"You come out at night...

And the dark side's light."

Sarah McLachlan: 'Building a Mystery'

From the album: 'Surfacing'

CHAPTER FOUR

"Hey, Cathy!"

Catherine barely heard Edie call her name overthe ambient noise of the office. Resettling the pile of files in herarms, she turned and wove her way toward her waiting friend, avoidingthe file drawer that McGregor had left open yet again. She'd have toremind him once more regarding accidents waiting to happen. "Goodmorning. Did you manage to dig up anything interesting?"

"Well, I wouldn't call the fact that men suckreal interesting, but..."

Catherine laid the pile of files down andpropped her hip against the printer table opposite. "I take it thenthat last night's date didn't go well?"

"What date? It didn't go at all, girlfriend. Iwas stood up," replied Edie dispiritedly. "Why can't I find a manthat will put that same soft fuzzy look in my eye that yoursdoes?"

Catherine looked away at that statement, aworried frown passing momentarily across her features.

"I know - you can't tell me anything more aboutthis 'Vincent' fella but I sure wish I had something likethat..."

"I'm sorry, Edie," Catherine answered softly.Both women knew that it wasn't just last night's failed romance thatshe was referring to. Edie examined her friend with a critical eye.She looked so tired, like she needed at least two days' sleep and afew decent meals. Well, she couldn't do anything about the sleep bit,but as to the meals...

"Yeah, well, me too. Oh, but I did get that infoyou were looking for last night. You sure come up with the weirdstuff, Chandler." Reaching over to pull a computer printout fromunderneath several precariously balanced files and papers, she beganto hand it to Catherine, only to haul it back suddenly. "Lunch,right? Today? Something other than a plastic sandwich from themachines?"

"Can't. Got a meeting today. How abouttomorrow?"

"Sounds good. Now don't go standing me up too,girl. I can't take that kind of rejection twice in a week!"

Rolling her eyes at her friend, Catherine tookthe printout from her friend and re-gathered her burden of files."Alright, how about we try Tomaso's?"

Edie's eyes lit up at the mention of the newItalian restaurant that had just opened up a few blocks away. "Yougot a date, babe!"

With a soft chuckle Catherine headed off to herown desk. The awkward pile of files soon found their new home in heroverburdened in-basket, and with a grateful sigh she dropped into herchair. Tilting it back, Catherine read through the computer printoutEdie had worked up. Based on the name gleaned from the candy wrapper,the manufacturer, Horizon House Fundraising Products Ltd., producedresale fundraising merchandise for the use of schools and variouscharities, items such as candy bars, Christmas ornaments, and caramelmints. Based on the west coast, the majority of their business wasdone in that area. However, there were a few customers in the NewYork area. Bless Edie's heart, she had even thought of listing allthe local purchasers. There were only two in the Manhattan area, andthe printout listed contact names and addresses for each one.Catherine resolved that tomorrow's luncheon would be her treat.

The Agora Restaurant enjoyed a constant streamof business due to its proximity to several large office buildings,including the one housing the District Attorney. Good food, fastservice, and reasonable prices virtually guaranteed its position asthe favored lunch spot for most of the locals and office workers.Decor was American Traditional Diner, consisting of Formica tables,booths, and a sit down counter. A wall of noise and a wave of foododors struck Catherine as soon as she opened the glass door at tenminutes past noon.

"Sorry I'm late, Greg," Catherine panted as sheslid into the booth across from the police detective. Stowing hercoat and purse in the corner of the booth, she picked up thelaminated menu resting on the chipped but immaculately clean tablesurface.

"Why are you bothering with that?" Greg Hughesasked with a smile, "you always get the same thing." Greg leaned backas a harried looking waitress appeared to set down a cup of coffee infront of him and drop creamers beside it.

"You ready to order?"

Glancing at Catherine inquiringly and receivingher confirming nod, Greg replied. "Yeah, I'd like a doublecheeseburger, no onions, side of fries." The waitress scribbled thisdown. "And for the lady, a spinach salad with-"

"Not today, Greg," interrupted Catherine. "Couldyou make it two burgers, please?"

As the waitress noted down the change and left,Greg directed a look of feigned astonishment towards Catherine.

"So I'm hungry!" she laughed. "I missedbreakfast this morning. Besides, I hate to think I'm toopredictable."

"What's new up in Lawyerville?" Greg inquired ashe emptied far too much cream and sugar into his coffee. The latestnews, dirt, and gossip were exchanged while waiting for their lunch.Their burgers arrived in record time, and they both dug in withrelish.

"So, I take it from the fact you asked me herethat you've got a lead on the organ-snatcher?" Greg asked. Eyeswidening to focus behind her, he mumbled through a mouthful ofburger, 'Uh oh. Don't look now, but here comes your fearlessleader."

"Hey Radcliffe, you slumming? If I'd known youwere this desperate for company I'd have volunteered." Pausing towipe a drip from her chin, Catherine glanced up to see Joe Maxwellclutching a Styrofoam take-out container.

"Don't listen to this low-life, Cathy. He's justjealous because he can't find a woman desperate enough to go on adate with him," Greg mock-whispered.

"Hey, at least I've got a chance at getting adate. They just run from you screaming."

Catherine couldn't help but smile at the banterbetween these two close friends.

"We were just discussing the organ-snatchercase", Greg continued. "Care to join us?"

"Sure, I'd like to keep up on what's going on.Just remember that this really isn't a case... officially. The DA hasnothing to go on."

"Yeah, yeah, save it. We know the score. So,Cathy, you were about to say?"

Between bites, Catherine filled Joe and Greg inon what she overheard in the hospital. At the last moment shereconsidered bringing up the candy wrapper angle.

"So," Greg mused, "if this is turns out to bewhat you think it is, there's going to be an assault this week. Mostprobably whatever they take will arrive at the hospital before Fridaynight. No telling when, so looks like we're going to need three fulldays of surveillance. Problem is, I don't have the manpower to assignpeople for that long on a piece of guesswork. So... what areyou two doing for the next few evenings?"

"I can't do nights, Greg, but I can help you outin the evenings for a bit to give you a break. I'm working on anotherangle too, but it's just a hunch right now. As soon as I haveanything more, I'll let you know."

"Well that's OK. Joe can do nights, he doesn'thave a social life you know, unless you count his teddy bear."

Joe's head reared up and he directed a viciousglare towards his friend. "Hey, hey, not the bear! You promised neverto mention the bear!"

Catherine just about choked on her last bite ofcheeseburger while trying to suppress her laughter. Encouraging themonly made it worse. Joe alone could reduce her to tears of mirth, butputting Greg and Joe together in a situation outside the generaloffice tension could leave her stomach muscles sore for days. Citinghow her cruel slave-driving boss worked her to death, she paid herbill and left.

After dealing with several leads on the Allenbywitness, Catherine had the opportunity to check up on the twocustomers of Horizon House. One, the Best Friends Veterinary Clinic,had the candies in a large jar on the front reception desk, for saleto any and all. The other customer seemed more likely; the Girls'Soccer team of St. Agathe private school sold the mints by the box toraise money for their equipment and field trips. Although the PhysEddepartment of the exclusive private school was very reluctant to giveout the names of participating students and their parents orguardians, identification from the District Attorney's office onceagain opened the appropriate doors. After several hours, Catherinecame away with the information she required. There were several ofthe team members whose parents were doctors. First thing tomorrow shewould begin to track them down for interviews.

Noting the lateness of the hour, Catherinementally shelved her plans. The evening was wearing on, and she hadother places to be.

In the soft golden glow from the stained glasswindow, Vincent lay still under the warm quilts. He was facing awayfrom the chamber entrance, curled on his side. All that could beseen, other than the large lump of his body, was the shock of goldenhair spilling onto the pillow. Catherine, from her seat on the sideof the bed, slowly stroked the long strands, occasionally twirling alock around her index finger. It was this sight that greeted Fatherand Mouse as they quietly entered the chamber.

"Hi," Mouse spoke softly, gazing adoringly atCatherine through shaggy unkempt bangs. "Back OK? Doesn't hurt?"

"No, Mouse. My back is getting better, thanks,"Catherine replied absently, not taking her eyes from Vincent.

Mouse stood and watched Catherine for a fewmoments. Ever since she had slid down one of his traps to land in hischamber, and had been the first one to listen to him in his effortsto save Vincent and Father, he had practically worshipped the groundshe walked on. "Don't worry. Vincent will be fine. Heals quick."

Glancing up, Catherine watched Father rummagingthough a small pile of rolled up maps on the large writing table.

"Ah yes, here it is. Mouse?" Rolling open thelarge map, Father caught Mouse's attention and indicated severalspots. "This is the main water line. See what you can do with this.Just... check with me first before you start anything, alright?"

"OK, Father. Vincent sick, Mouse can fix it allhimself. Maybe better." At Father's admonishing look and indrawnbreath, Mouse continued, exasperated. "Right! OK! Check with Fatherbefore starting! Won't forget." Taking the plans, Mouse quicklydeparted, but not before darting another shy glance towardsCatherine.

With Mouse's departure, Father turned toCatherine, who remained seated quietly beside his son. "How are youfeeling this evening? Any pain?"

Lifting herself away from concentration on thefaint sensations she could feel from the bond, Catherine glanced upin response to Father's concerned question. "No more than you told meto expect. It only really hurts when I have to stretch."

"Well, let's just be sure and take a look. I'lljust go and get my things." After leaving the chamber to fetch hisbag, Father returned and asked Catherine to lower her blouse so hecould check the wounds. Once she had partially unbuttoned and loweredthe high-necked silk blouse, he noted that the bruising on her neckhad faded to pale yellowish marks. The bandages he had placed overthe puncture wounds were clean, and upon removal revealed the pinkpuckered wounds in a relatively advanced stage of healing. "Humph,"he mused in surprise. "Well, you're certainly a healthy young lady,everything seems to be healing up quite well. Looks like we caughtany infection before it started." He fingered one of the closed uppunctures lightly. "Actually, this looks a lot better than I thoughtit would. Regardless, I'm going to ask you to keep this covered foranother day. Tomorrow you can shower, but keep them dry until thenalright?" At her nod, he re-bandaged the marks using only a lightpiece of gauze and some tape for each. "Are you planning to comebelow tomorrow night?" Catherine softly confirmed that fact. "Well,then, I'll check these again tomorrow. If you continue to improvelike this, we may be able to take out the stitches."

Father watched with concern as Catherine'sattention swung back to Vincent. Carefully, she moved fully onto thebed, drew Vincent's head onto her lap and gently stroked the hairfrom his eyes. Once again he marveled at the strength of the bondthat must exist between the two, proven out by Catherine's continuedpresence and support in the face of this latest and largest obstacle."Catherine. I know my son. He will have to work this through himselfbefore he will discuss it with anyone, especially you. Be preparedfor that. But you mustn't allow this turn of events to destroy eitherof you."

"But it will, unless something changes. He hasto change. And we do, as well."

"This& bond you share with my son. I don'tpretend to understand it, but I don't deny its existence either. Canit help? Do you have any sense through it of what is going on, whythis happened? What drives him to such violence and despair?"

For the longest time Catherine didn't answer,just sat silently with her head resting on his son's brow. She couldstill sense, faint though it was, some of the elements of the innerstruggle for sanity that Vincent had been experiencing in the lastweek. The feelings of fear, rejection, incomprehension, anger, andself-doubt echoed lightly off her own. Finally, just as Father waspreparing to turn and leave them to their privacy, she spoke in avoice that seemed to come from a long way off. "He's struggling withhimself. He is so afraid of that part that is different. He pushes itaway, but that part is his strength. He's pushing away his ownstrength. He's got to stop. It's killing him."

Father lowered himself wearily to the large wornchair at his son's bedside. "You truly feel this... through yourbond?" Catherine's tormented eyes glanced up from her concentrationon Vincent, quietly confirming his statement. Propping an elbow onthe arm of the great chair, he rested his forehead in his hand. "Thisis partly my doing then. Mine, and the rest of the community."Directing his gaze to the golden head on Catherine's lap, after apause he continued. "You know, he wasn't always like this. Afraid ofhis differences. When he was a little boy..." Father's voice peteredout, as he turned to gaze distractedly into the flickering coalsburning in the heating brazier nearby.

"Tell me. When he was a little boy?" Catherineinquired softly, encouragingly.

"Boots," replied Father. "Perhaps it began withthose damnedable boots."

"How do you mean? Vincent always wearsboots."

"He didn't always. When Vincent was a verylittle boy, he refused to wear them at all. Wouldn't tolerateanything on his feet. Have you ever seen them? His feet?"

"Yes... recently. When he was sick in myapartment." Catherine's memories returned to that tense time, when hehad crashed through her louvered doors into her bedroom, chasingafter another hallucination. "When I finally managed to have Peterhelp me lift him onto the bed. I took his boots off."

"Then you saw the claws?"

"Yes. They're short, not sharp like on hishands."

Father rubbed the tense lines of his forehead ina familiar and characteristic gesture, settling further into the hugechair that practically dwarfed him. "When Vincent began to walk, Itried to make him wear boots. You see I was frightened that he wouldcut himself or hurt his feet on the rough tunnel floors. All theother children had to wear them. So I had Mark, our leather worker atthe time, make him his own boots. A nice little pair lined withfleece to keep his feet warm and snug. Well, every time I managed toput them on him, he would find a way to get them off. He wasexceedingly clever at it. It caused me no end of frustration," asmall smile appeared, and the warm look that crept into his eyesshowed the love he felt. "I would get quite vexed at him. When he wasfour, I finally decided that enough was enough. I confined him to hischamber, only to be allowed out if he would wear his boots. As youknow, my son can be rather... stubborn." This quiet statementprovoked a soft gust of amusement from both people.

"So, he broke down in the end?"

"Yes, but only after several days. He wore them,and we had no trouble after that. At first he said they hurt hisfeet, but I assured him that once he had broken them in a bit theywould be fine. After the first few days however, I noticed he becamemore and more quiet. He wasn't as active as he always had been. Yousee, when Vincent was a young child, he had so much energy! Idespaired of his ever settling down. He was never deliberatelynaughty; he just loved to move. Several times I found him scaling thewalls of my study. The claws on his feet then were very much like theones on his hands. He could grip just about anything, scale anything.They were like little mountaineer's spikes. Hard as iron, too.  I was terrified that he would fall, but he neverdid. Vincent was very different in those days. Wilder. But hechanged. Instead of racing around the tunnels in the games of tagwith the other children, he would sit in my study, reading or playinga game. I began to be concerned." Father's narrative petered out, ashe sank into reflection.

"Was he sick?" Catherine prodded gently.

"In a manner of speaking," replied Father. "Ialways made a habit of tucking Vincent into bed at night. I wasworried, so I dropped by early one evening to talk to him, to askagain if anything was wrong. Well, I was outside his chamber and Icould hear him gasping inside, like he was in pain. Of course, I ranin immediately and there was Vincent, struggling to remove his boots.He insisted he wanted to do it himself, but I bent down to help.Catherine, if you could have seen what I saw when they came off...his poor little feet. All around his claws he was swollen where theyrubbed against the boots, and all around the nail bed he wasbleeding. The lesions had become quite infected. The poor littlefellow had been in intense pain, but bore it because he couldn'tstand to be confined to his chamber. I can't tell you how horrible Ifelt about the whole matter. I took those boots away that veryinstant, and told him never to wear them again." Father paused andshook his head at the memory, before continuing

"I never knew what actually instigated it, butCatherine, children can be cruel, even the kindest ones. Vincent camein for more than his share of teasing, some of it quite malicious. Ididn't know about it at the time, and Devin wasn't always around torun interference. I never found out what they said to him about hisfeet, but about a year later I came across my little Vincent wearingboots again. A pair one of the other boys had grown out of. Ofcourse, I insisted he let me check his feet that night." Lifting hishead, Father met Catherine's compassionate gaze. "He had somehowgotten hold of a set of clippers and cut off his claws. What a mess!He had wrapped them in scraps from an old cotton shirt, and I had tosoak them off. I can't imagine how he managed to do that to himself,the pain must have been excruciating. He refused to tell me why hedid it, either. From that day on though, he refused to be withoutboots. I had another set made for him of course, a bigger pair. Andto this day I know he files his foot claws down on a regular basis sothat he can wear them. Anyway, after that, other things startedchanging. He didn't scale walls anymore. Other little behaviors I hadunsuccessfully tried to discourage he discontinued on his own.Slowly, Vincent... withdrew. The only times flashes of his old selfcame were when he was very angry. Like the day he struck Devin. Ofcourse, the incident with Lisa Campbell was the worst."

Catherine winced at the memories that namebrought up, and the legacy they had left on her as well as onVincent. "Maybe every time that wilder side was brought forth, hetried even harder to be human and each time made him work harder atsuppressing it. And he dies a little more inside each time. I feelsure somehow that that is what is making him ill. Maybe keeping thatside of him so heavily buried is getting more and more difficultuntil eventually the dam breaks, and this is what we're seeingnow."

Father slowly nodded acknowledgement. Thesilence grew as each one mulled over the possible truth of thisstatement.

Weak sunshine streamed down through a break inthe clouds, illuminating the two figures that regarded each other,still with a good measure of unease. Water dripped from the long hairon both heads. The Dark One, unclothed, shook his entire bodyvigorously, beginning with his head. Water sprayed in a fine mist ashe rid himself of most of the heavy moisture. Raising his hand, hegazed in wonder at the sun playing on his hands, clutching as ifattempting to catch a handful of light. "So long since I've felt..."he murmured to himself.

Deep slashes, washed clean by the rain, closedalmost magically before each other's amazed eyes. Cautiously, theDark One raised his left arm, flexing to ensure that the deep woundscaused by rending teeth were truly healed. Slowly he raised his eyesto the twin, still standing in a sodden cloak before him. "Can't youfeel it?" he asked excitedly. "The sunshine? It's wonderfulllll!"Tilting back his head, he closed his eyes and spread his arms as iftrying to soak in as much of the warmth and light as possible.

Hesitantly, Vincent raised his face as well. Thewarm sunshine was like a caress, bathing his unique features with agolden glow. "Yes, it's wonderful."

"How can you just stand there? Feel the sun! Feelit!" Almost dancing with excitement, the Dark One loosed a joyousroar at the brilliant orb peeking through the rapidly dissipatingclouds and spun himself in a circle. Eyes glinting devilishly, hepeered through his curtain of still wet hair towards Vincent, whoremained immobile and stared at him with wary puzzlement. "Let'srun!" the Dark One cried to his opposite image. "You canstill run, can't you?" Dropping this challenge, he spun and took offat a flat out run, rough laughter spilled behind him.

For several seconds Vincent stood,uncomprehending. "Wait? Where are you going?" Not receiving a replyexcept for more of that rapidly receding but infectious laughter, hetossed the hair out of his eyes and leapt off in pursuit. Extendingto his utmost, Vincent sped through the sun-dappled woods, leapingthe occasional fallen tree in his path. Ahead of him, the joyfulgurgling laughter continued to draw further away. Rounding aparticularly tight turn, Vincent lost his footing as the edge of hiscloak caught on a strong tree branch. With a frustrated growl, hepaused only to roughly shrug off the heavy garment and left thesodden pile of fabric behind to continue his pursuit. Feelingimmensely lighter, he ran even more swiftly without the awkwardweight from his shoulders throwing him off balance. His thunderingheart sent blood racing through his veins as the exhilaration of thechase began to assert itself. Not since childhood had he allowedhimself to exert his full abilities, except in situations of direemergency. A feral joy, wild and liberating, hesitantly reared itshead.

The trees broke abruptly into a sun-drenchedmeadow, backing against a cliff face. The Dark One stood in thecenter of the open space, clearly waiting for him to catch up. At thesight of Vincent, however, he again spun and ran towards the cliffface. Vincent slowed as he observed his double leap up the verticalwall, fastening onto the stone with four sets of clinging claws.Flexing and digging in, the purchase they afforded allowed him tonimbly scale the rock face. Arriving at a ledge about two-thirds tothe top, he levered himself onto it and turned to gaze down towardsVincent. With a smile of triumph, he loosed a taunting roar ofchallenge.

Reaching the cliff himself, Vincent cautiouslybegan his ascent. Several times his boots slipped on the wet stone.His progress was much more measured and labored, but eventually hetoo hauled himself to the ledge and lay panting heavily.

"You look like a river fish gasping on theshore," Vincent heard the Dark One comment dryly. "Always you sit,read, listen, talk, act 'civilized'. Run more! It's good for us. Andstop cutting our feet too. It's harder to climb without proper claws.Boots are not needed. Toughen up!"

Still breathing in labored gasps, Vincent turnedto look at the figure beside him. The ledge that they occupied facedsouth and was drenched in sunlight. The Dark One now sprawled almostbonelessly upon the warm rock, soaking up the sunshine in completelyunabashed nudity. Vincent winced in dismay as the figure so like himgave a long satisfying stretch and rolled over contentedly onto hisback. The massive chest expanded suddenly when a deep yawn shook theform, jaws opened fully to clearly reveal both sets of canines. Oneclawed hand reached up languidly to scratch an itchy spot on hisfurred belly and a purring groan of contentment issued from therelaxed form. A soft breeze whispered its way along the cliff top."Why did you do that?" Vincent asked, hesitantly. "Why did yourun?"

One eye opened slowly to peer up at Vincent, whocrouched a few feet away. "Because it's fun. Because it felt good. Torun, to jump, to climb. We used to do this often. Remember?"

Vincent nodded slowly. A reluctant smile brokethrough at the memory. "I remember. It wasfun."