Part III: En Passant

When one side attempts to evade the opposition by stealth and the other side captures it in passing.  Both sides are pawns in this play.

     Catherine...  Their eyes locked and they stood transfixed, overwhelmed by the sudden end to the long, enforced separation and the events of the last two hours.
     So beautiful, she was so beautiful...
     No Vincent, it's you, you're all that is beautiful to me...
     He thought he might actually collapse under the intensity, the shared intimacy of this moment. When had the Bond grown so strong in her?  He was stunned speechless by the implication of it.
     The look on his face as realization set in was everything she had hoped for.  Catherine suddenly knew she couldn't take another minute of this without his touch, and stepped forward and into his waiting arms.
     They held on tightly, both drawing strength and giving it to the other.  Despite his resolutions of an hour ago, Vincent held her tighter and closer than he'd ever before allowed himself to do.  Though he wore his cloak, he could feel her soft curves through the thinner layers of their nightclothes, feel how her deceptively slim body perfectly complemented the taller, hard strength of his own.  How could he live without her?  Without this closeness?  The answer was obvious, he couldn't.  But that was beside the point, he must, and so he finally drew slightly away from her warmth, though he positively couldn't release her entirely, not yet, and grasped her hands, keeping her near him.
     Catherine made a tiny, mewling sound deep in her throat as his body pulled away from hers, but covered it almost immediately.  God, how she wanted his hard, muscled length against her, never leaving her.  But for now she drew back from these thoughts and searched his face closely, noting the tired lines and weary eyes.  She had already felt the trembling in his arms, in his whole body, and knew it was as much from fatigue as the excitement of their meeting.
     By some unconscious, mutual consent, they ignored their shared experiences of the last few hours, easing into their reunion slowly.
     "Come Vincent," she said, drawing him into the chamber towards the table.  "Sit down.  I can feel how tired you are.  And you must be starving.  Eat now, and then go to bed.  We can talk tomorrow, tonight you need your rest."
     "You're staying Catherine?"  his voice was even huskier and lower than usual and her very toes curled at the sound of it caressing her name.  It wasn't a question, not really.  It was obvious she was staying.  She wore the gown and robe he always kept for her among his most treasured things.
     "Yes.  Both Mary and Father insisted," though she stopped at revealing the role she'd played in that little game.
     "Good."  He nodded firmly.  "You've worked much too hard this week Catherine, you're exhausted."  His voice caught as he watched her closely, seeing and feeling the weariness that saturated her.  The Bond was so strong within them tonight that he felt he could almost read the very words of her thoughts and that she might very well be able to do the same with him.  It was quite a daunting thought and he turned from it quickly before it could overwhelm him entirely.
     Before he was aware of it, Catherine had pushed him gently towards his chair and the smells coming from the covered plates roused him suddenly from his reverie.  He blinked at the quantity of food on the table, quite perplexed.  "Catherine, this is an amazing amount of food."
     "Well William apparently thinks we can handle it.  I actually toyed with the idea of being a little insulted for a while, until I was distracted by the marvelous smells," she said bemusedly.
     She moved to take his cloak from his shoulders only to encounter a sudden resistance in him.    "Vincent, give me your cloak and sit down and eat."
     "I... Catherine, I'm not properly dressed.  The laundry crews can't keep up with the repair crews... Mouse brought what he could find, but..."  He trailed off, stammering, a flush rising in his face.
     "It's all right Vincent.  I know all about the problems everyone's having here this week.  Don't worry, I'm too tired to take advantage of your predicament."
     Her lighthearted teasing eased his discomfort and made him feel a little foolish for worrying about such a silly thing.  He was perfectly presentable after all; the warm robe he wore over his nightshirt was both thick and long, made to keep out the tunnel chills.  He hesitated a moment, then shrugged out of his cloak and handed it to her.  He sat down at the table quickly though, despite his mental arguments.
     And despite Catherine's assurances, she couldn't help but glance covertly at him.  His nightclothes weren't made to close high at the neck as was his preference during the daytime, both to keep out the chill and for modesty's sake.  She could see just past the tender base of his throat, where his collarbones came together.  The golden hair curling there held her mesmerized for a moment, but she quickly forced her mind to other things before Vincent could notice and become uncomfortable.
     Catherine lifted off the warming covers from the plates and poured hot, steaming tea into their mugs.  She sat down next to him then, and they shared a few moments of companionable silence while they tasted the results of William's excellent skill.  A minute later they exchanged sheepish grins.
     "Catherine, do you think we will seem gluttons if we eat everything?  I had thought I was too tired too eat, but I believe I was mistaken," he said ruefully.
     After appearing to give it serious thought, Catherine replied; "No, I think William will be thrilled.  Still, I have to tell you Vincent, if anyone asks about it I'm not above lying and saying it was only you with the humongous appetite and that, as usual, I ate like a bird."  Her words were so in contrast to the large amount of food already missing from her plate that they both dissolved in helpless waves of laughter.
     Their shared laughter relaxed them considerably, and before they knew it they were deep in conversation about the difficult week just past.  The Bond almost seemed to be physically present tonight, off to the periphery, as if they could see it if they just turned quickly enough.  It manifested itself as a loosely vibrating, glowing band which lazily communicated their every emotion; easily, effortlessly drawing them closer within it without their conscious recognition.  The time passed quickly, and before they knew it they found themselves staring in astonishment at the totally empty plates filling the table - though they'd joked about it, they were quite chagrined to see they'd actually done it.
    Catherine grinned wickedly as she rose from her chair and started stacking the plates on the kitchen tray.  "Tsk tsk, Vincent," she scolded him sternly, "how could you possibly have eaten so much?  I'm sure Father raised you better than that.  What will he say?"
     Vincent stared at her raptly, entranced by her loving, teasing presence.  "Catherine, you are shameless," he said, and found her suddenly, to his amazement and enjoyment, covered with an irresistible, inexplicable blush.  She was adorable!
     "Here, I'll take that tray back to the kitchen."  Vincent found himself needing some distance to reestablish his equilibrium - the smallest things about her could set him off.  He took the considerably lighter tray from her hands (minus the tea kettle and mugs, not to mention the food), and quickly headed towards the kitchen.
     Catherine took that opportunity to mix hot and cool water in the basin and pour in William's magic foot powder.  She pulled Vincent's chair out from the table and positioned the steaming basin off to the side of it.  She was just fixing them each another mug of herbal tea when Vincent reentered the chamber; it was his turn to wear the wicked grin now.
     "Catherine, I told William about your amazing appetite.  He says to tell you how glad he is that you enjoyed his cooking, though for the life of him he can't figure out where you put it all."
     "Vincent, you didn't!?"  she cried, though she was secretly immensely pleased by his teasing - it was so deliciously out of character for him.  Her sideways, speculative glance told him that she would get even eventually, and he found himself perversely looking forward to that event.
     All in all, he was amazed that they were both still awake and alert.  The fatigue had not left them, in fact it had seemed to sink to a much deeper, more permanent level.  He knew once they actually fell asleep, nothing would wake them for many hours and this dispelled any concerns he would normally have had about Catherine staying Below.
     But they were still awake now, and loathe to end this time together.  Once again he found himself pushed down into his chair by this much smaller woman.
     "Sit.  I have some good news for you."
     "Good news?  What is it Catherine?"  He found himself waiting for this 'good news' with some small trepidation, perhaps because it was so unexpected.  He hadn't felt anything like 'good news' through the Bond from Catherine all week.  But what happened next caught him completely off guard.
     Instead of replying she was sinking down to her knees in front of him and tugging at his slippers.  The right one was off and his bare foot suddenly in her hands before he could react at all.
     "What are you doing Catherine?" he squeaked in a voice considerably higher than his normal one.  He tried to draw his foot away from her, shame flooding him as she touched him, saw him.  But she held him tightly and he was afraid of hurting her with his nails - he was trapped.
     "Put your foot in here," she pulled the basin forward and positioned it under his raised foot.     "William gave me a packet of his favorite foot powders for you, he swears by them."
     Catherine was so nonchalantly casual about the whole thing that he was stunned.  There was really nothing else he could do without appearing foolish, and at least then she would let go of his foot.  He gingerly lowered it into the hot water and couldn't help his surprised response.  The tingling warmth on just that one foot seemed to float upward, filling him, strangely reminiscent of the roiling jets of the D3 bathing pool.
     Oh, this did feel marvelous...  Perhaps it wasn't such an awful thing after all, her seeing his feet - she'd probably guessed exactly what they'd look like, knowing his hands so well.  And she hadn't seemed the least bit surprised or, more importantly, repelled by the sight (or feel) of them.
     He'd closed his eyes momentarily, in order to recover his composure, when he felt her hands on his left foot.  He tried to calmly watch her remove that slipper but he felt more than saw her subtle, quick caress before the left foot joined the right in the basin.  He was speechless.  He was undone by the sight of her kneeling before him.  He tried to control the wildly swinging sensations that suddenly wracked him, but found it beyond him for the smallest moment, and the images that flashed across his mind boggled him with their intensity, their intimacy.
     No!  Not now!  It took all the will at his disposal to gain control once more, to calm his breathing out of the panting pattern it had begun to fall into, and to feel his heart beat more evenly in his chest.
     Strangely enough Catherine didn't react to his response at all, she appeared completely insensate to it.  How could this be?  He tried to subtly probe the Bond, but found only a calm assurance on her part.  The only time he couldn't account for was the moment in the midst of those strong emotions, then he hadn't been able to sort out his own feelings much less Catherine's.  Luckily she was moving away from him now, giving him some badly needed distance.
     She moved to sit at the table across from him.  "Vincent, my job will be changing, for the better."  She had a happily expectant smile on her face.
     What?  What was she telling him?  Oh yes, the news.  He'd completely forgotten about that.  A new job?  Would this new job take her out of the city?!  His heart seemed to stop for a moment and he didn't know what to say, but she didn't seem to expect a response from him just yet, and went on.
     "I talked to Joe earlier this week.  The case I just finished was my last investigation.  I'll be starting in the Trial Division a week from tomorrow."  His heart resumed its beating again.  She watched him calmly, letting the news and all it meant sink in.
     "The Trial Division?  You mean you won't be doing any more street investigations?  None at all?"  He was stunned.  This was amazingly good news - better than good, better than best as Mouse would say.  The humor of that 'Mouse thought' bubbled up through him in a huge wave of relief.
     Then to his horror he felt tears well up in his eyes and knew she'd already seen them.  He shouldn't be so happy when it was entirely  possible that she was leaving a job she enjoyed for his benefit.  But he couldn't help himself; she was going to be much safer now - as safe as anyone could be living Above in New York City, he added grimly to himself.  He surreptitiously brushed at his eyes.
     "Catherine, are you sure?  Is this really what you want to do?  I know how you love your job, how much good you do."  He waited anxiously for her response to this, holding his breath and moving into the Bond much stronger than was his wont, to the actual point of intrusion, needing to know her true feelings on this issue.
     Catherine gasped as she felt his presence in the Bond, much stronger than she'd ever felt it before.  Stronger even than when he and Father had been trapped by the cave-in and he'd called to her.  She was momentarily incapable of answering him, so caught up was she in the intense pleasure she felt through this new closeness.  But she felt his insistence too and finally spoke, at the same time opening herself completely to him so that he could read through the Bond unhindered.
     "It is what I want Vincent.  You must believe that.  I've been doing it too long, much longer than is normal in our office.  Most investigators move to trial work long before this.  I've been making stupid mistakes, endangering myself and you in the process.  I'm burning out and my effectiveness can only go down from here, it's happened time and time again in the DA's office.  This move will help me regain that effectiveness and reenergize myself at the same time.  I need that.  It's good for everyone concerned.  And Joe was actually quite relieved when I asked for the transfer.  I'm convinced he thinks it's the best move for me at this time.  Please believe me Vincent, please."  She made no move to touch him, letting him absorb the truth through her voice and eyes, and most importantly through the Bond.
     He was sinking into her eyes and they were floating together in lazy spirals through the Bond.  He saw it all, felt it all.  She meant it.  She wasn't quitting for him.  This was the right move for her.  He was amazed when he found he could speak.
     "I believe you Catherine," and his voice was again as it had been when he'd first appeared tonight, low and seductive.
     It must be the effect of the Bond, she thought hazily, still lost in it.  Please don't pull away, please...
     But it was already too late.  He was disengaging from her, from the Bond.  Gently drawing away from her, breaking that precious connection that had held them suspended together for what seemed like an eternity.  She couldn't control the small moan of dismay she made then, strangely erotic in its tone, and Vincent shuddered upon hearing it, feeling himself the disorienting affects of that separation.
     Neither was sure how much time had passed before they were once again aware of their individual selves and their surroundings.  They stared at each other, and Vincent finally had to look away from the sorrow in Catherine's eyes.  He felt her hand on his and turned back to her; the sorrow was still there, but mixed irrevocably with the love he had somehow missed a moment ago in his shame.
     "It's all right Vincent.  I'm here, and I'll never leave you.  Never... Please believe me, my love..."
     The words devastated him, so recently familiar, so heartrending in their uncompromising, unconditional acceptance.  The tears he'd been able to control a few minutes ago now fell from his eyes unheeded and he leaned down to rest his wet cheek against their clasped hands.  He felt her other hand suddenly, stroking his hot brow, then her lips against it, soothing him. What had he ever done to deserve her?  How was this possible? He didn't know the answers to these questions, but suddenly he was too tired to pursue it.  They were together, where they both needed to be.  And for the moment he would accept this gift and live within it, for whatever time fate would allow.
     Her gentle hand continued to stroke his hair for some time while he hovered somewhere near sleep.  He couldn't stay awake much longer, and neither could she, that much was certain.  Eventually he felt her hand withdraw from under his cheek but he rested where he was a moment longer before lifting his head to look at her.
     She had moved around to his side and was kneeling down at his feet again.  This time he watched her as if from a distance, he couldn't respond as he knew he should, everything felt muted and slightly removed from reality.  She lifted his feet and set them on a towel resting on her thigh before pushing the cooling basin of water out of the way.  Then she lightly rubbed his feet through the towel, drying the fur thoroughly.  As if in a fog he watched her begin to massage one foot, kneading strongly with both hands.  He had just about gathered enough strength together to ask her to stop when she began on the sole, pushing deeply into the arch and heel.
     Ahhh... this was heaven... and somehow the moment was past.  She moved up from there to massage his calf, her hands slipping beneath the robe and the hem of his nightshirt.   His hands gripped the arms of the chair, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, No, this was too much, he had to make her stop... had to... but she had already stopped, as if sensing his very thoughts, and perversely, he almost cried out for her to continue.  Then her skillful hands and fingers began to work their magic on his other foot and asking her to stop was out of the question.  Fortunately, she quit at his knee with this leg too, before he had to find the resources within himself to end it.  He wasn't sure he could have done it and he felt a moment of panic, almost terror, at that thought.  But she had truly moved away from him now, rising to hang the towel over a rack and pouring the basin water into a large pitcher for easier disposal later.
     Suddenly he found himself deeply ashamed.  Catherine had coddled and cared for him from the moment he had entered this chamber.  She had dinner waiting, a footbath and massage.  And he had taken it all, not sparing more than a few fleeting thoughts to her own, exhausted state.  She was as weary as he, even now she seemed on the verge of falling asleep as she moved, almost in a trance.  What had he been thinking of?  These new thoughts made his previous concerns seem petty and selfish, he was thinking only of himself!  Somewhere deep inside himself he found a last reserve of energy.  Rising from the chair, he lifted her in his arms and deposited her there.
     "Vincent, what are you....?"
     "Shhh Catherine, relax, let me take care of you now."
     There was no more hot water left, but he could rub her tired, aching feet.  Despite the fact that she had a field job (had a field job, he happily reminded himself), she still persisted in wearing those awful high heels during the day.  Why did women put up with that fashion torture?  He immediately went to work on her arches and heels, recalling how good it had felt to him.
     The soft groan he heard surprised him and he looked up at her in concern, his hands stilled.
     "No, don't stop... please, don't stop... Oh Vincent, that feels heavenly!"
     He had to smile, hearing her verbalize the exact thoughts he'd kept so close to himself when the situation had been reversed.  How like her, she wasn't afraid of anything.
     She had slid down in the chair in a pose of sensual surrender, he couldn't help but see it for what it was, despite his lack of experience.  He swallowed hard, wondering if he had been wise in thinking this just an innocent, harmless exchange.  But his body seemed to be on an entirely different wavelength from his mind.  While he had been wondering whether or not he should stop, his hands had moved on to massage her calf, caressing that smooth, soft, supple flesh.  The anxiety began to rise in him, a constant companion to his desire, and he gratefully realized that he could safely begin on the other foot.  But by now his control was more firmly in place and the other foot was finished without incident (mostly because Catherine had apparently fallen fast asleep some minutes before).
     He had to smile a little ironically at how this highly unusual situation had resolved itself.  It was what he wanted wasn't it?  Better not think too closely on that.  He suspected it would take an earthquake to wake her now.  He was amazed at how long they'd both managed to stay awake, but their evening together was definitely over now.  He wondered if the guest chamber was ready yet, nobody had come to tell them, but he had to admit that he was glad their evening had been uninterrupted.  He decided that Catherine would sleep here and he would take the guest room, though carrying her slight weight that short distance would have been nothing, even to his waning strength.
     He rose and pulled the covers back from his bed before turning again to Catherine.  She looked so small and fragile curled up in his chair, his heart turned over just looking at her.  He leaned over her and slipped the robe off her shoulders, lifted her into his arms and took the few steps necessary to reach the bed.
     Wasn't that strange?  He was so tired he felt that he could fall asleep standing there, but he didn't want to let her go.  Just a few more minutes... a few minutes more...  He watched her peaceful face, so composed in deep sleep that there wasn't the least inkling of dream activity - he could sense none at all through the bond.
     Finally he laid her down and covered her up.  He should go now, check the guest chamber, stop in to see Father before he'd gone to bed himself, but he couldn't move, not just yet.  She was so beautiful, so beautiful... his hand reached out to caress her cheek.
     Suddenly he heard a sound outside his chamber.  He turned to watch the entrance and a moment later Mary called out, seeking permission to enter.  She was one of the few tunnel dwellers who did so without fail.  Lately he was beginning to think that sometimes his privacy was taken for granted by the others (Catherine would have put it much more forcibly).
     "Come in Mary."
     She peeked around the corner, somewhat like a timid bird, still unwilling to intrude on their evening.  When she saw Catherine asleep in Vincent's bed she smiled complacently and stepped forward to greet him.
     "Welcome home, Vincent."
     He wrapped his arms around her for a long hug, careful not to squeeze too tightly.  Next to Catherine and Father, he had missed Mary most of all.  She leaned away to look at him carefully.
     "You're as tired as Catherine, what a pair you two are!" she shook her head affectionately.  "We have a problem though Vincent.  There's no extra sheets or blankets to be found anywhere.  In fact, we're only at about half supply as is.  People are double bunking wherever possible."
     "Don't worry Mary, Catherine will sleep here, and I'll find another spot.  Is there an open cot in the hospital chamber?"
     "That's where most of the bedding has gone - it's our highest priority now, what with the flu spreading faster than wildfire among the children, and it's completely full.  Some of the nursery beds are free of course, but the linen has been salvaged for use elsewhere, and you know those beds are much too small for you, it would never work."  She looked speculatively down at Catherine, then back again at Vincent before continuing,
     "Oh Vincent, don't be foolish.  Catherine won't wake for 12 hours at least, and I doubt you will either once your head hits the pillow.  Stay here, you'll both rest more comfortably."
 He opened his mouth to refuse that option, but suddenly felt silly in light of Mary's common sense.  And he knew she was right; he and Catherine would both sleep better if the other was near.
     "I suppose you're right, Mary.  And I really don't have the strength to search out new quarters now.  Where's Father?  I haven't seen him yet."
     "Don't even try till morning Vincent.  He's fast asleep, and I would prefer he wasn't disturbed unless it's an emergency."
     Mary's face took on a concerned expression that suddenly left Vincent with a cold stone in the pit of his stomach.  He hadn't even stopped to see Father when he returned, he was so intent upon Catherine.  What was happening to him?
     "No, no Vincent, it's nothing," she hurried to assure him, seeing the fear on his face.  "He's just tired, like everyone else.  It's just that it's sometimes difficult to get him to stop once he gets going, you know how he is."
     Vincent searched her eyes carefully, and found no conflict with her words.  The stone in his stomach was gone now, the sudden release from tension leaving him loosely weak with relief.
     "Yes.  All right.  Will you make sure I'm wakened if there's any serious trouble on level F?"  He really didn't anticipate any new developments in the next 24 hours, not as long as the good weather held out.
     "Of course I will Vincent.  And I'll make sure you two aren't disturbed unless there's a problem, you both need your rest.  You work too hard my dear."  She patted his cheek fondly as she added the last, then quickly turned and left the chamber.
     Vincent stood looking down at Catherine for several minutes more, reflecting on his decision.  What harm could it do?  He was dead on his feet, and Catherine was out like a light.  This is silly...
     Abruptly he left the bedside and made a turn about the chamber, putting out all but two night candles.  He gently slid Catherine over towards the stained-glass window ledge (she never showed the slightest sign of waking), then, leaving his robe on, he slipped under the covers and gingerly hugged his side of the bed.

     Within minutes Vincent joined Catherine in a deep, dreamless sleep.  And they would remain that way throughout the night.  No, dreams would not be needed this evening, the Bond had other plans for them, and the deep-sleep state suited its purpose to a tee.  It had been a passive, benign entity up to this point, but the waiting was at an end, and so was its passivity.  There had been too much resistance, not enough progress, not even the attempt in some cases.  It was normally a patient thing, this connection between two souls, but it had a purpose which must ultimately be met.  Call it fate, call it destiny, a rose by any other name...

     The Bond drew itself tight between them, then tighter still, until the taut, fibrous connection felt as though it might snap.  A vibration began, a wave motion that built in frequency and intensity until a specific resonance was reached and the pulsation transferred itself to the bodies of the two sleeping souls encompassed within it.  The pulsing sensation grew, throbbing through them both, pulling them together.  Their arms reached out, and upon touching, grasped, needing this contact, craving it, limbs entwining to let them touch everywhere.  Their bodies' responses were predictable and immediate.  He pushed his knee between her legs and she drew closer, throwing her thigh over his hip, moving her loins against his, feeling his heat, wanting it, needing it within her own.  His hand reached around her, cupping her buttocks, pulling her closer.  It slid down her thigh to the back of her knee, pulling it even higher against his hip, opening her further to him.  He retraced its path from knee to thigh to hip, this time against her bare skin, drawing her gown up and out of the way as it moved, catching the hem of his own and taking it along as he went.  They were bare to each other there now, moving together, seeking the completion they needed.  She fell to her back, urged downward by the insistent weight of his body over hers.  Ohhh... Better, so much better.  She could open to him completely now, feel her thighs pressed wide by his hips, her slick warmth rubbing against his hard length.  There was heat and throbbing, and its origins were within them both.  Yesss... She was there for him now, waiting, and he needed so desperately to be inside her, to seek the depths of that spiraling vortex pulling him down to her, pulling them together, yes, together...  Oh yes! yes! please... more ...  Her body called out to his, drawing him, needing him deeper still.  But he moved slowly now, letting her body adjust to his, as little by little he sought her hot depths.  Finally, he was buried to the utmost reaches within her.  His body encompassed her everywhere; holding her, touching her, filling her.  She held him to her tightly; her limbs wrapped securely around him, her body enclosing him.  He buried his face against the curve of her neck and shoulder, tasting the luscious skin there, as he absorbed the feel of her along that most sensitive organ.  They lay quite still now, the vibrations of the Bond growing, tightening even more within them.  It didn't seem possible that he could move deeper within her, but he was lengthening and thickening even further, and her body was expanding, stretching to accept all of him.  The sensation was an indefinable pleasure, just on the edge of pain, a delicious ache.  The pulsing of the bond was within them now too, his flesh throbbing against her, her sleek muscles clenching convulsively along his hot flesh.  The vibrations within and without reached a fever pitch, and still they did not move.  Now the waiting was truly at an end, the pulsating Bond moved towards its maximum frequency then matched it.  Their bodies' response to this was a cataclysmic, simultaneous orgasm that seemed to go on forever; it rushed through them like a firestorm, with no warning, no thought.  They both cried out then, just before he set his teeth against the tender juncture of her shoulder and throat, holding her absolutely still beneath him.  Their bodies clenched together in ultimate ecstasy.  Her welcoming flesh clutched him possessively, greedily taking all he had to give, demanding more.  She caressed him, held him, absorbing all there was until there was nothing left.

     The whole encounter lasted perhaps 15 minutes.  The only sounds made (besides the low, almost continuous growls by him, and the soft, purring moans from her) came at their climax when both cried out the other's name.
     And the rest was silence.