pepcheck4

Part IV: The Middle Game Attack

Defensive moves are still present, but no longer the dominant force as strategic offense comes into play. After preliminary skirmishes and probing for weaknesses, both camps clash on a wide front.
Monday, April 21
     Deep, dark nothingness. Still and calm and soothing, he didn't want to leave it. Then an intrusion, a sound, a jarring motion...
     "Vincent, Vincent... Wake up." She grabbed both shoulders this time and shook even harder, "Vincent! Wake up! There's a problem on level F!"
     He shook his head, attempting to turn from the distraction, but it was still there.   "Vincent! Wake Up!"
     This time he couldn't ignore it, he was abruptly drawn out of the sleep state which might have kept him in its hold for another six hours under different circumstances. He blinked sleepily up at her.
     "Mary...? What is it? What's wrong?!"
     She looked like she'd just been woken herself; her signature bun was gone and her long, thin hair was quite disheveled, as if she'd been running about.
     "Vincent, it started raining again during the night. The wall near junction F7 has given out and the whole area is flooded. Pascal sent out a general alarm. They need you at the site. The rest of your crew already knows, they're on the way now. It sounds like level F is unsalvagable for now, level E has to be shored up. Vincent, most of our food supplies are stored on E!"
     He jumped out of bed, looking around distractedly.
     "Mary, I haven't got any work clothes, the laundry..."
     "Here, I brought you these. They aren't quite dry yet, but they'll have to do."
     He grabbed the folded bundle from her, swooped up his boots and cloak and headed for the door at a run. He stopped suddenly and turned back.
     "Mary, will you watch after Catherine? I don't think she should go back Above unless she gets much more rest."
     She was sleeping so soundly, none of this discussion had touched her at all. She looked like a princess waiting for her prince's kiss to wake her, and he felt himself yearning towards her, wishing he could stay.
     "I won't let her leave Vincent. Didn't she tell you? Father and I have insisted that she stay for the week, she had it off from work anyway, so everything's settled. Don't worry, Catherine will be here when you get back. But you have to go now Vincent, quickly!"
     He spared one more look at Catherine, nodded at Mary and ran out the door.
     "Be careful Vincent!" he heard her call out to him as he rounded the corner outside his chamber.
     Dark, comforting warmth surrounded her, held her safe, secure. But even the awareness of that was more than there had been before. Noises filtered through; scurrying, rushing, some ringing out higher than the others...
     It took Catherine about an hour to come fully awake. No one had come in to interrupt her deep sleep, and so it was indeed six hours after Vincent had left before she woke up. She sat up, groggy, disoriented. It took a few minutes to remember where she was. Oh yes, she was Below, with Vincent. But where...?
     Suddenly she became aware of the activity outside the chamber. This wasn't usual, what's going on? She jumped up then and did a quick search for her robe and slippers. As she looked she couldn't help but flash back to last night's foot massages and wondered if it was Vincent who had taken her robe off and put her to bed... in his bed, too. I wonder where he slept? Maybe, just maybe, he'd stayed...
     But she couldn't really concentrate on those pleasant thoughts, she was quite distracted; something strange was going on out there and her body still ached, though she was considerably less tired. In minutes she'd found the slippers and robe, threw them on and ran out the door.
     She almost immediately ran into Ellen, the head laundress. She was outside the tunnel junction handing out bundles of clothes from two huge baskets. The children were collecting the bundles and instructions for where to deliver them.
     "And hurry now," Ellen shouted after a group just leaving, "Father needs those in the hospital chamber immediately!"
     Catherine stood back a minute longer while she gave out the next assignment - for the work crews on level E. Level E? I thought they were on F?
     "Ellen, what's going on? Why are the work crews on level E?" she asked hurriedly, after the last group had been sent off.
     "Oh Catherine, haven't you heard? Level F flooded during the night, everyone's on level E trying to stop it from spreading, we could lose a huge food supply. And there are living quarters in the center of level D. We can't lose E! I was just beginning to get caught up in the laundry, but now most of that crew are doing emergency assistance on E. I've got to go, Catherine. I've got to get back and get the next load going."
     "Wait Ellen!" Catherine grabbed her arm before she could run off. "I'm staying Below all week. Let me work with you, I want to help."
     Ellen didn't hesitate at all; she needed all the help she could get and besides, Catherine was one of them, everyone knew that.
     "Come right away. We've got work clothes there; it's a wet job, no use ruining your good clothes. William's even set up some food in a nearby chamber, most of us have been too busy to get away for very long."
     "Then I'll come with you now." Catherine didn't need to ask where Vincent was. She ran off after Ellen, grabbing one of the two large baskets along the way. She was actually quite pleased. Oh, not that there was flooding, of course not, but that she could be here to help during this emergency, not as a Helper, but as one of them.
     They finally had a shift rotation going. They'd needed everyone's help for the first ten hours or so, but the crucial work was complete. Level E was now shored up between points 3 and 11, and Vincent had led a crew down to level F to assess the flood damage. The water was four feet deep (he knew it was four feet because he'd actually had to trudge through it) at the worst point; the area the children called 'the dip' between locations 6 and 8 - it was their favorite skate boarding spot. They'd tried to find a way to manually drain it, but it looked impossible. They'd just have to wait until it went down on its own. Meanwhile, they were back to work again, this time on level E.
     They had set up an overlapping 12 hours on/6 hours off work schedule for the time being, hoping that would be sufficient. Kipper and Bobby had brought down food about an hour earlier, and Vincent was just sitting down to eat. He'd chosen a spot down a quiet side tunnel where he could be alone to think; he hadn't had a free moment all day, he'd been entirely tied up with repairs.
     Something strange was happening, and it involved Catherine. Somehow he knew she was hard at work, in the laundry. That knowledge by itself wasn't so unusual, it was the specificity of it. He'd never gotten such detailed impressions through the Bond before, they were almost physical images. And now that he was alone and really able to concentrate, he was astounded by the continuous flood of data he was receiving from her. How was this possible?
     This stream of information had started, quite suddenly, about five hours earlier, before that there had been nothing. And that was also strange. This 'nothing' wasn't the typical background noise he sensed from Catherine at low ebb times, when either of them was asleep for instance. This had been closer to an actual nothing, like he'd felt (or rather hadn't felt) from Catherine as he'd put her to bed last night; no dream activity, nothing at all but the thinnest thread of herr essence to let him know the Bond was still present. He hadn't given it much thought last night (she'd been so tired) or this morning (he'd been too distracted); but the contrast between that and this, this new amplitude the Bond was putting out was, well, simply astounding. Once he opened himself to it fully he was immediately bombarded with images, emotions, physical sensations and even words now and then.
     He leaned against the wall, stunned, absorbing it for a few minutes; experiencing the sensation of being with Catherine in this new way. He quickly clamped down on the flow, needing some space, some distance, feeling like an intruder. What could have caused this? Was it permanent or just a fluke? He decided he had to attempt to define the parameters of this stronger connection, try to put some control on it before it drove him mad.
     He gingerly opened to it again, little by little clearing the pathway between them and found he could shunt the stream aside and concentrate fully on what he was doing while still being strongly aware of her. But when he next tried to tune it out completely, he found it to be impossible. He could reduce the 'volume' so to speak, but he couldn't turn the sound down past a point, and he certainly couldn't switch stations. His awareness of her had increased dramatically; with a little effort he could sense her very thoughts...   No! How could he live with this?! He felt like a voyeur, a mind thief, stealing into her thoughts, taking what was not his. What was happening to him?! And then the big question hit him; How much of this was Catherine now aware of?! And it only took that simple thought for the answer to be made clear.
     Everything.
     Vincent... He'd just discovered the change in the Bond. Until that moment she'd been wondering if it was just her that had been affected. She'd had an advantage over Vincent today; her previous awareness had been so much less than his that it was impossible for her not to become immediately aware of the difference. It had taken about an hour to sort it all out - doing the laundry was hard work, but it didn't take much in the way of brain power or concentration. She was trying hard not to let her elation get out of hand (she didn't want to endanger Vincent or others in the midst of their hazardous work), and luckily she'd discovered that washing clothes manually was of great help in that regard. What had happened? The Bond had been growing clearer to her in the last few months, ever since his illness, but this difference was simply astounding (the phrase echoed through her head and she found herself almost giddy with joy when she realized that she and Vincent had just thought the same words together).
     She focused again on Vincent for just a second; he was cold and wet while she was hot and sweaty - what a pair they were she thought in wry amusement. He was alone, trying hard to figure it out. What could have caused this? Last night had been so wonderful; despite his fatigue, or perhaps because of it, Vincent had allowed much more than he usually did. But that had felt more like a continuation of recent events, notably their third anniversary. From that to this was an amazing jump!
     Fear... shame... cold dread...
     'Vincent! No, please don't think that... I love you, I'll always love you...'
     She intentionally interrupted his destructive train of thought, sending great waves of love and comfort billowing out to him. Perhaps this was not the boon she had first thought it to be. Vincent was going to have a lot of trouble dealing with this. On the other hand, he won't be able to deny what we are to each other any more; he'll have to face up to it, to me.
     Yes! And I'll be there for you my love.
     It had a been a long day. Luckily he'd gotten a full eight hours sleep last night and that had helped him through this first day. He was very tired, but his condition was a big improvement over that of 24 hours before. It was his mental state that could not be quieted now. He'd been able to keep the Bond tuned down during his work, the focus required for that had been a godsend in retrospect.
     Things were fairly under control now, the initial repairs had been made and seemed to be holding. The rest of his crew had been relieved two hours ago, but he had stayed on until Catherine was herself asleep, trying to deal with this new aspect of their relationship in stages. He had no idea what would happen now, the very thought of this change made him almost frantic. It had been hard enough before to maintain a distance between them, now it might just be impossible. There was nothing coming from Catherine now, she was sound asleep. Still, her presence was very strong in him, and despite his disquiet over this new turn of events it comforted him considerably. Periodically during the day, when his thoughts had overwhelmed his ability to concentrate on the job, she'd sent him waves of calming emotion, assuring him of her love, her constancy, stilling his fears. And it had helped.
     He could recall doing much the same for her in the past, when she'd had a particularly bad day. But that was different. She'd only been able to sense the vaguest sweep of his emotions then, just what he wanted her to know, and only if he tried very hard. Now he couldn't hide anything from her. Where would this lead?
     He finally decided to go to bed himself, perhaps things would be different in the morning. They'd had six hours off, but it was only four hours now until he had to be back at the site. He prepared his bedroll in the side tunnel, away from the others, and though he expected to toss and turn with these thoughts he immediately fell asleep.
     The dream began, and they experienced it together. Soft sensations at first, more shadow than substance. Sensory, but indistinct and difficult to define; not really visual or auditory, perhaps somewhat tactile, but as if through a filter, nothing more than that.
     Soft, smooth skin, so different from his own/a rough silkiness that delighted her... Strong arms drawing her close to his muscled length/slim, supple limbs wrapped around him, holding him tight... Their bodies joined now, pleasure radiating outward from that point of joining, growing in intensity... The sudden, explosive release and the sweet aftershocks rolling through them in diminishing waves to peaceful nothingness...
Tuesday, April 22
     Catherine woke suddenly and quickly glanced at the bedside alarm she'd left there last night. 6:00 am. Amazing; she was sure she'd overslept, she felt so rested, so relaxed...
The memory of the dream came to her then, fresh and clear, and she gasped at the potency the recollection held.
     She laid very still, focusing furiously on it. This was different than any dream she'd ever had. Oh not in content; she couldn't count how many times she'd dreamt of them making love. She always tried, and was usually successful, in controlling her erotic thoughts of him while awake, but sleeping was another matter. Those dreams were always wildly vivid, and she always woke immediately following them, perspiring profusely and gasping for breath. But she never woke feeling physically satisfied, no matter how the dream had progressed.
     No, this dream was really different. She remembered every detail, and though the sensations were vague she was absolutely convinced this morning's recollection was a review of the exact sensations experienced in last night's dream. It felt so real, so real... And the feelings within her now were even more puzzling; a deep, still, calm fulfillment she'd never known before.              Vincent...
     He heard her calling to him and came awake suddenly.
     Catherine? She was there with him and her presence was so warm, so soft, so inviting. For some reason he didn't feel the fear of yesterday, this felt so right between them. He relaxed within the Bond, with her, and felt them floating together in a deep pool of satisfaction. It was the sweetest sensation...
     As it had with Catherine, the memory came upon him quickly, overwhelming him.   He tried desperately to close off the connection between them, to hide these feelings from her, but it was too late. Even now, as despair and shame washed over him she was there, soothing him, holding him. It almost felt as if she were actually rubbing his back, her hand moving in tiny circles; comforting him, gentling him away from his fear. His pounding heart slowed its pace and the tension began to drain away. He could still feel the emotional turmoil, but it was as if Catherine could control his physical response to it; he was positive he would not have been able to do it himself under the circumstances.
     He took a deep, shuddering breath and regained his composure. She'd felt the dream too, they'd had it together, there could be no doubt about that. What was happening to them?! How did Catherine feel about all this? Was she disgusted, repelled? She had to be...
But he knew instantly she felt none of those things. There was a calm certainty in her, a deep contentment. She loved him... and she'd loved the dream too...
     Tuesday was indistinguishable from Monday to the tunnel dwellers. It continued to rain, though the repair crews managed to keep level E secure. The children's classes had been temporarily suspended a week ago, and that was still in effect; everyone's help was needed.
     Catherine quickly decided that the situation in the laundry was desperate and asked Father's permission to make a foray Above to a Laundromat. He readily agreed; they really needed clean linen in the hospital chamber, it was a matter of hygiene.
     They set up a relay system. Catherine took two other adults and four children Above, each loaded down with a very large garbage bag of dirty clothes. Meanwhile Ellen supervised another crew who bagged the rest of the laundry and brought it to their exit. As soon as they had the first loads going, Catherine sent the others back to pick up the next batch.
     When things had settled down somewhat Catherine took Samantha and Nathan and left the group for an hour or so. They took a cab to the nearest retail store where she bought three dozen new sets of sheets (in various sizes) fifteen cotton blankets (light but warm) and several dozen thermal shirts (the repair crews were going through these like gangbusters). American Express; don't leave home without it...
     By six that evening they were back in the tunnels, their work complete. They quickly decided to repeat this procedure on Wednesday if needed. It had freed up many extra hands to take up the slack elsewhere, and for the first time in a week everyone had at least several clean changes of clothing readily available. Father had noticed some unremoved tags while helping Mary change the bed linens in the hospital chamber and graciously avoided scolding Catherine over their purchase. The extra help on level E meant that everyone could get at least six and possibly eight hours sleep tonight, but Vincent had decided not to leave the site. If the situation deteriorated he needed to be close by, and he wasn't yet ready to deal with this new development face to face with Catherine.
     'Goodnight Vincent. Sleep well.'
     He could almost hear her voice, feel the soothing touch she sent out with the thought; his heart caught at the intimacy of it.
     'Goodnight Catherine.'
     The husky, seductive caress she always heard when he said her name was just as evident now. The 'unspoken' words hung in the air; both had tried not to think them, but they had flowed naturally after their good nights, and were sensed as plainly as the rest. Sweet Dreams...
     As with the last two nights, Catherine and Vincent quickly fell into a deep sleep. About two hours into that sleep, the dream began again, only now it was clearer, more sharply defined. It was still not a visual dream; there were no real images, but the auditory and tactile sensations were much stronger, more detailed.
     Hands grasping, holding, pulling together to feel every inch... so smooth, so soft, and yet strong, holding him to her/hard muscles, covered with thick, silky fur, so warm, so soft... long, strong legs pushing between her own, hands gripping her from behind, pulling her firmly against him, ohhh.../silky smooth, supple limbs, wrapping about his hips, heels rubbing against the back of his thighs, urging him on, closer to her heat, closer... touching, feeling, flesh moving, growing against her wet warmth... sweet moans, low growls, pleasure vibrating through them, the quickening urgency, now... now! Yes!... coming together... filling her slowly/being filled, loving it, needing it... deeper, yes deeper... drawing him, calling him, pulling him down... yes! more, please, more! Ahhh yes... yes... his mouth against her neck, tongue touching, tasting... warm blood pulsing just beneath the surface, sweet throbbing... throbbing, aching fullness... stillness... waiting..waiting..waiting..waiting... rising sensation, climbing, reaching, filling... Yes! There, now! Now!! Churning, chaotic, ecstatic release - 'Catherine!' 'Vincent!' - shuddering, rocking, crashing through them, hot blood, panting breath, sharp teeth on her throat, holding her, growls rumbling through her skin oh yes! yes! blood pounding through him, beneath him, against his mouth, against his hands, pulsing against and within his hot, hard length yes! oh yes! caressing, holding, taking all of him, everything... then spiraling downward, into each other, deeper.. and deeper... the sensations sinking... floating... sweet satisfaction, dark and warm... utter peace...
Wednesday, April 23
     Submersion; deep and warm, floating upwards ever so slowly. Then light; dim and far off at first, but now closer and brighter...
     Vincent and Catherine awoke at the same time, still tied together in the deep sleep/dream cycle the Bond had enclosed about them. It was a slow, relaxed process, awareness gradually growing of their surroundings, sweet awareness of each other.
     Oh, to always feel her so close... heaven... his solid presence beside her...
     And it happened as it had before. The memory of the dream washed over them, through them; so intense and overwhelming that all else was swept aside. They had no time to react, to close off the connection, and would have found it impossible had they even tried.
     Catherine rode out the sensations, accepting them, glorying in them, but Vincent was moving away, both emotionally and physically. She felt the red heat in her face, in her chest, the swift, violent motion. It was coming from him. She knew he was pacing furiously, fighting it, trying to distance himself from it and her.
     As before, she sent out calming, soothing, non-threatening emotions, but she was distracted. There was something new in her today, an eerie feeling about this dream.
     Two nights, it had happened two nights. And each night the sequence of events had been the same, the dream had only increased in intensity of detail. And never any real images, some sounds, she even thought she'd begun to pick up some scents last night - that had never occurred in any of her dreams before. The tactile sensations, they were amazing. She could actually feel everything, her nerve endings were shockingly sensitized this morning. And that strange, calm, satiated fulfillment. She knew her body well, was sure she hadn't responded to the dream in her sleep, not in that way! And yet her body certainly felt like it had experienced it. This dream was beginning to feel not like a dream at all. It felt more like a... a memory.
     She stayed very still, letting the idea move through her, testing it, weighing it. She thought back to the inception of all these changes. Monday morning. She'd noticed the expanded bond Monday morning while working in the laundry. Had it been there when she'd woken up? No, not that she could recall, but that period of time had been so hectic.
     She remembered waking up slowly, through deep fog - she'd slept 14 hours! - to raised voices and frantic activity outside Vincent's chamber. She hadn't really had time to stop and think for even a minute. Sunday night... The last thing she remembered was the wonderfully soothing, erotic 'foot' massage Vincent had been giving her. She remembered his hands on her calf, kneading away all her tension, infusing her with a deep warmth and contentment. How could she have fallen asleep during that?! And then nothing. A deep, dark sleep that had lasted 14 hours. She certainly couldn't recall dreaming then, she couldn't recall anything of that night after sitting in the chair, her leg in Vincent's warm hands... Sunday night...
     Where had Vincent slept Sunday night?
     She'd been so caught up in her thought process, she hadn't been paying attention to him. At first her thoughts were a jumble to him, he was so distracted, but then they began to filter through and he'd finally caught the train of her thoughts. A sudden stillness swept over the Bond followed by a growing agitation.
     'No! It didn't happen! ...couldn't have happened!'
     'Vincent stop! Stop!'
     She frantically reached out to him, easing him back from the panic claiming him. For the first time since this had begun she opened the Bond completely, feeling the full force of its power in an attempt to calm him.
     It was astounding, overwhelming, and it worked. She could sense everything in him now. He was shaking; his breath coming in pants, his heart pounding, sweat pouring off him.
     He stood absolutely still for a moment, poised to flee, needing to escape this. But where could he go? There was no escape. He sank to the ground on his knees, then slumped against the tunnel wall.
     Stillness vibrated throughout the bond. She waited, letting him ease into it, opening the Bond to him fully.
     'Catherine...?'
     'Shhhh, it's all right Vincent, please, everything's all right, believe me.'
     'Nothing could have happened that night Catherine, I swear. We slept, that's all. Mary came, woke me. You were still sleeping when I left, everything was fine.'
     So he had been there.
     The thoughts were so clear; it was as if they stood speaking side by side.
     'It's all right Vincent. It's nothing, just an idle fancy, wishful thinking, that's all.'
     She added that last teasing thought knowing it would be strangely comforting to him. But she couldn't push him, not with this. Little by little she tightened down on the Bond attempting to keep her growing certainty hidden from him. But how could she keep these feelings from him? She didn't think she could control herself for long, her joy at the thought of them actually living that dream was crying to be set free. She wanted to run to him, hold him, let the Bond flow over them together, experience everything together... again.
     Oh God! What was she going to do?! Something was happening to them, had happened to them. And whatever it was she knew suddenly that it was beyond their control. Then through the Bond she sensed a shift in his concentration; the repair crew was there, ready to leave for the day's work.
     'Catherine...'
     She could feel the conflicting needs in him; the need to comfort her, to convince her that the images of the last two nights were only sleep dreams, a function of their weariness and nothing more, the need to escape from the very thought that they might be more than that.
     'I know, I know. Go on, and don't worry. I love you Vincent, and whatever's happening to us, I love it too...'
     Wednesday was endless. It had stopped raining early that morning and the work load had diminished considerably. The emergency crew rotation was disbanded; Vincent's crew had elected to remain to keep an eye on things for the next 24 hours to be certain they wouldn't have a repeat of Monday's events, but there was very little actual physical labor to be done.
     Thanks to the second day trip to the Laundromat Ellen's department was back to its standard operating conditions. Catherine was left with very little to do. She offered to teach a class, but Father decided to give the children the remainder of the week off to rest up (for those helping during the flooding) and to recover (for those on the down side of the flu).
     Catherine and Vincent were left with altogether too much time on their hands. Both were trying desperately to keep the Bond muted; Vincent in an attempt to deny the possibility raised this morning, Catherine to protect Vincent from her certainty that it was indeed the reality.
     And to make matters worse, this new development between them seemed to be changing again. Throughout the day, at random moments, a bit of the 'dream' would suddenly wash over them, stopping them in their tracks, forcing them to relive the sensations. When it happened, it happened to both of them simultaneously. They couldn't avoid it, and during the short time it took for each episode to play out, they couldn't maintain their separation; the Bond took control from them then.
     By the end of the day Vincent was frantic. He went back down to Level F and began to work on manual drainage, though he didn't ask anyone else to help on that chore. It was a fool's errand really; those tunnels would drain at their own rate and nothing they did could speed that up significantly. But it provided two things he needed desperately; hard manual labor and privacy. The drainage work was backbreaking, but nowhere near as exhausting as blocking this new Bond from Catherine - it was indeed a Herculean labor. Still, he managed to do a credible job at it, except for the fleeting dream images that would appear out of nowhere, sweep through them with an intensity he could barely withstand, and then be gone again, leaving them both aching and yearning toward the other. These episodes were excruciating to him; desire, embarrassment, panic and fear overwhelming him at the shared intimacy. As soon as he was able he would close down on the Bond, trying desperately to ignore what had occurred. He didn't go back to the home tunnels that night; he couldn't face Catherine yet, and he had no intention of sleeping at any rate.
     Catherine's day went little better. She tried blocking the Bond, for Vincent's sake, but it was impossible. She managed to make it to the middle of the afternoon, but she had no resistance left after that. The deep sleep she had experienced over the last three nights had left her fully rested despite the furious activity taking place in the tunnels, but half a day of attempting to deny this new Bond brought her exhaustion back full force. Though Vincent was successfully blocking from her she was certain he would not be back tonight and by early evening she sought out his chamber and fell into an exhausted sleep almost immediately.
     It was 10:00 pm. Vincent paused in his work and opened the Bond just the tiniest bit to check on Catherine. There had been no dream episodes for several hours now, perhaps whatever was happening was done with them. She was sleeping soundly, the connection through them dim, but her presence was still strong in him. Perhaps nothing more would happen this night. At least he knew he would have no dreams. He closed down tightly on the Bond again, just to make sure, then turned wearily back to his work.
     It was several hours later when the first sensations stole over him. They were subtle and soft at first, tantalizing him, stealing his will. Within moments the full force of it broke over him and he gasped and fell back against the near wall. It was here again, the dream in all its sensory detail, stronger even than the last two nights. It was coming along the Bond, but whether it came from Catherine or elsewhere was impossible for him to tell. It was everywhere and there was no escaping it. Vincent quickly realized that being awake was far worse than being asleep. Awake he was consciously aware of every detail, and he could not withhold his body's responses.
     He felt Catherine as if she were there with him - thank God she was asleep! Not that it mattered much. The sensations were overwhelming. He felt his hands against her flesh, doing things he couldn't imagine doing in his wildest dreams. And she was touching him, everywhere. Oh God! He couldn't stand it, he couldn't. He slumped down to the ground and pulled his legs up against his chest trying desperately to push the sensations away, to no avail. Moans were torn from his throat and he finally pressed his hands against the front of his trousers where his full erection strained to be set free. Nothing helped. The dream sensations ran their course and when it was through Vincent lay weak and panting, his energy spent. He immediately joined Catherine in the deep sleep cycle she was enclosed in and knew no more until morning.
Thursday, April 24
     Encompassing warmth and security. They floated in it together, cuddling close, moving slowly toward the dim light eons away on some other place, some other time...
     Again, they woke together, their sleep patterns matching almost precisely. And again the dream memory played itself out, teasing them with what could be. Catherine knew she couldn't fight it. She would have liked to give in to it completely, to immerse herself in the sensory panorama unfolding about her. But even now Vincent's pain was radiating through the bond. He was pulling away, closing her off, running from what they were becoming. His response replaced her joy with sorrow, how could she be happy when he was so sad? 'Please Vincent, please, give us our chance.' Her plea went out through the Bond and broke against the hard wall of his shield, returning to her unheard.
     Catherine laid back down against Vincent's patchwork quilts and pillows, imagining him there with her. What could it hurt now? He was blocking her so strongly she couldn't break through anyway. But even those thoughts couldn't distract her from his pain. She knew suddenly that she had to leave, to give him space to think about this.
     She jumped out of bed with renewed energy. Within minutes she was dressed and heading out in search of Mary. She would make up a story about needing to do some research, and Mary would understand - or at least pretend to understand. Catherine knew that Mary and Father were both wondering why Vincent was still in the lower tunnels when he didn't have to be.
     What to do, what to do, what could he do?! Vincent wandered through the lower levels, using circuitous routes to avoid the flooded areas. The flooding seemed to be under control for the time being, and everyone was again in a guardedly optimistic wait-and-see mode. He needed to be alone, but stayed close to the pipe network in case things changed for the worst.
     The dream images were replaying themselves more frequently now, and with more intensity. The urge to go to Catherine was overwhelming, but still he resisted. This could not be between them, they must not... Must not what? Mustn't love each other? It was too late for that. Vincent knew he could never stop loving Catherine. But perhaps it wasn't too late for her. If he could only find the strength to do what he knew was right... Leave her you mean. The voice in his head was relentless; it answered his every thought with words he wanted desperately to avoid. The very thought of leaving her, of living without her was pure torture. But he could do it, he could, if it would protect Catherine. Leave her alone then... Above... No! How could he leave her alone, there, where it was cold and dangerous.
     All day long he cycled between these arguments with himself and his struggle with the Bond sensations. He had stopped trying to fight those sensations, it was impossible, the Bond was stronger than he was, stronger than them both. And he was losing the debate with himself, his arguments sounding weaker and weaker in the light of what their Bond was becoming.
     Finally, the cold spring he had been searching for. He quickly stripped off his clothes and dove in, welcoming the icy, invigorating shock to his system. He stayed in a long time and when he finally emerged he was blue with the cold. Good. Perhaps this would help. He wrapped his cloak about him and sat leaning against the wall drying his hair with his thermal shirt. Suddenly he felt the stupor stealing over him, the prelude to another Bond episode...
     His mouth against her neck, tongue touching, tasting... warm blood pulsing just beneath the surface, sweet throbbing... throbbing, aching fullness... stillness... waiting..waiting..waiting..waiting... rising sensation, climbing, reaching, filling... Yes! There, now! Now!! Churning, chaotic, ecstatic release - 'Catherine!' 'Vincent!'
     He woke to his surroundings, breath panting, body aching, eyes unfocused. Oh God! The feel of her beneath him, surrounding him. He wanted her so badly, needed her... And he felt her need for him too, during this vulnerable interval, before he could regain his control. So achingly, poignantly sweet, so precious to him, so unbelievable, her need... for him...
     Could it be possible?! Was this really their destiny? He denied it over and over again to himself, but the question remained, haunting, inescapable. Catherine thought it was... She was waiting for him...
     Suddenly resolute, he pulled the cloak away from his body and looked at himself searchingly. Was this so impossible?! His hands and feet... For so long he had dreaded her reaction to his claw-like nails, but he knew now she wasn't repelled by them. Still, the danger to her... And the long fur covering him almost everywhere... Different, he was different from other men. His body was grotesque in its size and strength compared to other men. How could she see this difference and accept it? And there was the Other... Still, everything in him yearned toward her, toward that love she held for him, and him alone.