I stare at you for a while.
The world around us disappears.
It's just you and me
On my island of hope.
A breath between us could be miles....
Sarah McLachlan: 'I Love You'
From the album: 'Surfacing'
Carefully Catherine shifted, unbent, andextended her right leg, flexing her ankle upwards. The painful crampfaded with the satisfying stretch. The left leg soon mirrored thataction. Sitting so long in the same position had taken its toll andshe arched her lower back to alleviate the ache. Before her, Vincentlay in a light slumber, the diffuse light from the stained glasswindow behind the bed gilding his features. Comfortingly, she liftedhis head to place it on her thigh and resumed her slow, soothingstrokes through his thick mane. Fingers tangled willingly in thegolden locks as Catherine concentrated on her inner sense of him. Itstill amazed her, to feel him so clearly. Vincent's emotions werebecoming stronger as the influences of medication wore off andawareness returned. Feelings of horror. Wrenching sorrow. And...resolve? As she had for the last few hours, Catherine tried to focusa stream of reassurance and love through the delicate threads oftheir bond
Catherine glanced over at her watch, propped upon the nightstand beside the bed. It was almost six o'clock.Abruptly, as if being set off by her realization of the time,Catherine's stomach let out a protesting whine of hunger. No wondershe was hungry. Casting her mind back, she realized that besides aslice of toast at nine o'clock this morning, she hadn't eaten a thingtoday. Still, she felt a twinge of guilt for feeling hungry at a timelike this.
The morning seemed a lifetime ago. FollowingJoe's orders, she had slept in until half past seven. What luxury!After awakening, she had gone to her apartment to shower and dress,and reported to the Lord Maxwell at ten sharp for paperwork detail.Paperwork! More like the inquisition. Every time a gun was fired, areport had to be filled out, with five copies and more signaturesthan she could count. Really, she wouldn't be at all surprised ifbeside the signature line was a box for a drop of blood. Then theinjury reports, statements...
As soon as she had arrived, Joe had taken heraside. The scratches on his neck had to be included in his own injuryreport, since he had received treatment at the hospital for them.Catherine had winced inwardly at the sight of the dark scabs. Joe hadwanted her to know he had listed them as having resulted fromstriking a rough patch of concrete while diving for cover. "Thepaper-pushers don't need to know what really happened, it's notrelevant to the case and none of their business," he had explained.Thank God for friends like Joe.
A couple of hours later everything was done andshe was free for the afternoon. While at the office, however, she hadtaken the time to inquire if the van's license plates had beentraced. Turned out that they had been reported stolen from upstateNew York, which wasn't a big surprise really. The van itself had beendiscovered, abandoned, in a strip mall parking lot. Traced by itsvehicle identification number, the van had also been reported stolena few weeks ago and had been repainted from its original green.Probably all fingerprints had been wiped off, since none were evidenton dusting. Hair samples had been found, but without a person tomatch them with, at present they were useless.
The hospital had yielded no clues either.According to the schedule, the loading dock and receiving closed atsix p.m. Several hospital employees had been contacted, but no oneremembered seeing anyone strange or noting any unusual activity.Besides shipping and receiving, that level of the hospital containedonly the morgue and storage. Catherine's contact, Sandra, had uponinquiry confirmed that a transplant operation had been performed thatmorning, but the organ was acquired completely legally from a victimof a car crash. Joe was convinced, however, that what they had seenwas indeed the delivery of a stolen organ. True to expectations, thismorning a report had been made of yet another attack. The victim waslucky; they only took one of his kidneys.
The familiar tap of a cane heralding theapproach of Father broke Catherine's reverie. He had been checking inon them frequently, his features clouded with worry. This time as herounded the corner Catherine noted Mary, who bore a covered tray,following him. The smells of garlic and tomatoes coming from the traysmelled heavenly, and Catherine's stomach issued a growl that couldrival Vincent.
"There, see! I told you the poor girl wasprobably hungry," Mary chided Father gently. "You should eat some ofthis, too, falling down in a faint from lack of nourishment will dono good to anyone. Catherine, dear, you come here and sit down.William's sent some of his meatball soup and bread."
Father looked at Catherine inquiringly. Her backpropped up with pillows, she had not moved from his son's bed sinceher arrival several hours ago. Unsurprisingly, she was shaking herhead, refusing to leave Vincent's side.
"In a minute. Thank you though. It was verythoughtful."
Mary smiled warmly at the young woman who lookedso dwarfed by her surroundings, and her eyes slid naturally to theother object of her concern. Vincent still lay unmoving. Everyone inthe tunnels was concerned for them both. Catherine held a specialplace in the hearts of so many Below; she was considered one of theirown, in spirit if not in actuality.
As Mary left, Father approached to examine hisson. Automatically, his physician's training noted the slightlyincreased respiration, the occasional twitch of muscles asfunctionality was regained. "Have you noticed any change? Can your...connection tell you anything?"
"He's getting more upset, agitated. He'll beawake soon, I think. I don't understand all of it; this is stillpretty new to me. In the last few days I've been picking up more fromhim, though. He's... calmer than I expected."
"I'd better warn you, that might change.Sometimes there can be unusual reactions while coming out ofanesthesia. He might behave strangely for a hour or so, while hissystem clears out the last of the drug." Both of them started asVincent's arm unsteadily rose to rub at his mouth. Catherine watchedto make sure he would not unintentionally hurt himself with his sharpclaws, but rather than trying to scratch himself, he seemed almosttrying to remove something. Taking his hands, she tried to stillthem, but he soon returned to his task.
"Don't worry Catherine, it's alright. I've beentold this could be a side effect. For some reason, coming out of thisparticular anesthetic seems to produce a feeling that there'ssomething in the mouth. It will pass quickly, I've been told." Trueto prediction, about ten minutes later Vincent's efforts stilled.
"Thank you for warning me. He'll be awake soon Ithink-"
"Caa...." The softest of whispers reached herear as Vincent shifted, rubbing his head against her leg minutely.Immediately Catherine focused all her attention back to Vincent.
"Are you sure you won't reconsider this? Beingalone when he awakens might not be the wisest course, if..."
Without lifting her absorption on any and allinformation coming through the bond, she answered distractedly, "I'msure."
"Well, then, I'll leave you. If you need me, Iwon't be far. Just call out." Reluctantly, Father made his way fromthe chamber. Pausing just outside, he listened intently, but couldhear no additional sounds from the room. A rustle of cloth fromnearby did catch his ear, and he raised his head to see Mary only afew feet away. Despite himself, he had to smile. As much as heconsidered himself to be Vincent's father, Mary felt she was'mother.' They shared aglance of mutual understanding as both redirected their attentions,listening for any sound that would indicate their assistance wasrequired.
Scent. Soft and sweet, it flooded his being.Familiar, it spoke of love and comfort and yet there were subtledifferences. New notes were present. Richer, wilder tones that madethat blanket of sensation even more Catherine, and even moreevocative, if such were possible. A rumble of contentment shudderedthrough his chest as he rubbed his head against the warm fleshbeneath him, causing fresh swirls of that intoxicating scent to rise.It was even better than...
Before. Memory crashed through the contentment,proving the lie of all he was feeling. There could be no place forhim here. He had no right! He had hurt her! Her blood, staining hishands! Vincent attempted to force his body to rise, but a strangelethargy gripped him still and his body ignored his commands.
"I'm here, my love. Everything's all right now.We're safe." Catherine softly repeated the reassuring words ofcomfort in response to the slight movements she felt. Closing hereyes, she concentrated on radiating these through the bond as well.Gently, she stroked his deeply lined brow and temples, cradling hishead against her. Focused on projecting, she did not sense his slowreturn to consciousness for some time. It was not until her fingersencountered wetness that she looked down to meet the soft blue ofVincent's grief-filled eyes. Shining with tears, they slid away fromher gaze to focus hazily on her neck.
"Sorry& I'm so sorry," he whisperedbrokenly.
Bending over to surround him, Catherine cradledhis great head in her arms. "I know, love. I'm sorry, too. Ishouldn't have pushed, not then, it's mostly my fault." Her voicehitched as his pain rushed through her.
Slowly, his arms came up to surround her waistand his head turned toward her stomach. His body heaved with greatgasping sobs as his head shook in hopeless negation. Burrowing in asif to hide, disjointed and almost unintelligible snatches of phrases,rough and ragged, broke free. "No. Didn't mean...I hurtyou...couldn't... can't ever..." For a long while they clung togetherin desperation.
"Please, Vincent." Catherine spoke withdifficulty through the clutching grief that tightened her throat.Gently she stroked his shoulders and back, while desperately fightingher own tears. She knew it was essential she keep a clear head nowand not allow his feelings to overwhelm her own conviction. "You'vebeen unconscious for a while and I've had time to think. Laying blameis not going to change anything. It doesn't matter whose fault itwas; it probably wasn't anyone's, really. It happened. We just needto find out why, so it doesn't happen again, that's all."
Vincent shook his head roughly. Lurching, hetried to sit up, but his faculties had not yet fully returned and hefell sideways.
"Vincent!" Catherine leaned forward, to help asmuch as she could.
Finally, he managed to sit up on the edge of thebed, half supported by Catherine. Swaying slightly, he felt a threatof nausea as he strove to return to himself. Everything seemeddistant, blurred, like seeing it through eyes just awakened from adeep and dreamless sleep. But far from dreamless had been hisslumber. Vincent felt the world tilt on its axis before rightingitself again as his sense of balance returned. Dreams. Gradually,stealing into his mind through his overwhelming emotions, thememories of fighting his dark self, of the knowledge gained from him,re-emerged. Were they only dreams? "How long-?"
"It's been a week. You were so weak, hurt.Father gave you something to make you sleep, so you could heal."
"Yes... I remember." A long silence fell as thetwo gazed at the floor, not knowing quite what to say or even how tobegin. Vincent felt the fog coating his senses and muscular controlbeginning to clear.
Catherine raised her eyes to the bowed figurebeside her. Gently she smoothed the curtain of blond mane away,revealing his face. Taking his chin lightly, she turned him to meether eyes. "Whatever is needed, Vincent, I will give. I know you willwant time to work this through. But promise me something. Last time Iasked you this, you didn't directly answer. Vincent, whateverhappens, whatever comes, you must promise that you won't shut me out. I need you. We need eachother. We are strong and, together, we can come through this. Don'tlet it defeat our dream."
Silence fell as the two searched each other'seyes. Hesitantly, fearing what he might find yet needing to know thetruth, Vincent extended his sense of the bond and drew in a sharpbreath in response. She was there! Not passively as before, butactively reaching for him, sensing him
Catherine's hand stole across the rumpled quiltsto take and twine with his. A shy smile quirked her lips momentarily."Then I wasn't just imagining it. My sense of our bond is gettingstronger. I can feel you now, much like the way you have describedthe bond feels from your perspective. It's so wonderful..."
Vincent's hand squeezed her own gently, brieflysharing her hesitant joy, before the memory of their last meetingswept through him again. Bending his head, Vincent once again saw theimages play through his mind, culminating in his sudden realizationof the blood on his hands and what he had done. Horror blanketed histhoughts, until a persistent shaking pulled him from that memory.
Catherine shook Vincent by the shoulderdesperately, drawing him from the morass of black anguish. "Vincent,don't do this!"
Blinking, Vincent refocused on the slightfigure, which ceased her assault. Tears flowed down her cheeks as shepleaded. "Please, don't do this. We can't change what happened. ButI'm not going anywhere, especially with our bond strengthening so.There's got to be a reason it's getting so strong. Maybe there arethings we have to understand better about each other before... beforewe can be truly together."
Struggling to his feet, Vincent began a shakybut familiar pacing. Something about her words rang true, someone hadsaid something similar recently. Unbidden, a rough remembered voiceshuddered into his conscious mind: "there are things you do not yetcomprehend...be what you truly are, then you will understand...trust... learn... know." Memory of his dreams of the Dark One slowly resurfaced,along with the assurances of the future he had felt within them.Meticulously, Vincent turned the dream-memories over in his mind,examining their content. Yes. This was what needed doing.
"While I slept, I dreamed. I think I dreamedtrue. I think... perhaps you are right. There are things I mustdiscover. About who I am. What I am. Things that I've never allowedmyself to really examine before, that I was frightened of. But, I canno longer allow my fears to keep me from this any longer, not whenthe result‑" Carefully, Vincent continued to pace through theroom.
To Catherine's eyes, each slow circuit seemed tobring more muscular control back. The exertion helped his body shakeoff the clinging haze of anesthesia; jerky unsteadiness resolveditself gradually as the natural grace so inherent to himreturned.
Excusing himself, Vincent made his way to thebathing chamber he shared with Father. A cold water wash furtherhelped in clearing the remnants of drugs from his system.
Returning to his chamber, Vincent approached thebed and came to a hesitant stop before Catherine. She looked sobeautiful... Sinking to his knees, he bent his head and took her twohands in his own. "I am so sorry for hurting you. Something in meunderstood that it was dangerous, but it felt so‑"
"I'm all right. Really. The cuts healed in justa few days, it wasn't as bad as you thought." Reassuringly, Catherinereached forward to smooth the still damp mane from his face. "I knowit was an accident, that you would never deliberately hurt me."
"I have to know that for sure. That's why I mustask you this." Raising his head, from beneath unkempt bangs Vincent'seyes caressed her face. "Through my dreams, if they speak truly, Ihave felt that I must reconcile allthat I am. That refusing to acknowledge a thing does not make itdisappear. The opposite is true; it then has more power. Do youunderstand?"
Slowly, Catherine nodded her head.
Gathering his courage, Vincent continued. "Ineed... to go away for awhile. And I need you to give me this space,this time. There are things I must discover for myself, and for us,alone. Please, can you grant me this?"
Catherine once again focused her perception onVincent's emotions, and hope shivered into her heart. For inhis
With a final light squeeze of her hands, Vincentrose and walked to a trunk tucked against the wall. Opening it, heretrieved a large backpack and slowly began to fill it. A change ofclothes, a blanket, a towel, some soap and his journal disappearedinto the leather depths. Vincent chose several books and began toplace them into the pack, but paused. His head tilted as if listeningto an unheard voice. Slowly, he withdrew the majority of the booksand placed them back on the shelf, caressing their spines as he didso.
The familiar tap once again preceded Father'sslow entrance into the chamber as he made his way to stand byCatherine next to the bed. "So, you're leaving us, then?"
"Only for a while. I anticipate a return, whenthe time is right. Catherine understands."
"You have just recovered from a head injury.This isn't the time to go haring off on some godforsaken‑"Father halted the impending lecture when Catherine took and squeezedhis hand. Turning to regard her, he acknowledged her warning shake ofthe head with typical reluctance.
"Please understand, Father. This is something Imust
"Humph. And when have I ever obeyed thatparticular request, I ask you? Of course I'll worry. I'm your father;thirty years of worry about you has evolved into an art form. Butplease... be careful, and go safely."
"Vincent, wait!" Mary called as the three heardher rushing footsteps approaching down the tunnel. Slightly out ofbreath, Mary bustled into the chamber. "You can't go without takingsome food and water. Here." She hurriedly pressed a wrapped parcelinto Vincent's hands. Puzzlement was evident on his face, and sheflushed with embarrassment. "We're sorry for eavesdropping, but wehad to make sure you were all right. You'll be careful, won'tyou?"
Vincent looked down on this frail-seeming buttough woman who had been like a mother to him for as far back as hecould remember. Reassuringly, he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Iwill. Thank you for the food, I would have forgotten." Eyesglistening, she pulled him down and placed a kiss on his cheek,before gathering her dignity and turning to leave the three to theirprivacy.
Cotton shirts, a warm sweater, clean corduroypants, and the gray ribbed vest disappeared behind the dressingscreen, as Vincent divested himself of the thermal shirt and sweatpants that were his normal sleeping attire. Soon Vincent stepped outand swung his warm wool cloak over his broad shoulders. Pausing onlymomentarily to look at Father and Catherine, still hand in hand, hesmiled a silent reassurance. With a dark swirl he turned and sweptout of the chamber, picking up the backpack as he went. Silencedescended, leaving both Catherine and Father strangely unwilling tomove, as if movement acknowledged the fact that Vincent had trulygone.
"Father, look," Catherine breathed quietly afterseveral moments. Glancing up, Father followed the direction of hergaze toward the floor at the foot of the bed. There, slumped over ,lay both pairs of Vincent's leather boots.
"Where are you? I know you're in here you little‑ ah hah! Gotcha." Backing up, Catherine closed the freezerdoor and turned, a box of frozen Laudiso's single serve pizzasgripped in her hands. Opening one, she dropped it on a plate, shovedit in the microwave and dialed up four minutes on high. The bottomhalf of the refrigerator yielded a carton of milk. The best-beforedate indicated it was at the end of its life after tonight, so shechose and filled her largest glass. Her poor abused stomach rumbledits impatient discontent as the smells of cooking pizza filled thekitchen. Glancing at the timer, she took a large swallow of milk toappease the hunger pangs. The cold refreshing liquid tasted somarvelous, she polished off the whole glass while waiting and pouredanother. Finally, the microwave pinged, and she hauled out the plateand dug in.
Father had asked if she wanted to stay forsupper in the tunnels, but she had politely declined. She feltVincent's absence much more keenly while she was there. In herapartment she could pretend that he was just busy Below. Besides, ithurt to continually have to answer everyone's concerned questionsabout Vincent, when she didn't really know all the answersherself.
It seemed only a few bites and her plate wasempty. Still ravenous, she decided to have another while goingthrough the mail she had picked up on her way. Bill. Bill. Junk.Bill. Nothing interesting. Rationalizing that if she didn't want itshe could take it for lunch, she started a third pizza cooking whilewolfing down the one that was ready. The third pizza soon followedits predecessors. Briefly considering a fourth, she stopped. No waycould Catherine Chandler ever think of eating four pizzas in onesitting. That was disgusting. Resolutely, she shoved the remainder ofthe box back in the freezer, when her eye caught the Hagen Dazcarton. Triple Chocolate Brownie Overload, purchased for seriousbouts of depression or PMS. Mmmmm. Nothing wrong with a littledessert. Not bothering with a bowl, Catherine dug into the calorictreat with relish, rationalizing that after the last week, shedeserved a little indulgence. All too soon, her spoon hit bottom.Disappointed, she scraped the last of the sticky sweetness off thesides before admitting defeat and tossing the empty carton in thetrash, followed by the now empty milk carton.
Hunger satisfied, Catherine felt a wave offatigue. She turned out the kitchen light and crossed through theliving area to her bedroom and began to undress. "Ohhh, yes,' shemoaned as she unfastened and removed her bra and pantyhose. Nothingfelt better at the end of the day than getting those damned thingsoff. Well... there were