Chapter Seven

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The freight elevator engine kicked into action a moment before it began its descent, but Vincent didn’t need that signal to know that the person he was waiting for was here – he’d heard his approach above a moment ago, and easily recognized the footsteps. The space below was large and cluttered, full of boxes and crates, and spare furniture. The area was a secure one, despite its relative proximity to the world above, and so was used as a temporary staging area for transfer below of miscellaneous items sent by helpers.

In truth, though, temporary storage might be the more accurate phrase, Vincent thought, ruefully taking in the number and variety of items stacked about the room. It was a sign of how blessed they were by the comfort and support of their helpers above that so many worthy things sat here, and were not in absolute demand yet below. Still, he knew that eventually everything in this space would find a welcome home, as time allowed. He made a note to himself, nonetheless, to engage Mouse’s help here – soon there would be no room for the new donations that came in so regularly. Kanin and his crews – himself included – were close to completing a series of new chambers in the lower levels, and no doubt much of what now sat idle here would soon be pressed into good service there.

The elevator reached ground and stopped with a gentle bump, distracting him from those thoughts, and he turned to watch the doors open, stepping forward to meet its inhabitant.

"Thank you for coming down early, Peter."

Vincent rested a hand gently on the older man’s shoulder in greeting and they turned to walk toward the back of the room, where he’d found a couple of chairs and positioned them about a large wooden crate.

"It wasn’t a problem at all, Vincent," Peter replied, setting his black leather satchel on the crate and seating himself. "I usually free up the hours before I need to be down here. I didn’t want there to be any mix-up for Catherine’s last exam, so I made sure my schedule was empty today – though that usually isn’t too hard to do on a Sunday. Besides, Jacob invited me to stay for dinner and you know what that means," he added with a grin.

"That Father will be in a very bad mood tomorrow, no doubt," Vincent replied with a smile. His teeth actually showed, an indication of his comfort level with this particular old friend.

"Oh, come now, it’s always possible he’ll beat me, you know," Peter responded with a wink.

"Possible, but not likely," the younger man revised.

They both laughed then, recalling the many instances where that particular friendship had appeared, at least to the others below, strained for days after, when the typical after-supper challenge resulted in the inevitable end. Jacob had taught Peter how to play chess long ago, while both were young men, but the student had in this particular case exceeded the master in his skill. Luckily, there were few, besides his best friend and his younger son, who could best him in that game, and usually one of the others below would agree to a match in the days that followed, the end of which would usually restored the patriarch’s good mood.

"What is it, Vincent? Nothing’s wrong, is there?" Peter asked, his laughter fading as the younger man began to pace about the crowded space rather than taking the seat across from him.

"No, nothing’s wrong," Vincent stopped abruptly and hurried to assure him.

"I just needed some advice of a… particular nature. Only you or Father could provide it, and in this case…"

He shrugged ruefully before continuing on.

"Well, Father is perhaps too close to me to be objective."

He finally sat down across from his friend and met his gaze. Peter saw resolute determination there, but also anxiety. He leaned forward, never breaking their gaze.

"I can’t promise complete objectivity either, Vincent – I’ve known you since you were a baby – but I’ll do my best."

"I know you will," Vincent replied, reaching out to momentarily clasp the other’s outstretched hand.

He sat back again, and was silent. Peter waited patiently, knowing Vincent would tell him in his own time. And today, time was something he had. How better to spend it, than counseling one whom he’d always considered in the light of a son of sorts, as so many of the early helpers and tunnel inhabitants did who were involved in that then-new endeavor more than thirty years ago.

"It’s about Catherine…"

Peter sat up straighter, listening intently. If he thought of Vincent as a son, it was equally true that he felt himself as almost a surrogate father to Catherine since his friend Charles’ death.

"And me," the younger man finally finished, the last words almost a whisper.

Vincent was silent then, his gaze no longer meeting the man’s across from him. His long hair swung forward, effectively hiding his features from sight. Peter recognized that posture well – it had been habitual to him since childhood. He sometimes thought the youngster had begun to let his hair grow – when he was barely twelve years old – specifically for that very reason. He had mentioned that speculative theory to Jacob once, after he’d heard his friend pleading with his son for the hundredth time to please cut it while on a visit below. Jacob had been unusually thoughtful for the remainder of the evening, and Peter had known that he’d given his words great thought. He’d never heard him mention cutting his hair to his son again, and so far as he was aware, Vincent never had.

"About you and Catherine," Peter finally repeated slowly. "About your relationship?"

Vincent nodded, still silent, and Peter waited.

"Peter, when I first found Catherine, when we began to grow closer…"

Vincent squirmed in his chair, looking intensely uncomfortable, then finally left it to resume pacing the small space between the nearby crates once more. The motion definitely seemed to calm him somewhat, and after a few minutes he continued.

"I never intended – never dreamed! – that there would be more than friendship there for me."

Peter looked at him askance.

"Surely you must have learned early on how much Cathy loved you?" he asked, incredulity in his voice. "It was so obvious – we could all see it."

Vincent stood still, a wide-eyed look of amazement on his face.

"Everyone but me, it seems," he replied in a whisper. He sat down again and sighed, passing a hand over his eyes.

"I suppose I just couldn’t believe it, Peter. How could she love me? I still have trouble believing it, and yet…"

He looked at his life-long friend, and Peter saw a firm certainty there, though the anxiety was not displaced.

"I know now that it’s true, no matter how hard it is to believe."

Peter nodded. What more needed to be said on that head, after all? If he hadn’t figured it out by now, he was a fool, and Peter knew that Vincent was no fool.

"And so now…?" he urged gently.

"Now I find myself in a difficult place," the younger man replied with a sigh, staring off into space. "For so long I deceived myself about her feelings for me, even about some of my own feelings for her. I can’t deceive myself any longer." He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "I almost lost her, Peter," he said, looking up to stare into the older man’s face with an intensity that was almost painful. "I almost lost her."

Peter read the anguish and grief there that was inspired by the mere thought of such a thing, and nodded, swallowing past the large lump in his own throat.

"I know, I know. But you didn’t, Vincent, you didn’t. Catherine survived because of you. You saved her life. It was a close call on two counts, there’s no doubt about that, but it’s over now, it’s past. She’s all right," he said, leaning forward intently.

Vincent nodded, his eyes closed, and Peter saw a tear glistening at the corner of each.

"Yes, she’s all right now, thank God," he whispered. "If she had died, Peter…"

He looked up at his friend again, and the tears waiting there fell off his lashes unheeded. He dropped his head to rest upon his clenched fists and Peter reached over to stroke his hair, feeling the unutterable sorrow surrounding the man before him.

"She didn’t die, Vincent, and she won’t," he stated firmly.

Vincent raised his head and wiped the tears from his cheek, his eyes red.

"Yes, Peter, she will."

Peter frowned.

"One day she will die."

The older man’s expression cleared. "We’ll all die someday, Vincent. I will, Jacob will, you will and Cathy will. It’s inevitable, you know that."

"I know that."

The younger man spoke swiftly in response, the intense light still in his eyes.

"The question facing me now is how will we – Catherine and I – spend the time between now and then? Will I hold her apart from me, in fear and doubt, making those years a misery for us both? I was going to do just that, Peter, I was. I never thought what the true consequences of such an action would be, not until…"

He squeezed his eyes shut tight again, as though a horrendous image were before him. Peter thought he knew what it was that Vincent saw now, what vision haunted him.

When Vincent opened his eyes again a light blazed from within.

"I won’t be the obstacle to the fulfillment of our bond, not anymore."

Peter nodded, stunned by the intensity of his gaze and the passion in his voice. He couldn’t know that the words just spoken were a faithful restatement and reaffirmation of the vow written just hours before.

"I need the advice of someone who’s known me all my life."

Peter nodded again, but still looked confused, uncertain of what was being asked of him. Vincent sighed and tried again.

"I need the advice of someone who knows me in the capacity of a physician," he added, stressing the last word.

As though a light had just gone on in his head, Peter’s eyes widened abruptly with understanding.

"Oh! Oh…"

"Yes," Vincent replied, filling the awkward void. "That kind of advice. Father’s views are too tainted by the past, both mine, and his own," he added, images of Lisa and Margaret flashing by. "I need someone who can at least try to be a little more objective. I need you, Peter."

To his credit, the older man recovered his composure quickly, but behind the calm exterior his mind was racing a mile a minute, thinking through all the possible scenarios the few words spoke thus far brought to mind. He cleared his throat, trying hard not to let his own anxiety show over the now-disclosed topic.

"You want to know if it’s safe for you and Cathy to have a physical relationship, is that right?" he asked, trying to ease the burden as much as possible for the younger man across from him.

Vincent flushed and nodded. "Yes, that’s what I want to know, what I need to know."

"What about children? Are you asking me about the potential for that?"

Vincent looked taken aback by that, but considered the question.

"I didn’t have that in mind, no," he answered slowly. "Except in the context of protection, I suppose, if it were needed," he added, his flush deepening.

Peter nodded. He flicked open the clasps on his medical satchel and drew a tablet of paper and pen from within, set the paper in front of him and chewed on the end of the pen speculatively, while Vincent watched anxiously. Finally he bent forward and made two headings on the paper, one labeled ‘children’ and the other ‘sex’. Vincent leaned over to read from the other side of the table, and his flush darkened yet again.

"I think it’s wise to consider the question from both angles – at any rate, it couldn’t hurt," Peter said, looking up once more. "Well, let me see, let’s start with the potential for children."

Vincent’s anxiety increased.

"Now this is something I can at least address from some history," Peter added, smiling reassuringly. "You no doubt remember when you and I and Jacob had this discussion – when you were in your teens?"

Vincent nodded, his face now a vivid shade of scarlet.

"I remember."

"You supplied a sample then, and again later, in your twenties."

Vincent nodded again. "Both times you said there was little to no chance that I would ever father children."

It was Peter’s turn to nod.

"True, that was our assessment. We attempted to evaluate your DNA, unfortunately that area of study was fairly new then, and it certainly wasn’t mine or Jacob’s area of expertise. Ultimately we determined that we couldn’t do the test accurately nor read the results with any degree of success. We considered having it done by an expert, but there were no helpers with that sort of skill, and we just couldn’t trust anyone else to do it, so Jacob and I gave up on that angle."

"Then what did you base your opinion on?" Vincent asked, frowning.

"Sperm motility. There was essentially none in either sample taken, and that’s a pretty good indicator, regardless of DNA."

Vincent looked rather taken aback.

"It’s nothing to be concerned about, Vincent," the older man hurried to reassure him. "It doesn’t have an impact in any other way than that, and certainly during those years you never indicated that you might be considering such a thing…"

Peter’s voice trailed off uncomfortably.

"On the contrary," Vincent added in a carefully neutral voice.

The thought of those years was painful to him. It was during that time in his life when he’d decided – with his father’s help – that the normal things others had waiting in their future, a wife and family, would forever be denied him, along with the sun and the day sky and the colors they brought. He sat lost in that thought for a few moments, and when he looked up once more he found Peter scribbling beneath the column labeled ‘children’. Two additions had been entered. Next to ‘DNA’ there was a question mark, but beside ‘sperm motility’ he had written ‘low/no’.

"I don’t know if there’s anything else we can add to this side," Peter went on. "We still don’t have any helpers with the ability to safely run and interpret a DNA test. I could, however, recheck your sperm motility, if you like."

He dug into his bag once more, and emerged holding a small, plastic, capped container.

"There’s no reason it should be different than it was the last two times, but you never know, and it’s an easy microscope test," he added.

Vincent took the cup and eyed it warily.

"I’ll be down for the children’s concert next weekend – if you have it then I’ll take it above for testing the next day. As long as it’s kept at tunnel temperatures, it should be all right for a day or so until I run the test. Or…"

He hesitated, and Vincent looked up from his appraisal of the container, a question in his eyes.

"Well, I could always take it back with me tonight, too, for that matter. Jacob and I will be with Catherine for an hour or so during her checkup."

Another uncomfortable silence followed that statement.

Peter shrugged apologetically. "If you can manage it, give it to me before I leave, and if not, next weekend is fine. It’s just a backup check, after all. I don’t anticipate anything different," he repeated.

The younger man nodded silently and slipped the sample cup into a deep pocket of his cloak.

"Ok, now for the second issue," Peter said, looking down to his tablet once more, where the column beneath the heading ‘sex’ was still blank.

Vincent tried to compose his face to a neutral expression, but could feel the heat flooding over it once more.

Peter stared down at the paper for a minute, then looked up to meet the younger man’s anxious expression, his own now stern.

"I know it doesn’t seem like it should be, but you know this is a pretty serious thing you’re asking me to give my opinion on, right?"

The heat in Vincent’s face faded instantly, and even the normal amber glow paled.

"I know it is. Do you think I would ever consider such a thing lightly? My whole life…"

He stopped, frowning, then continued on once more.

"I made up my mind when Lisa left, that some things in life were just not meant for me. This was one of them. For almost twenty years I lived with that decision, in my teens, in my twenties, into my thirties…"

His voice dropped lower and lower with each word, and finally he was silent, his expression turned inward. When he looked up again, Peter could see the pain the memory of those years brought.

"Do you have any idea what that’s like? Not just the denial of those physical urges, but the denial of all the things everyone else can have without a second thought. I suppose in one sense it was easy for me, at least – there was no one that I had to foreswear…"

He was silent again, but in his eyes, Peter knew that Vincent now envisioned the woman he loved.

"No one until Catherine," Peter finished sadly, unconsciously using the longer name that Vincent always used.

"Yes," the younger man agreed quietly, the sorrow in his eyes deepening. "No one until Catherine."

Vincent looked down, sighed, then met the older man’s gaze once more, a fresh determination in his eyes.

"She’s everything to me, Peter, everything! I couldn’t live without her, and I don’t think she could live without me, not any more. I don’t want to deny her again," he said. "If she had never entered my life, there would be no need for this discussion, but she did, and now it’s done. There can never be another for either of us, we both know that now." He shook his head, envisioning something only he could see. "It’s too painful, Peter. I don’t want to do it any more," he added insistently. "It’s not fair to either of us."

There was a pleading note in his voice, and his eyes begged the other for understanding.

Peter nodded, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.

"I know it’s not. Come on, let’s see what we can come up with."

Vincent nodded and wiped his eyes, and they both resolutely turned their attention back to the task at hand.

"Okay, let’s list the issues, shall we," Peter said, keeping his voice light.

Vincent held up his hands, and the older man noted they were trembling.

"Nails, got it," he said, writing that down on the heretofore empty column. "Teeth, too then," he added, writing ‘teeth’ just below.

Vincent nodded, but said nothing.

Below the last entry Peter went on to write ‘strength’ and ‘size’, without further input from the man sitting silent across from him.

"Can you think of anything I’ve missed?" he asked, looking up as he spoke.

The calm look in his eyes helped soothe Vincent’s own growing anxiety, and he took a deep breath, scanned the list once more, and shook his head.

"No, I think that’s everything."

Peter scrutinized the list as well, chewing on the end of his pen once more, before he finally spoke.

"Most of these things are related," he said. "For example, even the most loving couples will sometimes sustain scratches and other marks when they make love. For you it’s a more significant issue, of course."

"Yes," Vincent agreed, his voice tight.

"Vincent, I have a couple of thoughts in mind on this one, but let me stew on them while we talk a bit. One thing I’ll add now, though, for you to think about; creatures with the ability to do deadly harm to their prey with their own teeth and claws, could obviously cause the same damage to their mates. Though it’s certainly not an area I know much about, I’m not aware that this is a problem in the wild. I have to assume that there has to be a built-in biological defense mechanism that allows them to successfully mate without injuring their partners, right?"

Appealing to Vincent’s scholarly side had been a shrewd and wise choice. Vincent considered what the older man said, reviewed his varied readings on the related topics and was unable to disagree with anything. Finally he nodded.

"Yes, that seems logical," he agreed.

"And you have the additional protection of your bond," the older man added.

Vincent nodded slowly.

"I mean it has to be there for a reason, right?

"I know it’s there for a reason," Vincent corrected. "I just wish I could be sure that this was it," he added, a twinge of anxiety creeping back into his voice.

"Well, let’s leave that for now – I don’t think we’ll come up with a definitive answer for that one, unfortunately," said Peter.

"Certainly your size and strength are issues, pretty much in the same way the others are. You’re concerned that you’ll lose control in a moment of passion, and hurt her."

Though it hadn’t been a question, Vincent nodded, his throat tight.

"But it’s more than that, isn’t it?" Peter asked. "Regardless of all that, you don’t know if it’s possible, right?"

"Yes," Vincent rasped. "I need you tell me if it’s possible. The rest is irrelevant if it’s not."

Peter nodded.

"It’s a difficult question to answer with any degree of certainty," he began. "Technically, though, it is possible," he added quickly, seeing Vincent’s anxiety mounting. "How wise it is, is another question altogether."

"And your thoughts on the wisdom of such a thing…?" Vincent asked, his voice trembling.

Peter sighed. "A woman’s body is very adaptable in that way – it was designed to be, for childbearing. Cathy’s small, but that’s not in and of itself any bar to this – outside of the other issues here," he said, waving his hand at the column on the right. I suppose it really comes down to you, and there," he said, looking chagrined, "you have me at a disadvantage. It’s true, I’ve shared in the medical care of you over the years, but there has been nothing in your past medical history that would give me the insight I need to help with this question."

Vincent looked confused, and Peter tried again, turning red.

"I mean, it doesn’t matter what a man’s size is when it’s not… you know…"

He stammered to a halt, threw down his pen and burst into laughter, wiping his eyes with his hands.

"I want you to know I’m not such a bumbler in my office, Vincent, but you’ve sort of thrown me off kilter here."

Vincent couldn’t stop his own smile then, the atmosphere considerably lightened over that of a moment ago.

"Would it help if I…"

Vincent gestured to the paper and Peter pushed the tablet his way quickly.

"Please," he said, smiling with relief.

Vincent hesitated, leaned over, wrote a few numbers down, then pushed the paper back across the table. His face was once again scarlet.

Peter perused the figures, then turned his attention back to the younger man.

"I think it’s doable," he said simply.

Vincent hadn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he let it go, the sound filling the space about them.

"Really?" he asked, leaning forward anxiously.

"Really," Peter replied, a small smile curving his lips. "Don’t get me wrong," he added sternly, the smile replaced now by what he considered to be his ‘serious physician’s expression’. "What you’re considering requires caution and care, on both your parts, but I think, given the way you two feel about each other, you owe it to yourselves to try. I’ve got a few recommendations, though," he added.

Vincent nodded quickly, gratitude and relief in his eyes.

The older man leaned over and started a new heading, beneath the others, which he titled ‘Recommendations’.

"First and most important (and here he wrote a 1 on the left hand side of the paper, beneath the new heading), the first few times you try this, do it below, ideally in your chamber. Jacob’s own chamber is nearby," he added, glancing up at the man across from him with a look that spoke volumes. "Yes, I’m suggesting you tell him, but it’s not absolutely necessary," he added, cutting off the question he read in the other’s eyes. "Jacob will be able to help if anything goes wrong," he finally said. "As long as he’s near, that’s all that matters."

"All right, below, and with Father nearby," Vincent agreed, referring to the second part of the first recommendation, while making no commitment on the issue of disclosure.

Peter nodded and wrote ‘Below’ and ‘Father’ next to the number 1. The next line down was labeled with a 2.

"Second, try and let Cathy take the lead, at least for the first few times. That should help mitigate the other issues on this particular list," he said, indicating the column above and to the right. "This one might be difficult for you, but try."

"I’m not sure what you mean," Vincent replied, looking at him earnestly.

"I may not know much, Vincent, but it would be obvious to an idiot that in any category you’d be considered an alpha male. Alpha males aren’t known for being submissive, either with their enemies or with their mates. Still, you’re going to have to try and do just that. Let Cathy take the lead."

When Vincent still looked confused, Peter sighed and clarified.

"Have Cathy take the dominant position – on top."

When he saw that Vincent now understood, and was looking redder than ever, he went on.

"You may have the bond, but Cathy will know it first-hand if she experiences pain, and she’ll be able to moderate the pace and depth of penetration if you allow her to control it the first few times. It will also give her a chance to use her own internal rhythms to let her body accommodate yours in whatever time she needs – that’s important. You should take note of the degree of penetration she’s comfortable with, for future reference. Of course that can vary a bit in different positions, but if all goes well the first few times, I have complete confidence in yours and Cathy’s ability to work out the rest of the details."

Peter smiled then, and Vincent did too, albeit weakly. The younger man was obviously not taking any of this lightly. Peter took pity on him and went on.

"Another thing, I won’t go so far as to suggest that you actually have Cathy restrain your hands, but in this position you’ll at least have a halfway decent chance of employing caution in their use."

Vincent nodded, looking pale once more, then Peter scribbled ‘C – dom.’ behind item 2 on the list.

"Number three," he said, adding a new number to the list. "Spend as much time as needed – more – to make sure that she’s ready."

When Vincent looked confused again, he added a single word that clarified quickly.

"Foreplay."

"If it was possible, Vincent turned an even brighter shade of red, and nodded.

"It’s very important," the older man added.

He dug into his bag and retrieved several small plastic pouches that were obviously samples of some sort, considering their size, and passed them across the table. Vincent scanned the tiny front labels, which were almost unreadable except for the word ‘Lubricant’.

"Use it if you have any doubts, and maybe even if you don’t. It can’t hurt. I’ll bring down some more this weekend," he added.

While Vincent slipped them into his cloak pocket, Peter wrote ‘C – foreplay’ behind number 3, then went on to item 4, behind which he wrote ‘V – same’.

Vincent turned to him, puzzled.

"Before you’re with Cathy, Vincent," the older man answered his unspoken question. "If you want to try and control your excitement and to help give up the lead to her, then you need to give yourself an edge ahead of time."

Vincent flushed once more, but nodded in understanding, and Peter gratefully didn’t elaborate further. Instead he turned his attention back to the paper once more, where he listed number 5. After a hesitant pause, he wrote ‘protection’ behind it.

"I’m not sure how to advise you here, Vincent," he said. "Considering what you’ve told me," and here he gestured to the numbers scribbled in Vincent’s hand in the margins of the paper, "I don’t think condoms are an option for you. On the other hand, based on what we already know, and barring anything new in the test to be run, I don’t think contraception is an issue. I guess the best I can do is tell you to see if Cathy has any concerns or solutions to propose, and if there are none, well, it doesn’t look like it’s something you need to worry about, all things considered."

Below the word ‘protection’ he jotted down ‘condoms – probably not’ and ‘Cathy’, as reminders.

Vincent nodded, but his attention was again turned toward the items listed, reviewing them intently.

"Are you sure there’s nothing else?" he asked, anxiously.

"Yes, there is one other thing," Peter replied, though he made no effort to add a sixth item to the list, instead tearing the top sheet off his pad and folding it twice before handing it to the younger man sitting across from him. "I know it will be difficult, but you need to talk with Cathy about all of this ahead of time. If you ever feel yourself getting out of control, tell her. Make sure that she agrees to everything, and can respond quickly if anything goes wrong. She will likely have more self-control than you, under the circumstances. Make use of her strengths. Trust her."

Vincent nodded, his eyes filling with tears once more.

"I will. And Peter, thank you."

Their hands met in a tight clasp.

"Everything looks fine, Cathy. I think we can close the book on this one, don’t you agree, Jacob?" Peter asked his friend.

"Yes, I do. It’s completely healed, with no ulcerous spots. It will take a while for the ridge of the scar to diminish as much as it’s capable of, but only time will help that."

"Good."

Catherine’s voice drifted out from behind the privacy screen as she dressed while Peter and Father wrote up their post-examination notes.

"Peter, how long will it be before we can arrange the procedure above to have it removed?"

"Removed? What do you mean?"

She stepped out from behind the screen and moved towards them, finishing the last buttons on her shirt.

"You know, like the scars on my face."

Jacob and Peter exchanged concerned looks before addressing her question. Father spoke first.

"Catherine, this scar is much deeper than any of those were, by the very nature of its location. Like the one remaining just in front of your ear, this one can’t be removed."

She looked shocked by his reply, turning speechless to Peter with a questioning look on her face.

"Yes, I have to agree. This isn’t really my field, Cathy, but even I know that this can’t be corrected. Oh, you could have the ridge reduced, but the scar itself, the line along your torso, can’t be removed. It’s just not possible. I can check into the other procedure if you like, though. It’s very simple and can be done as an out-patient treatment. Would you like me to set that up?"

"No. Yes." She raised her hand to head as though confused, a dazed look in her eyes. "I don’t know. Let me think about it. I just assumed..."

Her words trickled off, unfinished.

"I’m sorry, Catherine, I thought you knew. Vincent did everything he could. He kept the stitches frequent and regular. No doctor above could have done a better job," Father reassured her.

"No, of course not, I know that."

She shook her head with determination and tried to smile brightly, but both men saw how forced her expression was.

"It’s nothing. I just hadn’t thought of it, that’s all. Don’t worry."

"Catherine?"

Vincent stepped into the chamber and moved quickly to her side. He searched her face intently then turned back to the two men who stood beside her.

"What is it? What’s wrong?"

Before either of them could answer Catherine spoke up, tugging at his hand to draw his attention back to her.

"It’s nothing, Vincent. Father and Peter say everything is fine, isn’t that right?"

She turned to the other two and willed them to confirm her words, while adding nothing else to them.

Peter looked confused, but Father spoke easily and calmly, drawing his son’s attention immediately.

"Yes, of course everything’s fine. The wound is completely healed. Catherine should have no problems with it at all."

Vincent turned back to her with a confused look in his eyes. "You’re sure? I thought I felt..."

His words trailed off, and when she simply waited for him to continue he finally seemed to relax.

"I’m sorry. The waiting has made me nervous."

Catherine stroked his hand comfortingly and smiled up at him.

Vincent smiled in return, then turned to the two older men present.

"Thank you, Father. And you, Peter," he said, holding the latter’s gaze for a moment longer.

Father waved the thanks away, busy writing up his notes, and Vincent took that opportunity to shake Peter’s hand and make his farewells. Peter cocked his head with a silent, subtle question, and Vincent shook his head in response, a blush staining his cheeks.

Peter nodded, and added, "I’ll see you next weekend," the message communicated and received by both.

As Vincent and Catherine started for the door, Jacob recalled their attention.

"Are you returning above, Catherine?"

"Yes, I’m afraid I have an early meeting tomorrow – Vincent is going to walk me back now. I’d like to stop and thank William for the wonderful dinner, though,’ she said, turning to the man at her side.

"Yes, of course," he replied, his hand at the small of her back as they turned for the door again.

"It’s a shame you can’t stay, Cathy," Peter called out, stopping their exit once more. "Jacob and I will be playing a friendly game of chess – and that’s always fun to watch," he said, winking at them both.

Vincent laughed and Jacob scowled.

"Get on your way, now," he admonished. "There’s nothing to see here but a well-deserved beating coming to someone I won’t name," he added darkly, glowering in Peter’s direction.

Catherine and Vincent left the two men to fight it out for the latest tunnel chess championship.