Authors Note: ‘Your Pain Is My Pain’ was originally published in six parts in Barb Hill and Teri Milliman’s quarterly fanzine, ‘Soulmates, A Neverending Dream’ (SND) and those six parts are reprinted here with their permission.  It is a Classic Catherine and Vincent adult romance which takes place between their 2nd and 4th anniversary.  This story will be published in its entirety as an expanded version at some later date.  Because it was written and published in parts, over the course of about a year and a half, you may find a few discrepancies in timing and continuity - sorry for that, they will be remedied in the full zine version.  If you have any comments or feedback on the story, or would like a list of other published stories, you can e-mail me at: taptap@mn.rr.com.

This story Copyright c, 1995, 1996 by Teri P (taptap@mn.rr.com).  Redistribution via electronic means as well as a single hard copy is permitted, as long as:
1)The text is not altered in any way.
2) This message is included.
3) No financial gain or commercial use is involved from its redistribution.
   

Your Pain Is My Pain

Teri
 

Part I - Possibilities

*   *   *

Even a thought, even a possibility, can shatter us and transform us...

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

*   *   *

 "No, really Jen, I don't mind at all, you have to go.  I'll find something to do.  Ok.  Have a good time and call me next week when you get back.  Bye!"
 Catherine waited until the phone was resting safely in the cradle before letting out a loud 'whoop' of excitement.  She'd made plans to spend the day with Jenny more than a week ago, they had such trouble getting their schedules to match up lately and she was beginning to feel a little guilty for neglecting her.  But she couldn't pretend to be unhappy that this combined vacation/business trip had come up out of the blue.  Jenny would have a good time in the Bahamas, and she suddenly had her Saturday completely free.  She'd gotten up at an ungodly hour, working on take-home files for the last three-plus hours to clear the day for Jenny, now she had no work, no social obligations, and that meant just one thing; she was going Below!  She didn't hesitate - no use giving Joe an opportunity to come up with some new weekend assignment.  She ran into the bedroom, changed into jeans, and was headed out the door by 9:00 am.
 Catherine quickly decided it was too early to chance the park entrance and headed directly to the sub-basement.  Luckily she encountered no one and within minutes was at the tunnel threshold.  Vincent wasn't there, but she hadn't really expected him - she immediately began the short trek to the home tunnels, humming happily as she went.
 It was hard to explain the elation she'd felt the minute she realized she would have this time Below.  And now that she was actually there (with no further chance of a phone call to bring her back Above) she could hardly contain herself.  It felt like she was coming home.  Vincent had to know she was on the way, but even if he was busy she would spend the time happily with someone else Below while waiting for him.  No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than Rebecca appeared through a side tunnel up ahead.
 "Catherine!  Are you looking for Vincent?"  The moment the words were out a chagrined expression crossed her face.  Of course she was looking for Vincent!
 "Hi Rebecca.  Yes, but he's not expecting me.  My day cleared up and I headed Below before the phone could ring one more time.  Do you know where he is?"
 "Yes, in the lower levels helping Kanin with a project.  They've been there since yesterday, but they're expected back by lunch.  You'll stay won't you?  We don't get to see you often enough."
 "I'm staying unless someone kicks me out."  They exchanged knowing grins over that, both clearly picturing the Patriarch of the tunnels at his fearsome best.  "What are you doing this morning?"
 "I'm just heading to the candle chamber, it's been a hectic week and we're running a little low so I'm starting an extra batch.  Why don't you come along and keep me company?"
 "Only if you'll let me help.  Really, Rebecca, I'd love to learn.  Candles are such a significant part of this world.  I light them in my apartment all the time now, especially when I'm lonely."
 Rebecca gave her a glance of sympathy, sure of who she was thinking of when she lit those candles Above.  "I'd love to teach you.  Candles are of primary importance here, but I don't have that many eager apprentices.  The children tend to gravitate towards Pascal and the pipes, though Samantha is beginning to show some interest.  I can't really blame them, most children would rather be banging on pipes than working with hot wax, though they certainly love to deliver the Winterfest ones.  Come on.  We can stop by Vincent's chamber on the way and you can drop off your jacket and bag."

 "...Burning tallow in some of the more confined passages can be a problem, but we usually get the finer waxes, thanks to our Helpers.  And that's pretty much all there is to it.  Do you think you can tie off the wicks on this supporting line while I get the dip molds started?"
 "I'll try.  It really doesn't sound too hard, but you make sure and tell me if I'm doing something wrong.  I don't want to be responsible for screwing up a whole batch of candles; Father might 'ground' me Above - indefinitely!"
 Rebecca's chuckle was 90% mischief and 10% sympathy.  Father was often harder on Catherine than the others.  Like Devin, those closest to Vincent came in for his harshest scrutiny.  Still, things seemed to be working themselves out in that area lately.  Catherine turned to reach up on the top shelf for a roll of wicking but caught herself short with a slight gasp and a wince.
 "What is it, Catherine?  Are you all right?"  Rebecca was instantly at her side, a concerned look on her face.
 "It's nothing, just a case of the cramps.  I'd almost gotten my mind off of them in the excitement of being here.  You know how it is."  The two exchanged rueful glances.
 "Do I ever.  I really envy those women who aren't bothered by them.  Sometimes I'm actually useless for the better part of a day or two.  The only things that helps me at all are the hot springs pool and William's special tea.  We should go get some for you Catherine."
 "William's got a special tea for cramps?"  Catherine couldn't help grinning at the incongruous image of William as the purveyor of PMS tea.
 "It's his own special blend of herbs.  I'm not kidding Catherine, it's very popular with the women Below.  He even gets requests from some of the Helpers now and then.  He's quite proud of it.  Come on, let's go get you some."
 "Well, it does sound appealing, but let's get this started first, we can always take a break in a bit.  It's not that bad, really, I'll survive."
 "Ok, but let me know if you want to stop.  I'll understand, believe me."

 "Very good, Catherine.  This set really looks nice.  I think you're beginning to get the hang of it.  Timing's very important in candle making, you seem to have a feel for it."  Rebecca stood inspecting the latest string of candles removed from the dip molds with approval.  "Of course I shouldn't be surprised, not with the name 'Chandler'."
 "What do you mean?"  Catherine was leaning against the wall, digging strongly at the small of her back.
 "Chandler is an old English name for candle maker.  You didn't know?"  Rebecca looked surprised.  She'd immediately made that analogy the first time she'd met her, and it pleased her no end, this connection of 'Vincent's Catherine' to their world Below.
 "No, I didn't."  Catherine looked surprised and pleased, her pain for the moment forgotten.  Suddenly she felt hands at her shoulders, holding her firmly in silent greeting.  Vincent.  She stayed still for a moment, a small smile gracing her lips, enjoying the feel of his hands against her.
 "Well look who's here!"  Rebecca grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat at the picture of the two of them standing together.  "Your timing's perfect Vincent, we were about to take a break.  I have some things to check on with Mary.  I'll see you both later."
 "When should we meet back here, Rebecca?"  Catherine still hadn't turned to greet Vincent, preferring that moment be private.
 "Actually Catherine, I think we've done enough for today.  Thanks for your help, you've been great."
 "Thanks for teaching me, I've really enjoyed it.  I'd like to help again."
 "Anytime.  We always need candles, and a good 'Chandler'."  The two girls were giggling and even Vincent was grinning as Rebecca left the chamber.
 "We'll see you at lunch, Rebecca."  Vincent called after her, his voice echoing softly behind her in her wake.

 Finally.  Catherine felt a frisson of excited expectation as she turned, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against the soft wool of his sweater, breathing in deeply.  God, she loved the smell of him...  He wasn't wearing his cloak or a vest, and his hair was curling damply against his breast where her face rested.  He must have stopped to bathe on the way...  He was so large and warm, she expelled a huge sigh of happiness at the feel of his solid presence against her.  "I'm so glad to see you, Vincent."
 "And I you, Catherine.  I didn't expect you today."
 "Jenny got called out of town suddenly.  I just found out this morning."  She hadn't let go of him, and he held her against him gently, his hands idly stroking along her lower back.  The feel of him was almost hypnotic and she lazed there for a few minutes, enjoying this rare luxury.  Their embraces, though often intense, were usually fleeting.  She knew that close contact with her was a double edged sword to Vincent - he both craved and feared it.  This was so nice...
 Several minutes passed as they rested together, then Catherine felt herself turned into the curve of his arm and led out the chamber.  She followed unquestioning, feeling somewhat tired suddenly and glad for the support of his arm about her - a real rarity for him here below, the thought crossed her mind again drowsily.  A few minutes later she found herself in Vincent's chamber, ensconced in the smaller, padded chair.  "Wait here, Catherine.  I'll be right back."
 The candles filled the room with a mellow glow and she found herself staring into one, trying to focus her attention in an attempt to diffuse the pain that had been increasing in strength over the last several hours.  She sighed heavily.  It was no use.  She'd just have to wait it out as usual.  Why today of all days?  She didn't get that many opportunities to spend a whole day Below and now she had to share it with these exasperating cramps.  Damn!  What women had to put up with, she thought grimly.  Men just didn't know how good they had it.
 Her thoughts were interrupted suddenly as Vincent reentered the chamber with a tray holding a tea kettle and two mugs.  He set it down and pulled his larger chair close to hers before pouring.
 Catherine took a sip and a wonderful warmth infused her.  "This is delicious, Vincent.  I don't think I've ever tasted this particular tea before.  What is it?"
 "I don't know exactly what's in it, it's a special blend William makes."  Vincent was sipping his tea contentedly and didn't notice Catherine's sudden pause.
 "A special blend?  She couldn't help it, she felt the red heat in her face and knew she was blushing.  "Is this William's special tea?"
 "Catherine?"  He returned her look with one of innocent confusion.
 She paused, unsure of whether to pursue this, then went on resolutely.  "Rebecca told me that William has a special tea that's good for cramps.  Is that what this is?"
 Vincent hesitated for the smallest second, his expression carefully neutral.  "Yes.  The women here swear by it."
 She drew in a deep breath, conflicting emotions running through her.  Well, at least that explained his out of character behavior in the candle chamber.  She didn't want to get into a discussion that might make him uncomfortable, but she was intensely curious.  Finally her curiosity got the better of her.
 "Vincent, do you always know when I have cramps?"  She tried to keep her tone light and casual, attempting to hide her blush behind her mug of tea, draining the last of it.  It really was excellent, she was actually feeling a little better.
 Vincent paused for a moment before answering, busying himself with pouring another mug out for them both.  "Yes."  His voice was even softer than normal.  "I always know when you're in pain, Catherine."
 "I'm sorry Vincent.  I never made that connection.  I didn't realize I might be causing you discomfort."  The blush was gone now, she was actually quite contrite.  She always had cramps for one day out of the six of her period.  They were so common to her that she didn't give them much thought, beyond the inevitable extra unpleasantness she had to put up with once a month.
 "Catherine, you have nothing to be sorry for.  You have no control over this."
 "It's just that after so many years I've taken them for granted.  If I'd known they were affecting you too I could have tried to reduce them somewhat.  Like this tea, for instance.  It's really quite good and I feel a little better already."
 Vincent looked dismayed at that.  "I'm the one who should apologize, Catherine.  I should have brought you some long ago."
 She sighed at that.  As usual, she'd spoken without thinking.  She should have known that he would somehow find fault with himself, even for something so uniquely centered on her.  She wanted to reassure him, but couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make things worse.  Instead she took advantage of the close proximity of their chairs by leaning heavily against his shoulder.
 He hesitated for only a moment before raising his arm to slip it about her and her weight settled closely against his side.  She felt his hand gently stroking her lower back again, as he had done earlier in the candle chamber, and sighed in contentment.
 A few minutes passed before Vincent spoke again.  "Lunch should be ready by now, Catherine.  Are you hungry?  Perhaps you'll feel better if you eat."
 Catherine had to smile a little ruefully to herself at that question.  She found it hard to believe that he didn't feel her hunger given the conversation which had just taken place.  He probably thinks he needs to leave me some privacy.  "Actually, Vincent, I'm famished."
 She grinned up at him and he smiled in return, rising from his chair and offering his hand to help her up.  They headed down the tunnel towards the dining chamber, and though he didn't put his arm around her this time, he didn't let go of her hand.

 "Catherine, Vincent, over here."  Rebecca called them over to a small corner area of one table where she was already seated along with Mary and Father.  They quickly joined them.
 "Well, Catherine, I heard you had quite a productive morning with Rebecca.  It was very good of you to help her.  We go through so many candles, and this last week even more so - we've been 'burning the midnight oil' so to speak.  Rebecca never complains, but we all know how hard she works at that chore."  Father was in a mellow mood, smiling fondly at both the young women sitting across from him.
 "I enjoyed it quite a bit.  And Rebecca and I don't often get a chance like that to visit.  She told me quite a few stories about her childhood here Below, and about you Father."  Catherine teased him gently, feeling pleased at this rare opportunity.
 "All in keeping with my dignity, I'm sure" Father replied with a twinkle in his eye.
 "How could they be otherwise, Father?"  Mary's teasing response made everyone at the table chuckle.  Vincent sat quietly, enjoying the exchanges which drew Catherine in as if she were a true member of their community.  He realized suddenly that many Below did indeed view her that way, and his heart swelled with pride and joy at that thought.
 Father's demeanor suddenly turned sober.  "You look tired, Catherine.  Are you ill?"  He was looking at her searchingly.
 Catherine was irritated with herself to feel a slight blush at his question.  She kept her gaze away from Vincent as she answered.  "No, I'm fine, Father."
 "Even so, stop in my study after lunch and let me take a quick look at you.  There's no use taking chances you know."
 The blush was firmly in place now as Catherine found herself once again in the position of discussing something she was used to keeping to herself.  "Really Father, it's nothing.  I just have a slight case of cramps.  They'll be gone soon, I'll be fine."
 Mary spoke solicitously.  "Oh that's too bad, Catherine.  You shouldn't have worked so hard this morning.  Vincent, you make sure and let her rest this afternoon, don't go traipsing all over the tunnels.  William makes a wonderful tea that should help, Catherine."
 "Yes indeed, I recommend it highly.  Where is William?"  Father looked searchingly about the large, quickly filling chamber and Catherine had a sudden image of him calling out across the length of that huge expanse to request that he bring some of his 'special tea' to her.  Embarrassment filled her at the thought and she quickly tried to come up with something that would stop that scenario from unfolding.  Thankfully Vincent came to her rescue before her flustered brain could find a response.
 "That's not necessary, Father.  We just had some of William's tea half an hour ago.  Catherine is fine."  He spoke firmly and Catherine was grateful to note that Father seemed to have dropped his attempt to locate William at that comment.  The topic however, was still in full swing.
 "Catherine, tomorrow's Sunday.  Why don't you stay Below tonight and just relax here with us."  Mary's maternal instincts never stopped with the children.
 Rebecca chimed in enthusiastically at this point.  "That's a good idea, Catherine.  You could come along with Jamie and me to the hot springs bathing pool after dinner.  The one I told you about.  It always makes me feel better."
 Catherine was still feeling flustered, not sure of how to respond, though the idea did sound very appealing.  She would have agreed immediately were it not for her concern over Vincent's feelings on this issue.  She needn't have worried, it seemed.
 "Yes, Catherine, stay.  Then you won't have to worry about any unexpected business coming up Above.  You should relax."
 She looked up at him closely for the first time since this awkward discussion had begun.  His face was calmly composed, solicitous concern evident in his eyes.  One glance was all it took, and for a moment she felt herself lost in those blue depths.  She withdrew her gaze with some effort and shot a quick glance Father's way but saw no conflict there.  She sighed and nodded in agreement.  "Yes, all right.  I'd love to stay."
 With that the topic seemed finally to be closed and the conversation again flowed around her lightly of the recent, hectic activities of those Below, and the general relief at the sudden lull in their workloads.  William's food arrived and Catherine found herself silently grateful for the hearty servings which were normally a staple here.

 "What should we do this afternoon, Vincent?  Maybe we could go the Chamber of the Falls.  I love that spot."  They had just left the dining chamber, lazily content from the good food and conversation of the past hour.
 "I believe Mary would consider that 'traipsing about' Catherine."  There was a teasing note in his voice and Catherine found herself grinning in response.  The conversation which had so unnerved her initially was taking on quite a comical aspect in retrospect.
 "She's right though, Catherine."  He spoke seriously now.  "You're still uncomfortable, and tired.  Why don't we just relax in my chamber.  I'll read to you."
 She was about to argue with him stubbornly when she suddenly realized that he looked tired, and besides, she couldn't think of anything more appealing than being alone with him in his chamber, listening to his low, seductive tones.  "All right.  That sounds lovely actually.  And you're right, I am tired."
 She was rewarded for this capitulation by the sudden presence of his arm about her shoulders again, holding her against his side comfortingly.  She sighed in contentment.
 His chamber was just ahead now.  They entered and Catherine headed for her usual spot in Vincent's chair, but instead found herself guided to the bed.  "Why don't you lie down, Catherine.  Rest."
 She was stunned.  Vincent always took the bed while she sat primly in his oversized chair, regardless of which of them was reading.  Boy, if she'd known about all of these perks she would have had this conversation with him long before today!  She sat on the edge of the bed and toed off her sneakers before leaning back to rest on the pillows facing him.  He shook out the quilt folded at the foot of his bed and pulled it comfortingly over her.  His scent surrounded her and she surreptitiously breathed deeply against his pillow, drawing it in more fully.  Ohhh...  This was marvelous...
 Vincent stood looking down at her for several still moments, the sight of her in his bed holding him in its spell.  He finally blinked dazedly and moved away towards the stacks and shelves of books near the far wall of his chamber.  "What would you like me to read, Catherine."  He spoke to her over his shoulder as he searched the titles, taking this moment to gain control once again.
 "Jane Eyre."  The response came out almost without thought.  Somehow the idea of Charlotte Brontë's darkly mysterious love between the handsome, reclusive Rochester and his quiet but fiercely devoted Governess perfectly suited her mood today.
 Moments later he moved to settle in his large chair, pulling it closer to the bed and the lit candles on the small table next to it.  He had not yet begun to read when he glanced towards the chamber entrance.  It was obvious he'd heard someone coming, and though Catherine couldn't swear to it, she was almost certain she'd seen a fleeting expression of irritation cross his face.
 "Catherine, Vincent?"
 William.  Well, at least he'd called out before entering.  That was an improvement over most of the visitors to this chamber, Catherine thought wryly.
 "Come in William."  Vincent called out softly, his voice echoing nonetheless in the outer passage.
 The picture William presented was strangely familiar.  He entered bearing a tray carrying a teapot and two cups, though these were of a different pattern than the ones Vincent had brought earlier.
 "Father told me you weren't feeling well, Catherine."  His jovial voice rang out, completely oblivious to Catherine's sudden discomfort.  "Well you just relax.  My tea will fix you right up.  Father has his methods and I have mine.  All the women love this blend.  Even the Helpers ask for it."
 Catherine suddenly felt contrite.  William was so obviously concerned about her and all his other charges, Below and Above.  He was a nurturing caregiver, something his burly, bearded image often seemed at odds with.  "Thank you, William.  Vincent brought me some of your tea earlier today, and it helped.  I'd love some more."
 William had set the tray down on the circular writing table and was pouring out the two cups.  He handed them to Vincent, who set them on the smaller bedside table.  "You're welcome, Catherine.  You send Vincent in for more if this isn't enough.  Father tells me you'll be staying Below tonight.  I'm making you a special stew for supper that should really hit the spot.  You rest this afternoon and I'll see you both later."
 "Thank you, William."  Vincent's voice floated out after his retreating form.  A second later, Catherine's words echoed his own.  She was speechless, she'd never felt so coddled and cared for.  "Let me help you, Catherine."  Vincent was at her side, supporting her back as he piled up several pillows behind her.  He handed her a cup of tea then retook his seat and began to read.  Within minutes Catherine was lost in the poignant tale of Jane Eyre's cruel childhood, the warmth of the tea swirling through her as Vincent's low voice enclosed her.
 She hadn't read the story in a long time, and never with Vincent.  But she felt herself sinking into it with something more than fond nostalgia.  Something about it, in the back of her mind... elements reminiscent of her and Vincent, of their worlds Above and Below.  The story had barely begun when her heart was caught at a descriptive verse, one she had never paid any particular attention to before.  It was from an old highland ballad, sung by the nurse, Bessie:

   Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing
      Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled,
   Still will my Father, with promise and blessing,
      Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.

Though the other verses made clear this 'Father' was the biblical one, her heart ached at the image it so instantly compelled; Father and the small, mewling, infant Vincent, wrapped in rags, abandoned, then found, cherished and loved by a special man with a special dream.
 Throughout the story, familiar lines took on new meaning, all in context to this new life which had begun for her, for them, more than two years ago.  There... another.  Jane's first friend at the Lowood school, ethereal, prophetic Helen Burns, on her lot in that drear, short life: "...it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to bear."  This line seemed to hold within it the very essence of Vincent's life, his existence as a solitary creature, destined ever to wander alone.  Vincent too caught the irony implicit in that line, pausing to meet her gaze with one of resignation and acceptance.  She held that gaze intently, willing him to see there and through their Bond that his solitary existence was no more, that he would never be alone again.  Never.
 He blinked dazedly as her emotions washed over him, eyes locked to hers irresistibly.  Finally he turned back to the story.  But Catherine was suddenly drawn out of that sad reflection, her mind jumping ahead to the ending; Rochester had pushed Jane from him, determined she not be tied to his limited existence.  But it was no use, theirs was a destiny that had to be.  Jane was Edward's light, their life together was inevitable.  And Jane had seen a future that he could not; she had seen children.  Vincent had set the book down momentarily to pour them some more tea.  She took that opportunity to flip to the back to find the passage she was thinking of:

 "You are no ruin, sir - no lightening-struck tree: you are green and vigorous.
 Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or not, because they
 take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow they will lean towards
 you, and wind round you, because your strength offers them so safe a prop."

 Happily she recalled the epilogue to Brontë's 'gentle readers', of the children that would come to complete the destiny of Jane and Edward despite all his resistance.  Yes, their future was not so impossible as Vincent believed it to be.  She sighed and once again immersed himself in his dulcet tones and Brontë's lyrical prose, content now with this sad beginning, sure of its inevitable, joyous outcome.

 She woke to dim light, momentarily confused.  Her eyes finally focused on her surroundings and the first image she saw was Vincent, asleep in his large chair next to the bed.  Vincent...  She still felt that dull ache low in her belly and back, but it was less than before, and far overshadowed just now at the realization of where she was.  He'd read to her for a least an hour, perhaps two.  The last description she remembered was of the faery-like meeting of Jane and Rochester in the lane near Hay on that icy night.  She must have fallen asleep just after that.  She never slept during the day, but it seemed the rules Above couldn't touch her here Below.  She kept very still, a tight hold on her burgeoning emotions, so that she could watch Vincent as he slept.
 The book rested against his chest, fingers still curled in to hold his spot.  His hair streamed about him in wild disorder, and his head leaned back against the high edge of the chair, exposing the tender skin of his throat.  A few stray curls slipped out above the knit collar of his sweater and her gaze fastened there as a sense of greedy possession swept over her.  His long legs stretched out, thigh muscles tautly defined, even in this relaxed state.  She had a sudden urge to slip out of the bed and into his lap, to take the book from his fingers and wrap that strong arm about herself, to feel him encompassing her, holding her close.  Her throat ached at that sudden, sweet image and sensing these stronger emotions, Vincent finally stirred.  She clamped down quickly and tried to compose her face, waiting.
 There was very little motion at first, still, she felt sure that he was slowly coming awake.  Was it her own growing sense of the Bond?  She wasn't sure.  A stretch became apparent, not so much in the movement of his arms and legs, but rather in the fine vibration of the larger muscles running down his length.  It began at his shoulders then transmitted to his chest, belly and thighs.  Finally the motion was at full force and his legs reached out even further while his arms pushed outward and up, the musculature of his body stunningly erotic to her, caught in this unguarded moment.  He had looked deceptively slim, boyishly innocent, asleep in that chair without his typical, thickly padded vest.  Now she could see just how deceptive that appearance really was.  A wide yawn joined that display, and the sharp, deadly teeth he normally took such pains to hide were now fully exposed, gleaming in the candle light.
 She couldn't contain a gasp at this magnificent, unexpected sight of him, everything in her quivering in response to his virile masculinity.  Oh, how she wanted him!  Wanted his hard, muscled length and glittering teeth against her tender flesh, ravishing her...  The muscles which had been convulsing in pain all day suddenly throbbed to a new rhythm, drawing her out of herself and calling to him with a wild, pounding force.  He was truly waking now, responding instinctively to his mate's call.  Frantic, she exerted all her discipline and will to close down on those feelings, though for a moment it felt absolutely impossible.
 His eyes blinked hazily, and she was suddenly rewarded with a view of their vivid blue depths.  His gaze caught hers and they were trapped, locked together by the dual connection of his intense eyes and their precious Bond.  For untold moments they were held suspended within it, alone as they never really were in any physical location Above or Below.  She gave in to the sweet sensation, floating with him in that one place that was uniquely theirs.
 Finally she felt him drawing gently away and she let him go, though she ached at his absence, sure his response to her was the same.  "Did you sleep well, Catherine?"  His voice was huskier than usual, sweetly poignant as he tried to recover from that unintentional lapse in his control.  She drew her own tightly about her in response, knowing he needed her help now.
 "Yes.  I normally feel so disoriented when I sleep during the day, but I feel wonderful, much better than before.  How long do you think we slept?"
 He watched her closely, but more importantly she felt a subtle probing of the Bond which she might have missed under different circumstances.  She knew he felt the throbbing within her, but hoped he would sense it only as a continuation of this morning's pain.  Even now, her control regained, the sweet pulsing was indeed reverting to the sharp, clenching ache so typical to her during this time.
 "Believe it or not, it's close to suppertime."  He couldn't help smiling as her face took on an expression of incredulity.
 "We've slept for over three hours Vincent!  I've never done that before.  I doubt I'll be able to sleep a wink tonight."
 "Perhaps you should do it more often, Catherine.  You work very hard.  Sometimes you just need to let yourself catch up a little.  As for tonight, well, I think you'll be surprised.  And if you can't sleep, I'll keep you company.  We can finish 'Jane Eyre', or at least part of it.
 Suddenly the idea of a sleepless evening looked very appealing.  She sighed happily.  "Vincent, I can't remember when I've ever felt so relaxed, so happy."
 He looked at her curiously.  "Even though you still don't feel well?"
 She looked surprised at that, as if she'd momentarily forgotten.  "I'm here Below with you and everyone else...  I don't know exactly how to explain it.  The world Above is so rushed, so hurried.  It's not that people don't work hard down here, obviously everyone does.  It's just that the important things never seem to get forgotten.  Everyone is so caring, always.  This is the family I never thought I'd have; when I'm here I feel like I'm truly home."
 Joy and dismay warred across his features at her words.  She knew he still thought of 'her family' as some faceless man and his children, out there is the void that was her future.  A future he still couldn't help but see as apart from his own.  He wasn't yet ready to accept just how impossible this future view of her was.  Still, she would never stop trying to prove it to him.  She slipped out of bed and sidled up next to his chair before he could respond.  She sat on the arm of his chair facing him, then leaned forward to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face in his hair and hugging him tightly.  She would show him her love, always.  And someday he would be ready to accept it for what it was.
 She hadn't expected a response from him this time, and so was quite surprised when she heard a sound that could only be the book hitting the floor.  His arms came up to hold her tight, then she felt herself pulled across the chair arm and into his lap.  Ohhh... just where she had wanted to be.  She knew that with or without his conscious consent, he was ultimately incapable of withholding what she wanted, what she needed.  And right now she needed this.  Suddenly she knew everything would be all right.  It would.  One day they would have their happy life, together.  She snuggled against him, taking this pleasure while she could.
 She felt so good against him...  He wanted to keep her with him like this always.  He was usually so cautious, so careful to keep a distance.  But she was vulnerable today, and her pain was his pain.  He needed to take care of her, soothe and comfort her.  She needed to be close to him, and he couldn't deny her, or himself it seemed.
 They rested together that way for what seemed a sweetly long time, though she knew it was only a matter of minutes.  A low, almost inaudible rumble, almost a purring, was vibrating through his chest, and she slipped a little lower against him to rest her head there and immerse herself in that seductive sound.  Finally his arms loosened about her and he pulled himself up to sit straighter in the chair, moving her gently away from him.
 His face was flushed, his breath slightly panting when he finally spoke.  "Catherine, it's almost six o'clock.  Shall we go see Father before dinner?"
 Though she wanted nothing more than to stay here in his sweet embrace, she knew he needed some distance now and graciously conceded.

 "Ah, Catherine, Vincent.  Did you have a nice afternoon?  I hope you took Mary's advice and rested."  Father was sitting at his reading table, a stack of medical journals at one elbow and a steaming cup of tea by the other.  He looked slightly rumpled and Catherine suspected he had spent at least part of his afternoon as they had.
 "We read and slept, much like you, it appears, Father."  Catherine grinned as Vincent's thought's proved once again to parallel her own.  Father's sheepish smile confirmed their suspicions and her grin widened even more.
 "Yes, well, I must admit, it has been a lazy afternoon.  I wasn't bothered with one problem or question, quite a change over this last week.  Now that things have settled down somewhat I'm assuming most of the tunnel inhabitants spent the afternoon in, er, similarly relaxing pursuits."  Father rested his chin in one cupped hand and idly stroked the edge of his mouth as his sheepish grin turned quite wicked.
 Catherine was amazed, she'd never seen him in such a, well, bawdy mood.  She turned to catch Vincent's reaction and found him, to her intense enjoyment, blushing.  Surely Vincent didn't think that Father was implying that they had spent the afternoon in some 'similarly relaxing pursuit'?!  The thought was both so deliciously intriguing and patently absurd (at least at this point) that Catherine gave an unladylike snort of amusement before she could catch herself.  She cupped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment as both men turned to appraise the odd noise just heard.
 "Are you feeling better, Catherine?  Did William's tea help?"  Father was back in his usual physician's mode, genuinely concerned.
 Catherine had managed to gain control of herself once more and was able to safely reply.  "Yes, thank you, Father, I do feel better.  I don't think there's anything that can get rid of them completely, but they're less painful than usual for the time being."
 "Only a few hours more, Catherine.  They should be gone by morning."  Vincent was idly perusing an article over Father's shoulder when he suddenly realized what he'd said and caught himself with a start, a worried expression crossing his face.
 Catherine didn't answer, her mind suddenly swirling with questions; surprised, confused and reflective expressions playing across her in turn.

 "How are you feeling, Catherine?  Did my tea help?"  William hovered over her like a mother hen, loading up her bowl with a huge supply of savory stew.  Catherine was resigned to what had become the inevitable line of inquiry during this stay Below.  In fact, she was beginning to feel quite relaxed with the whole thing.  It was actually quite comforting, having so many people concerned about her welfare.
 "I'm much better, thank you, William.  Your tea is a life saver."
 "Don't forget the hot springs tonight, Catherine.  Jamie and I will stop by Vincent's chamber to pick you up at about seven-thirty.  Will that work?"  Rebecca was sitting across from her, along with Mouse, Jamie, Kanin and Olivia.  Father and Mary were next to her and Vincent.
 Before she could respond, Jamie chimed in.  "Yeah, this bathing pool is great, Catherine.  You'll really like it.  It has lots of underwater entrances and the hot jets really relax your muscles.  It always makes me feel better."
 Mouse was looking back and forth from each speaker, avidly following the conversation.  At Jamie's description he jumped in.  "Could make more, better.  Tap in explosives, set the thingy, BAM!!"  His hands gestured wildly with excitement.  "More jets, bubbles, everywhere!  Great pool - better than best!  He looked around eagerly, enthusiasm bubbling through him visibly like the aforementioned jets.
 Father seemed on the verge of an apoplectic fit while the others exchanged wry grins over this offer, waiting for Vincent's input - he was the only one who could contain Mouse when his ideas overshot good sense.  As usual, he was patient and kind, without the least hint of condescension or sarcasm.
 "Thank you, Mouse.  But the pool transfers water nicely now, we mustn't waste the explosives on it.  They may be needed for something important in the future.  We should save them in case an emergency arises again."
 "Like the cave in.  You and Father.  Saved you both, Catherine and me."  There wasn't a hint of bragging in his voice, only awed pride and happiness at the memory of how he'd been able to help the two most important people in his life.  "Catherine's good, could find more, fix the pool."  He looked at her with excited confidence, sure of her skill as a fellow finder and taker.
 Father was beet red now, and Catherine jumped in quickly before he could say something injudicious which might just harden Mouse's resolve.  He was the sweetest tempered youth imaginable, but he could be quite stubborn.
 "I'm sorry, Mouse.  Explosives aren't too easy to find these days, even for me (she hated to deflate his image of her).  Vincent's right, you should save what you have for a real emergency.  We all count on you."
 Mouse blushed at her praise.  "Can't get along without Mouse", he agreed with an air of unselfconscious innocence.
 The others breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to assure him of his preeminence as the tunnel's jack-of-all-trades extraordinaire, perceiving that the danger was now past.
 Rebecca treaded in again gingerly, a cautious eye in Mouse's direction.  "So seven-thirty is ok, Catherine?"
 "It sounds wonderful, I'm looking forward to it."  Suddenly a concerned expression filled her eyes and she turned to Vincent.  "We won't miss the story hour, will we?  I haven't really had a chance to see the children today."
 "It's at eight-thirty tonight, Catherine, it's often a little later when there are no classes the next day.  You should be able to make it without a problem.  Father and I will read for a full hour, and as long as you're there for at least part of the time the children will be satisfied," he replied.
 "Great.  It's settled then, we'll pick you up at seven-thirty.  Mary, Olivia, do you want to join us?"  Rebecca turned towards the others enthusiastically, suddenly seeing the opportunity for a 'girls' party of sorts.
 "Why don't you, Livvy?  I'll take care of Luke and bring him to story hour.  You can meet us there," Kanin encouraged her.
 "All right, I will.  I could use the hot springs myself," she said to Catherine confidingly.
 "I think I'll join you too.  Will you stop by for me on your way?"  Mary directed this enquiry toward Olivia.
 "Of course, Mary.  Are you through, Kanin?  I'd like to get Luke bathed before I go."  Kanin and Olivia took their leave of the others and left swinging Luke between them.  Half an hour and several bowls of stew later, Catherine and Vincent wandered leisurely back towards his chamber.

 They had been there only a few minutes when voices called out to them.  "Catherine?  Vincent?  Are you there?"
 Catherine looked at Vincent with raised eyebrows.  This had to be a record.  No one had entered his chamber unannounced during her visit thus far.
 "Come in Rebecca, Jamie."  Vincent had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the laughter in the outer passage.
 "Hi.  Are you ready, Catherine?" Jamie enquired.
 "Ready?  I guess so.  Why?  Do I need anything in particular?"
 "Just your nightclothes, there's no use getting dressed again at this hour.  I can lend you some if you didn't bring any down," Rebecca offered.
 "That won't be necessary, Rebecca."  Vincent walked over to his bureau and opened the top draw.  He turned back to Catherine and handed her a folded bundle from the clothes she wore during her infrequent stays Below; her favorite gown, a robe and slippers.  Unseen behind the couple, Jamie and Rebecca exchanged knowing, wistful smiles.

 When they got to the pool, they found Mary and Olivia already there, cozily chatting.  "Did anyone check the place for wiring?", Jamie called out as she entered.  If Mouse beat us here, it could blow at any minute!"  A peal of laughter burst out from the others, though Mary, as usual the defender of anything and everything childlike, interjected mildly with vague comments of fondness and praise for the absent one.
 "I'm only teasing, Mary.  You know how I feel about Mouse," Jamie hastened to assure her.
 "And how exactly is that?" Rebecca enquired innocently, giving the younger girl a sly, sideways glance as she shed the last of her clothes and slipped into the pool.  Olivia quickly seconded that question.  "Yes, tell us Jamie, how do you feel about Mouse?"  Mary said nothing, but smiled fondly.
 Catherine watched this interplay with curious amusement, noting with interest Jamie's sudden blush.  She'd finally stashed her folded 'Above' clothes and the tunnel bundle on the dry ledge along one side of the chamber and moved to enter the steamy, inviting pool.  Any response Jamie might have been prepared to make was momentarily postponed as Catherine experienced the warm, rolling jets of the much-touted pool first hand.  "Ohhh...  This is heavenly."  She'd found an underwater ledge that left hot water bubbling up to her neck, and settled there as if she might never leave.
 "I knew you'd like it, Catherine.  This is one of the most popular spots Below.  I always come here when I have cramps, all the women do - it's our 'special' place, perfect for relaxing and visiting."  Catherine had the sudden suspicion that Jamie was trying to divert attention away from the previous topic of her feelings for Mouse.  She took sympathy on her young friend and agreeably followed her lead.
 "Don't the men ever use it?"
 Olivia answered that one.  "Of course, it's a godsend for those doing heavy rock work in the lower levels.  They just give us a higher priority if it comes to that.  And it's not as if we're in it all the time.  I read somewhere once that when women live in close proximity for a while their cycles tend to match up.  It must be true because it certainly seems to be the case down here, on the average, at least.  Sometimes there are scores of us wanting to use it at the same time.  Usually we have a big party then, this pool can hold quite a few people.  William sends down huge vats of tea, and the men take care of everything for awhile."
 Catherine had to grin at that cozy, touching picture of this close-knit community, her new image of William now complete.  She couldn't imagine the men Above being quite so understanding or helpful.  Well, maybe Joe.  No, on second thought, he'd just give her another assignment and tell her it would help take her mind off it.  She almost laughed at this imaginary encounter.  She shook her head free of these thoughts and turned back to the others.  "But there are lots of bathing pools down here, several on most levels as I understand it.  Why is this one so special?"
 "The other's have varying degrees of warmth, but this one is definitely the hottest, and it makes a world of difference," Rebecca replied.
 Catherine shot her a wry smile.  "I hear you."
 "Are you feeling better, Catherine?  There does seem to be an improvement over earlier today,"  Mary said kindly.
 "Much better, thank you Mary.  Vincent and I took your advice and relaxed this afternoon.  William brought us some of his tea, Vincent read for awhile, then we both fell asleep - for over three hours!  I couldn't believe it.  But it really did seem to help."
 "What I want to know, Catherine, is how you could possibly fall asleep with Vincent reading to you."  Olivia gave a theatrical sigh at the end of that question, and everyone else laughed and chimed in with hearty agreement.  "Don't get me wrong, I love Kanin with all my heart, there's no one else for me, but a woman would have to be deaf, dumb and blind to be insensitive to Vincent.  There were wry smiles all around at that too and Catherine found herself blushing for perhaps the hundredth time since her visit began.
 "You know, I think Father's finally beginning to mellow out on the idea of you and Vincent.  At least it seems so to me lately."  Jamie threw this general comment out almost with a question mark.
 "You could be right.  When Father asked us what we did this afternoon, and Vincent said we read and slept, he didn't even bat an eye.  I really expected to get the third degree after that.  Instead he just said that it had been a lazy day, and he assumed most of the tunnel inhabitants had been engaged in 'similarly relaxing pursuits'!"  She exaggerated the words impressively, with a wickedly quirked eyebrow, raising a howl in response from everyone except Olivia, whose chagrined expression and blush was the cause of further merriment.
 "So, were you and Vincent engaged in a 'similarly relaxing pursuit' Catherine?"  Rebecca's question was teasing, but the other three looked on with frank, kindly interest.
 "I wish!"  The response was pulled from her before she could contain it, and once again a blush swept over her face.  But it met only with sympathetic understanding from the others.
 "Don't worry Catherine.  Vincent is only human, much as he might question that.  And Father will see the error of his ways eventually."  Mary spoke soothingly, her only thought to reassure and comfort her.
 "Well I wish he'd do it sooner rather than later," Jamie said crossly.  "We all love Vincent, and you too Catherine.  He deserves to be happy, and it's so obvious he needs you for that.  Men can be so stupid sometimes!"  Olivia and Rebecca nodded in sympathetic agreement.
 "It does sometimes seem that they can't see their noses in front of their faces."  Mary sighed heavily.  Another roar of laughter burst out at what was, for her, severe criticism.  She glanced around in bewilderment, then joined in the laughter when she'd caught their intent, blushing shyly.
 Catherine sat stunned, absorbing the goodwill flowing around her.  She'd never known she had so many allies Below.  As a child, she'd always wished for a sister to share secrets with, now it seemed that she had that in abundance.  And Mary was fast taking on the role of Mother to her, as inevitably as Father was, well, Father.  She sighed in deep satisfaction and felt the warmth of her friends surrounding and supporting her, easing her spirits as the bubbling, soothing water eased her physical pain.

 Vincent struggled mightily to concentrate on the chess board in front of him.  But Catherine's emotions were overwhelming this evening.  He'd felt a myriad of sensations from her since she'd left for the pool.  She was in turns happy, curious, intrigued, amazed and embarrassed.  Overriding it all was her pervasive humor and relaxation.  She was, in effect, having a very good time.  He was intensely curious at the goings on there.
 Father could see that Vincent was distracted, and there was no doubt in his mind as to what (or more appropriately who) was causing this distraction.  Still, he had no qualms about taking advantage of the situation, and for the first time in a long while trounced him soundly.  All's fair in love and war.

 Vincent was just starting chapter 7 of 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn' (it was being read in installments) when his voice faltered.  Catherine was returning...
 He cleared his throat and began again, though a portion of his attention and gaze was now directed towards the study entrance.  The five women entered quietly and took their places at the back of the room so as not to disturb the group already congregated there.
 Their hair was wet and they were dressed in their nightclothes, as were all of the children and many of the adults gathered here this evening.  Vincent's heart contracted at the sight of her gown peeking through the soft wrap of the tunnel robe she wore.  It was the same gown she'd worn when he nursed her after the brutal attack, when he'd first found her in the park and his life had changed - forever.  He had paused while taking those clothes out of his bureau, thinking he should instead choose the gown she'd worn while staying below after her Father's death.  But his hand had unerringly picked that one out, stroking it lightly, tenderly, unseen, before adding it to the robe and slippers already in his hands.
 Geoffrey glanced back, and seeing the newcomers, slid over to Catherine to sit near her.  She drew him up to share her chair and they sat cozily together, her arms about him, his head resting against the curve of her breast.  Vincent's heart ached at the sight.  He knew Geoffrey and Catherine had an affinity for one another, especially strong now since her Father's death.  Seeing them like that brought a multitude of conflicting thoughts; memories of his own childhood and the craving for a gentle, maternal touch, his love and need for that same, yet different, touch now, the poignant picture of her as a mother.
 He struggled mightily to focus his attention on the unfolding story, still, a part of his concentration could not be drawn from her.  Through the Bond he felt her physical presence.  She was feeling better, the pain in her belly had lessened, though the ache low in her back still persisted.  He could feel it radiating himself, his own muscles throbbing with a constant, dull pain.  Every month he felt this in Catherine, wondering at the endurance she showed.  He'd had a terrible time focusing on his work in the lower levels this morning, the pain was so pervasive.  Still, Catherine treated it lightly, working and laughing with Rebecca throughout the morning.  Women were amazing.
 Finally the chapter was finished.  He realized that he could hardly recall what he'd read, though it appeared the audience was satisfied with his effort.  He chastised himself silently for indulging his own thoughts during that time which should be the children's own.  He hastily vacated the large reading chair and lent a hand as Father settled in to read the latest chapter from 'Little Women'.  He quietly moved to the back of the room then and scanned for a vacant spot.  As usual, his gaze was drawn inexorably to Catherine, and right there next to her was an empty chair.  That was strange...  He could have sworn that Rebecca had been sitting there.  But no, there she was now, sitting companionably with Pascal on the circular staircase.  He moved unobtrusively to that spot and slid into it.
 Catherine turned to him in silent greeting, one hand dropping to his thigh to cover his own resting there, her other arm still holding Geoffrey close.  Vincent felt a tingle run along that large muscle at the presence of her hand there and caught his breath.  He knew he should manuever their hands to a more neutral spot, say at his side between them.  He had become an expert at that sort of thing since Catherine had entered his life.  But for some reason today held a logic all its own, one he didn't want to investigate too closely.  So instead he clasped her hand tightly and held it there against his warm length, basking in the glow of that sweet sensation.  At the same time, he kept a tight grip on the control necessary to react no further - he was an expert at that too.
 Ostensibly he turned his attention back to Father and Louisa May Alcott's tale - he'd always loved the interplay of the four young sisters, it spoke so to his own yearning as a child for siblings like himself.  Only Devin had come close to meeting that need, though Rebecca, Pascal, Winslow, and several of the other children he'd grown up with were also counted in that tight circle.  Still, the story could not hold his attention tonight.  Catherine's scent, so uniquely her own, was drifting over him in sweet, cleansing waves.  He had an almost irresistible urge to lean against her side and bury his face in the freshly washed hair at the curve of her neck, to draw her scent in strongly, to lose himself in it.  He felt his face burning at the thought of doing such a thing at all, much less in public, and in Father's study of all places.  He drew his control in another notch and sighed heavily.

 "Did you have a nice time at the hot springs?" Vincent asked.  Story hour was over and the tunnel dwellers were heading their own separate ways along the tunnel junction outside of Father's study.  Often a group would congregate there to visit afterwards, but tonight everyone seemed anxious to seek out the private coziness of their own chamber - an extension of this afternoon's lazy relaxation perhaps.  Catherine recalled Olivia's response to the relaying of Father's comment, ...similarly relaxing pursuits... and found herself covering a blushing, wistful smile.
 "Yes, it was wonderful.  Our time together is usually so short.  I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want to waste a minute away from you.  Today, we had so much time, and knowing we'd be together again, later...  It was fun to be with them, a part of them.  I'm going to try to do this more often, if you don't mind."  She spoke almost hesitantly now, knowing she was broaching, even if obliquely, the topic of her status Below.
 His pause was almost imperceptible.  "Everyone Below cares for you, Catherine.  We all love the time you are able to spend with us.  I just don't want you to feel that you're neglecting your friends, your life Above, in favor of us."
 As usual, he relegated himself and his world to a secondary position in her life.  Normally she would have let it go, but for some reason she couldn't do that today.  "Vincent, I know you think that's what I'm doing, and I do have friends I love, a job I enjoy, Above.  But the people here Below are important to me too.  Jamie, Olivia, Rebecca, they're more than friends now, more like sisters.  And Mary, well Mary is everyone's mother here Below, for me now too.  But nothing, Above or Below, is more important to me than you and the time we spend together.  Nothing even comes close."
 They had been walking side by side, though not touching for the first time she could recall that day.  She reached down and took his hand, squeezing it tightly for emphasis, not letting him draw away from her, either physically or emotionally.  She felt grounded by that slight touch and knew he felt the same.  "When I'm Above I always feel myself fractured, going in several different directions at once.  It's only when I'm Below that I feel all my attention focused.  I'm grounded here, and I like it that way."  It seemed as if she would add something else, but stayed silent.  Still, he heard it clearly, as if she'd spoken: 'Don't deny me that...'
 Vincent felt his throat tighten up at the poignancy of her words, spoken and unspoken.  He knew what he should say, but couldn't in light of her silent plea.  Instead he gave in to the impetuousness that seemed to define this day; he let go of her hand to put his arm around her and pull her close.

 The hot springs had left her loosely relaxed and drowsy, despite the three hour nap she'd taken this afternoon.  Vincent was right...  She stood in the center of his chamber indecisively as he moved easily about, lighting several candles for the evening.  His cozy bed looked so appealing, she wanted to crawl into it and listen to his beautiful, seductive voice, as she had done earlier today.  Still, that had been quite an exception for Vincent and she didn't want to push it.  Any minute now he might end their time together, guiding her to the guest chamber and bidding her a sweet, but chaste, goodnight.  So she was taken by surprise when she felt his hand on her arm, leading her to that inviting expanse.
 "Lie down, Catherine."
 She sighed happily and complied eagerly, reclining on her side again so that she could watch him as he read.  But he surprised her yet again.
 "I'll rub your back, if you like, Catherine."  He spoke shyly now, uncertain of this offer.  "I feel the pain still there."
 She could hardly believe she'd heard him correctly, but she wasn't about to pass up this opportunity.  She quickly discarded her robe and moved to the center of his bed, lying on her stomach and hugging his pillow tight to her cheek.
 Vincent blinked confusedly at the haste of her compliance, unsure of himself but with no way to back out now.  He sat down next to her gingerly and cautiously placed his hands upon her shoulders.  He knew that the pain was centered low on her back, but he couldn't make himself start there.  He began to stroke her upper back lightly, anxiously watching and probing through the Bond to see that he wasn't being too rough.  He watched his nails closely, obsessively.  He didn't seem to be hurting her; she had her face turned towards him with her eyes closed, but she was smiling contentedly.
 He tentatively moved his hands lower, towards the middle of her back, and Catherine sighed in pleasure.  He faltered for a moment at that small sound, then went on.  She was so slender, so delicate.  He could feel  her smooth, warm skin through the fabric of her gown; the indentation of her spine, the strength of her slim muscles and the smooth curves along the sides of her torso.  He watched almost hypnotically as his hands moved upon her.  He was startled out of his reverie by the sudden sound of her voice.
 "Vincent, I'm curious about this aspect of our Bond."
 His hands stilled suddenly at her unexpected question.  He paused, unsure of how to respond.  "What 'aspect', Catherine?" he asked cautiously.
 She had been holding her breath, almost certain he would try to deflect her question completely.  Now she let it out with relief.
 "When you say you can feel my pain, do you mean that you feel me in pain, or do you actually feel the pain yourself, and somehow know that it originates in me?  For instance, when you and Father were trapped in the cave-in, my head hurt, and you did have a head injury.  Is it like that?"
 It was difficult to separate the sensations of the Bond, harder still to put it in words, but now he tried.  "The emotions and sensations I feel might be my own, but usually they cannot be attributed to me.  Sometimes they can though, then I may be confused, for a while.  But there's another element that is more difficult to explain."
 He paused again before going on.  "That element is you, Catherine.  There is a thread running through the Bond at all times, and it is you.  The pain you feel now, I feel it myself, in my own muscles.  But there's also a change along that thread that is you in the Bond.  I know the pain comes from you.  I don't know how I know, I just do."
 They were silent for a moment, reflecting on this description of their Bond.
 "Where do you feel my pain now?" Catherine asked.
 He hesitated for the briefest moment, then lightly touched her back, low, near the full curve of her hips.  "Here, toward the center, but radiating outwards to both sides."
 She tingled deliciously at his fleeting touch, but kept a tight hold on those emotions, anxious to continue this conversation.  "And you know this because those same muscles of yours hurt?"
 "Yes.  At least the sensation of pain is in that spot in me, too."
  Now this would be interesting, the rueful thought flitted through her mind.  "The pain in my back is pretty much all that's left now, but earlier, did you feel the distinction between the two pains I usually experience?"  Once again she held her breath.
 "Yes.  And I noticed that other pain diminishing throughout the day.  It was essentially gone by the time you'd returned from the hot springs."  He'd been speaking cautiously, a little shyly, but now his words took on a more emotional note.  "I can't tell you how happy I was to feel that pain go, Catherine.  It almost had me frantic this morning, I could hardly concentrate on my work.  I am always amazed at how well you tolerate this each month.  Thankfully it's only that one day of the six."  He stopped suddenly, aware of what he'd said and the stillness in her now.  He knew that stillness was in response to his last words.  He was surprised and relieved when her next question didn't pursue this line.
 "Vincent, where do you feel that 'other' pain?  I mean," here it was her turn to pause, shyness evident in her voice and along the Bond, "men aren't anatomically built to experience that particular pain."  They were both blushing now.
 "That pain is especially easy to attribute to you, Catherine, for that very reason.  I can't 'locate' it in myself, it's much less specific, though quite painful despite the vagueness of it's origin."  Once again, his words became fervent.  "I'm just glad it's gone."
 "But you must feel it somewhere, Vincent.  Where?  And what does it feel like to you."  She was intensely curious, even though she sensed his discomfort she had to ask.
 Vincent was uncomfortable, this conversation was not just about the differences between men and women, it touched on his unique differences, both physically and in the Bond.  Still, he felt her intense curiosity, and resigned himself to trying to satisfy at least that.
 "I feel it in this general area."  He didn't touch her this time, instead letting his hand drift down low over his own belly, flushing as he saw her eyes follow that sweep.  "It's a throbbing, fluctuating pain, unlike anything I've ever experienced that originates in myself.  It's sharp, unlike the dullness of your back pain, almost a convulsing, contracting pull of muscles."  His gaze had an inward look, as if he were trying to grasp the nuances of that foreign sensation, gone now, but still clear in its intensity, at least in his memory.
 She gazed intently into his face now, a look of sympathy in her eyes.  "Yes, that's it.  Vincent, you may be the only man who can ever truthfully claim that he knows what a woman goes through during this time.  Heaven help you if I ever have a baby."
 She said this last without thinking and was immediately aghast as his body flinched and his eyes closed in pain.  She wanted to hug him tight, apologize for her thoughtlessness and soothe his fears.  But she couldn't.  This was such a complex issue.  She knew he dreaded the thought of her having that 'faceless man's' children as much as the thought that she might tie herself to him and never be the mother he was so certain she was destined to be.
 That this destiny might be true, that faceless man him, those children his, was a concept so foreign to him he couldn't allow himself to bring it out for conscious scrutiny, he wasn't ready for it yet.  Anything she said would only raise questions he wasn't ready to hear much less answer.  So instead she tightened down on her sorrow and sympathy, pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary.  Perhaps pursuing the question she had earlier decided to spare him might shake him loose from the anguish beginning to take its hold on him.  She sat up on the bed to sit facing him, her legs curled under her.
 "Vincent, you said earlier that you were thankful I only had these pains one day out of the six.  And in Father's chamber you said that they would be gone by morning."  His concentration was abruptly drawn out of that inward introspection claiming him as the words entered the stream of his consciousness.
 "How do you know about the timing of my cycle?  You're right, the pain is generally present for about twenty-four hours, usually the second day out of six.  How do you 'sense' when my period begins, when it ends."  This was a loaded question.  And as she'd suspected, he was completely distracted from the issue of her and babies by it.  In fact, he looked quite dazed by the question.
 He momentarily looked at a loss, but finally spoke, haltingly.  "I...  Catherine, a women's biochemistry changes throughout the course of her cycle.  Everyone has a unique scent, and that scent... changes, subtly, especially for a woman, as her cycle progresses.  My sense of smell is very discriminating...  I've always been able to sense these shifts in the people I'm close to."
 She thought about this for a moment.  On the surface it seemed plausible enough, but no, wait a minute...
 "We'd have to be together the whole time for you to know the specific details of those six days, I assume for more than once to be absolutely sure of that cycle.  That's never the case.  Is there some other way you know this about me, through the Bond?"  She was watching him intently now, other questions hard on the heals of this latest line of inquiry.
 He was blinking rapidly, and she had the sudden suspicion that he was actually considering lying to her.  Yes, she was sure of it.  She almost laughed out loud at that sudden certainty, it was so out of character for him.  She read it plainly on his face when he gave up on that idea.
 "There is a change in the Bond that corresponds to your biological cycle," he said reluctantly.  He looked extremely uncomfortable at revealing this to her, as if it were too much an invasion into her private life.  "I can't describe those shifts, I just recognize them."  He thought furiously for a moment then continued.  "It's like the difference between blue and yellow.  You know what it is, but you can't describe it, not without using other colors as a reference point.  I suppose I'm getting several clues on a subconscious level, through you physically when we're together and through the Bond, always."  His distress at this revelation and her possible reaction was very evident now.
 Catherine was struggling fiercely to contain the questions that popped into her head.  Did he feel the aching heaviness in her breasts just before her period began?  (She had to smile at the inevitable fantasy image of him trying to assuage that pain.)  Did he know when she was ovulating?  How did it feel to him?  If he did know, (and somehow she was sure he did) they might have a sure-fire birth control method at their disposal.  Her grin widened at that thought, blithely ignoring for the moment the tough road ahead to get him to that momentous point.  Who knows?  Perhaps that particular ability might help get him through the even rougher transition she so clearly saw in their future, from that of lover to father, with some degree of equanimity.
 She almost laughed out loud as these thought ran riot through her.  She couldn't help it, she was suddenly just so happy.  But what if it were just the opposite?  What if he were strongly drawn to her during that time?  Ohhh...  That thought was even more delicious.  She tried to recall his reactions to her on those occasions, but it was no use, she'd need to sit down with a calendar and give that some thought before she could come close to an answer.  I suppose I could test that theory out over the next few months...
She was blushing a delicious pink now, trying to control the panting pattern her breath was falling into.
 Vincent watched the chaotic display of emotions flash across her face, felt them through the Bond with a strange blend of anxiety, dismay and curiosity.  What could she be thinking of?!
 "Catherine...?"  He knew he shouldn't ask, but couldn't help himself.
 She became aware of his hesitant question and pulled herself together.  What should she tell him?  She didn't want to lie to him anymore than he wanted to lie to her.  But he just wasn't ready to face this issue.  Perhaps a partial truth was the best she could do under these circumstances.
 "I'm sorry, Vincent.  I know I'm acting strangely.  It's just that... I love that you know these intimate things about me.  It's been driving me crazy all day, people asking me about something I've always considered personal, private.  It was very disquieting at first.  But care for me was their only concern.  It's so touching to have William looking out for me.  I've been feeling it all day, coddled and cared for.  It's part of what I was trying to tell you earlier, the difference between Below and Above.  This topic wouldn't be unusual with my closest girlfriends Above, but here Below, it's a common topic of discussion amongst everyone.  At first I didn't understand, now I do.  Everyone Below is a best friend... family...  That's why I'm so comfortable here, I don't have to be on guard.  And with you, well, it's even better.  Do you remember our first anniversary?  When I gave you my Mother's rose?"
 Vincent felt a knot in his throat at that memory.  Remember?  How could he ever forget that night?  He could close his eyes and see, feel, hear, and smell everything of that night.  He nodded poignantly, momentarily unable to speak.
 "I told you then, what it meant for me to be so connected to someone, to you.  There's nothing I want hidden from you.  I want to share everything with you."  She paused then and took his hands in hers.  "And we will, Vincent.  Someday we will share everything.  I promise, my love, I promise."
 Tears spilled over his eyes at her fervent vow.  He lowered his head to rest atop their clasped hands, speechless at the intimacy of her shared thoughts, dismayed at the pledge he knew he couldn't accept, mustn't accept...
 Catherine leaned her cheek against his brow, stopping the words she felt in him.  She crooned lowly, soothingly to him.  "It's all right, it will be all right.  I'll always be here for you.  Always."  She opened herself fully to the Bond, projecting her love and acceptance with all her being.  She'd made a promise to herself earlier today, and she reaffirmed it now.  She would always show him her love.  One day, perhaps soon, he would be able to accept it fully.  For now, this was enough.  She felt his presence in the Bond, closer than she'd ever felt it before.  They were mingling and twisting together in lazy, spinning circles.  Heaven...
 They didn't know how long they were in that precious place, it was really irrelevant after all.  They'd always measured their time together by other means, now was certainly no exception.  Finally Vincent lifted his head to stare deeply into her eyes; love, awe and hope filling his face.  Finally he blinked, and the chamber swirled back into existence around them.
 "Your back still hurts, Catherine.  Lie down, please."  His low, husky tones made her toes curl.
 She stared at him for a moment longer, in stunned pleasure, then laid back down on her stomach.  This time his hands did not hesitate.  They slipped down to the small of her back, against the rising fullness there, and began to message the aching pressure she felt.  The Bond was still open wider than was usual, and she felt his presence as he monitored her closely through that sweet connection.
 "Harder, Vincent," she urged him.  "You won't hurt me, trust me."  He increased the pressure of his hands and fingers against her in response to that demand.  Mmmm...  It felt so good.  She wondered idly how long he could keep this up.  She was fairly certain she could handle this for hours, perhaps days.
 Vincent watched with amazement as his hands moved upon her.  She was almost purring with pleasure, there was no mistaking it, even without the Bond.  And her pain was diminishing.  He felt a moment's guilt that he had been too shy to suggest this before.  How could he have let his fears interfere with the easing of her pain?  Never again, he promised himself, never again...
 Long minutes passed as he soothed her pain, pleasure radiating off her in waves.  He absorbed it into himself, letting go just slightly on that tight control he always kept wrapped about him in her presence.  Ohhh...  It felt so good.  He couldn't separate the pleasure he felt from the feel of his hands upon her tender flesh and that which she felt from that same touch.  It was all one in the same.  Though the waves of pleasure never lessened, he suddenly thought she might be asleep.  She was so still beneath his hands, her face a quiet composition of serenity, their Bond a sea of tranquility.  He gently drew away to stand by the side of the bed, then pulled the quilt up over her and turned to leave.
 "Stay, Vincent.  Please."
 He turned back to find her as still as before, but her eyes open now, seeking his.
 "Just for tonight.  Please."
 He drew in a harsh breath, then let it out in a sigh.  How he wanted to stay.  Still, he was used to doing what needed to be done, a master at ignoring what he wanted.  But this day seemed like a trip out of time, nothing was as it should be.  He was perhaps more surprised than she when he found himself moving back towards the bed.  He sat on the edge to remove his boots, and she scooted over, though not much.  He stood again and she lifted the quilt in invitation.  He slid beneath it and she pulled herself back into his waiting arms.
 She felt heavenly!  Could there be anything to compare to this sweet sensation? He couldn't image it.
 Catherine however could, and only too well.  But she kept a tight hold on those thoughts, grateful for this movement forward on his part.  She was determined not to tarnish it by pushing him too hard.
 Though Vincent thought he would never be able to sleep in the midst of this intense pleasure, the Bond drew them down to sink and float hazily together, sleep claiming them quickly.

 Catherine woke slowly, easily, aware of a sweet, warm heaviness against her.  Vincent...  She lay on her back, his body curved tightly against her side.  His face was buried in the curve of her neck and shoulder, one leg curled over hers possessively.  His left arm was folded beneath their pillow, cradling her head against his, his right rested across her body, the forearm low on her belly, protectively, his hand gripping the curve of her hip.  She tried to keep the sensations tightly to herself, but she couldn't contain the purring sigh that escaped her lips.
 He reacted to that sound instinctively, though he was still asleep.  The hand on her hip slid upward to cup her left breast, cradling it sweetly, his thumb stroking the suddenly taut nipple through the fine weave of her gown.
 Her body responded to him immediately and her purr turned to a low moan at that tender touch.  How could he doubt that his hands could ever bring her anything but pleasure?  she thought dazedly.  She tried to lie completely still, to enjoy his touch there for as long as possible.
 So warm and soft, the sweetest, enticing scent...  He sighed in pleasure at the sensations beneath him, against him.  He pushed strongly against the curve of her throat, burying himself more fully in the silky softness of her hair, breathing her scent in deeply, strongly, drawing it into himself.  His hand tightened on her breast, caressing her tenderly.  His eyes blinked hazily through the curtain of her hair, the sweet curve of her throat before him.  Ahhh... that soft hollow at the base, his tongue craved the taste of it. His eyes wandered sleepily downward to fasten on the gentle rise of her breast, his hand moving slowly upon it in tender reverence.  Her hand was stroking the rough silkiness of his hair, holding him to her.  The purring sound he'd heard last night was back in full force.
 He came awake fully in that instant, the sweetly erotic pleasures of the moment displaced by shock.  She was awake, he could feel it clearly now, she knew everything!  He pulled away in panic, his whole body shaking.  He sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her, everything in him telling him to run, but incapable, at that moment, of doing so.  He drew in gasping draughts of air, trying desperately to still his pounding heart, his panting breath, his wildly aroused body.  What could he say to her?!  Suddenly he felt her hand upon his back, his muscles drawing up tight in rigid response to her touch.
      It's all right, Vincent."  Her voice was low and soothing, love and trust projecting strongly over the Bond.  "Nothing bad happened, you didn't hurt me, you couldn't.  It felt so good, I hoped you'd never wake up."  The last was spoken teasingly, attempting to draw him away from the panic claiming him.
 Her gentle touch, the sound of her voice, her feelings through the Bond, and those words...  He was beginning to regain control again, to feel his tensed muscles relax, soothed by her loving presence.
 She felt the change and took a chance, leaning against his back and wrapping her arms around his waist, her hands resting upon his broad chest.  She sighed with deep satisfaction when he did not try to move her away.  This was progress!  But she also knew he couldn't discuss this now, could feel his chaotic emotions through the Bond despite his stillness, so she spoke easily, casually.
 "Oh Vincent, I hate to leave.  I wish this visit could go on and on...  But I have some files I have to review before tomorrow.  I should go soon."
 Amazing!  A moment ago he had felt such panic at the sweet intimacy of her presence, now he dreaded its absence.  He took his clues from her, speaking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, though he could still barely control his voice, the tones huskier than normal..
 "Stay for breakfast, Catherine.  You should eat, and William will be looking for you."  He somehow managed that teasing comment and was amazed anew at this previously unsuspected ability in the midst of his turmoil.
 He was rewarded by her girlish giggle as she squeezed him tight.  "Of course I'll stay for breakfast, you know I'm starving!"  They both burst into laughter then, as much at her comical words and tone of voice as the successful easing of the uncomfortable moment just passed.  I'll change in the guest chamber and meet you in the dining hall in 15 minutes.  She jumped off the bed lightly, scooped up her clothes and headed out the chamber at a run, her voice calling back to him through the outer passage, "15 minutes Vincent!"
 He found himself smiling helplessly as he went about finding a change of clothing for himself, his control once again firmly in place.  Apparently her hunger would not allow him time for a trip to the bathing pools this morning.

 They found Father in his study, behind the same stack of journals he'd been attempting to read yesterday.
 "Ah, Catherine, Vincent.  Good morning.  Did you sleep well?"
 "Wonderful Father," Catherine replied, a twinkle in her eye.  "We missed you at breakfast."
 "Well, I had some reading to catch up on and William was kind enough to bring me a tray.  I've been quite lazy these last two days, I'm afraid."
 "It's well deserved, Father.  You work very hard, you should relax when you get the opportunity."  Vincent had moved to Father's side, smiling indulgently.
 "I believe you're right, Vincent.  This restful weekend seems to have done everyone a world of good.  Perhaps we should try to indulge in them on a more regular basis, unexpected crises notwithstanding, of course."
 "That's a wonderful idea, Father.  Count me in."  She threw Vincent a teasing look and was pleased to see him smile shyly in return.
 "We won't keep you from your reading, Father.  Catherine has to go back Above now.  We just stopped in so she could say goodbye."
 "Oh really?  What a shame.  The time has passed so quickly and we really haven't had a chance to visit.  Why don't you collect Catherine's things together Vincent, and meet us back here.  That will give us a few minutes at least."
 "Of course.  I'll be back shortly."

 Catherine was amazed at the ease of her conversation with Father.  He did indeed seem to be much more accepting of her.  When had this transition taken place?  She had been a little worried that he had suggested this time alone to reinforce some of his previously known strictures concerning hers and Vincent's relationship, but he did nothing of the kind.  He asked about her work Above and discussed the activities Below as if she were indeed more than a Helper.  She felt her throat tightening and tears welling up at his obvious care and affection for her.  But she was distracted suddenly, sure that Vincent was returning.  The Bond was growing stronger in her...
 She turned to watch the chamber entrance just as he entered the study carrying her jacket and shoulder bag.  He was wearing his cloak for the first time since she had come down yesterday.  How odd that seemed now.  They took their leave of Father - Catherine's hug was impetuous and quite unexpected, and he squeezed her affectionately in return - and headed out the study exit.

 Vincent and Catherine meandered slowly, contentedly towards the threshold, neither anxious to see this visit end.  They spoke lazily of a multitude of things, and the moments of still silence were perhaps even more precious to them.  Almost before they knew it, and much to their dismay, they were at the entrance to her sub-basement.
 "Catherine, I'll be busy with Kanin for the next few days finishing that project in the lower levels, but there's a concert in the park on Thursday.  Do you think you can make it?"  They were leaning against the brick wall, still in the tunnel area proper, loathe to end this time together.
 "I wouldn't miss it.  It will seem like forever until then, Vincent."  She looked up into his blue, blue eyes, all teasing aside for now.
 "I know."  He spoke quietly, her absence keenly felt already.  He pulled her into his arms and held her close, willing the days to pass quickly until their next meeting.  "Be well, Catherine," he whispered against her ear, a shiver running through her at that sensation.  He held her a moment longer, then finally leaned back to gaze into the clear, gray depths of her eyes.  "Until Thursday."
 She drew back slowly until only their fingers touched, and then there was a space between them, an aching chasm they both wished instantly to close again.  "Until Thursday, Vincent."  She began to move away when his voice suddenly called her back.
 "Catherine, wait."  He reached into a deep pocket of his cloak and pulled out a cylindrical, cloth bag, tied about the neck with a silk ribbon.  "William's tea.  For when you cannot be Below with us."
 She took it from him, their eyes locked together in deep communication, and slipped it into her shoulder bag.  She heard the silent, standing offer through the Bond, saw it in his eyes, though he couldn't yet bring himself to verbalize it.  "Thank you, Vincent."
 She turned and walked towards the ladder, then paused, a sense of deja vu sweeping over her.  She turned back to gaze at him, the light streaming about her, and found his imposing figure filling the tunnel entrance, his eyes locked on her retreating form.  The memory filled her then, of her return from the tunnels after her Father's death, their first real kiss.  It had been a kiss of grateful thanks, shyly sweet and oh so brief.  She remembered Vincent's stunned look of disbelief as she had drawn away from him.  She saw his eyes widen now as the same memory swept over him.
 In a moment her decision was made.  She walked back to him slowly, her gaze locked to his.  When she reached him she didn't hesitate, but gripped the edges of his cloak to pull her mouth up to his.  She rested her lips against him lightly, surely, determined that this kiss at least would not be brief.  She moved against his warm silkiness in slow exploration, her tongue finally licking lightly against his tender bottom lip, then the top, so intriguingly different in its textures.  She flicked tenderly into the secret cleft there and was rewarded with his low groan.  His mouth fell open, gasping for breath.  She took swift advantage of that situation, gently tasting the warm curves of his inner lips, brushing across the sharp tips of his teeth, then lightly, teasingly touching his tongue with her own.
 She pulled away from him then, not wanting to rush him on this - it had certainly been a weekend of firsts! - but the hands which she had not felt a moment ago were at her back now, stopping her retreat.
 He stared at her in shocked amazement, his gaze locked upon her full lips. So sweet...  He had never suspected anything could taste so sweet.  There was no way to compare this kiss to that first one.  Then it might have been a kiss of friendship - he had tried to fool himself into thinking it was just that.  He couldn't fool himself about this one, it was a kiss between lovers, her intent undeniable.
 Without conscious thought the pressure of his hands increased and she found herself drawn back into his embrace.  She went willingly, joyfully, sweet anticipation filling her.  His mouth drifted down over hers and the lushness of his kiss left her stunned.  He explored her mouth slowly, tenderly, needing to experience this with her fully now.  Finally she could hold back no longer, and let her tongue meet his in a wildly erotic mating.
 They broke away simultaneously, each gasping for breath, and Vincent pulled her tightly against himself as tremors washed over them in waves.  Finally they were able to lean back to gaze into each others eyes with stunned disbelief.  Catherine smiled tremulously and touched the hair at his temples, smoothing it back, unable to keep her hands off of him.  "Until Thursday, Vincent."
 She left him then and disappeared into the light.  He stood watching long after she was gone, feeling her safe ascension to her apartment 18 floors above.  It was several long minutes later before he finally found his voice, whispering out towards the light and through the Bond, "Until Thursday, Catherine, my love..."

 Vincent entered his chamber and headed straight for the bedside table where he'd left the copy of Brontë's 'Jane Eyre'.  There was something there, some song or poem in the latter half that spoke now to his wildly singing emotions.  He picked up the book, then paused before taking up a spot in the middle of the bed; where Catherine had lain yesterday, where they had lain together last night.  He closed his eyes as the emotions experienced during those two events were quickly joined with that most excruciating kiss just shared.  A low moan escaped his throat and a shudder swept down along his length as he felt it all again.  He let them come this time, not attempting to stop the wild sensations swinging through him.
 Finally he was calm again.  He opened the book and flipped through the pages.  Yes, there it was, the song Edward had sung the day after he'd proposed to Jane.  Well, actually Jane had proposed to Edward as he recalled.  No matter...

    "The truest love that ever heart
      Felt at its kindled core
    Did through each vein, in quickened start
      The tide of being pour.

    Her coming was my hope each day,
      Her parting was my pain;
    The chance that did her steps delay
      Was ice in every vein.

    I dreamed it would be nameless bliss,
      As I loved, loved to be;
    And to this object did I press
      As blind as eagerly.

    But wide as pathless was the space
      That lay, our lives between,
    And dangerous as the foamy race
      of ocean-surges green.

    And haunted as a robber path
      Through wilderness or wood;
    For Might and Right, and Woe and Wrath
      Between our spirits stood.

    I dangers dared; I hindrance scorned;
      I omens did defy;
    Whatever menaced, harassed, warned,
      I passed impetuous by.

    On sped my rainbow, fast as light;
      I flew as in a dream;
    For glorious rose upon my sight
      That child of Shower and Gleam.

    Still bright on clouds of suffering dim
      Shines that soft, solemn joy;
    Nor care I now, how dense and grim
      Disasters gather nigh.

    I care not in this moment sweet,
      Though all I have rushed o'er
    Should come on pinion, strong and fleet,
      Proclaiming vengeance sore:

    Though haughty Hate should strike me down,
      Right, bar approach to me,
    And grinding Might, with furious frown,
      Swear endless enmity.

    My love has placed her little hand
      With noble faith in mine,
    And vowed that wedlock's sacred band
      Our nature shall entwine.

    My love has sworn, with sealing kiss,
      With me to live - to die;
    I have at last my nameless bliss:
      As I love - loved am I!"

*   *   *
 

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