up in the millionth hug and kissed her again. "I love you! And don’t ever stop believing that, no matter what anyone says."

"Okay." Anna mocked her with a smile.

"Don’t worry." Jacob took Anna’s hand, his excitement hardly able to contain itself now. "We’ll take care of her."

"I know you will." Catherine touched Jacob’s fury cheek softly and then lifted her eyes to Vincent. "Well," she began with an unsteady breath, "time to trade off."

Jacob and Anna needed no more permission. They took off, out of her grasp for another hug. Perched on the fire escape, they peered in, obediently waiting for Vincent.

Catherine tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was stuck and wouldn’t budge. Her feigned confidence had completely dropped and she locked eyes with Vincent, fighting her tears with everything in her. He stepped toward her, hoping that she would accept this bit of warmth from him. He attempted to hide his excitement when she didn’t back away, nor flinch from his large hand on her small shoulder.

"Catherine," he was losing the battle with his emotions, "she’ll be all right. I promise."

Catherine breathed deeply, giving a shaky nod. Were she not so terrified at the moment, the simple touch of his hand would have compelled her to kiss him. But at the moment it was just Vincent’s warm hand, giving comfort as ever. Steadily she gazed into the vast, azure ocean of his eyes and without caring if the twins heard, she implored her words to him. "Don’t let them say anything about me... please."

A bit confused at her choice of words, he only nodded in reassurance. "She’ll be back Sunday night; 7:30 sharp."

She nodded again, closing her eyes to barricade against her tears, and accidentally letting one slip past. Soft fur was suddenly stroking her cheek where the salty stream had fallen. She tried to stiffen herself against it, but found herself unable. She was forced to surrender to his touch.

"Catherine..." he began, as if he actually had a reason to speak.

Her heart ached. Her life used to be devoted to hearing her name on his lips. Sweet and soft, raspy and haggard both. She had learned to live without it; to simply be ‘Cathy’ once again. But here he was, brushing away her tears, consoling her, and suddenly she was ‘Catherine’ again. She was within reach of being ‘Vincent’s Catherine’ even. All she needed was to look into his eyes, to fall into his arms... to kiss him. It was so easy to have him again. He was right there, so sweet and willing. They were so close.

"You’d better go," she answered quietly, never raising her eyes to his. She didn’t look to see if he was hurt or disappointed, she just let him go.

"Bye Mom!" Anna called as she crawled down the railing after Jacob.

She passively waved, faking a smile that was more of a grimace. She ran to the window when she could no longer see them and watched as the three retreated into the dark alley. She set her hands on the sill, ready to close it.

"Long ago," he said, "I thought like you that my mother would always keep the window open for me, so I stayed away for moons and moons and moons, and then flew back; but the window was barred, for mother had forgotten all about me, and there was another little boy sleeping in my bed."

No. The window would always be left open for her Wendy and Peter... always.

***************

"Hello?" Joe groggily answered the ringing phone with dread. What time was it?

2:00am.

Damn! He was determined to get a full night’s sleep tonight, and sleep in if possible. If some idiot was slashed on the street, disturbing his Friday night/ Saturday morning sleep, he was going to scream!

"Cathy?" He was upright in bed and alert now. Something was wrong. "Cathy, where are you?" She was sobbing into the phone, he could barely understand her. "Cath... Cathy! Is Anna all right?"

More tear-obstructed words, nonsense really, and he was out of bed, the cordless phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear. He dressed even as he spoke. "Okay, Cath, calm down! I’ll be over in a few minutes, okay? I’ll be right there!" He hit the off button and tossed it on the bed, not caring where it landed.

**********************

"Cathy!" Joe pounded on her apartment door. "Cathy, open the door, it’s me!!" The familiar sound of bolts and chains unhooking, and the wrenching of the doorknob open, and there she was.

Her face was flushed and tear-stained. Her beautiful hair, always full of shine and body, was now flat and stringy around her face. Her body, forever strong and prepared, seemed melted and she felt as if she might collapse to the floor except that she fell into his arms.

"I’m sorry." She sobbed. "I didn’t know who else to call." She moved away now and it took everything in him not to pull her back against him and hold her forever. "Jenny’s on her date, and Peter’s at the hospital, and..."

"Okay... it’s okay." Joe took her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Where’s Annie?"

"She’s gone!" The thought that had plagued her since the moment her baby had escaped out into the night.

"What do you mean, ‘gone’?" Joe was panicking now. "Where did she go?!"

Catherine took a sharp breath that seemed to instantly clear her tears. "Um..." she was searching now. Joe knew that look well.

"Look, Cath... you tell me where she is, I will go and get her. It’s as simple as that."

Catherine stood still, the remnants of her sobs still shaking her as she read his eyes. There was fear there, so much fear. And anger... plenty of that too. He was ready to storm whatever unreachable castle held his little princess in it’s far away tower. And he would, with fury and... probably even guns ablaze!

She shook her head slowly. "It’s not so simple." She spoke slowly, and moved out of his grasp to settle on the couch. "I’m sorry I woke you, Joe. Go on home, get some sleep."

"No..." he sat next to her, his intense gaze assuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere, "tell me what’s going on, Cathy! I’m tired of being out of the loop! Now, you’ve dragged me out of bed at an ungodly hour, scared me half to death, and then tell me that it’s nothing? That doesn’t work this time. Where is Anna?"

She was trapped. She had used up all of her free passes with Joe. ‘Just don’t ask’ wasn’t going to work anymore. She had dragged him into it this time. He deserved something. Her brain just kept saying, ‘wouldn’t a nice thank-you note suffice?’ But no, he needed more... he had earned it for nine years of simply trusting.

"I let her go." Catherine relented, falling into the corner of the couch, relying on it to support her.

"Where?!"

She hesitated, and then looked away. She didn’t want to see his reaction to this. "To her father’s for the weekend."

There was silence. Had he heard her? Had she only thought she’d said it out loud? She ventured a look at him. He had heard her, and was now pale, silent, and staring at her with such anger that she leaned away from him.

"When were you planning on telling me he’d come back?" he asked quietly.

Just the sound of his voice, low and terrible, terrified her. "Never." She spoke honestly, but readied herself for the storm.

"When?"

"Around late June, early July maybe."

He turned away, shaking his head with a disgusted snort. "That’s why," he said quietly, and then jumped to his feet. "The damned zoo trip! We’d been planning it for three months! And all of a sudden she doesn’t want to go!"

"Joe." She was trying to get his attention, albeit weakly. She wouldn’t scold him for this. She knew this was how he’d react. He had helped to raise Anna... and now someone was trying to replace him in that fatherly role.

"Was she even sick last week, Cathy?" He spun on her.

She shook her head silently. "He’s been visiting every weekend."

"So... so what? Now she’s gonna ignore me? All of a sudden the man who abandoned her is a freakin’ hero? Who the hell does he even think he is? No phone calls, no letters, no visits... not for seven years, and suddenly he’s Father of the Year? What about everything I’ve done for her? The things I’ve sacrificed?"

"Joe!" She stopped him before he was finished. "She doesn’t know, first of all. Neither of us have told her that he’s her father. Second of all, she’s seven! You can’t blame a seven year old for being the way she is. Her focus shifts in so many different directions, sometimes I can’t even keep up! At the moment..." should she reveal him? Yes, it was time. "Vincent," she spoke his name as if she were introducing Joe to him, "is just an infatuation. She’s curious about him. And you know... when she gets curious, you can’t tear her away."

Joe hadn’t heard a word past the man’s name; Vincent. Suddenly that mystery man had a name; Vincent. Well no wonder Cathy had fall so hard for him... one of those fancy, artsy names. Vincent; he sounded arrogant and snobbish... French. He imagined a pale, thin man with his nose so high in the air, he’d drown if it rained. ‘Vincent’ wore a beret and smoked personally rolled cigarettes, the prick! He spoke with an accent, of course, of how "dull" life in New York was. And how the art, music, and culture didn’t even begin to compare with that in France. He imagined Cathy, beautifully made up to the picture of perfection, hanging on ‘Vincent’s’ arm. His stomach turned on him, threatening to push his dinner back up. But worse, he imagined sweet little Anna, her chin set in her hands and her eyes wide, taking in all that this arrogant bastard had to say about fashioning her for a more respectable and prominent life in society. Now, not only was he sick, but he was angry, his fury bubbling over. He wouldn’t be replaced by some smug asshole who wanted to tame her sweet, impetuous nature... Anna’s or Cathy’s!

"Joe... don’t." Catherine’s voice suddenly broke through to him.

"What?" He was surprised at how low and gruff his voice sounded.

"I know that look." She watched him suspiciously.

"What look?"

"The one you get right before you convict a serial killer. I know because it’s the same face you make every time the radio in your office breaks."

He shot her an annoyed glance for making a joke at his expense. He twisted his hands, pondering... brooding. "Does anyone else know about him?"

"Well..." she began nervously, knowing he was about to get upset all over again, "Peter has known Vincent as long as he’s known me."

"That’s not what I asked!" He snapped. Just that creep’s name made his skin crawl.

"I told Jenny," she admitted quietly.

"Of course you did!" He started his tirade with a sarcastic tone. "Because it makes perfect sense to tell Jenny without telling me! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!"

"Joe," she did not want to hear this and she tried desperately to avoid it, "it was just that I needed to talk to a girl! I was upset, I was confused, and Jenny knows a little more about that sort of thing than you do!"

"You’ve come to me before, Cathy. You came to me about the stalker, the artist who was bothering you," she didn’t even try to contradict him. "Even when the police found you wandering Central Park with a baby strapped to the front of you, you gave them my name! Why? Because I can take care of it! Because I have proved time and time again that I will always take care of you and Annie. Why not come to me when he came back? Tell me Cathy, why?!"

"Because I was afraid that you would take care of it!" she hollered back at him. "Because I knew that you would hunt him down and scare him off, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that! For Anna, I mean."

"Then why call me tonight, Cathy?" He was starting to calm down.

"Because I wanted you to take care of me!" she hollered and then froze. They stared, panting to catch their breaths. Finally she regained her tongue. "Some part of me was so afraid for Ann that I called because I knew that you would come for me." She looked at her hands. Why was she still talking? "I haven’t had someone come to my rescue for a very long time, Joe. I needed you to be my hero tonight."

"Cathy..." Joe moved closer to her, speaking softly, "I will always rescue you!" He brushed a fresh tear off of her cheek, letting his hand indulge in the feel of her soft skin.

It was now or never, and Joe leaned in without hesitation. His head dipped low, finding her sweet lips and he kissed her, ever so softly. He expected... well, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe that she would push him away and slap his face. Or, at best, that she would fall into his arms and, like some old movie, they would live happily ever after. But neither happened. She only let him kiss her; she didn’t pull away and she didn’t try to kiss him back. So, gaining a bit more courage, he ran his fingers through her hair and supported her head, tilting her into the kiss. She accepted this, but nothing more, letting it be only a simple brush-of-the-lips kiss.

It was the truth. She knew it was the truth. He would always come for her, he would always rescue her. Oh, how that felt good to hear. It had been so long. She parted her lips, accepting the kiss more, and he took the initiative once again. This hadn’t happened for so long! In some far away, distant land, she’d had boyfriends who took the initiative to kiss her first, to love her without hesitation. All she had to do was be there, there was no effort. She never had to push or coax, they were always very willing to show her their affection. Suddenly, there he was again. Strong and determined, he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her now. She was held securely against him. And there was nothing but his body and the sensation of his mouth against hers. So much love, such that she had lost so long ago. He loved her... he loved Anna, his daughter. And Jacob.

Images flashed before Catherine’s closed eyes as she kissed him deeply.

Jacob and Anna. The mirror pool. The balcony of her old apartment. Father, Mary, Mouse, Jamie, Samantha. Geoffrey, Eric and Ellie. His chamber. Winterfest. Everyone dancing, everyone laughing. The River of Voices. The waterfalls. Him swimming. Their kiss. That sweet kiss.

She fell into that sweet kiss, lost in memories. Her most happy memories. Her most tragic memories. Her life as a woman in her own personal fairy story. He had control of this moment... finally.

"Cathy..." Joe breathed her name into her own mouth.

Catherine’s eyes flew open. That was not the name she’d expected to hear. Not the Jersey accented ‘Cathy’, but the raspy, dreamy, medieval sound of ‘Catherine’. She had lost herself. It was happening all over again. She was losing herself in the arms of another man because she couldn’t lose herself to Vincent. She had to stop! She had to stop this!

Joe pulled her against him again, kissing her without restraint, barely noticing that she was no longer a part of this. She tried to subtly slip away, but he held her close, he wasn’t going to let go. How was she going to do this without hurting him?

Finally admitting that there was no other way, she set her hand against his chest and pushed him gently, but firmly, away from her. "Joe. Wait... no!"

"What?" he asked breathlessly, staring at her with such adoration that it broke her heart.

"I’m sorry." She finally escaped from his arms, getting up to pace. "I can’t do this again. I’m sorry."

"What? What’s so wrong with this, Cathy?" he breathed. "I love you! You’re all I ever think about! I wish I could get you out of my head, but I can’t!" There, he’d said it. It had taken him nine years, but he finally told her how he felt. Now, he swooped in for the kill. "He’s never coming back for you, Cath. He’s here for now, and he may want to play ‘daddy’ for a little while, but he’ll eventually hurt you both again. There’s nothing I’d like better than to prevent that, but I can’t. You’ve been holding out for him for seven years, and you’ve known damn well that nothing would ever come of it. You’re just the same as me."

She only stared at him shyly. She took in all that he said, but when he was finished all she could do was apologize again. "I’m sorry, Joe. I really am. I just can’t do this." This was final. She was sure now. She would never love Joe or any other man... her heart would forever be bound to Vincent... lost cause or not.

Joe sighed. He sat still for a moment, hoping that she would come to her senses. Hoping that she would come back to him. Finally he got up and made his way to the door. He unhooked the latch and turned back to her, his hand wrapped around the doorknob for a quick getaway. "He’ll just break your heart, you know that."

Catherine only nodded sincerely. She wouldn’t and couldn’t change her mind. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore.

Joe sighed again. "She’ll be all right, Radcliffe. She’s a tough little kid. You don’t need to worry about her." He told her what she wanted to hear, nothing more. Nothing more than a friend.

"Thank you, Joe." She tried to smile at him, but decided it was inappropriate.

He pulled the door open. "Lock it behind me," he advised... a friend. "G’night." The door shut behind him.

Catherine breathed. Suddenly she could breathe! She walked unsteadily around her living room, tracing the furniture. Something was different. She was lighter, airier. She’d broken free of some restraint, but she wasn’t sure what it was. But she was okay. Nothing was complicated anymore. She loved Vincent... and that was okay! She was happy suddenly! Purely happy!

All of a sudden, just acting on instinct, she took off running down the hall, as fast as her feet would carry her. Without stopping, she threw Anna’s bedroom door open and skidded into the doorframe. The tiny room was black except for the moon that shown through the window. The moonlight fell on a shadowy silhouette presented like a picture set in the window casing.

"You came for me," she breathed, her heart pounding.

He didn’t answer her. Just one fluid movement and he had pulled her into his arms, kissing her desperately. Too soon, but slowly, he loosened his grip and let her feet fall back to the floor. The kiss broke and Catherine and Vincent attempted to catch their breaths.

"Was that all right?" he asked shyly, betraying the confidence he’s just shown.

Catherine nodded, her mouth hanging open, unable to speak. "Am I dreaming?" She finally managed.

Vincent shook his head. They laughed for a moment in amazement at each other. In ten minutes their entire worlds had changed. But, why not? That’s how it had been the night he had first found her. "I think I will have that tea now." Vincent led Catherine out of their daughter’s bedroom and down the hall.

 

29. The Siren’s Song
April, 1989
 

"Jamie said I might find you here." Catherine announced her presence with thorough amusement.

Vincent spun, causing the water he was engulfed in to form a vortex. He found Catherine perched atop a boulder, watching him with a grin. For a moment he panicked, looking down to make sure that he was fully clothed. How had he not sensed her approach? He must have been so absorbed in the water, he hadn’t even acknowledged the sense. "Catherine," he gasped slightly.

She giggled softly, seeing, sensing his nervousness and embarrassment. She hunched over her jean shorts and wrapped her arms around her tank-top and white cotton over-shirt. "It’s so hot Above... I thought most of the children would be down here too."

"Many haven’t noticed the heat wave," he explained, still uncomfortable, but now because of her lack of clothes.

"So you thought you’d beat the rush?" she asked playfully.

"No... no." His heartbeat had slowed to normal and his mind sank into that comforting cocoon of her mere presence. He swam up close to the rock the she was observing from. "The water... it’s soothing. It helps me think."

She was immediately concerned and came down off her perch to kneel on the sand next to him. "Have you been troubled lately?"

He starred into her eyes and nearly drowned in them. They were so beautiful and caring. He could lose himself in their depths without even a second thought. "No," he whispered, still entranced, "I simply needed to think." She smiled, and he melted. His heart was claimed by that smile. His whole life would forever be for the sole reason of seeing that smile. "Come," he invited before he could realize what he was doing, "join me."

He raised his arm to help her in, and Catherine was instantly aware that his whole upper body was bare in the water. Her stomach rolled with excitement, though she tried desperately to suppress it. She couldn’t pass up this enticing opportunity even if she’d wanted to. After all, he had actually invited her to it!

She stripped off the over-shirt and draped it on the rock in haste, and quickly took his hand before he could change his mind.

The water was cool... almost cold. But the scorching heat of New York City was beginning to penetrate the beloved tunnels and the water was a welcome relief. The pool was much deeper than she had expected and she struggled at first to keep herself afloat. So, Vincent held her up, to his chest, her body pressed against him for support. Countless times they had held each other like this, and each and every time the heat and intensity would build between them, their bodies so intimately close, but never touching. But now, though she still wore her thin tank-top to cover her, his bare chest met her bare arms. Fleshed moved with flesh in the water. And for a moment, Catherine and Vincent were transfixed... lost in each other, in their touch. Fantasies flared in their minds, each one more passionate and complex than the next.

Was it the heat? Was it the years of trying to lock away their feelings from each other? Maybe the hatred of all of those others who had tried to stop their relationship. Or maybe it was just as minuscule as the simple touch that they shared.

Lost in his eyes and relaxed in his arms, Catherine felt Vincent’s soul inside her. She felt his heart race against her own. His mouth dropped open slightly and she inhaled quietly when the torch light reflected off of his exposed canines.

"Catherine-" he nearly pleaded.

"Not now." She whispered half to him and half to the heavens. "Please!" Her gaze held true to his face, that golden glowing visage entrancing her heart.

Her honey silk hair fell long in her face, and brushed against his shoulders as if entice him to touch it. Her face was red, matching the fire and passion in her eyes. Vincent hesitated. She wanted this. He could feel it inside her, he could see it in each of her shallow breaths. But he wondered if she really knew what she was getting herself into, as she said she did. He wanted her... with everything in him. With every fiber and breath in his body, he needed her. But there was so much... ‘oh god!’ Her breaths were just shallow heaves now, rubbing and pressing her breasts against his chest.

"I don’t..."

"Vincent... please. Don’t think. Just don’t think." Her breath danced across his face, and her words enticed him closer.

"If someone were to find us..." he desperately tried to rationalize.

"What? Will the world collapse... from just one kiss?" She whispered, her lips drawing ever closer, hungry for his. "Kiss me. Please."

He tried so hard to hold on to rational thought. He couldn’t do this, so many things could go wrong. What if he wasn’t able to stop himself? But, oh dear god, those lips! Those full lips that had seemed to beckon to him from the first moment she spoke his name. They were drawing so close to him, there was hardly anymore space between.

He wondered how her lips would feel against his. What would she taste like? Would she be offended if he did something wrong and he didn’t know it? What if he couldn’t stop himself?

"Kiss me." That voice tempted again. A siren’s call, luring him to his death.

"Catherine..." his last failed attempt at coherent thought.

She closed the gap between their lips before he could oppose one more time. There was no fumbling or hesitation, their mouths fit perfectly together. Catherine wrapped her arms up around his neck, pulling herself higher and tighter against his body. His form was so solid and tense against hers. The kiss was a shock obviously, but she couldn’t let it go now... now that his hands slid down to the small of her back. She had to remember that Vincent was unsure of how or what to do, so she took the next step as well and invitingly opened her mouth.

Vincent had frozen up at the initial shock of her mouth pressed against his. But, when she pulled herself closer into the kiss, he had simply reacted and pulled her tighter as well. He was hesitant for a second until her mouth opened to him, and his curiosity and passion overwhelmed him. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to know how it felt to have her in his mouth. He took a chance and hoped beyond hope that it was the right thing to do as he opened his mouth and immediately began searching her mouth with his tongue.

She gasped slightly, a little surprised that he had so quickly taken over the kiss. But she wouldn’t let him stop now. His rough tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, sending waves of shivers and chills up her spine. She was losing her breath as he sucked at her mouth. Was this happening? She was lost in the power of this kiss, in the power of him, that she was forgetting to breathe. He was heaving deep breaths now which made his body rock against hers, as he drank her in deeper and deeper. She needed to break away and breathe for a moment, but she didn’t want to lose this. If she broke away now, she wasn’t sure if he would come back to her.

But, it was Vincent who pulled away, breaking the kiss suddenly and looking up past Catherine. She caught her breath, and though she was a little worried that he was having an inner struggle, she thought it best to simply rest against his chest. She wouldn’t push this any more, she would merely rest her head and let him know that she was content... more than content.

But Vincent wasn’t still, as she had thought he might be trying to regain control, but was agitated and looked around frantically. "What is it?" She brought her head up and followed his gaze. She tried stroking his arm to calm him, but he groaned in frustration, and she felt him grow against her thigh. She stopped, and again followed where his eyes searched. "Vincent?"

He breathed heavily; he hadn’t wanted her to stop, but he had needed her to at the same time. Voices were drawing nearer. "The children," he answered quickly. Immediately, Vincent set Catherine back up on the sand, and pulled himself up onto land as well.

Catherine took a step back and watched him pull himself out of the water, using all the muscles he had to lift himself and his water-logged clothes out. She bit her lips, forcing her excitement down. She wanted his body curved against hers again, she wanted another kiss!

"Quickly," he told her, grabbing his own shirt off a nearby rock, and indicating for her to do the same. He took her hand and dragged her around the small lake, to an exit opposite the one the children were coming through in mass. He pulled her along as he ran expertly through the tunnels, guiding her to duck or jump when necessary.

She called to him repeatedly, trying to make him stop. "Vincent! Why are we running? Vincent!" But he never answered. But though she had no idea why she was racing through the tunnels with Vincent, or where they were going, she found a strange thrill in it. She laughed uncontrollably as she ran, which slowed her down. But Vincent wouldn’t slow... and he wouldn’t let her go.

Finally they were in a part of the tunnels that Catherine recognized, and he suddenly pulled her around a sharp corner and released her into his chamber. She fell back against his desk, nearly knocking over the bottle of ink, and laughing so hard that a stitch was forming in her side. She was panting, gasping for air, but she couldn’t stop laughing. "What was that?" she finally let out. When there was no response, she found Vincent’s eyes.

They were dark. Darker than she had ever seen them. He was not laughing, or even smiling for that matter. His demeanor was not what she had expected to find there, but intense, wanting, and unwilling to wait any longer. It took her a moment to calm down from her laughter, but his eyes were sobering her up quickly. Then, as if a hawk devouring prey, Vincent swooped in and molded her body to his in another deep kiss.

He pulled her up almost off the ground. It was like a dream, lost in each other, caught up in the passion and scent of one another until it was nearly too much. But they couldn’t stop, neither of them. Their kisses just went deeper and deeper, and they pulled and swayed with each other in such a way that neither could ignore their body’s responses.

Suddenly Vincent’s mouth was gone, he had pulled out of the kiss, but his body lingered, his hands... ‘her hands’ keeping her pressed into his body. Catherine moaned a bit at the loss of those silky lips, but he was quickly sucking at the base of her neck, nibbling and kissing her there. Her heart racing, her mind soaring, and her body positively aching for him to do this to every other inch of her body; she opened her eyes and gazed around the room. This was Vincent’s room. They were in the tunnels. The children were down at the waterfall. Father was not far away. She had come back to reality from that far-off, erotic wonderland she had been lost in.

"Vincent," she whispered softly, not really wanting him to stop, but knowing that it was necessary.

It was as if his own name was the catalyst of his downward spiral to Earth. He immediately stopped, slowly pulling himself away from her delicate and vulnerable neck. His arms loosened their grip and he took a single step back. "Catherine," he responded blankly, his eyes seeming to be searching his mind, trying to remember what had just happened.

But that one step was already too much. "No." She held his forearms, keeping him close to her. "Don’t run. Please don’t run from me."

He breathed heavily. His eyes never left hers, but he took in every ounce of the bond until he was sure that she was not harmed in anyway. In that moment, holding her feelings captive inside him, he found the most extreme want and passion that he had ever known. He found erotic images there, hopes and wishes and dreams no longer suppressed. They were now out there in the open for him to experience. Finally he spoke. "I don’t want to run."

She smiled a little, breathing in relief. "Are you all right?"

He seemed to be searching for the words to describe himself, trying to piece together something intelligent. To tell her that he was afraid for her, for himself even; and that he couldn’t stop now. He didn’t want to suppress this anymore... and he could feel all of that in her at the exact same time. "I..." he tried, and then just came out with, "I don’t know what’s going happen."

"Good." She smiled wider. "Because I don’t know either." She breathed heavily still, her breasts heaving against his diaphragm. And then his beautiful siren opened her mouth and sang for him again. "Kiss me again."

He heeded her call without hesitation. But, though he kissed her deeply, she came back with even more force; determined to take control of this one. She ravenously licked and sucked at his canines, coaxing out that wild and dark beast with everything in her. He felt that; he felt her; searching his soul for that demon, daring it, luring it out to play with her. He had to stop her, this was dangerous! Such a dangerous game they played now! But something in him wanted her to pull that beast out; to let all of those wild passions out at last. No! This was wrong... he would harm her... something would go wrong.

She was kissing him with such force now that she was pushing him backwards. When his mind came back to reality he was backed up against his bed. Anymore pressure from Catherine and his knees would give way; they’d both end up in his bed... together.

"Cather-" his garbled speech insisted, trying so hard to reach her.

But no, she was lost in her passion. Even when she got the hint that he wanted to speak, she still nipped and sucked at his pouty lower lip, coaxing him further and further.

"Catherine... this is dangerous." His breathing labored even more as she moved her kisses feather-light down his throat to where she concentrated at the base of his neck. "I might... I don’t know what’s going to happen." He unsuccessfully attempted to suppress the groan of pleasure as she strategically stroked his arms as she had before, moving her kisses down his chest and painfully teasing one nipple.

"We’ve already established that." She breathed hot against his chest, making everything stand on end, including the impatient bulge in his soaking wet jeans. "You taste so wonderful!" She whispered, kissing the one nipple she had been working on. "So exotic!"

"Oh, Catherine!" He clutched her close, terrified of the consequences, but stubbornly unwilling to let her go. "This is so dangerous!" He couldn’t fight the ironic passion in that sentence.

She wrapped her arms around his naked torso, holding him close to her, and looked up into his eyes. In a moment of sanity, she spoke her truth, for there was nothing else to hold back now. "That’s why I want it." The siren called for the last time. She wasn’t sure if it was the right or wrong thing to say, but it was the truth, it was herself and that’s all she had to give him.

He still seemed uncertain, though he never eased his grip on her. They had gone too far now... past the point of no return in Catherine’s mind. So she teased and egged him on shamelessly. "I want you, Vincent. I want to feel your body against mine. I want to taste your sweat. I want to know what you look like stripped of every restraint you’ve ever laid upon yourself. I want to know you better than anyone ever has." And then the truest statement of all, the one that sent him over the edge into oblivion. "I want to feel you inside me, Vincent. The warmth and caress of you inside me. And I want you to claim that place inside me. I want you to claim all of me; body, mind, and soul... now."

And he was gone; over the edge... literally. He had fallen backwards into his bed, where he now sat and watched hungrily as she took a step away from him. With no agenda or strategy, Catherine stripped off her tank top and simply dropped it at her feet. She smiled seductively as he lurched forward, now sitting on the edge of the bed. She came toward him slightly, teasingly within his reach. Slowly and deliberately, she began to work her sopping wet jean shorts down her thighs.

Though it didn’t take long at all for her to be free of the jeans, it was maddening for Vincent to watch her; her lithe movements, her dark and seductive stare, her soaked hair slapping against her ivory skin forming a sort of tattoo splayed across her shoulders. The smell of her assaulted his senses. He wanted to taste her again. He wanted to touch all the skin that was now exposed to him; to know if that skin tasted any different from her mouth. He saw her breasts just waiting, aching to be free of the strapless bra that held them captive... and he wanted to free them! He gave her only enough time to step out of the shorts before he captured her willing body again.

His soft and strong arms wrapped around her middle and arched her into him as he licked and sucked at her belly. His rough tongue teased at her belly button sending uncontrollable shivers through her, through the bond. She rocked with his breath, wanting more and more, deeper and deeper. She tried to force him in a direction, up or down, a step further. But he stayed put, taunting her with the possibilities, making her reel with anticipation. Soon her legs gave way and she curled them underneath herself so that she was now sitting on his lap, straddling his hips, tightening her thighs around him and leaning back to allow him free access. She stroked his hair as his powerful and textured hands ran the length of her, from shoulders, past her knees, down to the heels of her feet.

He ran his hands back up her tight, strong legs, trickling his nails behind when he discovered she would gasp whenever he did so. But he stopped when one claw caught on something. He froze, terrified that he had injured her, that he had been too rough and let his claws pierce her perfect skin.

"What?" She asked breathlessly, following him into an upright position. She followed his eyes to the source and smiled wantingly.

It was her panties, flesh toned, and silken as her own skin. They clung to her as if hiding her, guarding her against him. At this he raised his eyes to meet hers. This was the point of no return. This was the moment, if ever, that the demon, she so claimed she craved, was unleashed. He wanted to see her, he wanted to know that she was all right as he began his descent into his primal self. He looked into her eyes and found her searching for that beast, calling out to him, daring him to come to the edge and see what delights she offered him.

"Let go." She told him softly. "I’ll be all right. Just let go." As if he were a child, she nodded her encouragement until he was nodding along with her, dipping his head into the warm spot he had made with his tongue on her belly. "Do it!" She whispered, leaning back again so that the top edge of her panties were only centimeters away from his caressing lips.

With only a moment’s hesitation, he trickled his hand back up to her hips. Her breaths were heavier now, dipping her belly deep into itself and then coming back up to press against his lips. He gingerly tucked his fingers into the center of her panties and slowly worked his fingers into the silky material. With a barely audible rip, she was free of the panties and he had already begun his descent into that hidden place.

She bit her lips to suppress her delighted cry. She felt him go, he came to her now in that dark and primal state. And she egged it on, happily. She was losing herself in him. In his hot breath, his deep grunts and his teeth scraping at the base of her hips. She was dizzy with the excitement that mounted. He was so low now... so close to her. She bucked and thrust her hips up into him, grinding against him in wanting.

But suddenly he was gone, and his teeth grazed back up toward that place on her belly where he began. But he didn’t stop, his lips, tongue, and teeth all moved higher, further until he was inevitably stopped again by restraining material. Catherine came up with him, her hair brushing the tops of her breasts, dripping water down onto them in a stream. He saw those two wonderful mounds of flesh already creeping their way out, revolting against the bra. Impatiently he searched for a thin, weak spot in the material, or at least somewhere it would easily come off.

Catherine giggled at the sight of him in such a desperate hurry to reach her breasts. Tauntingly she leaned into his ear and whispered; "It’s going to take a lot more force to get this off of me."

Taking it as intended, a challenge, Vincent gripped the material at her back and tore it apart with one yank. The bra discarded, Catherine was forced to giggle again when she watched him debate which to pay attention to first. Suddenly he had a hold of her shoulders and was kissing her again, deeply; probing his tongue into her mouth. Leaving her rocking and breathless, his voice was near a growl, and his dark eyes telling her he was in control now, warning her. "No teasing." He trailed his kisses down her neck and back to her breasts where he decided on the left one, taking her nipple into his mouth as a baby would, biting and sucking at it.

With coy and sadistic glee, Catherine scooted her way up, running her hands innocently over every inch of his body. She bided her time, waiting for that moment when he was lost, concentrated only on his task of memorizing ever detail of her breasts. And when that moment came, when she could feel his defenses weaken, she let her hands drift beyond his waist.

He never noticed the buckle unhook, or even the material loosen as the zipper was undone. Only when she had grasped him in her hands did he care to realize where Catherine was in the middle of all this. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers. Her eyes had gone dark now, dark and smoky; now they looked more like an impending storm rolling over the green sea. His pupils had widened, as an animal’s would as it stalks its prey.

"Hello." Catherine spoke a single word with different meanings within it. Was she reminding Vincent that she was still there, waiting? Or was she greeting the new creature that had emerged in this heat?

Either way, he only nodded his acknowledgment. He couldn’t have moved if he had wanted to, the most delicate part of him held captive in her hands. So, surrendering to her control over him, he ever so sweetly captured her lower lip, kissing and sucking at it.

She let him surrender to her for just a few moments, before dipping her head into the kiss that awaited her. That salty sweet kiss, full of dangers and joys, sorrows and strength. Their entire relationship, their lives summed up in that kiss. This complicated kiss ran as deep as their emotions. The bond was wide open between them, so much so that they couldn’t tell whose emotions were whose. They were so near telepathic that it made them want to drink each other in; deeper and deeper until they really could read each other’s minds.

She heard him... she could hear his emotions drumming at a increasing rate in her ears. Pounding faster and faster. He couldn’t hold on much longer, his orgasm threatening to take over. In a mutual flow of motion, Catherine’s hands left him to wrap around his neck, deepening that kiss even further.

Vincent’s arms circled her waist and pulled her up off his lap. She inhaled sharply, already knowing what was coming, her heart racing with anticipation. He brought her down, hard and fast on his erection. For a second or so there was discomfort and pain, and the kiss was frozen in shock. There was no preparing for the size of him within her, especially when he seemed to grow even larger now that he was actually inside.

He was buried in her. Lost in her. In her scent, in her moans, in her taste, in the strength of her thighs tightening around his hips, in her warm wetness that welcomed his throbbing erection. That overwhelming joy, that sense of home transferred back and forth between the bond. He knew of her discomfort, but she seemed to recover quickly, and she was lost in the same erotic haze as he.

Her hips thrust and rolled against his, grinding him deeper and deeper within her. His kisses trailed down along her jaw, and he eventually sucked at the base of her neck and shoulder.

The expanse of him moving inside her set her mind in a frenzy. She tried to keep her eyes open, she wanted to watch him, but she couldn’t even manage that. Her eyes were shut tight and she gulped in deep breaths in an instinctual response to try to think clearly. With her mouth wide open and her eyes squeezed shut, she looked as if she were screaming, but it would have been a feat for her body to perform any task other than the rocking against her lover that kept her from coming out of her skin.

"Catherine..." how he managed speech at this moment was beyond her, "I’ve been holding on for so long..."

"Let it out!" She managed to release between gasps. "Just let it out!"

She bit down on his shoulder as he exploded within her. Small squeaks escaped her as he released his life within her. She took deep, sharp breaths as they rocked together, his orgasm seeming to last a lifetime. He growled her name, over and over again into her neck. Her name... she loved the sound of her name on his lips. His lips... she wanted to kiss him. She wanted his mouth again.

Softly, gently, she removed her teeth from his shoulder, sucking and kissing away any injury she may have inflicted. She was elated to see there was none. He thrust and rocked inside her. Her indestructible lover!

She was so delicate against him, and yet this fire that burned in her belly seemed stronger than he ever could be. Her erotic cries of joy, she had bitten into his shoulder, her wild passion had only inflamed him more. He wanted more of her. He wanted to taste more of her. He wanted to feel her hair between those gentle and deadly fingers that she so loved.

She turned her head, searching for that kiss.

He raised his hand to capture that face.

And the world stopped.

She was still lost... her own orgasm still rocking her body out of her rational thought. But as she slowly descended back to Earth, her eyes opened to a terrible sight. Vincent, frozen, staring wildly into her confused eyes. He raised his hand between them, and the tips of his claws glistened with fresh blood. Slowly she touched her chin and was immediately aware of the sharp, biting pain that coursed along her jaw.

They stared at each other for a long time, still intimately joined, but stunned still. She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t get any sound to escape her. Their minds whirled together, the thoughts piling on top of each other in a complete jumble. Who’s anger was it? Who was confused still? Whose first instinct was it to run?

"You’re bleeding." Vincent only managed in a whisper. She nodded slightly, still unsure of what to do. But Vincent immediately set to action.

He lifted her off of him, his hands slipping slightly from the sweat that permeated her body. She shrieked slightly from the pain of being suddenly detached from him, and then moaned along with her body at the loss of him. She tried to protest, tried to reassure, but she could hardly breathe, much less speak.

He set her gently on the bed beside him and immediately removed himself from his spot. Without so much as a glance to her, Vincent found dry clothes and dressed himself, attempting to hide what was left of his arousal. "Get dressed! I’m going to get Father."

She was half sprawled on his bed, completely naked, and her nether region throbbing in pain. He was already out of the chamber before she managed a quiet; "Vincent! Don’t stop..."

 

30. Falling
November, 1997
 

It pointed at him, as if accusing him of some heinous crime. It jabbed at him as a knife would; threatening. The wound had healed many years ago and only a slight scar was left as a reminder, but to Vincent it seemed red and inflamed; a testament of the reason of its existence. It pointed at him as if to say, "There! There is my creator! Remove him, quickly, before he inflicts another like me on this poor woman!"

But despite the obvious guilt coursing through him at that very moment, Vincent didn’t run. And he was proud that he didn’t. Lightly, he ran his fingers over the scar, as if soothing a defiant child. Catherine stirred slightly from his touch. He stopped, fearing her awakening.

It had been a moment. A beautiful moment, yes. They had instantly rekindled the passion of so many years ago; she hadn’t protested, and he hadn’t worried... to each other’s surprise. But still, he stared down at that scar, his fear attacking him suddenly, and he wondered if she would be afraid to find that the night had not been a dream, as she had repeatedly made him promise until she fell asleep. What if she awoke and fled at the sight of him lying beside her? He would die in that moment, that’s what. She wouldn’t, he knew she wouldn’t. Vincent smiled in spite of himself; old fears die hard.

There had been some strange change in him since she left the tunnels. As cliché as it was, he hadn’t truly realized that she would leave until she did. He had sent her away, as he had many times before, with the intention of separating from her, but somewhere in the back of his mind he believed that she would always come back. All those other times that he had pushed her away, she’d come back almost immediately. There was some security in the knowledge of that. But, then she had truly left and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. He convinced himself that it was ‘for the best’ for the first few months. But, as Jacob had grown older, Vincent began doubting himself.

Looking back, it was easier to accept himself and dispense his fears after he’d admitted that she’d gone. Without her there, with the Bond closed off, he wasn’t constantly worried for her. He could think things through more clearly. He watched his son grow and he was reminded of how wonderful, beautiful, and special his relationship with Catherine had been. It wasn’t some freak accident that they had become attached to; it was something genuinely real. So, even though he still blamed himself for driving her away, it wasn’t the fact that he had hurt her, but the way he’d handled the situation that he chastised himself for. With that bit of maturity gained and a single look at his perfect Jacob, he was able to accept that what had happened wasn’t the wrong step to take; simply the wrong way to go about it.

And now the first result of this incident pointed at him furiously. The scar he had left on her chin, though fully healed, depressed him almost as badly as when he had created it. He smiled, despite his guilt. That one moment, eight years ago, had resulted in three equally powerful forces. The first had been the scar that had initially ripped him and Catherine apart, and now served as a reminder of the one moment they’d both tried to forget. The second had been Anna with her intuition and inexplicable knowledge that Vincent and Catherine had once shared; this alone seemed to be what had drawn the couple back to each other. And the third was Jacob... everyone’s darling. Jacob was the representation of all his parent’s relationship had been; something that the world had never known; constantly putting himself in a dangerous situation and not caring about the outcome. These three created some kind of extraordinary circle around Vincent and Catherine, as if the glue holding them together.

More appreciative, and less guilty, Vincent ran his fingers over the scar again and somehow it seemed less red or inflamed... it no longer accused him. Suddenly her hand closed around his fingers with only enough force to bring his hand down between them. He looked into her face and found her eyes still contentedly closed; she wasn’t really awake yet.

"Don’t think about it," she whispered dreamily to him. She rolled closer and breathed in his scent. "Are you really here?" she asked for the millionth time.

But he only smiled at her and kissed her gently. "Yes, love. I’m here."

"Well, don’t wake me up," she mumbled, falling deeper into her sleep, "just in case."

Vincent looked over the curves of her body held against him, to the window displaying the faint pink light, lining the New York City skyline. "Catherine," he began, only half wanting to wake her, "I have to go."

She moaned some sort of protesting negative response. His heart stopped for a moment. He was lying beside Catherine... in the wee hours of the morning... and she wanted him to stay. Him, no one else. She had pushed her friend, Joe, out of the apartment, but was protesting his departure. He sighed in the comfort of that thought.

Slowly he disentangled himself from her arms and legs, albeit reluctantly. She moaned even more, reaching for him even as he gently guided her arms away from him. He watched her sleep for only a moment; the morning light closing in on him rapidly. How had she maintained such total, utter perfection; her skin, her hair, her smile, her speech? Had he not appreciated the full complexity of her beauty before? Is that how he let her slip away?

Yes. He remembered how he felt about her at the beginning of their relationship; a beautiful chaste goddess to worship stared into his eyes those nights. He hadn’t seen, he didn’t realize, she was none of that at all. She was no far away goddess. She was flesh and bone woman, not to be worshiped, but to be loved in every way imaginable. And now, even that wasn’t enough. She was everything; a woman, a mother, a fighter, a best friend, a lover, a soul to comfort and be comforted.

He bent over the bed once more, cupping her cheek and kissing her goodbye. This was an amazing feeling! It was so casual and comfortable. He looked back at her as he was leaving; his Catherine, the mother of his children, his confidant, his friend... his lover...

He admitted the title to himself, trying to suppress the blood rushing to his cheeks. He climbed down into the first sleepy winks of morning light.

***********

"Vincent?" Catherine’s eyes squinted, barely open, streaming sunlight inhibiting her vision. She glanced around the room, trying to find him; she could swear he had just been there. Maybe it had been a dream... just another dream. Catherine rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her tangled hair quickly. She was so exhausted that she just threw the covers off herself and didn’t move for another five minutes. Finally, resigned to it, she sat up.

Immediate confirmation; it was no dream! Everything from the waist, down was stiff and aching. She was sitting on her bed in her open robe... and yes, she was definitely naked. After nearly a decade of dreaming, Vincent had finally been real.

Elated at her own sedate attitude toward this, Catherine smiled. She loved Vincent... and that was okay! It was amazing! It was wonderful! ‘He must have left early this morning,’ she mused. Suddenly light-headed and feeling a tingling in her stomach, she tucked her knees up to her chin and grinned, allowing herself to simply revel in the memory of him.

The phone on her night-stand rang.

"Hello?" Catherine found herself startled by the oddly soft tone of her voice.

"Cathy? Are you bailing on me again?" Jenny accused playfully on the other end of the line.

"What?" Catherine groped for her alarm clock, which somehow seemed to have fallen off of her night-stand.

"Lunch, you and me and Anna, planned this since last week?" Jenny tried to jog her memory, thoroughly amused at how consistent her friend was at forgetting things.

"Oh! Oh my god! What time is it?" She found the clock under the bed and set it on the pillow next to her.

"Noonish." Jenny told her casually. "I figured you’d forget so I called you early."

"Oh, Jen, I’m sorry. Are you there now? I’m on my way." Catherine stumbled out of her bed attempting to get to the bathroom, but her aching legs protested.

"Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll order you some coffee so it’s ready when you get here. Are you just getting out of bed?"

"It was a long night." Catherine rolled her eyes as if Jenny could see her sarcasm. "I’ll be there soon." She shut off the phone and threw it on the bed as she scuttled across the hall into the bathroom. ‘A shower will feel amazing!’

With an easy smile, Catherine fell into the chair across from Jenny with a little sigh. "Did you know this café is only a short walk from me?" She spoke hurriedly, immediately picking up the menu at her place and burying her nose in it. "It always felt like such a long trip. But I walked it today," she snapped her fingers, "just like that!" Another deep, breathless sigh. "So, how’s... oh, that chicken sandwich looks amazing!"

Jenny suddenly pulled the menu away from her friend’s face. Her confused expression and furrowed brow met Catherine’s energetic and alert face. "Hi." Jenny spoke, a little nervous and skeptical.

"Hey, sorry." Catherine giggled and pulled the menu back up.

"Refills?" The teenage waitress approached them, coffee pot in hand.

"That’d be great! Thanks!" Catherine practically threw the menu aside and watched the coffee pour as if it was her only source of nutrition in the last week.

Jenny watched Catherine sip at her coffee and then once again pull the menu in front of her face. "Yeah. I’m getting the chicken sandwich. Oo! It comes with a pickle!"

"Okay," Jenny, now convinced that her best friend had finally gone over the edge, pulled the menu away from her, "what happened?"

"Nothing." Catherine shook her head, her alert eyes glazed with innocence.

"No, you practically skipped in here! And you’re excited about a pickle." Jenny examined her with narrow eyes. "What’s with you?"

"Nothing!" Catherine insisted, trying to snatch the menu back with no success.

"No, something’s going on." Jenny leaned close to her as if that would help. "Where’s Anna?"

"Um," Catherine’s eyes dropped into her coffee, "she’s... actually, she’s staying at her father’s for the weekend."

"That’s great! That is great, isn’t it?" Jenny second guessed her reaction.

"It is great!" Catherine was just glad that Jenny wasn’t upset. "She left last night, she was so excited! I’ve got the whole apartment to myself..." she smiled ruefully.

Jenny drew a long deep breath, her eyes widening as her thought dawned on her. "Oh my god!" she began slowly, almost not believing her instincts.

"What?" Catherine did a quick glance around herself, hoping that it wasn’t really her Jenny’s wide eyes were trained on.

"Oh my god, I don’t believe it." Jenny’s expression turned to a full grin.

"No. Jenny... no." Catherine insisted as if she could banish the thought from her friend’s mind.

And that was the reaction to confirm it. "Oh my god, you did!"

‘Change the subject! Change the subject!’ Catherine willed herself, furiously. "So, are those desserts any good?"

Trying desperately to silence her giggling, Jenny leaned forward, creating the sexual innuendo with her mischievous expression. "I dunno, you tell me." She couldn’t hold it in any more, the laughter burst out of her nowhere near discreetly.

Catherine dropped her head on the edge of the table and squeezed her eyes closed as if she could will this situation away. "Please Jen, don’t do this."

Hushed only a little, but still giggling uncontrollably, Jenny gasped periodically for breath. "Wait! Wait, you’ve got to tell me who it was!" She bounced in her seat and then squealed, "Oh my god, I don’t believe this!"

"I want to crawl under a rock and die." Catherine mumbled to herself. A sudden quick, dramatic breath from the opposite end of the table made Catherine look up. "No! Jen, don’t!" She warned.

"Oh my god!" Jenny continued as if Catherine had never spoken.

"Jenny!" she warned. "I mean it!"

"You slept with Vincent!" Jenny whispered across the table, even though the entire café could hear her.

"Thank you, Jenny!" Catherine burst sarcastically, gesturing to the room full of people. "Thank you for that announcement!"

"Cathy, look around you. This is New York City... they don’t care!" Jenny went back to her attempt at a confidential conversation. "Okay, you have to tell me all about it!"

"I don’t believe this." Catherine buried her face in her hands. "This isn’t happening!"

"No!" Jenny tried to clear Catherine’s hands away from her face. "Don’t be embarrassed. Cath," she dropped her voice, true secrecy this time. "Not to be crude but, you haven’t gotten laid in almost eight years." She went back to her normal tone, discretion thrown to the wind. "If I were you, I’d be shouting it from the rooftops right about now."

A smile began to grow at the corners of Catherine’s mouth, and her cheeks flushed a bright pink. She giggled slightly, her gaze dropped to her coffee again. She could feel Jenny’s stare, waiting apprehensively. This was okay. It was okay to be in love again. Quickly, she took a deep breath, covered her warm face with her hands, and then pushed her hair back behind her ears. "I feel like a teenager!"

"I’ll bet!" Jenny leaned across the table again. "Look at how red you are! It must’ve been some night!"

"Oh, Jen..." Catherine gave another audible breath. "Words do not describe!"

"Oo!" Jenny finally just jumped into the chair next to Catherine, elated at the open conversation she was now granted. "You have to tell me all!"

"I don’t know..." she was smiling and she couldn’t stop. "He was so different! Before, he was always so shy. He was unsure of himself, and truly afraid. We walked on eggshells around each other for a year! But last night..." she closed her eyes and sighed dramatically.

"That good, huh?" Jenny’s eyes were wide, excitedly talking in the story.

"Jenny... I woke up this morning and I thought I had dreamt it." She smiled ironically. "Until I tried to walk." Catherine sipped her coffee and watched her friend’s eyes widen even further.

"Wow." Jenny stated blandly, as if unsure how to respond. "Does he have a brother?"

Catherine laughed, a full laugh. She thought about answering the question, but quickly decided against it. "What about Greg?"

"Yeah... Greg’s nice." Jenny sighed with no real conviction behind her words.

"Oh, come on! You two get along great!" Catherine attempted to encourage this relationship for the hundredth time.

"Catherine," Jenny leaned toward her in confidence, "I have a life, but it’s not much of one. Yours is much more exciting! It’s like a soap opera that I can’t stop watching."

"Um... thank you?" Catherine took a gulp of coffee.

"You’re welcome." Jenny nodded sincerely. "Okay... so, it is now the day after some of the most amazing sex of your life! Now what?"

Catherine shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well, I mean... what about Vincent? Where does this leave you two?"

"No idea." Catherine shook her head. "We have talked. I know that he had no idea that I was pregnant... we’ve moved past all of that. Honestly, Jenny... I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen now. I just... I just want to be swept away by him for a little while before I try to over-think it."

Jenny was quiet for a minute, and then spoke the softest she had since Catherine walked in. "Wow... it sounds like a fairytale." The two high school friends shared a smile that took a while to fade. "Do you love him, Cathy?"

"I always have, Jenny." Catherine spoke with no shyness or embarrassment. "Since the day I heard his voice, I’ve been in love with him."

************************

Sweeping his thick mane away from his perspiring forehead, Catherine reveled in the feel of his breath gliding across her neck. She kissed his head gently, and was awarded a kiss at the base of her neck in return. He was breathing heavily on top of her, but the weight of him wasn’t uncomfortable yet and she wanted to keep him held to her breast for as long as possible. She felt a small chuckle come from him. "You’re smiling," she stated with a smile of her own.

"You’re wonderful." Vincent kissed her collarbone and gave a sigh that rolled across her chest.

She ran her fingers lightly down his cheek until she captured his chin and lifted his eyes to hers. Sea-foam green locked with ocean-deep blue. "Why?"

Vincent tilted his head so that his cheek was cradled in her palm. "Why what?"

She shook her head silently for a moment, a bit of the amazement on her face illuminated in the dark room. "Why me? Out of all the women who’ve ever fallen for you... Why me?"

Vincent, slowly and carefully, slid upward and captured her lips in a deep kiss. He held her there, sinking deeper into the pillow until both lost their breaths, and he trailed his kisses back down her throat until he was nestled back into her breasts. "No other woman has ever loved me, Catherine."

"Vincent," she rolled her eyes, even though he didn’t see it. "Don’t even try to play that card."

"No, honestly," he implored, never raising his eyes to hers. "They’ve been curious, infatuated, in need of comfort so much so that they’ve projected their need to me. But none of them... none but you, have ever truly, purely," he chuckled, "and stubbornly loved me."

She sighed, satisfied, as she stroked his hair and let her eyes drift closed.

"Of course," he began again, the hint of a joke in his tone, "it doesn’t hurt that none of these other women have ever been the mother of my children."

The couple giggled for a few seconds and then again fell into blissful silence. Slowly, after a deep sigh, Catherine rolled her head to face her open window.

"I heard you today." Vincent stated quietly.

"Did you?" Catherine smiled, hoping that the sun would never rise as she starred at the skyline.

"Mm." He nodded. "I was at the River of Voices. You were arguing with someone."

"I could have been anywhere then." She closed her eyes. Maybe, as small children often believe, if she closed her eyes, the daylight would never reach them. "There’s a hole in the case I’m working on. I ended up at the office for half the day."

"Yes... that explains your anxiety today." Vincent mumbled, nuzzling at her neck.

Catherine’s eyes opened slowly and she lifted her head off the pillow, forcing him to look at her. "Vincent... did you sense me today?"

Once again, no answer, he just kissed her, pressing her back into the bed, and shifting his weight to relieve her for the minutes that he held her captive. Finally he rolled off onto his back and pulled her along side of him. She cuddled close into his side and tangled her legs with his.

Positions switched, Catherine kissed the crook of his neck and then set her chin on her hand, looking up at him. "When Anna was five, she started Kindergarten. But I was always getting phone calls that she was leaving the class when the teacher wasn’t looking. They always found her though. Another teacher down the hall had a collection of Shakespeare’s works. She couldn’t read most of it yet, but the book had illustrations, and they would find her sitting all alone in the classroom just staring at the pictures. Those were the moments that I missed you the most."

Vincent smiled, imagining his little girl absorbed in the stories her father loved. He ran his hand the length of Catherine’s back repeatedly as he told his story.

"Jacob was three the first time I took him into the park. He wouldn’t sleep, and he wouldn’t let me leave, so I brought him with me. It was a full moon that night, I wanted him to see it. But when we finally were out in a clearing large enough, he was upset to the point of tears. He was so disappointed that it wasn’t brighter. He had wanted to see everything in its full illumination and hated the moon for not being bright enough. He didn’t speak to me for a day and a half because I wouldn’t allow him to climb a tree later that night. The next week I took him back and let him climb it." Vincent pulled her close and kissed her hair. "He never looked so like you as he did that night. So happy to be precariously balanced in the branches, so far away from the earth."

Catherine breathed in Vincent’s scent as she imagined little Jacob looking out at the park as she had done as a child. Her heart lurched for a second and she suddenly realized how her father had felt as he watched his little girl climb into those dangerous branches.

"I’m starting to fall asleep," she stated listlessly, some time later.

"You’ve had a difficult couple of days." Vincent pulled her hair away from her face.

"Oh!" she began dreamily, "I almost forgot. Jenny got tickets for her and Anna to go to this children’s museum exhibit. It’s tomorrow. I hate to cut off her time with you, but Jenny’s been trying for weeks to get these tickets, and..."

"It’s all right." He spoke soothingly, only lulling her into a deeper sleep. "To tell the truth, I’ve hardly had time with them. She’s made some fast friends down there."

"Really?" Catherine’s eyebrows wrinkled against her closed eyes. "She’s never made friends up here." She yawned. "Not even one close friend... until Jacob." She was slipping into the cocoon of sleep.

"She’ll be ready, noon tomorrow. You can pick her up at the park entrance." Vincent spoke hurriedly to be sure she heard before she fell asleep.

Catherine nodded and nuzzled into his side. "How long will you be here?" She added, already lost in dreamland

"Forever," he whispered in her ear and he watched her fall into sleep with the sweetest smile across her lips.

 

31. What’s Next To Come
April, 1989
 

"Well..." Father held Catherine’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, examining the cut along her jawline, " it’s not life-threatening." He was trying to lighten the dark and uncomfortable mood that hung in the room. It didn’t work. "It will need a few stitches, but I think you’ll live."

Catherine, perched on Vincent’s bed, tried to give a reassuring look to the brooding figure in the far corner of the room. Father rummaged in his medical case, completely unaware of the non-verbal conversation being carried on next to him.

She tried to find his beautiful eyes in the shadows that shrouded him, but Vincent turned away, avoiding her. So she took it a step further and sent the strongest emotions she could manage through the bond and her gaze. But Vincent shifted his body away from her and attempted to focus on something else in the room.

"It seems I’ve left the thread in my chamber." Father, a little frustrated, came up between Catherine and Vincent from his med-bag. "You just..." Father found Catherine’s eyes trained unavoidably on Vincent. Her expression was so terribly enigmatic. He couldn’t tell if she was angry at him, sad, or simply curious of what was going through his mind at the moment. Father sensed the impending possibility of an argument and hurriedly made an exit. "You just sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes."

There was silence. Everything was silent. The clocks ticked, and the sounds of the children playing around the bend was carried through the chamber, but there was no sound for Catherine and Vincent; only each other’s haggard breathing.

"Vincent..." Catherine ventured with only her timid voice.

"No." He cut her off with such conviction it was almost a command.

Taking his tone as it was meant, she gathered her strength and challenged him back. "Vincent, look at me."

Silence from the shadowy corner.

"Look at me!" She sat forward even more as if that inch closer would prevent him from turning away. A dull pain ached between her legs; the memory of him held, not in her mind, but there.

"I can’t," he admitted in an emphatic whisper.

He was crying, but Catherine saw no tears. Through the bond, her sweet Vincent was weeping, sobbing, pining, aching, loathing. "Oh, my love..."

"No!" He was much more forceful this time. The desired effect was achieved, Catherine sat still in her place. "Just please keep away from me."

Catherine only nodded. "What do we do now?"

"I don’t know," he breathed. The silence came again, thick and heavy, as if it could be seen in the air. It became too much for Vincent, and he came out of his corner to pace at a distance from her.

His pace was quick and though he was on the other side of the room, she swore she could feel the breeze created by him. The scent of him lingered on his body and wafted across her nose at each of his turns.

"We both know what we should do now," Vincent stated, alluding to the very thing he was afraid of.

Catherine knew what he meant, but she chose to feign ignorance. "And what is that?" She asked delicately.

"You have to leave." His pace never slowed and his eyes never met hers. "We have to end this. Get as far away from me as possible, Catherine."

"Vincent..." she was already off the bed and headed toward him.

"Don’t!" He spun toward her, stopped and waiting for her next move... dreading it.

She didn’t come any closer, but she wouldn’t stop her tongue. "Vincent, honestly... it’s all right." He began pacing again furiously. "You heard Father, I’ll live!" She tried to reassure.

"Yes, you will!" he affirmed with more conviction than she’d have liked. His simple pacing had become an actual mission. He found her duffle, serving as her overnight bag, and threw it gently into the chair nearest her. "Go on, take it." He looked at her now, but kept as much distance between them as he could manage. "Go far away. Far beyond my reach. So far that you won’t even chance seeing me." He was weeping, that inward weep that made Catherine’s heart shatter. These broken pieces stung as a visible tear slid down his cheek. "Go so far away that I will no longer be able to... feel you anymore. Where I won’t be able to hurt you."

"Please Vincent..." she took a step forward, but stopped.

"Catherine, will you listen to me?! Just this once, listen to me!" He breathed heavily, and she glanced around herself awkwardly. "It’s happened. We tried." He seemed to be forcing the words out. How to be delicate after so intimate an encounter? "There’s no shame in that. We tried. It just cannot be. We just weren’t meant to be."

"How..." She was nearly at a loss for words, she was so offended. "How could you say that?! I’m not ashamed, Vincent! Far from it! I am proud! I am so proud of us, Vincent! I am so proud of you!"

"How could you be proud of this, Catherine?!" He paced again, back and forth. "You’re proud that I hurt you? That our worst fear has come true?"

"Whose worst fear?" She challenged back. "Vincent, do you really think that I’ve never been in any way injured during sex?"

He glanced around himself nervously. What a terrible word; sex. So dark and animalistic. So much... what he had just done to her.

"I’m sorry, that was harsh." She was quiet again. "It happens, Vincent. Accidents happen. In ‘the throes of passion’ anything can happen."

"No... no, this can’t happen... not for you," he insisted.

"Vincent." She couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh. "You’re being unreasonable!"

"This isn’t a game, Catherine!" he hollered. "What if I wasn’t able to stop myself?"

"I wouldn’t be as sore as I am right now," she argued honestly.

"Why are you dismissing this as if it were nothing?" An argument. He was truly angry with her, and they were having their first real argument.

"Why are you trying to make this into something it’s not?" she hollered back, just as fierce and determined as he.

"Because it is something, Catherine! It is something! It’s something I’ve prayed would never happen... and now it has," he finished quietly. He could feel Catherine’s anger ready and waiting to bubble to the surface. She was offended, and she wasn’t about to be as delicate as he was attempting to be.

"Now, I’m confused," she began with a calm tone, and fire in her eyes. "Which part of all this were you ‘praying would never happen’?"

"Catherine..." he looked away, thoroughly embarrassed, ashamed.

Her arms were folded now as her stare bore down on him. "No, I just want to be clear about all this. I was under the impression that we cared deeply about each other, and that we have simple progressed to the next stage, finally! But, if I’m wrong..."

"No, Catherine... I love you." Oddly enough it was difficult to say. Vincent had told her his feelings so easily before. But the simple, common, three word phrase seemed as if it was stuck in his throat.

"Well... I’m glad we established that," she interjected sarcastically.

"Stop mocking the situation!" That slid out easily enough.

"What else would you have me do with such a ridiculous situation?"

"Please take this seriously! Catherine... I have always been terrified of hurting you. You know that!" He paced again, not looking at her, but at the floor.

"I do know that." She was quiet and completely serious. "But I also know you. And I know myself. And you are not a boy anymore... and I am not Lisa. I’m not the delicate flower you take me for." Her voice went quiet; intimate. "I’m also not a virgin, Vincent. I’m very much experienced at this."

He stopped. A nearly silent voice, "I know."

"So believe me when I tell you," she was slowly advancing on him, as if quick movements might scare him away, "that you have done nothing that isn’t completely normal." She reached a tentative hand up behind him to rest on his shoulder.

Before her hand ever made contact with him, Vincent had spun around and backed away from her. He fled to a corner and pinned himself there. "Please don’t come near."

"Vincent..." she pleaded, starting forward again, her hand outstretched to him.

"Don’t touch me!!"

The world was frozen for those moments. Vincent, melding himself into the corner as if a frightened animal. Catherine, stunned still and a little afraid herself of what would happen next.

No warning, no catalyst, Vincent merely made a frantic dash out of the chamber. Catherine had a hold on his arm for only a second before he broke out of her grip. She chased him out to the tunnel, but only caught a glimpse of him disappearing behind to rock wall.

"Vincent!!" she called futilely, tears forming.

"Catherine." Father’s soft voice approached from behind. "He’ll be all right. Come along." He tried to pull her, but she wouldn’t move. "Come along, dear. Let’s get you stitched up."

 

32. Be All My Sins Remembered
November, 1997
 

Central Park. It was amazing how some strategically placed trees, fences, walk-ways, and bushes could hold so many details of Catherine’s life. An oasis amid an ongoing metropolis, the groundwork for the most major and minor details of her life. As a child she had visited the park to climb trees... to be closer to her mother. As a teen she had sat and studied. As a young adult it was a bit of a romantic getaway. Later, when the magic of this park seemed to have died for her, Vincent had rescued her. Suddenly there was no other place she loved more. Central Park was the gateway to her hopes and dreams... to him.

And then, she lost him... or he lost her. The details of their separation would never be clear. For seven long years Central Park was the enemy. It held nothing but beautiful memories that hurt to remember. Everywhere she turned she found traces of Vincent, and even when she didn’t, she saw the children delivering messages, or Helpers delivering goods. She had raised Anna to stay away from the park, which only worked for a few years. The park was a haunting memory that she couldn’t escape.

Catherine breathed in the crisp Central Park air; very different from the New York City air. Winter was approaching; the heavy, bitter smell of impending snow in the air. The park was beautiful in winter; it sparkled and glittered, a winter wonderland of it’s own definition. There wasn’t much beauty now, autumn had passed and Central Park was held in stasis, waiting for winter to blanket it. The trees were unattractively bare and the colorful leaves that would typically layer the ground were few and far between; only a couple had escaped the city’s maintenance crews.

As she walked, she let the memories fill her up. In the clearing to her left Vincent had told her of the first time he’d ever seen the moon. She smiled, someday Jacob would be able to tell his story too. A little way further up the hill was where she had been thrown out of a van, bleeding to death, a decade ago. Had it only been that long? If she took a right and walked a little further, she’d be in the exact spot Paracelsus’ hit men had attacked her on motorcycles. The tree, now to her left, was the one she had climbed the day she made peace with her father’s death. She turned to her right, and there it was...

The tunnel. A million moments, memories, were spent at the mouth of this tunnel. Slowly, with more trepidation, she climbed down inside. The darkness engulfed her, leaving her blind for a moment or two and then the rusty tin and dirt layered floor filled up her senses. She stared at the door for a while, unmoving. She remembered how dreamy and whimsical it used to seem to her. It was never dark or dirty. It was a magical portal to her heart’s desire.

Voices; echoes of moments shared in this very spot. A life that was left behind long ago.

"Let me come Below! Let me stay in your world! Let me try!"

"Providence is when... something is meant to be."

"You have to let me- you have to let my world deal with this!"

"This child must not be forgotten!!"

"What we have is all that matters! It’s worth everything!"

"Everything..."

She spotted a nearby rock and picked it up, examining it. Who knows how long this rock had been there, conveniently located. Had this been the same rock she had used so many times to announce her entrance, or call to Vincent? Biting her bottom lip, a nervous habit she hadn’t fallen into in years, she approached the pipe, a sudden panic overtaking her. She couldn’t remember the code. How many successive taps for Vincent? Was it three or four? She couldn’t remember!

Dropping the rock, she looked around the tunnel, panicking slightly. She knew where the switch was, and how to open the doors, but she had no intention of going inside. She hadn’t set foot in those tunnels in seven years, and she was resolved that she never would again.

The familiar scraping noise; the music that used to sing her to her magical Neverland. She spun and backed away from the door, watching the light filter in, pushing the darkness off of her. Vincent was bent over, clutching the gate. He was through and facing her before she had caught her breath. She forgot how beautiful he was by firelight.

"I intended to be here before you arrived, so that you could meet us here. I apologize." He spoke quickly, out of breath.

"It’s all right." She swallowed hard. It was the first time she’d seen him in a semi-public setting. She had to fight the urge to jump into his arms. She could tell he was blushing, even through the thick fur and dark skin.

"How are you?" He asked awkwardly.

"Okay... um, good." She fumbled worse than he.

An awkward silence fell. This had been the place of many romantic meetings, but they still weren’t sure how open they wanted to be about their newly intimate relationship. "I apologize for being late." He broke the silence, shifting uncomfortably. "It seems the children have led a rebellion."

Catherine glanced around him, trying to find her daughter, but she was no where to be found. "What do you mean?"

Vincent handed her a sheet of paper with scribbling. "They left a ransom note."

A surprisingly neat handwriting that had to be Jacob’s was scrawled across the parchment.

Catherine,

Your daughter has been kidnapped. She is now at our mercy.If you want her back, you’ll have to come and get her. And, if you can, bring candy!

Signed,

The Dreaded Pirates
(we couldn’t think of a good name)

P.S.

Mommy, I’m actually okay. I’m not really kidnapped. Don’t worry.We just want you to come down here.

Anna

Catherine smiled. ‘Apparently all of Anna’s imagination transferred to Jacob in the womb,’ she mused.

"I searched for an hour." Vincent sighed heavily. "They’re well hidden. And it doesn’t help that they seem to be connected. They could be anywhere."

Catherine giggled. She folded the note after she re-read it once more, and tucked it carefully in her purse.

"They’re obviously determined. They won’t come out of hiding unless you come Below." Just the tone of his voice betrayed his secret desires.

Catherine looked up at him, wide-eyed, with fear emanating from her. He was serious; he wanted her to come Below with him.

Immediately, Vincent backed down. "Catherine," he held her arms, the first physical contact, "if you don’t want to, I’ll go and find them."

"They won’t come without me," she stated monotonously, no longer looking at him, but at the torch-lit passage beyond the door.

"I will find them, Catherine," he assured her, already settled that she wouldn’t go near the tunnels.

"It’s getting late," she sighed, still looking past him. "I’ll get them." She looked back up at him shyly. "Show me the way?"

He couldn’t hide the astonishment of how quick her decision was. He nodded blankly, and took her arm to lead her in. She didn’t move right away, frozen for a few seconds, taking in what exactly she was about to do. Slowly she relaxed and allowed Vincent to pull her past the door and shut them inside. Simple as that, she was shut securely into the world that had rejected her so many years ago.

She had forgotten how quiet the outer tunnels were. She walked slowly with Vincent, savoring that sweet sound of tapping pipes. Paranoia was beginning to creep into her consciousness. She was being watched. ‘Of course I’m being watched,’ she attempted to reason with herself, ‘there are sentries all over these tunnels.’ But still she was unnerved. She was terrified, suddenly, of who could be watching her.

Vincent gripped her arm a little tighter. "You can still go back," he assured her.

Catherine swallowed and shook her head. She had to do this, even if it was just for closure. She pushed onward, remembering more and more as she went. The side tunnel to her right lead a very direct route to the kitchens, instead of going through the hub. Somewhere around this area there was a step to avoid; one of Mouse’s traps had always been hidden there. Vincent’s arm suddenly locked around her waist and pulled her away from a portion of the tunnel.

"I thought it was somewhere near here." She smiled ironically at him.

"Mouse has gotten more... creative as the years have gone by." Vincent chose his words carefully as he rolled his eyes. "That one involves a net and some substance that adheres you to the spot."

Catherine laughed, imagining sweet Mouse (for the first time in years) pitching the idea of this ‘substance’ to the council. She jumped when she heard scuffling feet and her heart stopped for a second as she realized that whoever the sentry was at this post was about to confront them.

"Vincent?" An older teenage girl emerged from her hiding place. Drawn away from her spot by the sounds of familiar voices, the girl now stood wide-eyed and frozen, staring at Catherine.

Catherine’s heart was racing as she began to panic. Vincent’s arm tightened around her waist slightly, but only the girl took any real notice of it. Who was she? Catherine recognized her face, but no matter how hard she worked her brain, she couldn’t put a name to her.

"Vincent?" The girl’s frantic eyes darted back and forth between the adults.

"Samantha..." Vincent acted as mediator, soothing both the astonished teenager and the panicking woman at his side. "The whole point of being a sentry is to not be seen. Do not confront intruders, only alert others of their presence."

The girl didn’t move, not even acknowledgment that she had heard the lesson. Her attention was trained on Catherine.

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t recognized Samantha right away, but Catherine couldn’t help seeing that happy little girl standing in front of her. Eleven year old Samantha who knew of the cruelty of Above, very well, but chose to ignore it. Instead, Samantha only saw beauty and grace in living successful life outside the tunnels. Little Samantha, who would race Geoffrey to deliver Winterfest candles every year, and who had perfected her chess skills to such a degree that she had nearly beaten Vincent once. She had to be at least eighteen now, staring back at her with huge brown eyes.

"Samantha?" Vincent’s voice broke through. "Samantha?" He finally caught her attention. "You have to stay hidden."

Samantha nodded slowly as she began to edge her way back to her post.

"Samantha." Catherine caught the girl’s wrist as they walked by her. "Don’t alarm anyone, please. I don’t want them to know I’m here."

Samantha nodded slowly as she backed away and watched Catherine and Vincent pass her.

"Are you all right?" Vincent stroked her arm to ease her tense muscles as they walked. She nodded silently. He was surprised that the hub wasn’t busy with dwellers. Instead there was only a group of young children who passed them. They said hello to Vincent, and stared curiously at Catherine. She was strangely at ease with the children; smiling and waiving casually. It wasn’t until an older boy, in his late teens like Samantha, was jogging toward them, head on, that she began to panic again.

"Vincent!" the boy called. "The children were seen! Down toward the waterfall. They were headed this way." He stopped breathlessly in front of them.

"That’s good." Vincent’s hand covered the boy’s shoulder. "They’ll come out now. Their game is over."

The boy smile up at him. "You gotta admit..." his voice trailed off as his eyes fell on Catherine. Recognition shined in her eyes as she smiled at him. His attention snapped back to Vincent. "What’s she doing here?!" he demanded angrily.

Catherine’s smile instantly fell and she felt Vincent subtly stroking her arm with his thumb. "She’s here to get Anna. She won’t be long." Vincent explained coolly.

"Does Father know?" he asked, fire in his eyes.

"No, and we’d prefer it stayed that way, if you would, Geoffrey." Vincent took Catherine’s hand and led her away from Geoffrey as quickly as possible.

Once out of earshot, Catherine stopped and pulled Vincent around to face her. "Why Geoffrey? Why him, of all of them?" She was near tears and holding off Vincent’s arms. She needed answers more than comfort.

Vincent sighed, secretly hoping that she wouldn’t ask. "Geoffrey... has always held a grudge against you. Apart from you taking Anna with you, whom, I hear from Olivia, he was very attached to while she was here..."

"He was," she nodded, her tears beginning to clear. "He used to sit and talk to her every day. He adored her."

"Yes, well, apart from that, Geoffrey claims that you promised him something. He never has told anyone what it was, but... whatever it was meant a lot to him."

Catherine shook her head, searching her memories for every moment with Geoffrey that she might have forgotten. Suddenly she found it. "His scene! The day Father told me I had to leave, I promised Geoffrey I’d watch the scene he and Nicky had been working on. I never got the chance."

Vincent awkwardly set his hand on her shoulder; a gesture of comfort he wasn’t used to being limited to around her. "It’s all right. It isn’t your fault."

"I feel horrible." Her hands covered her face in frustration. "I told him I would be there. I told him nothing would keep me away." She set her head against his chest. "I’m in a nightmare," she mumbled up to him.

"I’m sorry." He pushed her hair back, completely unsure of himself.

Suddenly her head came up from his chest. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" He glanced around them. There was no one in sight.

"The twins. They’re in your chamber. They know I’m here and they’re hiding." Catherine never hesitated, she simply headed down the familiar route to Vincent’s chamber.

Vincent felt sure that they would encounter someone... anyone. But they never did. For the early afternoon, the tunnels were eerily silent. Catherine looked as if she was following a distant sound that she couldn’t quite place and he couldn’t hear. He followed her patiently, wondering if this was how he looked as he followed the bond to wherever it led him.

Catherine gestured for Vincent to stay quiet as they crept into his familiar bedchamber. Catherine never hesitated, never paused for a memory. She stood by Vincent’s desk, poised, as if a cat stalking prey.

"Catherine?"

"Shh!" She hushed him quickly and stood waiting a minute longer.

Suddenly there was sound, movement, and pandemonium. Jacob came running from the wardrobe closet and almost made it past the desk. But Catherine was quicker. She caught him around the waist and pinned him against her, both arms entwined around him.

"I caught one!" she called triumphantly as she fought the squirming little boy.

Another child jumped out from behind Vincent’s statue and wound her way out of the crowded room. Catherine shouted to Vincent to catch her. He reached out and nearly had a hold on her arm before she escaped out into the main tunnels.

"Run, Cat! Run!!" Jacob shouted, giggling, and all the time fighting Catherine’s hold on him.

"Well," Catherine began, a joke in her voice and a smile on her face, "we may have lost your comrade, but we’ve still captured you!" She caught his legs with her arm and hoisted him up to her chest. "Tell us where you’ve hidden your prisoner, you scurvy pirate!"

"Never!" Jacob proclaimed proudly, and then laughed hysterically.

Catherine set him back down and, keeping her arms around Jacob’s shoulders, she looked up at Vincent. "Well, it seems this ruthless pirate doesn’t want to talk. What form of torture do you think will get it out of him? Should we hang him upside down by his toes? Put him in a box and sweat it out of him? Or maybe..." she bent down so that she was cheek to cheek with the little boy, and glanced up at Vincent, who was staring at the scene in wonder, "we should just tickle it out of him!"

"No!! NO!!" Jacob cried and squirmed, trying to avoid Catherine’s fingers that were sending chills up his spine.

"No?" She stopped and spun him around to face her. "Well then, are you ready to release your prisoner and renounce your life of crime?"

"Um..." Jacob faltered, glancing around the room, trying to find an escape to this situation.

"Plead the 5^th!" Anna’s voice suddenly whispered from under the bed,

"What?" Jacob whispered back as if no one could hear them. Catherine smiled up at Vincent, who seemed completely lost in this conversation.

"Just say it!" She hissed.

"What?" He whispered, trying not to look in her direction.

Anna sighed heavily. "Just say, ‘I plead the 5^th’."

"I plead the 5^th." Jacob stammered, having no idea what he was saying.

Catherine smiled at him. "Well, it’s a proper lawyer you’ve got hidden under that bed, I’ll give you that. I’ll tell you what, sir pirate," she leaned down so that she was nose to nose with him, "you release her and next weekend I will take you and your..." she nearly said ‘sister’ but caught herself and continued expertly, "prisoner to Africa, Egypt, and China."

Jacob sighed, staring deeply into her eyes to see if she was still playing, or being truly serious. As much as he loved his imagination, he was hoping that she meant what she said; that in just a week he would be touring the jungles of Africa, the pyramids of Egypt, and the rice fields of China. Drifting somewhere between hoping and a feeling of impending disappointment, Jacob only stared at her.

With over-dramatized grunts and groans Anna emerged from under the bed. "All right." She climbed to her feet. "We surrender."

"We?" Vincent set his massive hand on the top of her head and tilted it back to look up at him. "I thought you were a prisoner."

"Uhhh..." she fumbled, searching for an elaborate story, "I was! But... he convinced me to become a pirate too. He told me they make a lot of money and it’s fun. That sort of thing happens all the time."

"Really?" Vincent chuckled.

"Hey, don’t blame me, blame history." She nodded, her head bucking under the restraint of his hand.

"Okay." Vincent moved Anna in front of him, his hands on her shoulders, facing Catherine and Jacob.

Catherine and Jacob were still staring intensely at each other. Her smile had slowly relaxed as they watched each other, waiting.

"Jacob?" Anna called. "Jacob, didn’t you hear? We surrendered."

"What do you think?" Catherine broke their silence.

"Really?" He watched her carefully, wanting so desperately to believe her.

"Mm-hm," she nodded, never breaking eye contact.

"How?" He stared skeptically.

"No, no." She spun him around and looped her arm around his shoulders again. "A magician never reveals her secrets. You just have to wait for the magic to happen." She smiled at Vincent, a hint of their secret hidden in the corner of her mouth. "Besides, it doesn’t matter much now, does it?" She indicated to Anna. "You’ve already surrendered."

"Anna," Jacob sighed, disappointed. "You’re not supposed to surrender. Pirates don’t surrender."

"Yes they do!" She folded her arms indignantly. "They do all the time! It’s called a plea bargain. It saves a lot of time and paperwork, right mom?"

Catherine suppressed an uncomfortable laugh. "Yes, Ann, that is the general belief."

"Anna, do you have everything packed?" Vincent helped her set the backpack on her shoulders.

"Yeah," she sighed sadly.

"Don’t worry, sweety." Catherine smiled watching Vincent try to set the overstuffed backpack on Anna comfortably. "You can come back another time." She took Jacob’s hand and looked down at him with her head thrown back dramatically. "Will you walk us out, good sir?"

"Certainly, m’lady!" Jacob tossed his head back, his little nose in the air, and put on his best arrogant strut, pulling Catherine along behind him.

The group had barely stepped into the main tunnels before they were confronted again. But Catherine never flinched. She seemed strengthened, as if her children were her immunity to any possible harm. A woman came out from around a corner and ran toward them with her child, a boy about the same age as Jacob and Anna, in tow.

"Vincent! Oh good, you found the..." Olivia stopped and dropped her son’s hand. "Catherine!"

Catherine barely had a chance to say hello before she was wrapped up in Olivia’s embrace. She never let go of Jacob’s hand, but hugged Olivia back with her one free arm. She was nearly gasping for air by the time Olivia let her go.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia looked as if she was near tears at the sight of her. "We thought we’d never see you again!" She spoke so fast that Catherine never had a chance to answer. "Thank you so much for letting Anna come to stay. When we found out that she and Jacob had met... I can’t even tell you how excited we were to see her. She’s a darling!"

Catherine realized she’d been given space to speak, but had no idea how to answer. She got out a meek ‘thank you’, and glanced around nervously. Her eyes fell on the little boy at Olivia’s side and she smiled at him as he inched away to hide. "Oh my god! Is this baby Luke? He’s gotten so big! He’s the spitting image of Kanin!"

"I know! It startles me sometimes." Olivia kept up that parade of children, so typical of long estranged friends. "But this one..." she reached over and tugged Jacob’s hair, "he’s got his mama’s smile." Olivia grinned slyly up at Catherine.

Catherine nervously glanced down at Jacob, who was grinning largely at Olivia. He was obviously fond of the idea of looking like his mother... but no matter how she played out scenarios in her mind, there was no good way to tell him the truth. She was starting to worry that Olivia was going to give it away as she moved her gaze to Anna.

"And you..." Olivia pressed Anna’s nose, at which the little girl giggled and squirmed closer to Vincent, "you’re smart as a whip, just like your father." There was no look this time, nothing to give anything away... until Jacob spoke up.

"You knew Anna’s father? Anna, she knew your father! How did you know him Olivia?" Jacob’s bright eyes were fixed on Olivia, ready to suck in as much information as possible.

Olivia could only gape at him and then glance at his parents apologetically. There was silence, mere seconds that seemed like hours in which a thousand excuses and lies ran through all of the adult’s minds. Panic set in until Jacob, still holding Catherine’s hand, craned his neck around her to see Anna.

"Really?" he asked solemnly. Anna only nodded, her eyes on the floor.

Olivia’s smile grew slowly as she, Vincent, and Catherine stared at the children. "And then, of course, there’s that." She dropped the subject quickly and then turned and took Luke’s hand. "Well, on that note, we have work to do." She pulled Catherine into another one-armed hug. "I am so glad you’re back. We all are. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. They’re all in denial."

Catherine gave her a small, ‘thank you’ and watched as Luke shyly waved goodbye to Jacob and Anna. She looked down when Jacob lightly squeezed her hand. His intense blue eyes stared into hers so sadly that she wanted to cry.

"I didn’t know." He spoke quietly, with such undue sympathy that her heart shattered. "I’m sorry."

Realizing that he was still on the subject of ‘Anna’s father’, Catherine drew a shaky breath. The mental telepathy... whatever it was, that had developed between the twins was becoming less endearing and more unnerving. There was so much knowledge behind both children’s eyes that she had to wonder just how much they were sharing between them. What did Jacob know about ‘Anna’s father’ that he felt the need to apologize?

"Jacob," Vincent spoke softly, and Catherine stiffened slightly at the sound of his voice, "it’s a painful subject. She doesn’t need to be reminded."

"He knows." Anna answered for him, staring into Vincent’s eyes with such intuition that he took a step back away from her, and laced his fingers into Catherine’s discreetly.

Slowly, and with a touch of fear, Catherine turned and glanced at Vincent. She lightly squeezed his fingers, and then pulled her hand away. Smiling down at Jacob as if nothing at all had happened, she grabbed him under his arms and hauled him onto her hip. "So," she kept walking and left it up to Vincent and Anna to discover that they were supposed to follow, "do you want to hear about the trip?"

"Yeah!" Jacob beamed, his arms looped around her neck, following in stride with Catherine’s positive attitude.

"Well, I have a friend who works at the Museum of Natural History." Catherine glanced behind to be sure Vincent and Anna had followed. "And he owes me a favor."

"A lot of people owe her favors." Anna nearly skipped to keep up with the group’s pace, but held Vincent’s hand tightly to insure that she didn’t get lost. "You’ll notice a pattern eventually."

Jokingly, but with an edge of a warning, Catherine responded. "Keep commenting, Miss Smarty-Pants. Maybe Jacob and I will go see the dinosaurs without you."

"Dinosaurs?!" Jacob’s eyes grew twice their normal size. "Real ones?"

Catherine nodded and began the explanation. "See, when archeologists find remaining bones of dinosaurs, the museum pays them..." her voice trailed off.

"Catherine." Father had stepped out from a side tunnel and now stood in the family’s way, greeting the mother stiffly.

Catherine swallowed hard, her energetic face long gone. Instinctively she tightened her arms around Jacob and only stared at the old man. He looked so much older than eight years would warrant. His limp was even more pronounced and his eyes looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. His salt and pepper hair hat gone snow white, and he looked a bit on the thin side to her. She felt Vincent move protectively closer to her, which she was grateful for, but she was nervous that their new relationship would be easily seen by the old man.

"Lovely surprise." Father stated with a touch of sarcasm, but still there was no response from her.

Anna glanced nervously between Father and her mother as if waiting for the volcano to erupt. She moved closer to Vincent, watching Father more carefully than before. In just the couple of days that she had been Below she had only seen ‘Father’ once, and she hadn’t liked what she’d seen. He frightened her, and she didn’t easily hide it.

Jacob watched Anna shift closer to Vincent and took it upon himself to make the uncomfortable situation a little better. "Grandfather, this is Ca-."

"I know who she is, Jacob. Thank you." Father was not looking for a light conversation, and he let Jacob know by his tone. He watched them all frozen uncomfortably under his unyielding gaze. He observed Vincent’s step closer to Catherine, and how she seemed to breathe easier because of it. With a small sigh of recognition, he challenged the woman before him. "You swore you would never return, Catherine."

"Father, not here." Vincent interrupted, holding Anna close. "Please, not in front of the children."

Father shot Vincent a warning look. "Have you told them yet?"

Jacob and Anna looked curiously at each other as Catherine’s eyes went wide. Vincent took her hand, somewhat less discreetly than he’d attempted, and saw that Father took note.

"Well, have you at least told them about your current relationship?" Father insisted and the children’s gazes turned on their parents.

Catherine, her gaze, much stronger now, never left Father’s face as she let Jacob slide down off her hip. Jacob watched her face intensely, even as she pulled him around in front of her.

"Father," Vincent began, exuding power and strength that matched his father’s, "it is up to Catherine and I to decide-."

"Did you lose your voice, Catherine?" Father’s eyes held true to hers.

Catherine took a deep breath to steady her nerves and then looked down at Jacob. "Sweetheart, would you show Anna the way to the park, please? Wait there with her and stay close to the sentries. Your father and I will catch up soon."

Jacob nodded silently and took Anna’s hand from his father. "Don’t go off wandering, either of you." Vincent instructed. "We’ll be close behind." The twins nodded together and then edged their way past Father and down the tunnel.

Catherine’s gaze moved back up to Father. She stared at him coldly, as if she had the ability to freeze him in his place. "Those children are none of your business, Jacob Wells. You have no right to breathe the edge of a word to either of them!"

"Catherine," Vincent attempted to mediate, but she kept going over the top of him.

"And most especially not to Anna!" She breathed deeply. "You don’t speak to her. You don’t look at her. And she will never, ever call you ‘Father’! Are we clear?"

"Well," Father began calmly, "you have regained your tongue." They were silent. Staring at each other for a moment before he continued. "We need to talk."

"There’s nothing to say," she came back quickly.

"I thought you might say that." Another moment of silence. "I want you to tell Vincent the truth."

Catherine was quiet, just staring at him. Not even a flicker of understanding came across her face. She was stone. "I’ve told him everything."

"No, Catherine, you’ve told him what was convenient for you. You’ve told him the half you prefer to remember because it gives you an antagonist to blame. You told him what you knew would make you look like the innocent victim." Father barreled on as he watched her defenses fall away. "Well I will not allow you to turn my own son against me! I already have one difficult relationship with my eldest, and I will not loose Vincent just because you want to look good in his eyes."

Catherine stared at him, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, her mental wall shattered. As they stared she began shaking her head slowly. "I have to get Anna." She spoke in a shaky voice. "I have to get out of here."

"No!" Father took a step closer, as if it would keep her still. "Stop running, Catherine. Stop pushing everything aside. If you want to be a part of Vincent and Jacob’s lives, you have to tell them everything you’ve hidden. Everything." His voice was much softer, as if he were soothing her, coaxing her into this difficult task.

"Catherine?" Vincent closed in on her. He turned her to face him, holding her arms gently. She closed her eyes as if she could block out the sound of his voice. "What haven’t you told me?"

A tear slipped by her already weakened defenses as she shook her head. "I can’t. I can’t lose you, not again."

"Catherine," he whispered, his face close to hers, "my love, I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you again."

Catherine raised her sad eyes to his slowly and bit her lip, losing herself in the sight of him gazing curiously down at her. "You might," she admitted.

"Tell him, Catherine." Father coaxed gently.

"I can’t." She whispered, still lost in the deep blue ocean of his eyes. "I don’t know what to say."

"I’ll begin." Father volunteered, paternally placing a hand on her shoulder. "She didn’t lie to you, Vincent. I did ask her to leave. I was worried, blind to the knowledge that you would do anything but accept your new family with open arms. I thought it best to send her away. Maybe I thought it would make the shock a little easier. It was wrong of me. And... the stubborn old man I am, it took me nearly a year after you returned to realize this. So, I sent a message to Catherine, asking her to meet me. I wanted to ask her to come home."

"You invited her back?" Vincent’s sharp eyes flicked back and forth between Father and Catherine.

Father nodded slowly as Catherine pulled out of Vincent’s arms and leaned against the tunnel wall. "Catherine?" Vincent watched her.

With a deep breath, she folded her arms across her chest and slowly raised her eyes to his. "Call the sentry. Make sure the twins make it back to the hub. We’re going to be here for a while."

 

33. Torn
May, 1990
 

Catherine sat cross-legged on Jenny’s couch in the morning of a rainy spring day, staring blankly at the envelope on the coffee table in front of her. Baby Caroline Anna Chandler sat still in her lap. The baby turned a plastic ball over and over, as if looking for the top. Catherine dipped her head and pressed a light kiss into her baby’s hair as she watched the envelope suspiciously. It was no comfort to the babe, she knew, but somehow holding her, kissing her, gave Catherine the comfort she needed. She traced the carefully drawn ‘Catherine’ with her eyes, as if the envelope would spontaneously combust.

"What do you think?" she asked the baby, who paid no attention to her. "Caroline?" She was procrastinating now. Maybe if she played with the baby, the letter would go away. "Care-Bear..." she cooed, but the child made no acknowledgment.

"Are you gonna open that thing, or just stare at it?" Jenny laughed as she rushed by, hurriedly getting ready for work.

"I’m not sure." Catherine answered honestly, her eyes true to the envelope.

"Well, at least find out who it’s from." Jenny raced back into the kitchen.

"I know who it’s from." Catherine answered quietly, not caring if Jenny heard her. She watched her baby play with the ball, the infinitely identical turns never failing to fascinate the child. The envelope seemed to call to her, tempt her.

Jenny rushed back in, a breakfast bar held in her mouth and pinning her hair up in combs. She looked down at the coffee table to see the envelope still there, untouched. "Oh for goodness sake, Cathy!" She set the bar on the table and had ripped the envelope open before Catherine could object.

"No! Jenny, wait!" She sat forward, little Caroline held securely to her with one arm.

Jenny’s brow was furrowed in confusion as she read the letter. "I don’t get it. Who sent this?" She searched the paper for some kind of clue to a name.

Catherine sat back solemnly, the baby held close. "What does it say?"

"Dear Catherine, I’m sorry." Jenny read aloud. "I was wrong, and nothing can change that. Please come home. We’re waiting." Jenny flipped the paper over and over again, still searching for a signature. When she finally gave up, she looked down at Catherine who had gone ashen and blank.

Catherine cuddled the child close to her, but the little girl wanted no part of the smothering comfort. Caroline pulled herself forward, trying to create a separation unsuccessfully.

"Cathy?" Jenny searched for her attention. "Cathy? Is this from Vincent?"

Catherine’s wide, fearful eyes found their way to Jenny. "No," she answered blankly.

"It sure as hell sounds like it is! Is this his handwriting?" Jenny had fire burning in her eyes and her voice rising to such a volume that the baby gave in to her mother’s smothering. Jenny shoved the letter under Catherine’s nose.

"No," Catherine answered, still blank, devoid of any emotion.

"Then whose is it?" Jenny demanded. There was no response. "Cathy?!" Again, nothing. "It is, isn’t it? What a..." Jenny bit back the stronger curse word, "jerk!" She finally settled on the term. "Sends you out in the cold, literally, and then wants you to just race back to him! What an absolute... jerk!!" Jenny threw the paper back on the table.

"Yeah," Catherine agreed absently with a sigh. The baby was squirming again, but Catherine loosened her grip only slightly, her attention fixed on the paper on the table.

Jenny noticed the child’s fidgeting and immediately took it upon herself to care for her. "Come here, Care-Bear." The baby slid easily out of Catherine’s arms and onto Jenny’s hip. Jenny caught the ball as it fell and handed it back to her little charge. "You don’t play with any of the toys I’ve bought you. But you can’t get enough of a simple ball from your Uncle Joe. You’re a strange little bug." Jenny poked the baby’s nose, which elicited a delighted giggle.

Catherine stood and began to pace. She ran her hands over her jeans nervously, thinking at the speed of light.

Jenny and Caroline watched her intently with concern. "What are you going to do?"

Catherine shook her head, her pacing never slowing. Suddenly, with resolve and determination, she snatched up the letter and tore it up. It was vindictive the way she did it; the pieces couldn’t be torn small enough for her.

"Good for you, Cath!" Jenny praised. Catherine kept tearing. "Yay!" Jenny cooed to Caroline, who was watching Catherine in terror. "Yay for mommy!" Catherine tore at the paper. "Cathy, I think it’s dead." Jenny giggled. Still Catherine ripped the paper. Jenny’s smile fell. "Cathy? Honey, are you okay?" Catherine tore vigorously. "Cathy! Catherine, stop!"

Catherine froze. The final pieces fell from her hands, making the livingroom look as if it had snowed inside. With a shaky breath, Catherine took her daughter from Jenny. "Thank you for babysitting last night," she mumbled to her friend. "I’ll see you later."

"Cathy... are you okay?" Jenny, concerned, searched her friend’s face.

"Yeah." Catherine answered unconvincingly. She hooked the diaper bag over her arm and easily took the ball away from her child. Slowly she left the apartment. "I’ll see you later, Jen."

Catherine stood at attention as Father entered the access tunnel to the old storage house by the dock. They stood at a distance, observing each other. Catherine’s heart was plummeting as she ran her speech through her head once more. Father stepped toward her first, testing out a smile at her.

"You got my letter," he stated.

She nodded quickly and stiffly. She searched the tunnel quickly to be sure that he hadn’t brought Vincent, or anyone else, with him as she had written him not to.

"You didn’t bring little ‘Viola’." He spoke gently, trying to fix the void between them.

Catherine shook her head. "Daycare. I didn’t want her to be here for this."

"Catherine," Father began quickly, "I cannot apologize enough for everything that has happened. I have hurt you, I’ve hurt Vincent, and worse, I’ve hurt the twins. I’m so sorry. Vincent needs you. If this year has taught me anything, it’s that. And your son-"

"Stop!" Catherine was backed into the ladder and cowered there for the duration. "I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t take it anymore. Between you and Vincent, you’ve well stripped me of any strength I had to guard myself. I’m tired Father. I’m tired of fighting with the two of you. You’ll never trust me, no matter what I do or how I try to prove myself. And Vincent..." she faltered for a moment, "Vincent will never choose my judgment over yours. You’ve got him well trained."

"Wait a minute, Catherine..." he tried to interrupt, but she didn’t stop.

"That’s fine. That’s all right. That’s how you’ve raised him. That is how his son will be raised as well. And... maybe... that’s okay. Maybe that’s how it should be."

"Catherine-"

"I..." it was becoming difficult to speak, her throat was closing up, "I think it might be best if I don’t come back... ever."

"No, it wouldn’t!" Father implored.

"You were right." She was shaky and bitter. "You were right from the beginning. Mine and Vincent’s relationship... it’s just been a lot of heartaches. I mean, honestly, Father, how many times have we been nearly caught or killed? We can’t subject the children to that."

"Catherine, please stop!" He was angry now, his face turning flame-red.

"I love him. I do love him, Father. But I can’t fight anymore. I don’t have the strength."

"You have the strength of a hundred women, Catherine. You’re just coming up with excuses," Father accused.

"I’m not ‘coming up’ with anything. All of this is what you’ve said. I’m just agreeing with you." She took a breath to keep herself standing. "I’ve given him a son... he’s given me a daughter. We can’t ask any more of each other."

"Catherine," Father’s voice came, dark and foreboding, "if you walk out on them, I will lose all respect for you."

Catherine swallowed hard and then took another deep breath to make herself move. "Vincent left, Father. No matter the circumstances, he walked out on me first. I won’t put my daughter through the constant uncertainties of a father who may never come home one day."

"He did come back!" Father shouted.

"No, he was dragged back, just as you said. And I’m sure that he had no intention of seeing me as soon as he got back. I’m sure it wasn’t until you told him about his son that he even wanted to speak to me. Am I getting pretty warm here, Father?" She stared at him, lips pursed in anger, waiting for confirmation. Father didn’t answer. She was calm and solemn again. "It’s better this way. Everyone where they belong. No risk of anyone getting hurt again."

"Yours and Vincent’s love was a testament to all of us, Catherine. It taught us to take those risks in the name of love. That should mean something to you!"

Catherine pulled herself up on the ladder, ready to climb. She set her head on the backs of her hands. "Give my baby a kiss from me. Tell him I love him."

"No." Father’s voice pierced her heart. "You have no son. He isn’t yours anymore."

Catherine nodded slowly once, and climbed up into the warehouse. She slid the box back in place and walked away. Far away.

 

34. Lift the Veil
November, 1997
 

Anna and Jacob sneaked quietly into Vincent’s chamber and silently crossed to the desk. They watched Catherine, sitting in the chair, arms folded on the desk, and her head set on top. Jacob looked inquisitively at Anna, who shrugged and continued to watch her mother. They stared for a while longer before Anna reached out cautiously and touched her mother’s head.

Catherine sat up as fast as lightning. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the setting and she blinked hard to make her vision come faster. She found her two children watching her with calm, unblinking eyes. "Hi." She breathed easier and gave them a half-smile.

The twins didn’t speak. Jacob looked to Anna whose eyes never left Catherine’s. Anna tilted her head and craned her neck forward, her eyes locked with her mother.

Catherine found herself unable to break the hold Anna had on her. The little girl seemed to burrow through Catherine’s eyes, to see inside her. The connection seemed to go on forever as Catherine squirmed in her seat.

Finally Anna stood up straight and looked at Jacob, who was waiting, eyebrows raised. Anna shook her head and shrugged, at which Jacob’s shoulders fell and he sighed his disappointment.

"What?!" Catherine finally burst out. "What are you saying in there?" She demanded, breathing hard.

Slowly Anna returned to her mother and sadly shook her head. "You couldn’t hear me, could you?"

Catherine was slightly taken back. Anna had been trying to reach her on the same level as she spoke to Jacob. "No, honey. I never know what the two of you are doing in those heads of yours." Her words were to put them at ease, but she was too displaced to put any feeling behind it.

Both children sighed audibly, obviously terribly disappointed. They crossed around the desk to Catherine and perched themselves on either arm of the chair in which she sat. Anna let her head rest on her mother’s shoulder, and Jacob set his head against Catherine’s.

"Grandfather said that you had something to tell us." Jacob told Catherine quietly.

Catherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She looped an arm around each child and held them securely. "I want to wait for your father. Okay?"

Both children nodded. But Jacob sat up and shifted himself to look at Catherine. "You’re leaving, aren’t you? You’re taking Anna and you’re never coming back. Aren’t you?" He asked quietly, sadly.

"No." Catherine assured both children sincerely. "No, it’s nothing like that, Jacob. It’s just difficult to say and I want your father to be here for it."

"Where is he?" Anna sat up, alert and looking around the chamber.

"He..." Catherine closed her eyes, "went for a walk. He needed to think some things through."

"What kind of things?" Jacob chimed, falling back against her.

A deep timbered voice answered him, coming from the entrance of the chamber. "Many things." Vincent emerged into the candlelight. "Relevant and irrelevant. Big and small. The turning points, and the precious calm before the storm." He stood before the threesome and starred calmly down at Catherine. "And I’ve found that, for you, there was no other recourse. How could you have faith in me when I had so little in you? You did what you believed best for you and Anna and I have to respect that."

Catherine’s eyes were closed as she shook her head. "That was not what I wanted to hear." She spoke, barely audible.

"What do you want to hear, Catherine?" Vincent knelt in front of her.

"I don’t know," she groaned, frustrated. "I wanted you to yell, scream. I wanted you to blame every stupid little thing on me. I wanted you to send me away, just to prove myself right! And..." she shook her head, "I wanted you to blame yourself entirely. I wanted you to throw yourself at my feet and beg my forgiveness!"

"I’ve thrown myself at your feet, Catherine," he interrupted.

"Don’t!" she implored. She breathed now, trying to collect her thoughts.

"I don’t know what you want of me." Vincent touched her knee, helplessly. "But whatever it is I will do it."

"I don’t know." She rolled her downcast eyes.

"Catherine..." he released the breath he was holding as he collected his words. "A long time ago... what seems like forever, I made a promise to your father." Catherine’s eyes came up to meet his. "Now I’ve broken that promise and there’s nothing I can do to change that. But, I will do whatever is necessary to redeem myself. That’s all I can do. I will not walk away from you this time. We’ll face this together." Still she starred enigmatically into his eyes. Vincent tilted his head and shrugged. "You’re stuck with me," he teased.

Catherine smiled, and then giggled. Finally she took a deep breath and unwound herself from the children. She sat forward and wrapped her arms around Vincent’s neck, holding him as close and as tightly as he held her. She held back tears of relief as he whispered softly in her ear.

"I’m here. You’re safe now."

Finally, she let go and sat back, nodding in sync with him as they breathed.

"What about us?" Anna sat straighter and looked between the adults.

Catherine wrapped her arms back around Jacob and Anna. She set her head against Anna’s side and laughed ironically. She groaned as she came back up to face Vincent. "This one’s gonna be a little bit harder."

Vincent nodded his agreement and sighed. "Well," he began, "it’s time to tell you the truth." He looked into the children’s expectant, almost terrified faces. "You two... both of you..." he fumbled, "before... you should know that..."

"Oh, for god’s sake!" Catherine burst out. "There’s no easy way to say it, so you may as well just blurt it out. You’re twins."

Jacob and Anna looked at each other and then back at their parents.

"You’re twins." Vincent confirmed, waiting for a reaction.

The pair looked back at each other again, brows furrowed. "That’s it?" Jacob shrugged. "Well, we knew that." He fell back against the chair.

"What?" Catherine spun, nearly knocking Anna off balance.

"How could you know that?" Vincent leaned in.

"How could we not?" Anna laughed. "If we were any closer, we’d be the same person!"

"Well," Catherine looked between them, "why didn’t you tell us?"

"You didn’t want us to know." Jacob shrugged and pushed Catherine’s hair back off of her shoulders. "We figured, as long as we were still able to do things together, it didn’t really matter."

Catherine laughed in wonder. She looked up at Vincent, but he was speechless. "Well, do you have any questions or anything?"

"Who was born first?" Anna immediately spoke up, bouncing with excitement.

"Anna," Jacob sighed, "it doesn’t matter." He insisted, obviously tired of the subject.

"Yes it does!" she told him definitively and then looked back to her mother, waiting for an answer.

Catherine smiled, completely bewildered. "You were Ann."

"See!" she sneered at Jacob. "I am the oldest!"

"We’re the same!" Jacob whined. "Mom, tell her!"

Even as she starred, Catherine knew that she must look ridiculous. She starred at Jacob, slack-jawed, her eyes shining. He had just called her ‘mom’. She pulled both close, almost on top of her, and held them tight. "You are exactly the same!"

"I have a question." Vincent suddenly spoke and all three sets of eyes met his. "You named her Caroline." Catherine nodded, lost. "Why do you call her Anna?"

Catherine smiled and spoke primarily to Anna as she told the story. "Her full name is Caroline Anna. After I decided not to come back, I wanted any little scrap of what I had lost. All I had was my daughter, really. I started calling her Anna. It was just something small, insignificant, that brought me just one step closer to what I had once had."

"Anna," Vincent spoke softly, touched, "I was abandoned as an infant." His daughter starred at him, eyes shining. "Anna was the woman who found me and saved me. She brought me here. You should be honored to be named for her. She was as extraordinary as you."

"What would you have named me?" Jacob vied for Catherine’s attention.

"Jacob." She answered, smiling and nodding. "Your grandfather and I have been bitter toward each other for years. But," she smiled up at Vincent, "I think we’ve determined that everything that’s passed between us has been as much my fault as it is his. It’s a common ground we’ve never had before. It makes everything so much less complicated."

There was a bit of silence in which Catherine and Vincent just smiled at each other. Anna and Jacob glanced between their parents.

"Sooo...." Anna spoke nervously, "does this mean you two are getting back together?"

Catherine and Vincent broke out laughing simultaneously. Vincent stood and pulled Anna off the arm of the chair.

"Come on. Let’s get you two ladies home."

 

35. Barely Apart
December, 1995
 

Vincent moved quietly and more slowly than usual. He held his son’s hand tightly, determined that little Jacob would not run away from him again. One more tree. He promised his son one more tree to climb before he was taken back to the tunnels and put to bed. "How about that one?" Vincent suggested, pointing to a short, stubby tree.

Jacob made a face to match his disapproval. "That’s not a tree!" He insisted. "A little farther this way." The boy instructed and pulled his father closer to the edge of the park.

"Jacob, it’s getting very cold. Please, just pick a tree." Vincent begged.

"That one!" Jacob proclaimed, pointing to a tall and mighty tree standing on its own. He took off running, leaving his father far behind him. In moments he was at the base of the tree, ready to climb. He couldn’t even hear his father’s protests, he just set the toe of his boot in a knot on the tree and began to climb.

"Jacob!" Vincent reached the base of the tree by the time his son made it to the second branch. "Jacob, not too high!" he warned.

"Father, it’s my birthday. I’m six years old now, I think I can take care of myself." Jacob rolled his eyes superiorly.

"Oh, well, of course, you’re right son." Vincent mumbled, defeated, as he threw his arms in the air and let them fall. "Six years old, you should be perfectly capable of not falling and splitting your head open."

"Father!" Jacob called down from the higher branches. "You should see this! I can see out into the city!"

"Jacob, that’s too high!" Vincent called, looking for a way to climb up there himself, if necessary.

"I can even see people!" Jacob continued, never acknowledging his father. "There’s a woman and a little girl just outside the park!"

"All right, Jacob, you’ve climbed the tree, that’s enough. Now climb down." Vincent stated firmly.

"What are they doing?" Jacob crawled along the length of the branch to get a better view.

"Jacob!" Vincent called. "That’s enough! Climb down now!"

"All right." Jacob rolled his eyes and slid himself back to the trunk of the tree. Once his feet were firmly planted on the ground, Jacob looked up at his father with bright eyes. "Let’s go out into the city tonight!"

"No, Jacob. I don’t like you going out into the city even when I’m with you. It’s too dangerous." Vincent took Jacob’s hand and led him back towards home.

"You never let me do anything fun." Jacob miserably kicked the snow built up along the path.

Vincent sighed and, still walking, looked down at his son. "Does the air taste different when you’re up high in those trees, Jacob?"

Slowly Jacob’s eyes met his father’s and a smile crossed his face. "Crisper." He nodded. "And it smells like peppermint sometimes too."

"Does it?" Vincent strolled with his son casually. "What else?"

**********************

"Let’s see, we’ve gotten you some new ‘Little House’ books, and some puzzle books. I think this birthday’s just about complete." Catherine proclaimed as she walked along the hedges of Central Park, holding her daughter’s hand.

"Yeah." Anna agreed, a little downhearted. "But I really wanted the Romeo and Juliet book."

"Sweetheart, you can’t even read that yet." Catherine tried to reason with her child. Anna’s head fell even further into her chest with something that sounded like ‘I know’. "And remember," Catherine added, trying to lift the girl’s spirits, "Santa’s coming soon. You have to leave something for him to get you."

Anna rolled her eyes at her mother. "I guess." She agreed quietly, tired of arguing. The ‘Santa Clause’ argument had gone on for years, and still Catherine insisted in his existence. Anna just let her mother have her beliefs.

"Hey! What do you say we get some ice cream on the way back?" Catherine suggested enthusiastically.

"But you hate ice cream in the winter." Anna reminded her, but hope was suddenly kindled in her little green eyes.

"Maybe so." Catherine shrugged. "But Miss Caroline Anna Chandler is six years old today, and how often does that happen, huh? Besides, I bet the shop is nice and warm inside. What do you think?"

"Yeah!!" Anna skipped, excited for the first time in hours.

The pair stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Anna turned backwards to face Central Park and attempted to gaze through the trees inside.

"Mama, can we go for a walk in the park?" Anna, suddenly so enthralled, she tugged her mother’s coat.

Catherine barely glanced at the foliage behind her before passing judgment. "No, Ann."

"But we never go for a walk in the park." She whined. "Please?"

"No, Anna, not tonight." Catherine attempted to stop the argument there.

"But mom..."

"I thought you wanted ice cream!" Catherine spoke a little too harshly. Anna lowered her eyes sadly, looking as if she would cry. She deliberately kicked the flakes of snow left over on the sidewalk. Catherine looked down at her, sighed, and watched her for a moment more.

Anna’s head came up quickly as Catherine ran her index finger along the bridge of her little nose. Anna starred curiously at her mother, who held her thumb tightly between her index and middle finger.

"I got your nose." Catherine told her, showing her the demonstration with her fingers.

Anna smiled despite herself. "Nuh-uh."

"Yup," Catherine nodded, "I stole your nose and you’re not getting it back. It’s a cute little nose, I think I’ll keep it."

"No, my nose is right here." Anna insisted, carefully touching her nose to be sure that what she claimed was true.

"Well, I don’t know what’s there on your face, but I do know that I have your nose right here and you’re not getting it back." Catherine taunted and teased. Anything to elicit some imagination from her child.

"Mommy," Anna pointed to her mother’s woven fingers, "that’s not my nose. It’s just your thumb."

"All right, suit yourself." Catherine shrugged casually. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you can’t smell your dinner tonight."

Anna sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t wipe the silly grin off of her face as she played along with the charade. "All right... may I please have my nose back, Mama?"

Catherine smiled down at her daughter. "Well, certainly, Miss Anna." She pressed her thumb against Anna’s nose as she unlocked her fingers. "There you go."

"Thank you." Little Anna accepted cordially. "The light’s changed." She informed almost in the same breath.

"Okay," Catherine laughed, "come on, kiddo."

Anna followed her mother across the street, but kept looking back at the park. "I wonder what’s in there," she thought aloud.

"What’s that, baby?"

"Nothing." Anna replied quickly and followed obediently.

 

36. Revelations: 12/09/97
December, 1997
 

Jacob and Anna giggled together on the couch of Catherine’s apartment. "Mom! Mama! This is silly!" Anna called into the kitchen. "We already had a birthday party Below."

"Keep those eyes closed!" Catherine called her warning from the kitchen.

"Mom!" Jacob called now, eyes obediently closed. "Mom, Anna’s right. Why are we having another party?"

"You mean you don’t want more cake and ice cream?" Vincent asked from his place beside Catherine.

"No! We want it! We want it!" The children bounced in their place.

"Okay, are you ready?" Catherine tried to see her twins through the open door.

"Yeah!" The twins called in unison.

"Are your eyes closed?" Vincent ran to the door to be sure.

"Yeah!"

"No peeking, Anna." Vincent warned.

"Hurry up then!" Anna whined, her eyes closed tight again.

There was silence and then their parent’s voices were much closer. "Okay, open your eyes." Catherine declared.

Jacob’s eyes were the size of half-dollars as he stared at the ice-cream cake sitting in front of him. It was the most perfect and beautiful cake he had ever seen. And how ingenious that is combined the two traditional sweets.

"It’s not homemade with love." Catherine began with a sigh. "You’ll find out soon enough, I’m not a fabulous chef, Jacob. But I thought you might like it."

"Happy 8^th Birthday, Jacob and Anna. Love, Mom and Dad." Jacob read quietly aloud, his eyes still wide.

Anna craned her neck around to see her brother’s face and then giggled. "I think he’s in shock!"

"Do you like it?" Catherine asked, worried.

"It’s beautiful." Jacob nodded vigorously.

"I told you he’d love it." Vincent smiled confidently at Catherine.

"Okay!" Anna jumped forward, clapping. "Let’s eat it!"

"No!" Jacob threw his arm out to stop her. "We can’t eat this. It’s beautiful!" He scolded.

"Jacob, it’s not going to stay perfect for long, you may as well eat it." Vincent reasoned.

"Just a minute longer, father. It’s just too pretty." Jacob leaned closer to it.

"I’ll tell you what," Catherine ran to her desk drawer and extracted her camera, "we’ll take a picture, and then you’ll have it forever."

"Should I..." Vincent mumbled to Catherine, who seemed to understand what he was talking about.

"Sure! You do that, I’ll do this." She nodded as she aimed the camera at the ice-cream cake.

"All right," he began the announcement, "these are from your mother and I." Vincent revealed two large gift bags from behind his back and presented one to each twin.

Anna’s eyes lit up and she sat forward, taking the bag from Vincent greedily. Jacob shyly took the bag, but his face glowed with the prospect. Presents Below were never packaged this beautifully. Slowly, the twins began digging through the vast amounts of tissue paper, searching for their gifts.

A bright flash came suddenly and a sharp snap to accompany it. The twins and Vincent turned quickly to find Catherine lowering the camera sheepishly. "Sorry. We’ll hide that one," she promised.

The children went back to their digging, looking over each other’s shoulder to see if the other had found anything yet. Catherine touched Vincent’s arm lightly. "I’m going to find something to cut that cake with." He nodded and she rushed into the kitchen.

"Mama..." Anna inhaled, pulling her gift out slowly, "it’s so..."

The soft ding of the doorbell sounded and the world froze. Slowly Catherine emerged from the kitchen. Any smiles were gone, they all stared at the door, holding their breaths, willing the intruders to go away.

The doorbell rang again. Vincent and Catherine glanced quickly at each other. In silent, but quick, movements Vincent grabbed Jacob’s hand and began pulling him out of the livingroom. Catherine pulled Anna off of the couch and whispered, "hide them", to her, and shoved the little girl toward the retreating pair. As she walked toward the door. Catherine attempted to regain her composure. But, she glanced back and her stomach plummeted. The room was full of traces of Vincent and Jacob. The gift bag had ‘Jacob’ written in bold letters on it, and Vincent’s cloak was draped casually over the easy chair.

The door was suddenly pounded on. "Cathy!" Joe was yelling from the other side. "Cathy, I know you two are home! Open the door!"

Catherine glanced around the room. There was nowhere to hide the evidence.

"Cathy! Cathy, open the door!"

She swallowed hard, hands shaking. There was nothing she could do, and Joe was about to break down the door. With a deep breath and an attempt at looking normal, Catherine unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open.

"Joe!... And Jenny! What are you guys doing here?" Catherine tried to sound casual.

"I’m sorry, Cathy." Jenny spoke quickly from behind Joe. "I tried to tell him this was a bad idea, but..."

"Where’s Annie?" Joe suddenly demanded.

"I’m sorry!" Jenny’s panicked whisper rose from the back.

"Joe, what’s going on?" Catherine tried to reason with him without actually letting him in.

"It’s nothing." Jenny tried to interrupt. "Really, Joe, it’s not a big deal."

"Jenny, the first time it wasn’t a big deal. The second time wasn’t even a big deal. But this is the fifth time and it’s becoming an issue." Joe argued. "Annie!" He called over Catherine’s shoulder.

"Joe, stop! What’s this about?" Catherine tried to block his view as he ducked around and attempted to see behind her.

"Carrie Ann!" Joe called into the apartment, his tone was a harsh warning.

"Joe!" Jenny protested and then turned her apologetic stare to Catherine. "I’m so sorry."

"Anna!" Joe called, and this time he pushed the door open and charged into the apartment. Jenny followed to catch him, but ended up next to him, just as confused by the state of the livingroom as Joe. He looked inquisitively at Catherine who tried, unsuccessfully, to look innocent.

Joe opened his mouth to speak, but a loud crash interrupted him. He didn’t hesitate, he just set off toward the sound as if he were hunting down little Anna.

"Joe! This is crazy! Joe! Stop!" Jenny followed him to the back of the apartment.

Catherine was quicker than all of them. She pushed Jenny back behind her and ducked past Joe to stand in his way of Anna’s bedroom door. "Stop, for two seconds, and tell me what’s going on!" she demanded, blocking the door with her whole body.

"Annie and I just need to have a talk. Annie!" Joe explained in a huff and then reached over Catherine to pound on the bedroom door.

"Joe!" both women scolded, but he paid no mind.

Catherine nearly fell backwards when the door suddenly opened and Anna stared curiously up at the adults. "Yes, Uncle Joe?" she inquired sweetly.

"Annie," Joe began as Catherine tried to discreetly search the room, "we have to talk to you." He started into her room, but Anna stood in his way.

"No! Not in here. We’ll talk in the livingroom." Anna glanced at Catherine for confirmation, but she jerked her head in a ‘no’ motion. "Or we could go in the kitchen!" She quickly changed.

Joe eyed Catherine and Anna for moment, suspicious. Anna shrugged and smiled sweetly at him. Only then did Joe’s face go truly dark and brooding. "He’s here, isn’t he?"

"Joe..." Jenny warned softly from behind him.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." Anna told him stoically, eyebrows raised.

All was quiet for a moment. Joe glanced between mother and daughter, trying to determine if he believed their claim. Then, seemingly from nowhere, there was a light tapping noise. It ended almost as it began, but Joe located it and charged straight for it with the rest of the group trying to stop him.

"The closet? Really, Cathy? That is just so," Joe yanked the closet doors open, reached in and threw the body he grabbed out into the open, "pathetic!"

Little Jacob whirled, screaming, out of the closet. Thrown off balance, he fell flat on his back, revealing him completely in the dim artificial light.

At the sight of him, Joe fell back against the wall. Jenny was backed up against the wall next to the door, staring at the little boy, truly horrified. Anna had fallen to the floor next to her brother, ready to fight off anyone who came near.

The window was suddenly thrown open and a low snarl was issued from the dark night beyond it. From behind Catherine, a tall hulk-like figure emerged, growing larger as he drew closer. The snarls grew louder and longer as Joe blindly searched the closet for a weapon.

"Stop!" Catherine screamed, her eyes closed and her arms thrown out to either side of herself. One arm was outstretched toward Joe, and the other actually made contact, holding off Vincent. "Everybody just stop!" She looked down, arms still stretched wide, and found Jacob’s pale, terrified face searching for an escape. "Jacob?" she called softly. "Baby, are you okay?"

Jacob’s eyes made contact with her only once. He was watching Joe and Jenny intently waiting for one of them to advance. He didn’t even notice that he had begun to cry. With heavy labored breaths, he shook his head and slid himself back into his mother’s legs.

Anna flipped herself around and slid close to her brother, trying to reassure him. "It’s okay, Jacob. It’s gonna be okay, they won’t hurt you."

"Joe, drop the curtain rod." Catherine warned and Joe immediately complied. She turned to Vincent, her voice just as foreboding. "Don’t move," she told him. And, with an eye on both men, she sunk down to the floor. Jacob immediately crawled into Catherine’s arms, clinging to her and burying his face in her shoulder. He shivered as he sobbed and she rubbed his back to try to calm him. "It’s all right. It’s okay. Are you hurt? Jacob, are you hurt?" He shook his head again, unable to speak through his sobs. "Okay... it’s all right."

Vincent was breathing loudly. He stood over Catherine and the children, staring Joe and Jenny down. His expression seemed to dare them to come any closer. "Catherine?" His eyes never fell to her, but Joe shrank away, stunned, when he spoke her name.

"He’s fine," she assured him. "Just frightened."

With an odd sort of smile that bordered on psychotic, Jenny took a shaky step away from the wall. "You’re Vincent," she stated, the only certain thing coming from her.

Vincent looked down at Catherine, who took a relenting breath and nodded. "I am," he confirmed, glancing at Jenny, but his eyes trained on Joe.

"You’re Vincent?" Joe’s eyes seemed to grow even larger as he took in Vincent’s appearance in a whole new way. "This is him?" he spat at Catherine. She looked away, intent on calming Jacob down. "I don’t believe this," he mumbled. "I’m dreaming! This is a nightmare!"

Jenny took another step forward, a little more sure this time. "I’m Jenny... Aaronson. Jenny Aaronson," she spit out.

"It’s good to finally meet you, Jenny." Vincent spoke kindly to her, but his eyes, now locked on Joe, were telling a different story.

"Then who the hell is that?" Joe yelled, pointing at the little boy attached to Catherine.

Catherine took a deep breath, gathering courage. "His name is Jacob." She announced and then another breath for courage. "He’s my son."

Jenny’s fascination with Vincent immediately broke. She was focusing on Catherine now. "Excuse me?"

"That’s not possible." Joe breathed shrinking even further into the corner.

Anna shot him a hard glare over her should. "What do you know?" she shouted. "You scared him, Uncle Joe!" She turned back to her brother and touched his arm.

The adults watched as, slowly, the boy stopped crying. He shifted slightly in Catherine’s arms, pulling his head off her shoulder and facing Anna. She took his hand and stared directly into his eyes. Jacob blinking away the last few tears and swallowed the lump that had built in his throat. With a few deep breaths, Jacob nodded slowly to Anna.

"Okay?" Anna assured.

"Okay." Jacob confirmed in a whisper. But he held onto Catherine’s arms tightly still.

"Jacob?" Vincent called, his eyes fixed back on Joe, the immediate threat.

"I’m okay, father," Jacob nodded.

"Hold it! Rewind." Joe was beginning to relax until Vincent began staring at him again. "How do you have a son that we don’t know about?"

Catherine gave a short sigh, looked around the room, shook her head and relented to the inevitable. "Well," she glanced at Vincent and Jacob, "you’ve seen them now. You may as well know." She pulled Jacob tight, kissed his head and then released him. "Anna, would you sit with your brother, please? Make sure he’s okay."

"I’m fine, mother." Jacob insisted, his eyes still red and puffy.

"I know, babe, but I want you to stay in here with Anna all right?" He nodded, and Catherine wiped his tear stains away with her thumbs. "You two," she focused on Joe and Jenny, "out in the livingroom. I’ll be out in a minute." The two friends were still in their spots, staring at Jacob and Anna. "Now." Catherine encouraged and Joe inched his way along the wall, following a reluctant Jenny out. Catherine climbed to her feet and turned to Vincent. "How much should I tell them?"

"As much as you feel they can handle." His eyes instantly switched to a softer, loving expression. "I don’t trust Joe. But that’s just my opinion."

"Uncle Joe wouldn’t have hurt anyone, dad." Anna assured. "He’ll understand."

"I believe in the good in him, Anna, but his demonstration begs to differ. Jenny, on the other hand seems quite trustworthy."

Catherine nodded, staring at the door. "She always has been. I’ve thought of telling her. Even before the twins, I thought of telling her."

"Let me talk to him." Anna volunteered. "I know Uncle Joe can handle it. You just gotta break it to him gently." She nodded, all-knowing.

"It’s already been broken to him, sweetheart." Catherine was still staring out the door. "And none too gently."

"Then go ahead, Catherine." Vincent allowed. "Just tell them. They’ve been loyal friends for years. We both owe them the truth."

Catherine looked at Vincent and gave him a weak smile. "Do you want to stay here, or go with me?"

"Catherine," he stared down at her with adoration shining from him, "I think you’ve faced enough alone."

Catherine smiled and stretched to kiss him lightly on his lips. She took his hand, a deep breath, and began to lead the way.

"I want to come too!" Anna jumped up.

"No, little one," Vincent stopped her. "You stay here and take care of your brother. We’ll let you know when you can come out. Stay here." He turned back and encouraged Catherine forward again.

Joe and Jenny were arguing as Vincent and Catherine came down the hall. They could hear nothing intelligible, only harsh whispers. Catherine hesitated for a moment, but Vincent leaned forward and whispered that ‘everything will be all right’. Catherine took a deep breath and stepped into the livingroom.

"Cathy!" Jenny rushed forward. "I’m so sorry! I had no idea! If I had known..." Her voice trailed off as Vincent emerged behind Catherine. Though not afraid of him, she was somewhat intimidated and backed away as they came closer.

"I know you would have." Catherine nodded, deciding to ignore her friend’s reaction. "But, let’s get something straight." Her focus was directed at Joe who was guarding himself with the couch. "You will never, ever just invade my apartment like that ever again! Do you understand?" Jenny nodded vigorously, determined to be forgiven. But Joe only stared warily at Vincent. "Do you understand me?" Catherine spoke slowly and forcefully. Joe nodded once, complying in his own stubborn manner. "Good. In that case, we can sit and discuss this like normal people."

Joe gave an unsuccessfully stifled ironic laugh. "There’s nothing normal about any of this, Cathy."

"Well," Vincent ventured forward to Catherine’s side, "there’s a good place to start-"

"No, you don’t have a right to talk." Joe suddenly spoke up, his finger pointed at Vincent, his anger seeming to overpower any fear or intimidation. "You shouldn’t even be here. Where the hell have you been for the last seven years? I just can’t figure you out. Apart from your... appearance, which I haven’t even begun to try to explain to myself yet; I just can’t understand you. And believe me, I may not have known you, but I have spent the last seven years trying to get inside your head." Joe was pacing now, and, for him, there was no one else but he and Vincent. "How could you leave them? Just throw them out in the cold like that?"

"Joe." Catherine protested, but Vincent held out his hand to stop her.

"I have tried to make up for everything that you’ve done to Cathy and Annie. The years of hurt that have eaten away at both of them. You are all that Annie has ever wanted in her life. And God knows I tried to fill that void. I thought I’d done it too, until you show up out of nowhere. All of a sudden you want to play the doting father.

"You won’t hurt them again, Vincent. I’ll make sure of that! You have no claim to either of them and I will not see them taken away from me." He was done, but he looked volatile, like he might start again any second.

"Joe," Catherine stepped forward, but Vincent touched her arm and continued in her place.

"You’re a good man, Joe Maxwell. You love Catherine and Anna. I can see that. I deeply appreciate all that you have done for them. And please don’t believe that I feel anything less. You’re right, I hurt them beyond words, and I will always regret that. But I will also be spending the rest of my life trying to make it up to them. You’ve been a great friend to Catherine when she needed one most. You’ve cared for Anna when I wasn’t there. For that, I’m entirely in your debt.

"I understand that you both feel like you’re losing Anna, but, believe me, I don’t want that to happen any more than you do. You two came first. You’ve watched her grow from infancy. You’ve helped shape such a beautiful and intelligent child. She is as much yours as she is mine. I don’t want Catherine to lose your friendship, and I don’t want Anna to lose your influence. You’ve given them things that I would never be able to.

"Anna loves you, Joe. She loves your talks and the games you invent together. She told me about walks in the park and watching you working at the District Attorney’s office. Those are things only you can give her. I can never replace that, nor would I want to."

There was a silence. Catherine raised her eyes to Vincent and was smiling at him in pure adoration. Joe was breathing deeply and he swallowed hard, as if digesting Vincent’s words. Jenny was staring at Vincent, near tears and smiling at him.

"Well, that was just beautiful." Jenny wiped her eyes and then fell into the couch. "I am just dying to know how you two met. Joe," she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and tugged, "do me a favor and let it go. Anna’s still here, and I have a feeling Vincent will be around for a long time. You may as well get used to him."

Joe continued to survey Vincent, head to toe, sizing him up. He was trying to reject the confidence that Vincent’s speech had instilled in him, but he was fighting a losing battle.

"Joe," Catherine spoke softly, reassuring, "it’s not all as bad as you think. Sit down. Let me tell you what happened." She smiled as he slowly sank into the couch next to Jenny.

"Uncle Joe?" A little voice called from the hall.

The adults turned to find Anna, with Jacob close behind her. "Anna! Jacob! What did we tell you?" Catherine scolded.

"I feel a lot better." Jacob insisted, running at his parents, and stopping so close he has to lean back to look up at them.

"Uncle Joe," Anna walked over and sat next to him, "I’m sorry I’ve been kind of ignoring you. I just... I finally had him here and I wanted to spend time with him too. I didn’t know how long it would last."

"Well, Anna," Vincent spoke up, "we’re going to fix that. We are going to come up with some kind of schedule. You can’t ignore them. They’re very important."

"I know," she nodded and wrapped her arms around Joe’s neck. "Forgive me?"

Despite himself, Joe chuckled at her. "Annie, I’m wrapped around your little finger. You know that."

"Good!" Anna bounced. "Mom, how about you and daddy tell the whole story and we’ll have ice-cream cake and then Jacob and I will really have our birthday with everybody."

"All right." Catherine let Vincent cut and pass out the cake. She sat in the chair at the head of the livingroom and pulled Jacob onto her lap. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"I’m fine." Jacob smiled back at her. "I’ve never been caught before," he told her as if it meant nothing.

"And let’s just hope you don’t ever again." Catherine smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Wow, Cath," Jenny admired mother and son, "he really does look like you. I want to hear all the details!"

"All right," Catherine smiled comfortably with no doubt in her mind as to what she was about to tell, "is everyone sitting comfortably? Okay then...

"Once upon a time, in the city of New York..."

 

37. Two Years Later
July, 1999
 

"Jamie said I might find you here." Catherine announced her presence with thorough amusement.

Vincent spun, causing the water he was engulfed in to form a vortex. He found Catherine perched atop a boulder, watching him with a grin. For a moment he panicked; how had he not sensed her approach? He must have been so absorbed in the water, he hadn’t even acknowledged the sense. "Catherine," he gasped slightly.

She giggled softly, seeing, sensing his nervousness and embarrassment. She hunched over her jean shorts and wrapped her arms around her tank-top and white cotton over-shirt. "It’s so hot Above... I thought the children would be down here too."

"Many haven’t noticed the heat wave," he explained, still uncomfortable, but now because of her lack of clothes.

"So you thought you’d beat the rush?" She asked playfully.

"No... no." His heartbeat had slowed to normal and his mind sank into that comforting cocoon of her mere presence. He swam up close to the rock the she was observing from. "The water... it’s soothing. It helps me think."

She was immediately concerned and came down off her perch to kneel on the sand next to him. "Have you been troubled lately?"

He stared into her eyes and nearly drowned in them. They were so beautiful and caring. He could lose himself in their depths without even a second thought. "No," he whispered, still entranced, "I simply needed to think." She smiled, and he melted. His heart was claimed by that smile. His whole life would forever be for the sole reason of seeing that smile. "Come," he invited before he could realize what he was doing, "join me."

"I don’t know about that." She looked at him skeptically, giggling. "You know where that got us last time."

"Mom! Father!" Jacob called from the ledge above the water. "Watch me jump!"

"Yes," Vincent mumbled ironically to Catherine. "They make it impossible to forget."

"Mom, Dad, are you watching?" Anna called, coming up behind her brother.

"Jacob!" Catherine called up to her son. "Sweetheart, be careful, the water’s kind of shallow."

"It’s okay, mom." Anna reassured. "We do this all the time."

"Why do you keep saying ‘we’?" Jacob turned to his sister, thoroughly annoyed. "You never actually do any of the exciting things I like to do."

"Well... no." She looked away bashfully. "But," she smiled back at him. "I’m always right here next to you whenever you do it." She shrugged. "That should count for something."

"It does." He smiled and nodded. And with that, he spun around and dived face forward into the water. He bobbed back up, quick as a cork, and wiped his eyes clear to see where he jumped from. "Come on, Anna! Your turn!"

Anna took a short deep breath and carefully set her toes on the edge. Her stomach turned and she took a step back. "No, I don’t think I can do it." She shook her head vigorously.

"Anna," Vincent called to her, "you can do it. I’ll catch you."

Anna crept forward again, her toes barely off the edge. She looked down to find her father right underneath her, waiting, arms outstretched. She hesitated and then slowly backed away. "No, it’s okay. I think I’ll just climb down."

Jacob shook his head, and gave up on his sister, expecting her to back down. Instead he concentrated on Catherine. "Come on, mom! The water feels great!"

"No, honey, I’m okay right here," she assured him.

"Are you sure?" Vincent swam up to the edge and lifted himself slightly to be almost nose-to-nose with her. "It’s awfully hot out there," he whispered, a suggestion in his eyes and voice.

"It’s a little crowded in there for my taste," she teased and kissed his nose. "I’m sure."

A huge splash occurred out of nowhere, and everyone turned to Jacob when he began squirming and fighting something under the water. "Anna! Cut it out!" She emerged to the surface laughing and Jacob splashed her, just as she had cleared her eyes.

"Hey!" Anna protested, and immediately spun around to find Catherine. "Mom," she whined, "that wasn’t fair!"

"And your grabbing his feet underwater wasn’t warranted." Catherine regulated. "That’s enough now. Stop your arguing." Catherine pulled back to climb to her feet, but Vincent caught her arm.

"Wait." He stared into her eyes in deep concern. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I’m fine, Vincent," she insisted, but came closer, complying with his directions.

"You feel a little warm." He drifted his hand across her forehead and down her neck.

"Vincent, it’s a thousand degrees Above, of course I’m..." Catherine tried to jerk away, but it was too late. Vincent had grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into the water. She fell face first and came up gasping for air. She wiped her face as the twins’ laughter filled the cavern. Breathing hard, she glared at Vincent, who shrugged casually. Slowly a seductive smile grew on her lips and she swam close to him and looped her arms around his neck. "That was pretty clever," she granted him.

He dipped his face close to hers, letting his breath drift across her face. "I thought so."

"Mm-hm." She nodded and drew him close to initiate a kiss. But just before he reached her, she slid her hands into his hair and pushed his face under the water. She let him go quickly and, as he came up sputtering and spitting, she casually back-stroked away from him. "But I’m pretty clever too," she finished smugly.

Vincent wiped his face and shook his hair away from his eyes. As soon as he found Catherine he dived for her, laughing and splashing her as much as he could.

"Mommy, daddy, that’s enough! Stop your arguing!" Anna yelled to them.

A lone, quiet figure stood at the entrance of the cavern, watching with pride. He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder and a voice called to him.

"Father?"

"Joe, my boy!" Father greeted Joe Maxwell, putting a paternal arm around him. "What can I do for you?"

Joe looked into the cavern and found the spectacle at which Father had been watching. With a forced smile and an accepting nod, Joe took a deep breath and turned to Father once again. "I was hoping to talk to you about that incident the other day."

"Joe, I have told you time and time again; we are not giving firearms to the sentries." Father led Joe away from the cavern.

Away from the sounds of water splashing and the distant laughter of a new family.