To Hope Anew

Chapter Four

She was enveloped by a comforting warmth that was powerful in itshonesty, reaching out to hold her like the sweetest lover's hand. Sheturned her face to it and felt the barest caress of a kiss on herlips, tender and yet so new. Then a presence, close beside her,beyond the breathtaking sensations -- still, hesitant, aching.

Diana reached out for it, yearning to bring it close, hold herbody to it -- and awakened. She lay shuddering from emotion in thebed for an eternity of a moment, uncertain as to whether she wasalone in the room or not, fearing almost to roll over to herside.

But was she afraid of finding herself in the company of a shadow?Or of not finding herself so?

The bed sheltered only her own slim form, she realized again inpain, the heartbeat she heard struggling for a rhythm was hers alone.She sat up, still trembling, trying to adjust her eyes to the minimallight of a single night candle left burning in the chamber.

This was insane. How could she possibly hope to go through withit?

In the six months since she had accepted Vincent's pledge, she hadattempted to remain committed to their promise: Whatever limits thatwere necessary, whatever boundaries he needed. She knew he hadexacted that promise from her only to keep her safe, in his love forher, only to protect her. Yet, as if to test her resolve, herdetermination to bind her heart to him no matter what the cost toher, heaven had seemed intent to torment her with visions, nightafter night, of a beguiling fulfillment that might never become truthfor them.

Were they only the tantalizing dreams of her own heart's desire,never within reach? Could fate be so cruel to them still? Had shebeen so mistaken to believe she could wed the love of her life andendure never being able to fully give herself to him, body and soul,in sweet communion?

She knew his fears were unfounded, rooted in the trauma andterrors of his burdening past alone -- and she was willing to riskher life to prove that to him. But, she knew it was necessary forVincent to find his own courage in this. She could only guide him,trust him, and hope.

The love was there, Diana knew, from the very start, despite hisengulfing grief. Even when he felt himself seemingly betrayingCatherine's memory, allowing another's heart to touch his own.Slowly, painfully, he had somehow come to grips with his anguishingloss, and realized he could never have done so without her help.

In his own way he would love her as deeply and as wondrously as hehad loved Catherine, if for very different reasons. Vincent had neverfound the courage to ask his beloved Catherine to join him in hislife Below. He had never dared even dream of Catherine becoming hisbride. They had conceived a child in an agonizing moment of surrenderneither of them could apparently take hold of, cherish, andrelive.

But Diana had been offered just such a remarkable fate -- to standat his side as his partner in his world... Why? When did he decidewithin himself that such a life with her was even possible, andindeed, the fulfillment necessary for two souls united in the truthof love? When did he begin to trust her with his heart, and itsdeepest, most terrifying and closely held secret... that he longed toembrace his humanity and offer it totally to her?... that he ached toshed the shadows of his fears in her arms and feel her welcome?

She may not have been technically empathic as he, they may nothave shared a soul-bonding link of consciousness as he had withCatherine, but Diana's compelling insight and intuition had read hisheart just the same. And she knew the instant that his friendship,his trust, had been freed to deepen into the profound wonder of lovehe could hold for her.

Diana pulled herself up from out of the bed and fumbled in the lowlight on the small table beside her, looking for her watch. Findingit at last, she read the time: 4:05 a.m.. The Underground wasblissfully quiet still, at such an early hour. Many of the communityhad been up late in preparation for today and now still lay in thecomforting sleep of their world. Suddenly Diana envied them theirpeace of heart.

Sleep was not something she'd settle for as necessary at themoment for her comfort, however. Her mind was racing, skimming overthe details of her life of the past three years, searching, daring totake hold as promise moments she'd only dismissed as her own failingdiscipline over a will that would no longer bury its needfulhumanity.

Despite her confident words of the night before to Vincent, shestill sought reassurance, concrete evidence -- not of their love forone another, never that -- nor of the rightness of her decision tojoin him Below. What she needed to convince herself of was thehesitantly imploring look she had read in Vincent's eyes last night,the tremulous, possessive hold he reluctantly released from hershoulders.

She had caught them before in his attitude toward her in hisunguarded moments, despite his compelling need to shield her fromthem, shield himself from their reality. That look, that touch, hadgiven her an unexpected glimpse into the reality of his soul, made itpossible for her to hope in their new life together. The feelings ofwelcome, trusting abandon she'd only barely been able to hold toherself came coursing through her body even now at the memory of histenderness, pleading to be freed to gift her in love.

The cold, uneven stone floor beneath her bare feet helped torestore the clarity of her thinking. She reached up to a sideboardand lit a cluster of candles there from the night light. The enlargedpool of illumination allowed her to find one of the cardboard boxesthat had carted her belongings here Below with her.

In secure determination, she hunted through the box. It would haveto be in the very bottom of the carton, she cursed silently. Nothingwas ever easy for them, was it? Finally Diana was able to pull thenondescript three-ring binder from the contents of herpossessions.

Settling back onto the bed on top of the covers, Diana beganleafing through the binder with familiarity. It was a printout of hercomputer journal from the past three years. Thank God she'd earlytaken up the habit of writing and attempting to decipher thecomplexities of her nature and the mad world about her. Setting herthoughts down in the journal, reading and re-reading the entries, hadalways been the best way for her to follow up on her insights, in herwork as well as her personal life. Filtering through the words shecould feel the emotions almost as they had been, touch the indistinctmoments of reckoning and find her way through them to the honesty shesought.

After a minute or two of page turning, Diana finally stopped atthe entry she had been in search of:

"October 1, l990. I'm typing these words now as a transcription ofhandwritten pages from the past three weeks. I've been away from thiscomputer for that long a time, away from my loft. But, strangely, Ihaven't been away from home.

"I've been Below, because of an unbelievable series of events thatcould have ended in tragedy. Yet, now I can count them as the mostwondrous moments of my life. They were almost my last."

Diana juggled the two bags of groceries in her arms with thepracticed expertise of a veteran urban inhabitant. She didn't mindthe fumbling. The groceries in the bags were going to be her treatfor everyone Below this weekend -- mostly fresh vegetables and lotsof fruits -- peaches, plums, grapes. Although no one would take morethan a mouthful as their own indulgence, Diana knew that everyone inthe Underground would really enjoy the opportunity for a refreshingbit of change beyond the basics of their diets.

Funny, how everything was so relative. If she were to ask any ofthe passersby around her how they would indulge themselves if giventhe chance, Diana was certain their responses would not come anywherenear the decadent subject of extra fresh fruit for dinner. Life wasblessedly reduced to the important elements of existence in theUnderground.

And Diana had taken to that existence with all her heart. Thepeople Below, their caring acceptance of her, their generous supportand nurturing of her spirit, had become very much a lifeline to her,even apart from Vincent.

More and more, her work, and her own total immersion into theinvestigations she was obliged to take on, were eating away at herown peace and stability of spirit. She seemed always to leavesomething of herself behind in each case that she worked on; shefound herself having a more difficult struggle to free her ownessence from the quagmire of violence, pain, and death each time sheplaced herself into the criminal labyrinth of her career.

One day, she feared, she would not be able to find her way back atall.

They knew about her struggles, Below, and offered her everyopportunity at solace and recuperation. Even if she was reluctant attimes to overstep what she perceived as being her proper place withinthe community.

But she could not help feeling the comforting rest for hertroubled mind and heart she found in Vincent's presence. He, morethan anyone else, understood her struggle for balance, for it hadalways been his own. Though his own heart was deeply etched with painstill, he never withheld his quiet strength from her, the reassuranceof his comforting words, at times even the barest trace of a healingtouch.

So Diana's presence Below was now a natural outreach of her life.Invitations to children's concerts, or performances of dramaticreadings, or simply the offer of tea and conversation were sent herway with easy frequency, by Mary, Rebecca, Olivia, and even Father.Still wishing not to intrude upon Vincent's difficult healingprocess, despite the longing she carried in her heart to offer himthe solace of her love, she would accept no more than one or twoinvitations a month. But those days became the high points of herroutine.

She had helped Mouse find supplies he needed for his ongoingprojects; she had helped fill the children's library shelves withwondrous books rescued from dozens of tag sales; she had discussedthe psychological upheavals evident among maturing adolescents withFather, as boys and girls of the community who had known each othersince birth suddenly became awkward, shy, and downright contentiouswith one another as they grew into teens and beyond.

And she had spent time in the happy company of little Jacob. For,whenever the blessed moments came for Diana to find herself inVincent's company, Jacob was nearby. She began thinking that perhapsit wasn't always the father's protective presence sheltering the son,at these instances, as it was the son's effective ability to keepattention focused sweetly upon himself and the wonder of hisblossoming from infant to toddler, that freely sheltered his fatherfrom all but the most casual experiences of her presence.

Jacob and his milestones in the growth process were a neutral, andsafe, opportunity for Vincent and Diana to remain in close contactwithout touching to any possible deepening of their turmoil-wrackedrelationship. They could smile at the wonder in the little boy's facethe moment he discovered he had toes that liked to be tickled. Theycould hold their breaths together as he sat up by himself. And theycould, between the two of them, manage to keep the child somewhatsafely corralled within Vincent's chamber when he began to explorethat great new world on all fours, crawling happily about. All thiswithout the fear of having to reveal their hearts to one another.

It was at just that time that Vincent offered Diana a gift sweeterthan any she could yet hope for from him: With the warmth of summerdays Above, he had actually consented for her to take Jacob on anexcursion into the Park one Saturday morning, with Samantha aswell.

It seemed like such a little thing at first, but Diana knew itwent much deeper than a simple concern for Jacob's need for fresh airand sunshine. Vincent had placed his child, and Samantha, too, intoher trusted care, for he did not want to deprive the little boy ofthe chance to experience something of his mother's world, that hisfather would never be able to share with him. Diana caught sight ofan undisguised sorrow in Vincent's eyes as he turned little Jacobover to her for the first outing. It was the look of a lonely child,just waiting for someone to say, "You can come, too." It broke herheart.

The Park excursions came regularly until Diana became the happyorganizer of a day's activities for the child nearly every week orso. Samantha was always at her side on those days, and Diana knewthat Vincent meant the opportunities to be available to her as muchas to his little son, to widen her horizons at bit, in gratitude forall her help with Jacob's care.

Today was just such a day, perfect for seeking out the sun'swarmth in the Park. Diana and Samantha had made it a point to come upwith a bit of gifting sunshine for everyone Below, too. Hence thefruit bags and plans for a special evening treat.

Samantha strode two or three steps ahead of Diana on the sidewalk,easily pushing Jacob in a lightweight stroller. The little boy wascontent to study every small object that came within his range ofview. Diana breathed a sigh of thanks that this particular excursionhad not been washed out. Mother Nature had been more than excessivein the rain department of late and Diana would have been asdisappointed as the children had their morning together Above beendisrupted. As it was, there had been plenty of sunshine, grass,giggles, and warm spirits. And soon they would be able to carry theirhappy dispositions Below, too.

Turning down the final block before reaching her loft, Diana wasaware of the sound of sirens quite near in the streets surroundingthem. They were a common enough sound to any city dweller, as well aspolice officer, and at first had passed right through herconsciousness without stirring any alarm. Still, they seemed to belocated not more than a few blocks away, and the acrid smell of smokewas drifting along on the breeze.

The entry way to her loft now within sight, Diana suddenly pausedon the sidewalk to make certain she had seen who she thought she hadseen come out of the building just ahead of them. She was right.

"Joe?" Her acknowledgment came out as more a startled questionthan a greeting. Though they had worked together often in the pastmonths, Joe Maxwell, the young District Attorney, had not set foot inher apartment since their last confrontation during her investigationinto Catherine's murder.

The DA had been Catherine's boss, friend, and confidant, andwithout even acknowledging it to himself, his regard for hisco-worker had turned to love. When Catherine had been found murderedhe had been hell-bent to discover the whereabouts of the person heperceived to be her killer -- Vincent. Diana had been equallyhell-bent to protect the tragic, mysterious figure with her life,knowing the actually circumstances of the case, but unable to revealthem to Joe without threatening the Underworld community.

Yet, the DA had somehow trusted his instincts of Diana enough toallow her unquestioning freedom in her investigation, despite his ownpreconceived conclusions, and in the end, Catherine's murderer, thepowerful, psychotic drug lord, Gabriel, had been caught.

But Diana had long ago come to recognize the influence of theworld's manipulative and conscienceless elite in her investigations-- and she knew Gabriel would never truly need to pay for his crimes.He'd even haughtily thrown that reality into her face mere heartbeatsafter he had nearly murdered tiny Jacob in his crib. The child's lifehad been saved only because of his father's empathic awareness of thedanger to him.

No, Gabriel would never pay. There would be only more murder andmayhem visited on the innocent as long as he was alive. And one ofthe innocent most assuredly threatened still by his vicious andencompassing evil would have been Vincent himself. So Diana had takenit upon herself to mete out justice in her own way, though now shecould not even fathom having had the courage to take up such aburden. Still, because of that courage, and very much because of thelove that it was founded on, she had spared Vincent the guilt of yetanother life's blood on his hands, however despicable the man.

Joe had accepted her end to the tangled story without question,knowing her capacity to hold to nothing other than justice and thetruth, though he struggled mightily with a need to learn the actualcircumstances of Catherine's life and death. It had taken him aneternity to manage to live with the fact that he had set aside hismantle as upholder of the letter of the law to allow Diana to workfor what was truly the reality of the situation.

Now, months later, Diana knew that the idealistic attorneystruggled still with Catherine's loss here Above as Vincent didBelow. She had correctly gauged his feelings for his co-worker at thevery onset of her investigation -- the grudging admiration deepeninginto friendship and finally love, but a love never spoken of, neveracted upon, for, to Joe, Catherine would always be the Radcliffdebutante and he would always be the hard-scrabble kid from Brooklyn.If he only knew how alike he and Vincent truly were, when it came totheir feelings for Catherine.

The gentle, dark eyes smiled at her for once before settling intoa quiet pain. "Don't look so surprised to see me, Bennett. I do livein this city, too, you know, actually not very far from here. Highrent district, like you," Joe commented breezily. Taking in thepresence of the children at last, he continued, "Been on anexpedition?"

"Yes, for some sunshine in the Park. It is Saturday morning, infact, and summer. I'm allowed a few hours away from my shackles eachyear. It's in my contract."

Joe's face brightened at the remark. He enjoyed trading jabs withDiana. She was as bright and as honest as anyone he'd ever known. Itwas such a shame that her career choice would eventually devour her,as it had so many promising, righteous souls in their line ofwork.

"I know, I know; but I took the chance that you were home andbrought over these files on the Abbott case. I thought you might findthem interesting reading."

"Not this weekend. I have plans."

Samantha had started pulling Jacob's stroller up past the firststair at the entryway of Diana's building as the adults had beenspeaking. Joe easily leaned down and helped her keep the strollerlevel. He came face to face with little Jacob in the process, andfound that he was momentarily transfixed by the child's limpid blueeyes. Diana held her breath.

"You carrying on a secret life, Bennett? I somehow never took youfor the motherly type."

Joe's teasing insight was much closer to the mark than even hecould realize. Diana knew she had to distract him with just enoughtruth to cover her tracks. Her year's involvement with the Underworldhad taught her the need to deflect such inquiries into her privatelife.

"If you must know the details of my existence away from theoffice, Maxwell, Samantha and Jacob are friends. We were spending afine summer day together, and I am not taking those files with mewhen we join their family this evening."

Samantha stood bemused, watching the adults and attempting tounderstand whether the man posed a threat or not. But the gentlebrown eyes that met hers immediately set her to rest. "Hello,Samantha. I'm Joe Maxwell."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Maxwell," Samantha returned graciously.Certain he was someone Diana trusted, the young girl slipped backinto her usual breathless friendliness in conversation. "Thank youfor helping out. Jacob is getting bigger every day. I can hardly keepup with him."

Diana smiled reassuringly. Samantha was used to disguising herunusual homelife from strangers. She knew they had nothing, however,to worry about from Joe.

"Looks like Jacob is pretty lucky to have a big sister to takecare of him so well." Joe's compliment brightened Samantha's face toa sweet blush, but she remembered not to correct him on hismis-assumption. Diana prayed he would not notice that the childrenshared absolutely no "sibling" traits whatsoever: Samantha wasolive-skinned and dark- haired and eyed. Jacob was fair, with hisreddish-blond hair reflecting the sunshine and his sky blue eyesstartlingly clear.

Joe turned his attention from the children back to Diana and wavedthe files before her, unaware of the disruption his unexpectedpresence had caused. "If I can't ruin your weekend with these, can Iat least give you a once over on them now? It'll only take 20minutes, tops."

Diana turned an impatient look his way, then weighed her optionsand came to the obvious conclusion. "I'll give you fifteen minutes,and only if you make yourself useful first." Without awaiting hisprotest, she then proceeded to deposit one of the two grocery bagsinto his arms.

Searching about for her key in the purse she hated to carry, shethen led the way into the building.

The slow climb on the freight elevator to her loft caused apregnant pause in the conversation. Joe wondered why developers ofthese old buildings always thought that freight elevators were trendyand never replaced them with more practical, and quicker, ones.

But the halt in the give and take gave the unexpected guest theopportunity to study his companions at close quarters. Samanthaseemed sweet and civilized, unlike some of the kids he'd run upagainst these days. Curiously, she wasn't dressed for the hot summerweather in anything he'd have expected as current attire for anadolescent; no jean shorts, no T-shirt or tank top. Instead, she waswearing a light-weight cotton jumper that looked hand sewn, and ashort-sleeved blouse. Her long thick hair was neatly braided down herback.

Joe couldn't help but let his mind wander to the last time he'dseen an eleven year old dressed that way: It was at St. Joseph'sParochial School in Brooklyn; he was in the fourth grade, and madlyin love with Teresa Esposito, much to the consternation of SisterMary Ambrose.

Come to think of it, Joe noticed that Diana was almost similarlydressed, though her summer attire was a sleeveless, easy-fittingshift of cotton. He had never seen Diana in a dress before. At workshe was all business -- in suits or slacks, wearing no jewelry exceptwhat appeared to be a man's large-stoned ring on her right indexfinger. At home she was usually in jeans or oversized sweats andsweaters that seemed to neutralize her femininity, her breathtakinglong red hair always relinquished to a braid or ponytail as almostonly an afterthought. In the bright sunshine today it had appearedspun of amber.

Joe noticed, too, that she was wearing hardly a trace of makeup.Unexpectedly he decided that she didn't need the makeup -- her skinwas an opalescent shade of ivory that defied description and made herlook almost like she'd walked off a Renaissance canvas, suspended intime. And that dress, too, seemed in a time warp. It was right offhis mother's closet rack when he was growing up, the simple"housedress" that only a Mom could wear and still look the embodimentof femininity. Or so Joe had thought at the time. Diana now camepretty close to equaling that nostalgic sense of natural beautythirty years later. He'd never seen her so... captivating.

The elevator finally came to a halt at Diana's loft flat and Joewas motioned onto the couch with an off-hand, "Be right with you."His hostess retrieved the grocery bag from him and set it on thecountertop in the kitchen along with the one she had carried. Dianadidn't unpack the bags, though, but instead bent down to the littleboy in the stroller and smoothly swooped him up into her arms. Thechild giggled easily and threw his arms around her neck. Samanthaloosened a small baby bag from the back of the stroller and unpackedit, retrieving a juice cup and a small stuffed rabbit for thechild.

Setting Jacob on a blanket on the carpeted floor, Diana proceededto change him. Joe came over to her side. She seemed so practicedabout taking care of a baby. In fact, there was evidence that a baby,Jacob?, was regularly in residence in her loft: a high chair sat in acorner of the kitchen, a portable crib was visible just inside theopen door of her bedroom, some toys and books were nestled in alaundry basket on the other side of the couch. Joe became more andmore intrigued by the child and Diana's connection to him.

"You look pretty well equipped to handle children, Bennett. What'sthe story?" Diana matched his tone of voice with her reply.

"Jacob and Samantha stay with me often." Of all the times to haveJoe start asking questions! Diana tried to keep her head clear.

Joe settled his gaze on the little boy that lay kicking andwrestling happily with Diana. There was something about the childthat held his attention, the open honesty of his little face. Itsuddenly seemed familiar, but Joe could not quite grasp why it shouldbe.

Then a thought occurred to him. The little boy was fair and closeto red-headed. He obviously delighted in Diana's attentive care andshe seemed to accentuate that care with a soft and tender touch,lingering gently to hold his small hand, smooth a little curl thathad flipped mischievously into his face. She looked so much in herplace caring for the child, more so than simply as a familyfriend.

Was the little boy hers? He knew she wasn't married from her fileat the Department. But she was young and beautiful, with a mind likea steel trap and a temper to match. Her captain had once told Joethat half the men that had worked with her in her division would haveloved to have taken her over their knees and given her anold-fashioned disciplining. The other half were afraid she'd becapable of doing it herself to them. And every one of them would havejumped into bed with her given half the chance.

She had had someone special in her life, he recalled, aschoolteacher, from what Joe had been able to piece together abouther, but that relationship had apparently broken apart about the timeshe began working on Catherine's case. He couldn't really reconcilethe idea that there hadn't been anyone else she cared for, except forthe fact that he knew being a cop was hell on any personalrelationship. Being a woman cop was even worse; too much egothreatening for most men to handle.

But Diana was truly unique; someone was bound to understand that,hopefully someday, for her sake, he wished. He sensed she needed thebalance a good, stable relationship could bring her. Obviously,though, she didn't appear to be involved in one at the moment. Unlikethe evidence of a child's frequent presence in her home, there wereno tell-tale signs that a man might also be a conspicuous visitor toher flat.

And Samantha: how did she fit in? Maybe not Jacob's sister as muchhalf-sister? In reality the two children looked nothing alike. Joecould almost place Diana as the mother of a toddler, but the motherof a ten or eleven year old? Yet, the girl seemed devoted to her,too.

Diana could sense all the questions Joe was simply bursting to askher about the children. She knew, also, how persistent he could be inhis own right. That was one of the things that made him the fine DAthat he was. That, and his unflinching honesty. Diana unexpectedlyfelt a twinge of regret for having to keep him in the dark abouteverything. She guessed that Catherine must have felt the same way.Someday Joe would need to be told about it all, or he'd find out forhimself.

Once Jacob was changed and comfortable, Diana pulled him to hisfeet. The little boy held tightly to her hands and began walkingtowards the coffee table, a look of sheer delight on his face at thewonder of being upright and mobile. Diana's face was glowing almostas much as his, and Samantha joined the group to cheer the little boyon.

"He's about ready to go it alone," Joe exclaimed, easilytransported into the moment for once.

"Not quite yet. He needs to gather his courage a bit more," Dianaresponded with understanding.

Suddenly aware of all the steps he had taken supported only byDiana's hands, Jacob became a bit wobbly on his feet. Diana swept himup into her arms then. He burst forth with a happy, "Di, Di, Di," andpatted both her cheeks with his little hands.

"I guess we'd better get going on those files." The young policeofficer let her attention slip reluctantly from Jacob to the paperwork on the table before her. She nestled the little boy on the couchbeside her with his cup and his rabbit.

Samantha called from the kitchen. "I'll make some lemonade. Wouldyou like some, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Love it," Joe answered easily, then in a lower voice to Diana heobserved, "That young lady is the most polite child I've ever comeacross. How'd her parents do it? I thought civility in youngsters wasa contradiction in terms these days."

Smiling softly, Diana let a bit of pride suffuse her on Samantha'sbehalf. She knew all the children Below happily possessed similartraits. "Her family puts a lot of store in consideration for othersand responsibility."

With files spread over most of the small table before them, Joeand Diana then proceeded to sift through the complex details of thecurrent investigation they were working on together, a murky trail ofbetrayal and murder behind the closed doors of an elite boardingschool in the city. Joe had come to value Diana's insights, herability to pick up on the smallest detail and paint an accuratepicture from it. She made connections to things no one else wouldeven bother with as important. It was eerily as if she couldtransport herself, her mind, into another consciousness at will.

Still, Joe had noticed over the months of working with her, thatthere seemed to be a place within herself that nothing, and no one,could penetrate. There was a certain -- melancholy -- that seemed topervade her in the unguarded moments he had managed to pick up onfrom her. He was certain her work had plenty to do with it. She putso much of herself into it, almost becoming lost within it attimes.

Suddenly Joe felt a pang of guilt for invading her home with thework he had brought. He sensed she really needed time to simply lockeverything else away from her, and gather her own sense of self backtogether.

But, he guessed that there was more to cause sadness in her lifethan just the constant bombardment of frustrating, hope-robbing chaosher profession of criminal psychology inflicted upon her day in andday out. He thought he came up with part of the reason in the way shekept a sheltering hand always within reach of the little boy besideher. Was she keeping him safe from harm, or was he extending to hersome vital lifeline just by being near?

"Diana, there is hardly any water coming through the faucet."Samantha's words pulled Joe from his thoughts.

"They probably opened a couple of hydrants illegally to cool offsomewhere nearby," Diana said.

The mention of hydrants caused Joe to add his own observation."It's probably because of the fire down at that warehouse that'sbeing redeveloped."

"I thought I smelled smoke," Diana recalled.

"Yeah, it was up to three alarms. I had to detour halfway back tothe office just to get past it."

Silently Diana wondered if she and the children would have aproblem getting back to the tunnels because of the blaze. But, theywould be heading away from the fire and towards the Park. Besides,she was certain Samantha knew alternate routes home if they weredetoured themselves.

Samantha remained occupied in the kitchen for a number of momentswhile Joe and Diana continued discussing possible avenues ofinvestigation into their case. Then the young girl joined them with atray overflowing with refreshments -- lemonade in icy glasses, aplate of blueberry muffins she and Diana had made earlier in themorning, and a bowl of mixed fruit. Plates, napkins, and silverwareall neatly piled completed her offerings.

Joe smiled broadly at Samantha and quickly made a place on thecoffee table for her to set her tray down. "Bennett, I should stop byyour place more often. Especially when such gracious company isalready here."

"I never knew you could be so charming, Maxwell," Diana accusedlightly as she handed him a glass of lemonade.

"You never treated me so well," he returned, teasingly. Slidingdown the couch a bit, Joe left room for Samantha to join them intheir refreshments. The girl easily scooped Jacob up onto her lap andhanded him a vanilla wafer.

"Your Mom must really appreciate the help you give her withJacob," Joe complimented, noting the girl's confident manner with thelittle boy and the obvious affection showing in each of their facesfor one another.

It was a simple enough statement and genuinely sincere. Joe meantonly to praise Samantha for what he deemed unusually outstandingbehavior. Yet, instead of pride showing on the girl's face, she threwDiana a furtive, unsettled look that Joe caught. He also caughtDiana's response -- a wordless "let it pass" that showed plainly inher face.

"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell," Samantha spoke evenly. "Jacob's such asweet-tempered baby. It's no work taking care of him at all."

"Now, maybe. But just wait till he starts walking and tearingaround on his own," Joe answered brightly.

"That's when it gets tiring, I'm sure," Samantha exclaimed with alaugh, her good humor restored. As if to emphasize what the futurewould hold for his pretty caretaker, Jacob suddenly squirmed out ofSamantha's lap and headed straight for the papers on the coffeetable, supporting himself with only one little hand on the edge ofthe couch. His ever-vigilant young nanny was ready for him, though,quickly tossing him up into her arms as he was about to protestindignantly.

"I think I'd better keep this little urchin occupied some placesafer." With that, Samantha set the little boy on the floor in thekitchen and then plopped down opposite him with a small rubber ballretrieved from the laundry basket of toys. A lively game of "roll theball" ensued, leaving the adults reluctantly to return to theirfiles.

"Diana, listen, I'm sorry I intruded on your weekend with these.It could have kept until Monday." Joe seemed to realize how difficultit was for Diana to pull her attention away from the playingchildren.

"That's all right, Joe. Don't worry about it."

"They're sweet kids." His words were almost as -- sad -- as hisexpression. The tone of his voice caused Diana to lock her gaze onher co-worker with concern. There were a few lines in his handsomeface that she hadn't noticed before. And when his eyes were nottwinkling with amusement at her expense, they really seemed --haunted.

"Joe. You should take some down time. Burying yourself in workisn't going to help. I know."

"Work's all I've got, Diana."

And it was true. There had been little time in Joe's life to spendon building any special relationships. He'd worked two jobs and puthimself through law school at night. Then the DA's office meantnothing but long hours, little pay, and stale coffee in styrofoamcups. A few short-lived romances had left him heavy of heart. Thenthere was Catherine.

Cathy.

He'd spent three years telling himself he was not falling in lovewith his co-worker and knowing it was a lie. It would have been somuch easier for him to have resigned himself to the fact that somehotshot, like architect and developer Elliot Burch, had won herheart. He could have moved on from such a reality and even acceptedCathy's generous friendship as a true gift. But Elliot, as slick andcharming as he was, had been left as bereft of her love as he had,apparently, despite his marriage proposal to her.

The reality, as Diana had at first steered Joe to it, was thatCatherine's love was for someone on the shadowy fringe of the city'slife, someone whose very existence needed to be questioned, someonewho could quite easily murder for love. Was he real? Did such anavenging angel truly claim Cathy's heart?

And body?

Diana had been the one to break the news to him. Cathy had beenpregnant, had delivered a baby just before she had been killed. Thatreality haunted Joe almost as much as her death. What of the child?No trace of it had ever been found. What of the father? Therevelation of Gabriel as the murderer did nothing to answer thosedeeper, more painful questions surrounding Catherine's death. Dianahad not given him any answers, either.

Diana. Sitting beside him reading through a transcript, she was aco-worker and a friend, a good cop with an uncanny ability to solveproblems without explaining her actions. Her movements had been asindecipherable as the case of Catherine's murder had been. At firstshe had pieced seemingly disjointed details into a surreal puzzle oflove, roses, tunnels, poetry, and a being who would protect Cathy atall costs.

Then she had backed away from her own conclusions, leaving Joefrustrated and on the edge of having her slapped with criminalcharges for obstructing justice. When she had disappeared at gunpointwith Gabriel's men one night, he had despaired of ever finding heralive as well, surprised at his concern for her, which seemed toextend beyond that of one law enforcement official for another. Thezeal with which she had attacked the investigation had both angeredand awed him. Thankfully, she had resurfaced unharmed a few dayslater, and with the pattern of a floor tile, had managed to cornerGabriel in his lair, somehow. Joe's relief had been for more thansimply the imminent resolution of a heartbreaking case.

That was when the imponderables began again. Joe, and half thecity's elite SWAT teams, had stormed the fortress-like mansion onStaten Island only under heavy fire and resistance from Gabriel'smen. When they finally got into the house, however, there wasn't asoul left alive -- except Diana. How she had placed herself withinthe fortress was something she'd never divulged. A half dozen armedguards were dead or dying, terrified domestics had fled throughoutthe grounds, and there was Diana, in the middle of it all.

Joe, himself, had come upon her in a corner of a room that hadobviously been a nursery, outfitted with costly mahogany furnitureand with a high-tech surveillance camera in place on the ceiling. Thecontrol panel of the camera, and others like it throughout the house,had been found shot out, a store of tapes turned to ash in the centerof an antique Persian rug, in an office on the first floor.

The state of the equipment was nothing in comparison to the stateJoe had found Diana in that nursery. She was standing with her backto the door, which appeared to have been ripped apart. She wasdisheveled, her blouse was torn, the side of her face bruisingquickly from what obviously looked like a hard blow.

And her hands were bloody, fingers frozen around the trigger ofher gun.

Joe then saw what her nearly catatonic gaze had locked itself on:Gabriel, in the opposite corner of the room, slumped up against thewall. His left cheek was dug with gashes, and his expensive silkshirt was sopping with his own blood from a bullet hole in his chest,square in the heart.

By the time they had gotten her to a hospital, Diana had becomemostly coherent again. Painfully she managed to describe to Joe howshe had been surprised by Gabriel in the room, battled him for herlife, and then shot him in self defense. That was it. She couldremember no more, could give him no more details.

He'd let himself be convinced that the apparent blanks in herstory were as a result of shock . At the hospital he wasn't surprisedto hear from the ER doctor that she appeared to be suffering from aform of post trauma syndrome. But his police training forced him toquestion just exactly what sort of trauma she may have witnessed. Thegashes on Gabriel's face were too deep and too extensive to be simplythe result of her defending herself against him. And the gun she heldin her hands was not her service revolver. Unbelievably, it wasCatherine's own gun. Everything seemed to point to the fact thatDiana surely had not been alone in that room with Gabriel.

Still, did Joe really what to know the truth? Could he evenbelieve the truth?

And what of the baby? There was no sign of it after the siege, noteven a body to be found. None of the household help that the policerounded up would own up to even seeing a child in the house, despitethe nursery furnishing, the store of formula and diapers in the room.Joe knew the domestics were only illegal aliens afraid of beingdeported, but even more terrified of an employer who had apparentlysworn their loyalty to the death..

The most unbelievable piece of the puzzle was then found in thebasement of the house: a cage, the size of a jail cell, made oftungsten carbide steel, electrified, with its door torn off thehinges.

No, Joe was not at all certain he wanted to ask Diana thequestions he needed to. He was too afraid he already knew theanswers. Because of that, equally unbelievably, a deep part of himwanted to do all he could to protect Diana against his betterjudgment. She had found Cathy's killer. That killer was dead.Whatever else she may have needed to do, may have needed to witness,to accomplish that end, would be something she would have to livewith. As would he.

There was a lot Joe was attempting to live with in his own right.Foremost in his guilt-ridden heart was the fact that he had been theone to give Cathy the evidence Gabriel would have come after her for.That evidence put her in jeopardy the instant she took it up. Therewas no getting around it. Whatever life she had carved out forherself, with whomever it was she was willing to bind her heart to,had all been destroyed because of a cursed bit of evidence he had lether walk around with.

There wasn't anything he could do to bring Cathy back, though hewould have gladly taken her place a hundred times over, damninghimself for causing her peril every waking moment of every anguishingday since. But there was something he could do, did do, for Diana:protect her as she had protected... Vincent.

The DA knew she was doing so, all along, in her investigation,jeopardizing her career, even her life, for him, whomever he was.There was no other explanation to her leaps in the case which shenever let him follow adequately. She was willing to lay her life onthe line for a being who could kill as easily as he could protect.Why? It didn't make any sense. Still, Joe realized that whateverpunishments society might have meted out to the shadowy being wouldnever equal the condemnation to a life without Catherine, if he hadtruly loved her. Losing her would have been the ultimatesentence.

Incredibly, Joe had decided to let God judge them all in theend.

He hadn't realized it, but Diana had long set down the transcriptshe was reading to focus on the painful features of her companion.Her soft voice nearly startled him out of his thoughts. "What is it,Joe?"

About ready to turn the question to a light-hearted vein ofconversation defensively, Joe thought better of it. Diana's eyes weregently caring, offering reassurance and trust. He desperately neededthat reassurance.

"What it always is about, Diana," came the quiet reply.

"Catherine." It wasn't even a question anymore. She could read hisheart too easily.

"I guess I just let my mind slip away a minute or two. With thekids here and all, I got to thinking about everything that happened.There was no way to help her. She would have enjoyed doing whatyou're doing. I bet she would have made a great mother."

Diana felt the tears well up in her eyes. How many times had shelet the guilty thought overwhelm her, that Catherine should have beenthe one delighting in little Jacob's growth, that she was onlysharing in the child's life now because of Catherine's death. Someonehad to die for her to find her life's fulfillment, it seemed.

"Joe, listen to me. I can understand what you are feeling. Butsomehow you have to try and let go of it."

"She would have been alive, enjoying life with her baby. I setthat bastard onto her, Diana. She's dead because of me."

Where had she heard such words before? "I was too late. I couldn'tsave her. She was my life and I let her die." Vincent's anguishechoed in those words. Diana knew her struggle to free him from thepain of Catherine's loss had to include a battle for his conscienceas well, heavy with remorse at having been unable to rescue the womanhe loved, keep his newborn child safe. As Joe's own was heavy withguilt at having subjected Catherine to danger.

"I know you are going to carry that around inside of you even ifit isn't really true. But think of this, Joe. Even if Cathy wasn'tromantically involved with you, she still loved you, deeply, as atrusted friend. What do you think seeing you now like this is doingto her? Watching you destroy yourself over her death has to be agonyfor her, Joe. Even angels can cry."

There was a powerful conviction in her words that Joe found heneeded to hold on to, despite himself. And part of him also guessedthat Diana would be attempting to resurrect another soul with thesame words. That was the source of her own quiet sorrow, he knew now,surely.

"Cathy always brought out the best in me, in everyone. Shedeserved a happy life."

"So do you."

It was suddenly very difficult for him to keep his voice steady.Catherine would have said the same things to him, he knew. She andDiana were so different, yet both would do anything to spare thosethey loved pain. Struggling a moment longer, Joe finally drew himselfpast the agony again. For one more moment of one more day. He smiledsadly at Diana, guessing the torment she must be going through in allof this as well.

"I'm sorry I dropped all of this on you today, Diana, really." Ashe picked up the file folders from off the small table, the youngpolice officer set her hand onto his gently. Joe looked up into herbeautiful face, startled at the contact. There was a generoustenderness in her eyes that called suddenly out to him, trying totouch his pain and make it her own. The care in those eyes took hisbreath away. So P what Vincent must see when he found the courage tohold that gaze, too, he thought. That conclusion came to Joe withoutturmoil, now, knowing the truth at last.

Able only to swallow hard, Joe, whispered, "Thanks, Diana." Overher shoulder, he realized that Samantha was equally aware of hispain. Standing quietly near, and holding Jacob on her hip, the samereaching concern was mirrored in her sweet young face to him.

"Maybe we'll see each other again soon, Mr. Maxwell."

"I'd like that, Samantha." Reaching his own hand up, then, toJacob's arm, Joe managed to gather himself out of the distress in hisheart momentarily. "By then, I'm certain this little one will be offand running around here."

Jacob brought his attention directly to Joe at the feel of histouch, and turned all the unfathomable depths of his blue eyes ontothe young DA. He looked suddenly like an angel from heaven itself,offering him the balm of peace for his soul in silent acknowledgment.Joe felt his breath catch within him again.

"I'll talk to you Monday." Diana's words brought him back toconscious thought as Joe headed for the elevator door.

Samantha came close to Diana's side then, almost wearily. The twoof them stood watching the elevator long after Joe had left them. "Iwish we could have said something more to help him," the young girlspoke sadly. Diana drew her and Jacob closer into her arms. "Iknow."

On the city street below, Joe quickly walked a block or two beforehailing a cab. He was about to give the driver the DA's officeaddress when he decided against it. All he really wanted to do was gohome and think about Diana's words to him. Somehow, he knew that shewas capable of helping him find his way back through the treacherousanguish of his heart. He prayed she would be given the sameblessing.

A sudden picture flashed through his mind at the moment as he satin the back seat of the cab -- Catherine, as Diana had described her-- an angelic friend shedding tears for him. "Sorry, Cathy. I'lltry," he whispered.

He was rewarded by the fleeting memory of little Jacob's face ashe had looked just before Joe had left Diana's loft. And again, theDA felt his heart stop at the image. Clutching at his briefcase forsome tangible anchor to reality, he suddenly knew why the child'sface looked so familiar to him... it was a mirror of Catherine's.