TheCourse of True Love

byAnnette Wells White

Thecourse of true love never did run smooth.

--William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

Below. Deep withinthe earth was a secret refuge from fears and a haven for dreams. Itwas wondrous, magical, and safe --a place where the mysteries of lifecould be seen, understood, believed --where everything, even the mostinconceivable, fell within the realm of possibility. For many whocalled Below "home", their own survival was evidence enough that theconcept of family transcended kinship and included all of humanity:for Below was home to the dispossessed, the broken-hearted, those whohad lost all hope. In such a world, where one's dreams could becomereality and wishes were more than a child's fantasy, none who livedthere were inclined to dismiss, out of hand, the existence ofanything.

This world wasVincent's home. It was where he had played as a child and grown intoan adult, where he had found love with Catherine and lost it, wherehe raised his son alone and continued his destiny until one day hewas reunited with his love. To the small community of several hundredtunnel dwellers, there was no greater proof that life still heldmiracles and possibilities than the story of Vincent and Catherine.

Thefollowing chronicles the true story of what occurred one cold NewYork night atop a barren rooftop where Catherine Chandler was said tohave died in the arms of her beloved Vincent, and their story sotragically ended. She didn't die. Their love didn't end. Yet, thefiction perpetrated about her death was allowed to stand in the worldAbove, and it has long protected Catherine and Vincent: theiridentities, their privacy, their family and community, and the lifethey ultimately built together in the world Below.

CHAPTER ONE-- THE LOSS

She wanted to get better, tocome back to you. She fought with all the strength she had in her.But sometimes bad things can happen in life, and all our courage andall our love can't change them. And then all we can do is cry forthose we've lost and remember them always in our hearts....and goon.

Elliewill get better, she promised.

Ellieloved you very much, Eric. But we can't always keep our promises, nomatter how hard we try, no matter how much we love. . . .

                                                                            -- Ashes, Ashes (Written by Crays & Dotrice)

           The sounds of the pipes flowed through the well-worn passages of thetunnels and mixed with the rhythmic pulsation of the subway above.Even in the dead of night the music of the two intertwined throughoutand brought solace to those at rest within the chambers. Where lightsurvived the darkness, shadows danced upon the walls from theflickering candles and lanterns that stood guard throughout thewinding labyrinth. Their luminance gave singular witness to thepassing of a solitary figure traversing the arteries of the worldBelow. Vincent walked alone.

Unlike otherswho were drawn to the tunnels in search of something that couldn't befound above, Vincent walked the familiar recesses Below seekingrefuge from his heart. Though time had distanced him from the tragedythat plagued his soul, there were nights when the searing pain of hisloss overwhelmed him. It happened more frequently now, and thelonging for her permeated his very being with a profound sense ofsadness. Without hope he walked, knowing that neither the world Abovenor Below held that for which he searched in the quiet hours of thenight. It was a pain he shared with no one. Only at this time, whenhis world slept in the safety of his vigilance, did he allow thefacade to slip and the loneliness to wash over him. He still lovedher. He still missed her. He couldn't let go.

How ironic, hethought bitterly. In death he couldn't let her go; but how many timesin life had he encouraged her to go back?....back to the world Abovewhich had assaulted her the night he first found her....back to theworld Above which had finally succeeded in destroying her. She hadtrusted him to protect her, and he had failed. No matter what thecircumstances, it was his heart that told him: he had failedher.

For that,Vincent knew he would never truly forgive himself. On nights, such asthese, when his heart was heaviest and his spirit crushed beneath theweight of his shame, he wandered through the isolated pockets ofdeserted caves scattered beyond the Great Waterfall. During the dayhe closed off this part of his existence and refused himself accessto the secret place of unrest within his soul. It was easier duringthe day, for the needs of his world and its people kept himbusy......building, rebuilding, expanding.

And then therewas Jacob. Vincent knew that even as he had searched, and found, andsaved his son from Gabriel, the son had searched, and found, andsaved his father's heart from dying. In that first year when he hadlost all faith and teetered precariously on the brink of selfdestruction, Jacob's need to be loved and cared for had slicedthrough the darkness. Denied his mother's touch, the child demandedhis father's love; and so, wrenching himself back from his despair,Vincent had given himself wholly to his son. Within the safety ofthat absolute love and devotion, Jacob had grown strong in body andin his bond to his father; and despite the currents of unrestsurrounding the father, the son had, thus far, remained oblivious tohis grief. Vincent understood that within the infancy of Jacob'sworld, he simply trusted his father to be there, regardless --just asshe had trusted him. Yet, not even Jacob's love could erase theyearning within Vincent for the comfort of her love. He longed forher touch...to hear her voice. A thousand memories of her crashedinside his mind, and he still burned with a love that ignored thereality of her death. He had finally come to accept that nothingwould ever completely replace the longing he felt for the love thathad been Catherine.

Now, away fromthe company of others --the concerned scrutiny of Father, thehopeful, sheltering friendship of Diana, and the innocent, compellingeyes of his son --Vincent discarded the weight of leadership andcourage, resignation and forbearance. In the pitch blackness of thesubterranean cavities, he let the shield drop. Closing his eyes, hepaused in his journey and tried to shake the cold feeling from hissoul, which he knew did not come from the dampness of the rock andearth surrounding him. The broad shoulders were bent, and his proudhead bowed in fatigue as the man that he was opened himself to hispain. He was such a fool to have ever believed he could work throughhis loss of her. Nothing had prepared him for the depth of thisloneliness.....the emptiness. He had survived her, but he did notlive without her. He hadn't lived for more than a year.

The pain wassuch that now he actually feared the familiar pull in the night,calling him to rest, for just inside of sleep were the memories ofher. Tonight was such a night when he knew the dreams would come tohim, unwelcome in their cruel tie to his past reality. He tried tofind solace in the knowledge that he was not alone in missing her.Those who had known her had grieved, too. But none suffered her lossas did the lone figure whose silhouette blended into the darkness. Noother had been bonded to her soul. He, alone, knew the personal hellof having his heart ripped from his being while he held her in hisarms and helplessly watched her life slip away.

Nearing thepassage which would start him on his journey home, he stopped. As heleaned against the wall, he searched inward. Instead of the warmthand joy of her love, all he sensed was the jagged emptiness whereonce her presence had emanated so brightly. The memories hurt, and hefelt powerless to stop his mind from replaying the events which nowforever separated him from the one woman who had captured not onlyhis heart, but his soul. With sudden rage and pain he slammed hishand hard against the wall of earthen rock. A low growl rumbleddangerously from the depths of his frustration, but there was nothinghe could do.....not then, and not now. The source of his sadnessshook him, and he slid to his knees as raw grief, now revisited,consumed him.

Hours later,he walked wearily into his chamber and paused by the bed. Soon hisworld would awaken to another day, and somehow he would once againfind the strength to hold the reins of his tightly wound emotions incheck. "Catherine," he whispered brokenly into thedarkness, "I miss you."

Tears streamedunashamed down his face as his body rocked with the force of hisagony. Locked in grief and overwhelmed by sorrow, Vincent slowly sankto the bed. From deep within the folds of his great cloak came ananguished cry, so pitiful that it seemed even the heavens paused atthe depth of his sorrow. Oblivious to all but the pain, Vincent gavehimself over to despair. For a long while, heart-wrenching soundspunctuated the darkness, and in the end, it was sheer exhaustion thatbrought the illusion of peace as somewhere between the eternity ofhis soul and the misery in his heart, he finally sank into the depthsof sleep....and waiting dreams.

Far from theNew York City skyline and even farther from the underground worldthat cradled Vincent in his misery, a young woman with no past andseemingly no future, felt the first stirring of awareness roll overher. For over a year now hers had been a private existence of hiddenpain and personal grief where she let nothing out and no one in. Thetrauma that had plummeted her into a near-catatonic state was hersingular companion in the only truly safe place she had left: theplace within herself. It didn't matter to her that she was alone, forlocked within her tortured past she had lost everything that meantanything to her: her love, her child, her life. The loss had been toogreat; the price for her commitment and courage, too high. In theend, there had been limits to even what she had been able to endure.The strength within that had sustained her through her crushingordeal of captivity, torture, and mental cruelty had finally ebbedfrom her like the evening tide.

Now, months ofisolation and impersonal care had taken their toll on the withdrawnwoman, and yet there was something about her tonight that defied herusual zombie-like demeanor. Perhaps it was that instead of sleeping,she sat deathly still in the darkness of the sparsely furnished roomand stared through the room's single bay window. Silver beams fromthe moon bathed her slender frame from head to toe; but instead ofthe vacant stare that had characterized her through many months ofcare, she now struggled to sit up in her bed with an air of quietintensity. In the ethereal glow that engulfed her, moss green eyesreflected her inner turmoil and terror; and her body radiated a newtension, a new awareness.

No one was present to notice the woman as she struggled to assimilate her present surroundings against the paralyzing void in which she'd been submerged. It was all too large for her to grasp in those first hours before dawn, and her fear was transposed into tremors that shook her fragile body. She had no power to halt what was happening, and yet inside she rejected this awakening from the numb world of her mind. Shivering more violently against the insistent call to rejoin the world, she clung desperately to the nameless void that had been a haven to her wounded heart. While there were many things she still couldn't comprehend, she knew that she had lost something so precious that life, itself, had no meaning. She was lost to herself, and in the terror of shadowed memories, the emptiness in her heart was more than she could bear. A single cry was borne in the depths of her soul where her heart still remembered what her physical body had chosen to forget --that the world was a cruel and dangerous place to exist. The pain, anger, and fear that had lain dormant for so many months, took shape and gained momentum as feelings coalesced into a force so strong that they erupted within her and spun out of control in a primal scream of NO! that echoed only in her mind. Still the force of her fear permeated the room, shattering the peace of the night and leaving behind an eerie silence devoid of even the smallest sounds of nocturnal life. Unsteadily, the woman tried to stand, but her strength was now gone and she silently slumped to the floor. Her face glistened with the trail of tears that silently escaped and lost their way amidst the tangled mass of her hair. Tired of struggling, she closed her eyes to block out a world that no longer held the hope of love or life. For her ravaged soul the miracles had died, and to escape the burgeoning reality that now threatened her, she welcomed the encroaching fatigue of her mind and even the dreams that she knew would find her in that inky blackness. Disjointed dreams of a shattered life were more comforting than the harsh reality she had glimpsed through her bay window. And so she leaned without resistance into the waiting oblivion and a darkness from which she never wanted to arise.