The whole of my undoing,
I put aside
I push it back
I put away
To get through each day."
Sarah McLachlan: 'Black and White'
From the album: 'Surfacing'
Vincent glanced down at the woman who walkedbeside him. Catherine had been very quiet. Understandably so. Theyboth had been rather uncommunicative. What to say? How to ask thequestions, so many questions, clamoring for release? How to react tothis& situation?
The transformation in her! Under carefulexamination, even their bond revealed subtle differences. That alonewas disconcerting, and yet, if he were to be completely truthful withhimself, they were not unpleasant differences. Each unanticipatedglimpse brought the shock anew, although after spending several hourstogether the intensity of that reaction was beginning to fade.
What should he say to her?
Catherine relaxed another notch, as through thebond she sensed Vincent's slow acceptance of her altered self. Shehad done a lot of thinking last night, and Mary's counsel of patiencehad been taken to heart as well. They both needed to have patience,with themselves and with each other. Although a part of her stillraged against this incredible situation, it hadn't taken long beforeher innate logical nature reasserted itself. Long hours of successfulresearch and investigation work taught a person that, if one train ofthought led to a dead end, look at the problem from a new angle.Well, she was trying.
There was a lot to learn. This morning'sbreakfast had taught her that. With a small and reluctant innersmile, Catherine recalled that first real introduction to some of hernew differences.
Strange. In the years that she had knownVincent, they had not shared very many meals together. This morningit had been as if they were back at the beginning of theirrelationship all over again, when neither was sure of the other. Theyhad both been& nervous, apprehensive. She had set the tray on thesmall bedside table, and offered Vincent a glass of apple juice,unthinkingly taking the coffee for herself. Long years had made thismorning ritual a deeply ingrained habit, and her preoccupied mind hadskipped completely over yesterday's distasteful experience. Pouringthe still hot beverage into the mug provided, she had been nearlyoverwhelmed by the intense smell, so much stronger and clearer to herimproved olfactory sense. William made coffee the way sheliked it, strong and dark. Delicious, it had practically made hermouth water. Closing her eyes appreciatively, she had paused toinhale the wonderful aroma before taking a long sip. And then it hither.
Bitter! So bitter it made the inside of hermouth shrivel! A horrible sensation had swept through her body, andshe shuddered from head to toe. Her eyes squeezed shut as she forcedherself not to spit out the incredibly offensive oily bitterness.Tears sprang to her eyes and her nose began to run. Convulsively, sheswallowed the mouthful, and carefully set the cup down before thechoking fit struck.
A furry hand presented a glass of water, andwith a barely recognizable grunt of thanks she desperately drank,washing the foul clinging residue from her mouth. When she gatheredherself together sufficiently to glance up, Vincent was standingclose by, looking concerned. Muttering that she was all right, shewas sure she caught a furtive gleam of amusement from his eyes aswell. Suddenly, within her mind she saw herself, as she had oncebeen, laughing at his duplicate reaction to the taste of coffee. Shehad had to smile. In a still rough voice, she commented, "OK, I guessturnabout is fair play."
"Catherine, I honestly didn't realize it wouldhave the same effect on you. I would have warned you." Vincent duckedhis head behind the fall of golden mane that was so convenient forthe purpose. After a few seconds he raised his eyes again, and thegleam of humor was still in evidence. "But yes. In this particularcase, revenge wasn't unwelcome."
Relief swept though Catherine as she chuckled inresponse. Things between them would be all right. It would take sometime, and some adjustments. On both of their parts. "Is thereanything you can
Vincent thought for a moment, but one thingleapt immediately to mind. "Chocolate." Ignoring Catherine's moan ofdenial, he forged on. "It has that same underlying bitterness,although not quite as acutely as coffee. And peanut butter. Don't gonear the stuff."
"Why? Does it taste bad too?"
"No& not exactly. Catherine, your tongue, isit rough, now?" At her silent nod of acknowledgement, Vincent sighed."When I was a child&" Vincent looked away with a self-deprecatinghuff of amusement. "That stuff was the bane of my childhood. It was astaple, here in the tunnels; inexpensive, well liked by children,nutritious and needing no cold storage. However, peanut butter&sticks. It clogs up on your tongue. It takes forever to clear out.And I& we look funny, when we try to eat it. The other childrenmade that fact quite clear. Generally, it isn't an experience I wouldrecommend."
She had to smile at the pictures this brought tomind. The rest of breakfast had become almost a lesson in etiquette.Drinking from a small glass had been very awkward with an upper lipthat didn't mold, but practice and some delicate hints from Vincenthad enabled her to master it. The whole thing had evolved into ahalting and rather embarrassing conversation on simplepracticalities. How they must avoid corn on the cob during its latesummer season, when helpers donated bags full, unless they cut thekernels off with a knife. It seemed that fangs made it extremelyawkward to chew off the cobs. Vincent had also informed her that manywhole grain products upset his stomach for days, although he wasunsure if this was just a personal thing or something she wouldshare.
Throughout, their conversation had been fraughtwith long uncomfortable pauses, as each of them struggled with whatand what not to say. Eventually, breakfast done, Catherine excusedherself with a need to visit the facilities and the bathing pool.Vincent offered to return the breakfast tray to the community dininghall and had been quick, almost relieved, to depart. She had quietlyasked if he could return later to escort her to Father's chamber forPeter's visit. He had seemed a bit surprised that she wanted to doso, but had given her his promise.
"Are you sure you're ready for this? I don'tbelieve many of the tunnel population are aware as yet of& yourcircumstance. Reactions may be& unpredictable." Concern wasevident in his eyes as Vincent glanced over at Catherine.
"I know. But, I can't keep hiding. Not downhere. I have to hide from the world Above now, from strangers. Thisis my home. Where I live. I can't have to hide here, as well."
"Perhaps if people had more time to prepare,Father could-"
"Could what? Explain me? Explain this
As Catherine sidestepped to avoid a puddle inthe tunnel floor, she brushed lightly against Vincent's arm. His headcame up abruptly as the movement brought him a tendril of her scent.Unobtrusively as possible, he edged away and dropped back,reestablishing the distance between their bodies. He had to. Thatscent, he was barely able to cope with the changes it exhibited.Before it had been softly inviting, delicately tempting. It hadasked, cajoled his presence to be near, to be close. Now? Now it nolonger sweetly asked, it demanded. The warm call that had beckonedhis heart had become a hot command, an uncompromising pull. A pullthat threatened his control in ways he had never experienced before,and that part of him that was wild and untamed wanted so desperatelyto respond. And her grace! He had been forcing himself not to starein rapt fascination. Catherine had been graceful before, but now!Glancing down briefly, helplessly, he was mesmerized by the liquidsway of her hips encased in snug denim as she padded silently a fewfeet ahead. Vincent gave himself a mental shake and looked resolutelyaway.
Ahead of him, Catherine waged her own innerbattle. She did not feel nearly as self-assured as she sounded.Inside, she was quaking in fear. He probably knew that through thebond, she thought distractedly. But her determination to continuethis course was unshaken. She was tired of feeling sorry for herself,cowering in her apartment or chamber, afraid to be seen. This was herhome! Deep down, a part of her knew that this bravado was yet anotherway of distracting herself. Refocusing her attention on work hadoften gotten her through personal crises. Well, since there was nowork challenge available, this would have to do.
Rounding a corner, a certain formation in therock struck Catherine as familiar, and she realized they were nearingthe hub. Her determined stride faltered in trepidation. Was she sure,after all, that she could handle this? Stopping, she leaned against arough wall and passed a hand over stinging eyes. This had to be adream. Surely it would be over soon.
"It's not a dream. Unless I, too, dream."Vincent's warm voice settled over her. Opening her eyes, she saw himstanding before her, his cloaked body providing her a temporary oasisof shelter. "Don't be afraid to change your mind if you wish. Youdon't have to do this. Peter has said he would come to you, perhapsthat might be a wiser course at this time."
Catherine pushed herself from the rock andstraightened. "No. I do haveto do this, Vincent. For me."
Vincent gazed down at the delicate being beforehim. Appearance aside, her inner courage remained, and he still hadto marvel at it. Inclining his head in a gesture of acceptance hebegan to step back, when a small, clawed hand halted his progress,reaching out to grasp the edge of his cloak. Raising his eyesswiftly, he met those of his beloved once more, to see them shiningwith unshed tears. Her emotions swept through him. Fear, loneliness,uncertainty. A few moments later he felt the grip on his cloakrelax.
"I'm sorry. I didn't –" Dropping her gaze,she gave up her mumbled apology, turned, and rather jerkily resumedher course toward Father's study.
For a moment, Vincent stood, frozen. How couldhe be so selfish? She needed him. Not for hints on how to eat and howto behave, but just him.Support and love were all she truly required at this point. What waswrong with him? This morning he had vowed to be there for her, tothink only of her. An inaudible snarl rumbled in his chest. It didn'tmatter if he was having difficulty adjusting to the changes in her,that was immaterial. A few ground eating strides were all that wererequired to catch up, and he took his place by her side.
This was where he belonged.
Catherine gasped in surprise as she felt hislight touch on her left hand. Hesitantly, fingers entwined and shefelt a reassuring gentle squeeze. Raising her arm, she observed theirtwo hands intertwined, and two distinct sets of claws, one morefinely boned than the other. Ginger fur on the back of his hand stoodin contrast to the softer café au lait brown of her own.Catherine dropped her arm again, without releasing his hand. Anunseen, tremulous smile pulled at her unfamiliar facial muscles. Butthe shy smile sent through the bond was received. And returned.
Father's study was only a few turns away whenVincent realized what had been nagging at him. The hub was strangelyquiet. The normal hustle of people was absent.
Adamant, fearful tones of voice from the area ofFather's study reached the two long before actual words could be madeout. Vincent hesitated in his stride, before resuming his progress.Through the bond Catherine picked up on his disquiet. Something waswrong. By unspoken consent, Catherine and Vincent quickened theirpace.
"That is patently ridiculous!"
"What's ridiculous about it? People are worried!Scared!"
"Yes, Father, please understand. My Emily isonly four! What if this happens to her, too?"
"If it's happened once, what's to say it won'tagain? To any of our children. Our wives? Our friends? Do we wishthis on them?"
"Please, people! Calm down and listen toreason
"But don't you see? It already has
Vincent quickened his pace further. Rounding thefinal corner, Catherine dropped his hand and hung back, allowing himto sweep into the crowded study. Silence dropped like a stone intothe gathering as he halted. Eyes of people he had known for yearsslid away from his. "Father? Is there a problem?"
Tiredly, the older man behind the desk removedhis spectacles and rubbed his eyes. Of all the timing. Gesturingweakly with the glasses, Father indicated the gathering in thechamber. "Not to my mind, but it seems that many of our number havecertain concerns."
Silence fell again. Many shuffled their feet, orcleared their throats nervously. William, red-faced as usual duringan argument, stood closest to Father. Olivia was there, holding Lukeprotectively. Mouse crouched up on the balcony, looking extremelyuncomfortable.
"By what I'm sensing, these concerns have to dowith myself and Catherine."
Obviously mustering his courage, William steppedforward. "Last night, Mouse told us he saw Father bring Catherinedown below, and that she looked like& well& like you donow."
"Not bad! Not at all! Fine and good! Just lookedlike Vincent's Catherine, but more!" Mouse was near tears as hefrantically tried to defend his friends.
"That's the point!" a woman at the back of thestudy added loudly. Vincent quickly identified her as Cynthia, a newresident. "My husband saw them too. He was on sentry duty last night.You have to tell us, Father. What's really happening here? Are we inany danger?" A cacophony of voices rose and fell at this question, aseveryone turned to talk to their neighbor, or to be heard above therest.
From behind him Vincent could feel Catherine'spain in response to the fear in the resident's voices. His empathicpowers allowed him to sense their fear as well. Anger began to risein response, for Catherine, and for him. An ominous rumble began tobuild in his chest, emerging in a bellowing savage roar, whichreverberated through the large room. Instantly, the entire crowd fellsilent. Many of the people closest to him began to carefully edgeaway, dropping their eyes nervously from his flashing gaze. Abone-chilling snarl rolled from Vincent as he stepped down to thecenter of the room.
"How dareyou? After all Catherine has done, has sacrificed, to help this worldand keep it safe. How dareyou speculate about her, about us, without even waiting to know thetruth?" Vincent's voice was roughened with the undertone of a snarlas he flung his questions at the gathered crowd. An internal voiceshrilled at him that he was showing his more impulsive, animal side,he should be calm now, reason quietly. A mental toss of the headshook that voice off. If they were so frightened of him, let them seewhat they were truly frightened of. "You're all terrified that youwill become like me! Half beast! I know
A small hand captured his elbow, stopping him inmid-sentence. From beside him Catherine whispered "Vincent. Calmdown. This isn't necessary. It's not going to help."
Vincent took a deep breath, feeling hisrighteous protective anger begin to fade. Looking up, he took in thedrawn, nervous faces of people he called his friends. All eyes wereriveted in horrified fascination on Catherine, who held her head upand ignored the weight of speculative stares. A hushed silence fell.It was into this uncomfortable impasse that Peter Alcott stepped, alittle late than the appointed time of three o'clock.
"Catherine? Father? What's going on?" Respondingto Father's gesture to come close, and after a short but hushedconversation, Peter turned to face the crowd.
Father's authoritative voice rang out over thehushed mutters of the assemblage. "All right, I want everybody butcouncil members out of here this instant. I realize you have fears,but I'm not going to make Catherine's current difficulty into a stageshow. I will speak to the council, and afterwards any questions youhave can be directed to one of them. And later, I believe many of youmay feel better if you offer certain individuals a heartfeltapology." Father's command was reluctantly obeyed, and the crowddispersed. A few minutes later, only the members of the currentcouncil remained: William, Mary, Father, Vincent, and Pascal.
"Now," Father chimed in sarcastically, lookingpointedly at William. "Perhaps we can sit and discuss what has beenlearned like civilized people rather than reverting to a Paris mobmentality, hmmm?"
William had the grace to look shamefaced as hesank onto a sturdy bench.
Peter looked over Catherine carefully. Sheappeared a bit drawn from the difficult re-introduction to tunnelsociety, but otherwise seemed rested and healthy. If his tests werecorrect, she was more than healthy. Vincent sat beside her, hisattitude one of protection. "Cathy, honey. You may be a bit surprisedat what I've found out. Do you want me to tell you with the othershere, or would you rather hear this alone?"
"It's all right. Whatever it is, they can hearit too. I have no secrets."
"Very well, then. When this started happening, Ipulled your personal medical chart, which as your primary physicianI've maintained since your infancy. You may not know this, but whenyou were first born there was a concern about an anomaly in yourblood, which we found when we performed your infant blood analysis.In those days it was standard practice, to ensure certain diseaseswere not present. At that time, we located several strangely shapedblood cells. I remember them well. I didn't say anything to yourparents except for ordering a second set of tests. I wanted to besure before mentioning anything to Charles or Caroline. In the secondset of tests, we could only locate one or two of the cells afterextensive searching. A few weeks later, we couldn't find a trace ofthem. I checked regularly for the next couple of years, but neverfound anything, so eventually I stopped. You were a healthy and happychild, and there seemed to be no problems."
"After the... assault two years ago, you mightremember we took some blood samples before surgery?" Catherinenodded, remembering. "Out of the blue I remembered to run it throughthe scope and see if I could find any of those strange cells. Well, Idid. But only a few, one or two at most in each slide. Now you haveto understand, these cells were not the same as a cancerous cell.They were red blood cells, just a little bit different, more concave.I resolved then to keep a closer eye on you. I managed to get anothersample just after you were shot last year. This time, I found threeor four anomalous cells in the sample. I decided to do one morecheck, and if they increased again, I was going to refer you to aspecialist. Well, you know how difficult it is to pin you down for acheckup, don't you young lady?"
Catherine ducked her head. It was true. Betweenher work schedule, visiting Below, and everything else her lifeentailed, rather had
Peter shifted uncomfortably. This was the hardpart. "Cathy, remember when Vincent was sick and I took his bloodsample?"
Catherine nodded. She remembered the lab hadsent it back, claiming it was animal blood.
"I took a look at his blood under the scopemyself, just to see if there was anything I could spot. The firstthing that struck me was the red blood cells. They were just likeyour anomalous ones. All of them. A few days ago, I took a samplefrom you. The deeper cells accounted for seven out of ten red bloodcells. Looking at you now, I'd venture a guess that any slide I wouldmake now would show all of your cells have been replaced by thatparticular indented cell."
"Just what are you trying to say, Peter?"William's gruff voice was quieter now, but still raised the fur onVincent's spine. "You're talking about weird blood cells. You tryingto say that they were responsible for&" William tapered off underVincent's direct hard stare.
"Not exactly, William. What I'm saying is that,from the time of Catherine's birth, she has displayed a correlationto Vincent's traits. Our study of genetics is still in its infancy.Perhaps within our lifetimes science will discover how to analyzegenetic code, to read it, as it were, but as of now that simply isnot possible. This is just my own theory, mind you. Unless we turnCatherine and Vincent over to a research lab, which is something wecould never do, it will haveto remain just that, a theory. But I think there is something inCatherine's genetic makeup that made it possible for this to happen.I think when she was a baby, the correct stimulus wasn't available tocause whatever this thing is to manifest. So the potential went intoa kind of remission. Something about meeting Vincent caused thisgenetic potential to reassert itself. However, whatever it needed, itwasn't getting, so the genetic change was so slow as to bepractically unnoticeable. I think the only manifestation for thelongest time was the deepening of Catherine's perception of her bondwith Vincent. Until something triggered the full expression ofgenetic inheritance, which is what I believe has happened here."
Catherine shook her head is disbelief. Thissounded like something out of a bad science fiction movie. And yet,here she was. "This trigger. Do you have any idea what it could be?Even a guess?"
Peter let out a sigh as he glanced at Vincent.The man looked frozen in place, eyes glazed over as he fought toassimilate Peter's theory. He could almost see the connectionsforming.
"The bond itself," Vincent ground out. "Youthink it was our bond that made this possible."
"Partially. Again, please remember this is onlyguesswork on my part. In nature, everything has a 'time and purposeunto heaven'. I think the bond was formed because ofthe genetic potential, and its ultimate purpose was to instigatephysical changes. After all, Vincent, you have been around women allyour life, and yet you've told Father you felt drawn to that part ofthe park on that night. I think perhaps a part of you sensed therewas a compatible person nearby, and that was the root of the initialdraw. I theorize that the bond you feel is a direct expression ofgenetic compatibility. The bond brought you together. I think it's abiological imperative, one which makes it possible for the two of youto& umm, successfully reproduce."
With a crash Vincent leapt to his feet, sendinghis chair over backwards behind him. Ignoring it, he began to pacefuriously, desperate denial and agitation in every tense line of hisbody.
Father glanced at William, and at Pascalinquiringly. Looking nervous and very embarrassed, Pascal leaned overto Father and whispered, "I think I've heard enough to reassureanyone with questions. This is getting pretty personal. We don't needto be privy to that, do we William?"
William grunted his agreement. At Father's nod,the two rose and exited the chamber.
"I see your point," Catherine commented quietly."I've felt the bond get stronger from my side, but very slowly. Maybethat corresponds with the slow increase in the strange bloodcells?"
Peter nodded, indicating she shouldcontinue.
"But what could the trigger have been? Whatactually made me like this?"
"Catherine, we know what the trigger was," Vincent stated flatly from across theroom.
Catherine turned to speak, when through the bondshe was suddenly bombarded with Vincent's memory/feeling. Of handstouching her, of that electric snapping sensation within the bond astheir mouths met, as they felt their souls intertwine in a claim andcounterclaim. The feeling of a part of him sliding through the bondto reside within her. Yes. The trigger. With a gulp of shock,Catherine dropped her eyes, stunned. It had needed acceptance fromboth, and physical contact. All those nights she had lain beside himwhile he was unconscious, touching, while the bond deepened, deepeneduntil she could sense him,acquiring layer upon layer of receptivity&
Slowly letting out breath, Catherine felt herstiffened muscles relax. Yes, it had taken bothof them to start this. Something in a deep part of her acclaimed therightness of this theory. "Yes, you're& Vincent?"
"He left, Catherine. Typical for him, going offto order his thoughts. Humph. Running away is more like it. Orbrooding. Don't worry, he'll be back. He won't desert you for long.Now, why don't we all have a cup of tea and just have a friendlyvisit?" Father sighed. "I think we all need a break."
Vincent prowled the lower tunnels. An occasionaldark snarl rumbled from his chest as the full import of what had beendiscovered struck him anew.
It was his faultthat Catherine was like this. If not for him she would still be hernormal human self, perhaps happily married and a mother by now. Hisinterference, his presence in her life, has cost her that. Had costher everything. He had doomed her. Occasionally, he impacted withrocky outcrops, leaving bruises he would find later. It didn'tmatter.
"What is wrong with you now
Spinning, Vincent spotted the ghostly figure ofhis twin crouched on a small rocky ledge above him. Pounding windswhipped his mane about his face, and he realized his blind travelshad led him to the Chamber of the Winds. "You! You knewthis would happen, didn't you? You wanted it! So manyhints and allusions! Wait and see! Trust! Trust what?Trust you could ruin Catherine's life? I was right all along, you are
"How? How have I done this?" The dark growl wasalmost swept away by the capricious winds.
"I should never have touched her. I always knewit must not happen, should never be. I'm just as guilty as you. Ibegan this whole thing. Father was right, I should have never gone tosee her after she returned Above." The words of blame ground outbetween his teeth as he stood firm against the buffeting gusts. "I'verobbed her of everything, a home, a family, her life." Tears of griefcoursed down his face as he stared into the far cavern.
"I havedone this?" The roar of the other deafened him from behind. "I
Vincent blinked at the vehemence from hiscounterpart. One who was very difficult to see, appearing wispy as aghost in the shrieking winds. The possibilities presented by himbeckoned temptingly, however. His words made sense. 'Perhaps becauseI want so desperately to believe what he says,' he thought ruefully,calmed by anger greater than his own.
Vincent sank to the floor during a temporarylull in the constant winds. There was no 'he.' It was still difficultto admit that the opinions of the one he called his twin were reallyhis own, just ones he didn't want to claim. It was so much easier onhis conscience to see them as coming from an outside source, a darkhalf. 'Didn't make quite the progress that I thought I had,' headmitted reluctantly.
The familiar rough voice stole into his mind inan enticing whisper. 'Think of it. Someone to share with, to hear,see and understand what wefeel. Someone to run with, to share happy times with. We can show herall the good things. She can be our true mate. With children! She islike us, now. Remember touching, when she was hurt? She was soft andweak. But no longer. Now she is strong. The claws, they will not hurther. She liked it before, now she can truly enjoy our touch.'
With a start, Vincent remembered that moment,how he had been so sure she would not be harmed by his grip, but yetshe had been. Could this really be true? That now, in her changedstate, the same pressure was not excessive, and would not harmher? If his memory was correct, up to the point of actual damage shehad loved the feel of his hands on her. Caught in a whirlwind ofpossibilities, Vincent rose and began to walk. He had a lot ofthinking to do. 'But not too much,' he thought in response to theremembered comment.