Your Pain Is My Pain
Part III - The Rift Within The Lute

In love, if love be love, if love be ours
Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers,
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.

It is the little rift within the lute
That by and by will make the music mute,
And ever widening, slowly silence all.

The little rift within the lovers’ lute
Or little pitted speck in garner’d fruit,
That rotting inward, slowly moulders all.

It is not worth the keeping: let it go;
But shall it?  Answer, darling, answer no,
And trust me not at all or all in all.

Tennyson (Idylls of the King)

*    *    *

             Vincent paced through the dark, twisting passages, his footing sure and unhesitating despite the rocky, uneven terrain and his mental preoccupation.  With a piece of chalk he unconsciously marked his trail as he walked, that action second nature to those working in the lower levels.  He was hardly aware of the narrow path he traversed or the twenty-foot sheer drop off to the cold, rushing river at his left.  The labors of the last few days had been exhausting and draining; still, he could find no rest this night.  Kanin had fallen asleep immediately after their late supper, the heavy rock work taking its toll on him.  Vincent had left shortly after that, and now wandered several levels down from the already remote location of their work site.  The restlessness in him had been growing over the last twenty-four hours, inspiring an anxiety which now bordered on panic.  What was happening to him?!  It had never been like this before, except perhaps at the beginning, before he had known enough to put some distance between them during this time.
             Those first eight months following his discovery of Catherine had been excruciating, a growing awareness of an entity linked to his heart whose presence filled him with a joy he had never thought to know, and the bottomless pain of a separation he thought to be inevitable and forever.  Even then, though apart, he felt the beat of her heart, faint and distant.  But there were times when the bond seemed to expand, as if a window had suddenly opened to him, providing a view that was as hazy and vague as it was compelling  The rhythms he sensed from her then were stronger and deeper, they called to him with an insistent force that overwhelmed him.  Father had difficulty enough being patient with this 'irrational obsession' with a topsider Vincent had known only fleetingly, but he lost all semblance of it during those episodes which cast his son into a restless, anxious silence felt by all.
             And then it had all changed.  His visit to her had been meant only as a final farewell, to provide closure to his aching, yearning heart.  Instead it had been the beginning of everything.  All his memories, the most significant events of his life, were now defined in terms of 'Before Catherine' and 'Since Catherine'.  If the truth were known, his intentions mattered not at all after that meeting.  Their connection pulled them together and held them close, weaving its silken web about them in bonds that could not be broken or denied, though he tried often enough.
             He had always been aware of changes in those around him, those with whom he was in close physical contact on a daily basis, especially the women Below.  Even as a child, when he hadn't yet understood what those changes meant, he had been instinctively aware of them.  During particularly bad days it was inevitably Vincent who showed up with a pot of William's special tea, though unbeknownst to him it was his solicitous care and empathy that actually seemed to help as much as the tea itself.
             But with Catherine it went beyond that.  He was always aware of the biological changes which occurred during her period, that was a given.  As with the women Below, his acute physical senses alone made him aware of that change, though he'd quickly found that he needed no physical proximity to her to know this.  Even when she wasn't in pain there was a shift in the bond that he came to associate with her menstrual time.  Every nuance of her biological cycle was clear to him through the bond; it lived within him, a conscious entity that was as much a part of himself as any physical touch upon his person.
             No, the pull he felt from her was not associated with that time of her cycle, but with another, one he'd never sensed nor even thought of in association with any other woman.  If the draw to her had been strong before, during those eight months apart, it was unbelievably intense when he was in her presence during that time.  He had quickly learned that must be avoided at all costs, a terror rising up in him at the implications of such a response.  He couldn't risk even the chance of encountering her during that time, and so had always found some plausible reason to be in the lower levels then, for at least three days, just to make sure.  And though it caused him extreme discomfort, he monitored her continually during those absences, ever on the alert should she need his protection.  At the same time he kept a tight hold over the bond, not allowing the intensity of his response to reach her, despite the fact that he well knew her reception to the bond, until this past weekend, had always been quite weak.
             There was always something to be done in the lower levels; they were continually expanding the home tunnels to meet the needs of their growing community; cooler storage chambers for food supplies, way-stations and bathing pools for travelers.  The areas he sought out during those times, the outermost regions where Kanin usually confined his activities, were by necessity in the earliest stages of development, requiring the most basic, and therefore backbreaking, effort.  Fortunately carving open spaces out of solid rock went a long way towards controlling the overwhelming drives that infused him during those times.
             He was always aware of Catherine; it wasn't possible for him not to be.  There were quiet times when her presence was a soft hum at the lowest levels of his consciousness, providing the peace and security that had been missing in his life before her.  Not during that time however.  The change in the bond then was astonishing, each month surprising him anew at its force and intensity.  It positively resonated within him, its pulsing waves seemingly intent on one thing only -- the one thing that Vincent knew must never be between them, must never be allowed to be.  His rational mind considered it highly unlikely that a child could result from a union between them, but this was not something that could be left to chance, even if there had been some way to resolve the other, more basic issue.  But that was not the case.  His overwhelming fear of his own response and for Catherine's welfare was all the excuse he needed.  The unique timing of this phenomenon, and the implications it bore, only served to firm his resolve.
             So Vincent found himself once more enduring that monthly separation, biding his time until he could safely return to her and finding some comfort in the very real benefit his and Kanin's work would bring to their precious community.  But what he felt now was not what had been before.  The distance and effort required for this work had always been sufficient to keep that heightened bond experience under control -- until now.
             Now the pull of the bond was an irresistible force, drawing him within it to that one place where he and Catherine could safely be together.  The momentous events of the last weekend had shown them this spot, a gift from their bond of amazing proportions.  Just before Catherine had gone Above on Sunday she had asked him to try, try to open himself to this gift, for both their sakes.  To come to her, even if only through the bond, when he felt his need for her.  He had promised to try.  But what he hadn't been able to express to Catherine was his skepticism over this course of action.  If he did as she asked, neither would get a moment's peace, Above or Below, so great and all-pervasive was his need to be with her.  Though he had promised to try, he hadn't given in to the pulsing urges he'd felt during the five days they had been apart.  And Catherine hadn't either.
             He had felt her desire often enough while he monitored her through the bond, but each time she had quickly quelled the rising sensation.  He wasn't sure of her rationale over this denial, but suspected it was one of two things, or perhaps even both.  He had felt a slight, almost inexplicable twinge each time she suppressed her emotions and thought she might be sensitive to the fact that he was not alone.  She was quite probably trying to safeguard his privacy.  Though the other reason seemed less likely, he could not shake the feeling that it might be true.  Somehow he sensed that Catherine was purposely letting their emotions grow in hopes of overriding the tight control he always kept over himself and the bond in this area.  It was a vague, elusive feeling, but it was there nonetheless.  It felt like she was waiting for him.
             And it was working.  He missed her so much.  Her intelligence, sensitivity and gentle humor opened a window to the world Above for him.  And always he missed her physical presence; the feel of her silky hair and skin against the palms of his hands, her unique, seductive scent, and her deep, starry gray eyes that flickered shades of green, blue and amber at the unlikeliest moments.  But now there was even more, more than he had ever imagined there could be between them.  Now he could close his eyes and taste her lips against his, feel the tender caress of her tongue against his sensitive cleft, feel their passions building through the bond until all sensations were magnified and amplified, the pleasure so intense he thought it couldn't be endured.  But endure it they did, each sweetly ecstatic minute until, inevitably, the fireball burst within them, a fury that blazed through them leaving them trembling and reborn, together...
             He shook off those insidious feelings and the haze beginning to enfold him.  These emotions he held back now were a growing torture.  Since late Wednesday evening the rhythm of the bond had begun to intensify.  He had recognized that shift immediately, anticipating its arrival, as always, with nervous apprehension.  There was a new channel through the bond now, one whose growth he had consciously allowed last weekend, never suspecting it would have an impact in this crucial, sensitive area of their relationship over which he'd always held such tight control.  The bond drew him now, even stronger than when they had last been together five days ago, and his will and control were slipping away under the relentlessness of this new force.  He resisted it to the last, but finally realized there was no way he could withstand this power.  He could only hope that she would see this as nothing more than his attempt to be more open with her about his desires, as she had asked of him on Sunday.  Now a good two miles from Kanin and their work site, he sank down against the rocky wall, the  dark river facing him no more than a rushing sound in his ears.  He closed his eyes and gave in to her siren's call.

             Catherine tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep.  Saturday seemed light-years away, though in reality it was less than 48 hours before she would see him again.  Whether they were finished or not, Vincent and Kanin would be returning by late tomorrow for at least a weekend break.  Catherine could hardly wait.  These last five days had crept by with a snail's pace, nearly driving her to distraction.  She could feel Vincent through the bond so clearly now, and it seemed to get a little stronger every day.  She had noticed something strange though, about the last day or so.  It almost seemed as if her perception of the bond had dimmed somewhat during that time.  She had worried constantly at work today, wondering if her awareness was affected by distance, dismayed at the possibility that she might never have the degree of sensitivity to it that Vincent had.
             At least she was sure that he was all right, she could sense enough to tell that.  But her restlessness increased as the day wore on, and now, though it was two a.m. it was almost overwhelming.  Suddenly the muted sensation of the bond disappeared, Vincent's emotions washing over her in a flood of crystal clarity.  She gasped as his need throbbed through her, understanding now the reason for his earlier blocking of the bond.  She heard him so clearly now, his thoughts instantly translated to words through their pulsing bond.
             I need you, Catherine.  I need you, my love.  Be with me now...
             She gasped in joyful ecstasy as she felt the bond filling with his presence, felt herself drawn within it to join with him in rapturous splendor.  The bond spun out of control then, pulling them along with an urgent intensity that neither tried to resist.
             Yes, my love, always...I'm with you always...
             And then there was no need for words or thoughts.  Their emotional and physical sensations filled the bond to overwhelm them completely with an intensity neither had expected or anticipated.  The phenomenon had always contained a physical component that was breathless in its depth and scope, but what they experienced now was on a plane so far beyond what had been before as to be almost unrecognizable.  Last weekend the sensations of the bond had flowed evenly between them, but this time Catherine was dominated completely by the pulsing stream of Vincent's emotions.  They swept over her in crashing, relentless waves and she could do nothing but lie quivering beneath that massive power as it moved over and through her, building to a tremendous, cresting peak which finally broke, the ecstatic release bordering on an excruciating and anguished mix of pleasure and pain before it was done.  And yet the bond was not finished with them.  Twice more those agonizing sensations engulfed them, each time carrying them higher than the time before until the inevitable, dizzying climax was reached.  Just when she thought she could take no more, the pulsing waves receded and blessed relief enfolded them in its warm embrace.  It drew them down to the peaceful stillness deep within the well of their bond.  Utter darkness enfolded them.

*    *    *

             "Vincent!  Vincent, can you hear me?!  Shout if you can hear me!"  Kanin alternated his lantern between the tunnel wall to his right, where the flickering light periodically showed a slash of white chalk, and the drop-off to his left, which ended in the cold, dark river.  He moved cautiously over the rocky terrain, his eyes moving constantly between the marks along the wall and the narrow path beneath his feet.  He had been following this trail for fifty minutes and was beginning to get extremely nervous.  It wasn't like Vincent to wander off and not leave word of his whereabouts.  His anxiety was reaching epic proportions when he saw a slumped form against the tunnel wall near the bend ahead -- it could only be Vincent.  He ran to him, dropped to his knees at his side and quickly checked for vital signs.  His anxiety turned to relieved confusion when he discovered Vincent's heart rate, pulse rate and breathing to be quite normal.  For all intents and purposes it appeared that he was sleeping.  He sat with his back against the tunnel wall, his knees drawn up tight to his chest, his cloak pulled loosely about him.
             "Vincent?  Wake up, Vincent.  Come on, wake up."  Kanin's gentle shakes had turned quite rough before he got any response from the slumbering form before him.  But finally his efforts proved successful and Vincent stirred, blinking hazily up at him.
             "Kanin?  What is it?  Is something wrong?!"  Vincent's previous lethargy vanished instantly as Kanin's worried expression came into focus.  He leaned forward intently, grasping Kanin by the arm, his grip painfully tight.
             "No, Vincent, nothing.  Nothing's wrong."  Kanin hurried to assure him, suddenly certain that Vincent's thoughts had flown to Catherine in that small instant.  "It's just that...well, what are you doing here?  I worked for a while, but when you didn't show up I got worried.  I found your trail and followed you here.  Are you all right?"
             The fear that had momentarily appeared in Vincent's eyes dissipated with Kanin's first words.  It was replaced with a perplexed expression at the next few sentences until finally a look of incredulous comprehension crossed his face, impossible to misinterpret.  Vincent sank back against the wall, his eyes shut tight against some painful memory only he could see.  A moment later he gathered his control about him and forcefully turned his attention back to his friend.
             "What time is it?"
             Kanin was shocked by that question.  Vincent always knew what time it was.  Always.  It was one of those things that everyone had come to take for granted.  His concern was back in full force now.
             "It's just past noon, on Friday."  He added the day as a second thought, wondering how far his friends confusion went.  "How long have you been here, Vincent?  Can you tell me about it?"
             Vincent flinched visibly at his words, and when he opened his eyes a look of painful resignation filled them.  Finally he spoke, the words coming out strangely stiff and disjointed.
             "I'm fine.  I couldn't sleep last night and decided to walk.  I guess I lost track of the time.  I'm sorry I worried you, Kanin."
             Kanin observed him closely, sure that he wasn't being told the full truth.  He was equally sure that further information would not be forthcoming.  He was trying to decide what to do next when he was saved the effort.
             "We should get back to the work site.  That last excavation still needs to be shored up."  Vincent pulled his cloak even closer about him as he stood, picked up his extinguished lantern and without further notice moved along the narrow passage, towards their base camp.  Kanin rushed to catch up.
             "We really don't have to do that today, Vincent.  There's a lot left to do with this latest side tunnel and we'll be back again on Monday anyway.  Why don't we just leave it until then and head back for the weekend?"  Kanin tried to speak casually, but he desperately wanted to get him back to the home tunnels.  Vincent always kept close counsel, but if anyone could reach through to him during trying times it was Father.
             Vincent paused then to look over at his friend, his expression carefully neutral.  "You go ahead, Olivia and Luke will be anxious to see you.  I just want to finish a few things here.  I'll follow you up shortly."
             Kanin recognized the finality in that tone and immediately changed his tack.  "No, you're right Vincent, we should shore up the partial work on that chamber.  It's a hazard the way it is.  With the two of us working on it we can be done by tomorrow and home in time for the evening meal.  Olivia isn't really expecting me until then anyway."
             Vincent looked at him searchingly, hesitation suddenly evident in his eyes.  It was true completing that job would have taken them until late this evening at the very least, even if he hadn't slept half the workday away.  And though the chamber was a hazard as is, there was almost no real risk of damage or danger since there was no tunnel traffic in this area.  They could safely leave it undone until Monday if they liked.  But Vincent couldn't go back just yet.  It was too soon.  It wouldn't be safe for him to be so close to Catherine for at least another 24 hours.  He needed to think, to focus his thoughts and steady his nerves, and this rock work was perfect for that.  But there was also an inviolable law of the tunnels that no one worked in the lower levels alone.  Vincent made his decision in an instant.  He realized Kanin knew he had another reason for staying, though he wouldn't press him for it.  He was offering his friendship and help, and in the true spirit of the tunnels, Vincent accepted both, gratefully.
             "I'd like to stay then.  Thank you, Kanin."  His hand squeezed the other's shoulder firmly, his touch telling him what he couldn't say.
             Kanin smiled and clasped his arm reassuringly.  "Come on, then.  Let's get to it."

*    *    *

             The ringing phone finally penetrated the depths of Catherine’s foggy conscious, pulling her up from the slumber-filled cocoon she was nestled in.  With difficulty she extricated an arm from the tangled sheets and searched groggily for her bedside phone, finally stumbling across it by touch alone.
             "Hello."  Her voice hardly sounded like her own, sleep's hold not yet fully released.
             "Cathy?  Is that you?"
             She woke fully at the worried tone of the voice on the other end, recognizing it immediately.  "Yes, of course it's me.  What is it, Joe?  Is something wrong?"  She pushed the damp, sticky sheets away from her skin and pulled herself up to lean against the headboard, struggling to focus her concentration.
             "You tell me, Radcliffe.  Do you know what time it is?"  His tone was lightly teasing now, relief plainly evident there.
             She glanced at her clock on the bedside table, then gasped, turning to look out her french doors and over the well-lit balcony.  She thought her clock must have stopped in the night, but the sunlit sky could only indicate the full western exposure her balcony received during the middle of the day.  2:00 in the afternoon!  She was stunned speechless.  She had always slept soundly following those bond episodes experienced last weekend, but never like this -- a full 12 hours had passed!  In fact, she couldn't ever recall sleeping that long except for a few times when she'd been sick.  Her mind was spinning in an attempt to come up with a plausible excuse for not only missing work, but not calling in.
             "I'm sorry, Joe.  I...I don't know what to say.  I didn't sleep well last night, I think I'm coming down with something.  I took a sleeping pill at about 5:00, hoping to get a few hours' rest.  I guess I didn't realize how strong its effect would be."
             "You're sure you're okay?"
             "I'm fine, really, just a little embarrassed.  Did I miss anything important?"
             "No, nothing that can't wait until Monday.  Try and get some rest this weekend.  I'll need you at 100% for the Delano investigation next week."  The teasing tone was firmly entrenched now.
                "You can count on it Joe.  I'll see you Monday."
             Catherine hung up the phone in a daze, the memory of last night's bond episode washing through her with stunning force.  Nothing in the three events from last weekend had prepared her for what had occurred last night.  She gave in to the memory dreamily, sinking back to lie against the tangled sheets and pillows, letting those exquisite sensations sweep over her once again.
              Half an hour later Catherine still lazed in bed.  She'd forced herself to quit replaying those sensations a few minutes since and was now trying to determine what could account for such a difference.  This introspection was difficult; she didn't much care what the cause had been, and those tantalizing memories were calling to her once again.  Still, she valiantly attempted to focus, suspecting Vincent's response to last night might not parallel her own.  In fact she was quite certain of it, as several attempts to probe his feelings through the bond had resulted in nothing at all.  It was the same muted sensation she had experienced during the twenty-four hours before he came to her last night.  She recognized it now as his blocking of the bond, and she was quite sure as to his reasoning during both times.
             This was such a sensitive area.  The newness of this phenomenon, and the fact that he had decided to allow this form of lovemaking between them at all, was a giant leap forward for him.  Its existence was precious and fragile, and Catherine had no intention of jeopardizing it in any way.  It was part of the new closeness that had been generated between them two weeks ago when she'd had cramps and stayed Below.  Vincent had taken care of her, easing her pain and opening himself to her in a way he had never allowed before.  She remembered so clearly the conversation they'd had the night he had rubbed her back, how stunned she had been at the discovery of Vincent's intimate knowledge of her, in ways she had never suspected.  She remembered wondering just how deep his tie to her went...
             Catherine jumped up suddenly and flew out to the living room to rummage anxiously through her briefcase.  She found her planner and immediately flipped to a front section where she kept the long range calendars.  These included a six year, monthly breakdown, three years to a page.  The red circled dates on each month indicated the start of her period.  She went back to the last red circle and counted forward.  Oh my god...

*    *    *

             The two hour trek to the home tunnels went by much too quickly as far as Vincent was concerned, though he was positive that Kanin found it endless.  Both had those they loved waiting for them, yet that inspired anticipation in one and anxiety in the other.
             They'd worked hard yesterday and today to finish their work and make it back by supper, and it looked like their timing had been perfect.  They would have just enough time to bathe and change before the evening meal began.  At an outer hub junction Kanin veered off down a side tunnel which led to his family's chamber.  "See you at dinner, Vincent."
             "Thank you, Kanin."  Vincent's words were barely more than a whisper, but they echoed down the passage clearly.  Kanin turned momentarily to smile back at him, then continued on his way.  Vincent watched him disappear down the tunnel and then looked toward the main passage that would lead to the inner hub and his chamber.  He squared his shoulders and headed onward, his mind swirling with the visions and arguments that had held him preoccupied ever since he'd awakened yesterday in that far-away tunnel.  When he reached the next junction he took the right, upward sloping passage.  This was a slightly roundabout way to his chamber, but he was fairly sure Catherine was with Rebecca in the candle chamber, and he would have to pass it if he stayed on the main path.  He would also bypass Father's study, and that, too, was his objective for the time being.
             The detour was not significantly longer than the main route, and a few minutes later he reached the small, upper level opening to his chamber.  After ensuring that it was empty, he swung down the ladder, dropped his pack and quickly collected a clean change of clothing.  Within minutes he had exited by way of the main passage and was on his way to the bathing chamber he shared with Father.  The pool had been carved out by Winslow more than a decade ago, when Father's arthritic hip had begun to cause him periodic pain.  Luckily there had been a warm springs water source nearby which they'd been able to reroute to an area between their chambers.  All bathing pools Below were officially considered 'public', but this one was never used by anyone except Father and Vincent.  Though it wasn't too likely at this hour, Vincent hoped Father wouldn't be in it now -- he needed this time alone before encountering Catherine.
             A quick glance assured him that the pool was indeed empty, and his acute hearing could pick up no sounds coming from Father's study.  He stripped off his clothes and threw them into one of the two wicker baskets set near Father's entrance.  He slid into the warm water and let out a sigh which might have been mistaken for pleasure were it not for the small, painful catch at its end.
             It was quiet now, the steady sound of chisels against rock replaced by the comforting familiarity of the pipes.  He could no longer ignore the subject which had plagued him for the last 24 hours -- a decision would have to be made.  After the events of last weekend he had thought all their prayers had been answered.  This seemed to be the answer to the emotional and physical intimacy they both craved, while maintaining the distance Vincent required for Catherine's physical safety and his own peace of mind.  Now he wasn't so sure.  The memory of last night's bond episodes terrified him.  The emotions and sensations filling the bond had swung wildly out of control, passion escalating instantly to a pounding, insatiable lust.  And he was the source.  The feelings of guilt and despondency he had experienced upon waking had been reminiscent of what followed his killing rages, when anger turned to uncontrollable violence, ending inevitably in anguish and despair.
             He couldn't fool himself as to what had sparked that change; he had been sensitive to this issue long enough to recognize the role Catherine's cycle had played yesterday.  But that knowledge made no difference.  The thing he'd feared most had come to pass -- he had lost control with Catherine, in the midst of their passion.  That she was physically unharmed was an endless consolation to him, but his mental condemnation could not be stilled.  What must she have felt, to be used, taken for his own lustful ends?  What was she thinking?!  But those questions were mere words.  He couldn't make himself open the bond any further than it was, sensing her living presence only now, nothing more.  The headache which had begun to build shortly after waking yesterday was now a full strength migraine.  It pounded through him with excruciating intensity, a vivid counterpoint to the agonizing pleasure he'd found in Catherine through their connection, and a graphic reminder of what might have been lost, forever.

             Catherine and Rebecca sat talking amiably, busy doing absolutely nothing at all.  The monthly supply of candles had been finished last Saturday and the usually active chamber was peaceful and for once quite cool.  Catherine had come down about mid-morning only to find that Vincent and Kanin were still in the lower levels, but expected back for supper.  A strange sense of deja vu had swept over her then, the scenario strangely reminiscent of that Saturday two weeks ago.  There were no big projects going on -- as on the last two weekends things were quite relaxed Below.  She had spent the day in lazy indulgence, helping here and there, but visiting idly more often than not.  She had lunch with Pascal in the main pipe chamber where he gave her a quick overview of their communications network.  She was determined that this be her next area of focus.
             She had a plan.  She would immerse herself, little by little, into daily life Below, until her place there, and at Vincent's side, would be unquestioned.  Of course Vincent would be the most difficult one of all in that endeavor, but she was going to give it her best effort.  First the candles, next the pipes.  And that afternoon she'd spent quite a bit of time with William in the kitchens, helping him make bread.  That had been very relaxing, the smell reminding her vividly of a summer's visit to her great grandmother's house in Maine.  She'd made bread every Saturday and Catherine could still remember waiting anxiously for that first warm slice coated thickly with butter and honey.  She'd related that story to William and when the first batch had come out he'd made quite a production of cutting her a thick slice and lathering it from a huge tub of honey butter.  It had tasted delicious, and for a moment she'd felt transported to her youth, the sounds and scents of her great grandmother's kitchen as clear to her as if she were there.
             She'd gone from the kitchen in search of Mary, finally finding her in the storerooms.  But Mary had only a little light darning to do, and had shooed her on, telling her to relax and enjoy herself.  She'd gone to Father's study next, where they'd had tea together -- with some more warm bread hand-delivered by William.  Their conversation had been light and easy, covering her day's activities Below and the status of things there in general.  Father had been in a wonderfully relaxed mood, telling her several stories about Vincent's childhood that made her smile helplessly even now.  Then Rebecca had come in with a special delivery of candles.  Since Father's chambers were a central gathering place, he went through triple the normal amount of everyone else.  She made her excuses to Father and left with Rebecca.  Minutes later they'd settled into the quiet candle chamber for a cozy chat.
             Catherine and Rebecca were of an age, and over the last few weeks they had become quite close.  Although Catherine hadn't said it in so many words, Rebecca was aware of her 'Below plans' and was a more than willing accomplice in them.  She and Vincent had grown up together, and seeing him happy was very important to her.
             "So, Catherine, Mary told me you've had a very productive day today.  Let's see, Pascal's pipes, William's kitchen, Mary's mending chamber and Father's study.  You sure hit some of the more important spots here Below.  Did everything go well?"
             Catherine blushed as Rebecca retraced her steps that day, but her friend's kindly interest and best wishes were readily apparent on her face, easing what slight discomfort she might have felt had it been anyone else.  She also saw an opportunity to satisfy her own curiosity concerning a conversation they'd had just one week ago.
             "It was a wonderful day.  I helped William make bread -- by the way, I never realized what a chore that would be for this community.  But I had a great time.  William's quite a story-teller.  And Father was in a talkative mood today, too.  He told me several stories about Vincent when he was young."
             The pictures Father's words had brought were insidious and seductive, pulling Catherine down until she was immersed in the early life of the man who meant everything to her, his boyhood Below all too easy to see in her mind's eye.  Even now, she felt herself drawn once again into those images, but she shook herself out of this illusive nostalgia, attempting to turn the conversation back to the matter at hand.
             "And I had lunch with Pascal.  He told me quite a bit about the history of the pipes.  How the codes were developed, the logistical layout, and the sentry/relay system used to keep information flowing.  It's really fascinating.  I'm going to try to spend some time learning the codes during the next few months.  I recognize a few words, but only by rote, I don't really understand the system -- but believe me, I intend to."  She grinned conspiratorially at Rebecca, not even attempting to mask her motives, sure that was a lost cause.  Rebecca grinned back in kind.
             "That's an excellent idea, Catherine.  Once you understand that you'll know everything that's going on.  It's both a privilege and a plague to us Below," she said with a wry smile.  "I don't think we'd be the tight-knit community we are without such intimate knowledge of everyone and everything.  At the same time it may seem a little daunting at first.  It's very difficult to have secrets down here.  Don't get me wrong, it's largely because of the requirement for such a public system that privacy is so highly valued here.  But everyone is very close, both by necessity and inclination, and though discretion is important, care for individuals and the community is everyone's top priority -- it's the basic tenet of our lives here."
             Rebecca's words gave her a warm feeling inside, but once mentioned, she was drawn inevitably to the topic of privacy, her intentions to discuss Pascal suddenly flown from her mind.
             "I've seen the care and concern down here, for everyone.  It's astonishing compared to the isolated, materialistic society I live in Above.  But as for privacy...  I don't question the general respect for it, just a specific case: Vincent.  Why isn't he afforded the same degree of privacy as everyone else?"
             It was Rebecca's turn to blush now.  She sighed and thought for a moment before answering.
             "As in almost everything, Vincent is a special case.  You're right, his privacy isn't respected to the same degree as everyone else's.  Part of that's our fault, but part is his own.  We've come to depend on him so much...too much.  And he's allowed that, even encouraged it.  He's always had such qualms about his place among us.  And that's so strange, because all of this," she gestured vaguely about the chamber, her sweep implying much more than the small space enclosing them, "everything speaks so strongly of him.  You can feel his presence everywhere.  Even when he's not there, he is.  Maybe that's why we take his physical space for granted.  Am I making any sense?  I know it sounds ridiculous..."
             "It doesn't sound ridiculous at all.  It's how I feel, all the time.  He's with me always, Rebecca...always."
             Catherine suddenly wore a dreamy, far-away look, and Rebecca stared at her in awe, slightly envious of the magnitude of the love so evident there, knowing that it was returned in full measure.  And their bond, the very idea of it...  She swallowed hard, and forced her mind back to the topic of discussion.
             "That's not an excuse, Catherine.  At best it's a reason, and not a very good one, at that."
             "I understand, believe me, I do.  But, well...our relationship is beginning to move forward a little, and he's so uncertain of these new feelings between us.  I don't want any advances we're able to make jeopardized by some random intrusion.  For all his strength, Rebecca, he's sometimes so vulnerable."
             Their eyes met, understanding plain between them.
             "I know.  Vincent was smaller than most of the other boys until he was about 14.  The difference then was amazing.  Still, I've never lost the urge to protect him.  I think you'll find it's a common feeling among all the women Below, regardless of their age.  From Samantha to Elizabeth, he brings out the mother in all of us."
             They exchanged helpless smiles, the image of Vincent then and now overwhelming them both.
             "Don't worry, Catherine.  The issue of Vincent's privacy has been discussed lately, especially among the women.  I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable, but we are aware of the changes taking place between you.  Earlier today I overheard a discussion between the children.  Geoffrey and Eric were anxious to ask for Vincent's help on a project they've been working on recently.  They knew he was on the way back and were planning on monopolizing quite a bit of his evening, but Samantha made them swear to wait until tomorrow.  She said Vincent would want to be alone with you tonight, and if they bothered him she'd, let me see, how did she put it?  She said she'd 'smack the living daylights out of them'.  And believe me Catherine, she meant it!"
             At that moment a message came over the pipes and Rebecca turned to Catherine, a wide grin on her face.  "Vincent and Kanin are back.  They were just spotted at the outer perimeter of the hub.  He should pass this way in a few minutes."
             Catherine jumped up and began to pace, an anxious expression on her face.  Rebecca sat quietly, wishing for the thousandth time that the road to happiness was a little less rocky for these two special people.  It always seemed to be one step forward, two steps back for them -- why was life so unfair?!  Suddenly she was caught by Catherine's unexpected stillness.  She wore a strangely resigned expression on her face, one shaded with the worry that had periodically appeared out of nowhere during their conversation today.  It just wasn't right.  Nobody deserved happiness as much as Vincent did.  And to be given the gift of this precious love, just when he'd given up hope, only to have it elude him at every turn...  She sought vainly to reassure Catherine, to do something that might ease that sorrowful look stealing over her.
             "He probably stopped to bathe.  They frequently wait to do that until they've reached the hub after a long, dusty walk.  And it's just about time for supper.  Why don't we go wash up ourselves?  Then you could wait for him either in his chamber or the dining hall."
             She was sure that Catherine would make an excuse and leave for Vincent's chamber, and so was quite surprised when she immediately agreed.  They left for a nearby bathing chamber and a few minutes later were on their way out again.
             "Are you heading straight for the dining hall, Rebecca?"
             "Yes, I don't need anything else."  She was amazed Catherine hadn't immediately left in search of Vincent.
             "I'll go with you."
             Catherine's air was one of resignation, their short walk one of total silence.  The dining hall was only a short distance away and they soon found themselves seated at a cozy corner with Father and Mary.  They had barely settled in when a sudden, calm stillness filled Catherine's face, as if a spotlight had been turned upon it.  The other three turned towards the chamber entrance as one, and none were the least surprised to find Vincent there, his gaze locked upon her.
             He stood absolutely still for several long moments, aware of nothing but Catherine.  Then he was moving towards their table, his eyes never leaving her.  The expression there was unreadable to the others; it was not his typical adoring gaze.  Instead it seemed full of a complex mix of emotions, the overall effect that of resolute determination.  When he reached them, he stood silently for a moment looking down at her.  Father spoke first.
             "Welcome home, Vincent.  You're just in time for supper.  Sit down."
             His words drew Vincent's attention and he turned towards him.  Father was quite sure he had been unaware of his presence until that exact moment.  Catherine slid over, making room for him on the long bench, and he took the space indicated, although Father thought he noticed a momentary hesitation.
             "Thank you, Father.  It's good to be back"
             Jacob spoke calmly and easily, attempting to diffuse the tension he now felt from both Vincent and Catherine.
             "How far did you get with the new chambers?  William is anxiously awaiting the new freezer space Kanin promised him.  Speaking of Kanin, where is he?  We haven't seen him yet."
             "He should be here any minute now.  And William's freezer chamber should be ready within a week.  The side tunnel is roughed out, with the freezer storage and the way-station almost complete.  The bathing pool will need some fine tuning to add our normal safety features.  It will be done a few days after the other chambers.  It's amazingly lucky for us to have discovered that cold spot so close to the home tunnels.  We'll be able to transport our frozen inventory up from the outer perimeter of level G soon.  That should take at least an hour off of the current travel time."
            "For which Harold and Frank will be eternally grateful, I'm sure.  They've had trouble enough carting up a week's supply at a time from level G, and this will be a big improvement.  What is even more amazing, to my way of thinking, is that a hot springs pool was found in such close proximity to that cold river and the ice chamber.  That is indeed very unusual.  There are no hot springs for miles near our other two freezer storage locations."
             "That's true.  And I've never encountered that combination on any of my mapping journeys to the lowest and outermost regions either.  For whatever reason, it will be well appreciated by any travelers passing that way.  As will the way-station."
             "Yes, you're right.  I think everything for that chamber is ready now in storage room D6.  Isn't that right, Mary?"
             "Everything except the spare set of tools.  Mouse is putting that together now and it should be ready within a day or two.  The trunk is packed with bedding, towels, candles and the first aid kit.  There are two lanterns and a two gallon container of fuel oil.  And of course William has prepared a six months' supply of dried food.  We'll send down a five gallon container for fresh water; fortunately it can be supplied from the river.  As always, the most difficult items to move will be the few pieces of furniture we always put in those way-stations.  We found a sturdy bed frame and rocker in the main supply room, along with a small table, two chairs and a night stand.  They should be fine for that chamber.  And several mattresses have been donated recently by helpers, so we're in good shape there."
             "Good, good.  Let me know when we can begin moving those things down, Vincent, and I'll organize a crew."
             "Of course, Father.  We have a few safety items to take care of before anyone else can enter that area, but we should be through with those within a week, two at the most."
             The topic of the work on level F was interrupted at that moment by the arrival of William's supper.  Conversation flowed lightly onto various other subjects, and Vincent took that opportunity to turn to Catherine for the first time since he'd sat down.
             "Welcome back, Vincent."
             They were the same words Father had spoken only minutes before, but their impact was considerably different now.  He couldn't speak for a moment, his throat choked with emotions over all that had occurred between them during this last separation.  Her voice was low and husky, her gaze both yearning and grave.  He had expected to find disappointment there, perhaps even accusation or, god forbid, fear.  But there was no hint of any of these things, much as he searched.  He had rested one hand on the bench between them, and felt it now covered by her own, that touch finally breaking through the stillness holding him.  His hand shook and he finally slipped it from beneath hers to raise it towards her cheek, as if to stroke its silky softness.  He stopped just inches from her, his gaze suddenly taking in the combined sight of his taloned, rough hand and her smooth, creamy flesh.  He couldn't hide the shudder that swept over him then, pulling his hand away from her to clasp it tightly in the other, holding them safely out of sight on his lap beneath the table.
             Sorrow filled her eyes then, but she would not be stopped.  Her hand followed relentlessly, finding and covering his own.  She stroked the trembling there, trying to ease the panic she felt building in him.
             His eyes pleaded with her before his words whispered out, so low they couldn't possibly have been heard by anyone else at the table.
             "Please, Catherine, don't touch me, not now."
             She complied immediately, though she couldn't resist a final, tender caress as her hand slipped from his.
             The rest of the meal was finished with the casual conversation and good humor typical of a tunnel meal in William's dining hall.  Catherine joined in with a lively spirit, drawing Vincent in where she could, while simultaneously deflecting attention from him whenever possible.  But in contrast to her happy outward appearance, moment by moment she felt her heart sinking.  This had affected him much deeper than she had anticipated.  She dreaded the conversation which would follow, certain it boded nothing good for her.

             And she was right.  After supper he suggested they walk, leading her through the tunnels not inward and down, as they usually did, but outward towards the hub perimeter.  At first she thought they might be heading for their music chamber, but they went nowhere near it.  Instead they wandered around the area between her normal park entrance and the threshold beneath her apartment's sub-basement.  They walked silently, and he didn't take her hand.  After a while she noticed his strides lengthening and hurried her pace to keep up.  Finally she stopped in frustration, determined that whatever needed to be said would be said now.
             "Stop Vincent."
             She reached out to grab his arm, pulling him around to face her with a strength that surprised him.  She stood her ground firmly, but her lips trembled.
             "Tell me, Vincent.  Don't keep me in suspense any longer.  Tell me you want me to leave, that you need some time alone, away from me.  I can live with that if I have to.  I won't like it, but I can do it.  Just don't tell me you won't let us share what we've found together in the bond.  Please Vincent, don't tell me that."
             He stared at her, torn between his wishes and fears.  What he was about to say would hurt them both, but he could find no other solution.
             "I can't allow this Catherine.  I can't."
             Tears sprang to her eyes at his words, and he felt his muscles shake violently as he tried to ignore them.  But it was impossible.  He pulled her to him, his embrace almost painfully tight.  He spoke urgently into her ear, his face buried against her silky hair.
             "I've tried to tell you, to warn you.  It isn't safe to love me, Catherine.  I love you, and yet I could not stop what happened.  You've seen now what I am capable of, and this was when we were apart.  What might I have done if we had been together?!  You don't know, Catherine, you have no idea how strong my need for you is, the thoughts and images that overwhelm me in the midst of my desire...unspeakable, impossible...my desire for you.  I can't risk this danger to you any longer.  Try to understand, please!"
             She was crying in earnest now, frustration, anger and sorrow vying for domination within her.  He tried to pull away, but she held him to her with that same strength which had astonished him a moment before.
             "I do understand your fears, Vincent.  I do.  But I'll never stop trying to make you see beyond them.  What I felt two nights ago was a pleasure beyond imagining.  There was nothing hurtful in it, nothing.  I'll treasure the memory of that night always.  Please Vincent, please.  Don't do this to us, we deserve so much more.  I love you, I'll always love you.  And I want you, in the same way you want me.  There is nothing you could want that I wouldn't gladly give you.  Nothing!"
             He trembled against her, the cause as much due to the feel of her lips against the sensitive flesh of his ear as the content of her words.  Even in the midst of this turmoil, this fear, he felt his body responding to her.
             "No!" It took all his will and strength to pull away from her. "You don't know what you're saying, Catherine.  It can't be...  It can't."
             "Vincent!"
             She called out to him, but he resolutely left her, a minute later disappearing from sight around the far bend.  She waited a moment longer, but she knew he would not return.  Finally she turned and made her way towards the threshold.  She reached her apartment, kicked off her shoes, and climbed into bed fully clothed.  Her tears were gone now, replaced by a dull, sick heaviness in the pit of her stomach.  She stared out over the dark balcony wishing he would come to her, knowing he would not.  Around two a.m. she got up, turned on the heat and found an extra blanket.  But it didn't help.  She felt as if she might never be warm again.

*    *    *

             Catherine tossed and turned, but it was no use, the cramps which had begun a few hours before were building in strength and she knew from past experience that she would get no more sleep this night.  It was morning actually, five-thirty, and if it were a weekday she would be getting up anyway.  But it wasn't a weekday, it was Saturday, and for once she didn't have any pressing assignments or appointments and might otherwise have enjoyed the rare luxury of sleeping in.  Or if the situation had been otherwise with Vincent she could have gone Below and immersed herself in the relaxing weekend routines of the tunnel dwellers.  But that didn't seem too likely either, given the turn things had taken two weeks ago.  She sighed heavily, pulled herself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom, hoping a hot soak might help.
             An hour later she stood in her bathrobe with her hair wrapped in a towel, staring at the nearly empty contents of her refrigerator.  Wouldn't you know it?  It seemed she hadn't thought about food in days -- her wan appearance bore mute testimony to the truth of that.  But as usual the onset of her period was inevitably followed by two things -- cramps and hunger.  Suddenly she was on the verge of tears.  Would anything ever be right again?!  She slammed the refrigerator door with uncharacteristic force and threw open the cabinets next to it, then froze in sudden stillness as her gaze fell upon the cloth bag holding William's tea.  Vincent had given her that tea one month ago, the day they'd shared their first, real kiss.  And she remembered, too, the silent promise in his eyes as he'd given her the tea; the promise that she could find refuge Below during these trying times, that he would take care of her.
             Suddenly it was just too much.  Her emotions spilled over and tears fell unheeded.  She gave in to it, her sorrow and self-pity growing as she went about brewing a pot of the tea, the spicy, earthy aroma reminding her inexplicably of Vincent.  By the time it was ready she was in the midst of a full-fledged crying jag.

             Vincent stood at the threshold, his head bowed in pain.  She was crying.  She needed him, and he wasn't there for her.  He cursed himself for not going up three hours ago, when he had felt her first pains, while it was still dark.  At least then he could have brought her Below to take care of her, as he'd promised only a short month ago.  But he hadn't, unsure of how to end this conflict between them.  The two week separation had been awful.  He didn't know how he could possibly go another day without her.  He felt her own pain at this separation, along with her determination.  She wouldn't give up on this point.  What were they going to do?
             Suddenly he swung away from the bricked opening and headed back towards the inner hub, his long, sure strides carrying him to the center of their world with a speed most would have found astonishing.  He didn't get very far, however, before his path was crossed by a group of laughing children.  Their hands were full of an odd assortment of bagels, apples, bats, balls and gloves, and they were obviously heading Above, to the park.
             For a moment chaos reigned as they all seemed intent on talking at once, telling him where they were going, what they were going to do, and asking where he had been so early in the day.  This morning even Vincent found it difficult to keep up with them.
             "Kipper, I wonder if you would do a favor for me.  It will take you away from your game, but only for a short while."
             "Sure, Vincent, it's no big deal, we'll be playing all morning anyway.  Do you want me to bring a message up to Catherine?"  Kipper was growing up fast these days, and was very observant.  He hadn't missed Catherine's recent absence in the tunnels, nor Vincent's quiet, ill-concealed sorrow.  Vincent was like a big brother to him, a best friend.  He would do anything to see him happy again, and Kipper knew that wasn't likely unless Catherine was at his side.
             Vincent paused for a moment, surprised by Kipper's hopeful question.  "Yes, I would.  Do you by any chance have some paper and something to write with?"
             "Sure, we gotta keep score.  Samantha, give me that paper and pencil you brought with you."
             A minute later Vincent handed Kipper his note and together they walked back to the threshold while the other children headed gaily off for the park entrance.

             It was seven-fifteen and Catherine was on her second cup of tea when Kipper finally reached the eighteenth floor.  He had to knock twice before Catherine heard him, so lost was she in her melancholy reflections on the last two weeks.
             "Kipper!  What are you doing Above so early?  Come in.  Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
             Her eyes were red, it looked like she'd been crying.  And she looked thinner too.  Where a minute before Kipper's concern had been for Vincent, now he found himself angry at his mentor and friend.  This note sure better make her smile, he thought grimly.
             "Hi, Catherine.  We're playing baseball in the park.  You've got to get there early to get a field on Saturday.  And I've eaten already, thanks.  Vincent asked me to give you this note."  He held his breath as he handed her the small, folded piece of paper.
             "Catherine's hands shook as she unfolded the scrap and read the short sentence written upon it:  "Catherine, come Below, please.  Vincent."
             Kipper wasn't sure what to make of her response.  Her eyes suddenly looked redder, as if she might start crying again at any moment, but she smiled like she was happy.  He wondered if he'd ever understand women.
             "He's waiting Below.  Do you want me to bring him a message?"  He was intensely curious, hoping she'd give him a verbal response rather than a written note.  He wasn't disappointed.
             "Yes.  Tell him...  Tell him I'll be down in twenty minutes.  Thanks, Kipper."
             "Anytime, Catherine.  I'll probably see you Below later then?"
             "I think you will.  Have a good game, and say 'hi' to the others for me."
             "I will."
             With that Kipper ran out the door and Catherine rushed into her bedroom, wondering how she could possibly get dressed and blow-dry her hair in twenty minutes.  Fifteen minutes later she grabbed her coat and keys and headed Below; three minutes after that she stepped off the ladder and onto the tunnel floor.

             As always, when Catherine stepped out of the light and into the waning dusk of their threshold, Vincent's mind reeled with her beauty, the sight somehow never quite expected.  She stopped a few feet away from him, and he could read her hesitancy, knew she was uncertain how to approach him after his imposed separation.  She was pale, and thinner than before, yet her concerns were for him, always.  He felt a lump in his throat, then moved quickly forward to enfold her in his embrace, his arms aching to hold her close again.  His actions surprised her into momentary stillness, then her arms slipped under his cloak and around his waist to hold him tight.  Her strong hold was in direct contrast to the shaking of her body against him, his arms her sole source of support for some minutes.
             Vincent had meant his hug to be one of soothing comfort, but his arms tightened upon her inexorably until he could feel her whole length pressed close against him.  Even then it didn't seem to be enough, the feel of her body there speaking of a completion and fulfillment he yearned for in the deepest part of who he was.
             "I'm sorry, Catherine.  Forgive me, forgive me."
             Her arms tightened, pulling herself closer against him, though that didn't seem possible.
             "I love you, Vincent.  There's nothing you could do that will change that, ever!"  She spoke fervently, needing him to feel the words deep inside.  But she couldn't stop the others that tumbled out after them.  "I missed you so much!  It doesn't matter who I'm with, I'm so alone without you.  Is this how you felt after Devin left...and Lisa...this aloneness I feel now when we're apart?  Oh Vincent, how did you stand it?"  And though she'd thought there were no tears left, she found herself weeping uncontrollably, his hard, muscled length a comfort and solace that drew both her strength and her vulnerability.
             He shuddered at her words, feeling a contraction deep in the pit of his stomach, a sorrow too deep for words, this guilt that he had subjected her to what he'd found almost unbearable in his own life.  Then they were crying together, the tears a healing force that drained them of their fears and pains, leaving them empty and open to the precious stillness of their bond.  It hummed between them, low and steady, drawing them close and deep within its soothing well.

             The morning flew by, Catherine's joy at being with Vincent and among her friends and family Below almost overriding the cramps building within her.  The first order of business had been breakfast.  William hovered over her like a mother hen, continually filling her mug with his special tea and her plate with his hearty food.  And though there had been an almost continuous stream of friends stopping by to welcome her, none joined them at their table.  The talk between them had been light, a concerted effort made by both to avoid any mention of their separation.
             The rest of the morning was spent in a special rehearsal by Vincent's medieval history class.  They had so enjoyed their studies of the Angevin Kings, with a side trip through Shakespeare's history plays, that they'd decided to do a reenactment of 'Henry V'.  Vincent was spending his Saturday mornings working with the class on their interpretation.  This morning they were particularly exuberant, well aware of the change in his demeanor, and the reason behind it.  Catherine sat in a corner with Father in his study, watching the play evolve with avid curiosity and interest.  At least twice during the morning William brought in two pots of tea, his special blend for Catherine and Earl Grey for Father.  Vincent poured his from Catherine's kettle, pleasing her inordinately by that action.
             After rehearsal it was time for lunch, and Catherine was almost embarrassingly grateful for that.  She felt like she hadn't eaten for a week and was bound and determined to make up for lost time while she could.  After all, she still didn't know what the future held for them.  But she refused to think about that now.  Things would work out eventually, she was sure of that.
             The morning's rapid pace changed dramatically after lunch, everyone wandering off their own separate ways.  Vincent had suggested a quiet afternoon of reading in his chamber, but Catherine insisted on a trip to the chamber of the falls.  Vincent gave in without an argument, and she suspected that he still worried about being alone with her in such intimate surroundings.
             She had wanted to visit the falls, it was a favorite spot of theirs Below, but as the long walk drew to a close, she found herself wishing they had stayed in the inner hub, Mary's 'traipsing about' warning of a month ago coming back to her with wry irony.  The pain was continual now, a deep, dull throb radiating through her lower back and a sharp, convulsing clench that gripped her womb -- a forceful reminder of its presence and purpose.  And waves of fatigue were washing over her, her energy draining away with every step she took.  Vincent released his hold on her hand, his arm slipping around her waist to pull her close.  She leaned into his solid strength gratefully, her tensed muscles relaxing slightly as if he had absorbed some small part of the weariness and pain encompassing her.
             A few minutes later they reached their promontory and Vincent led her over to their usual spot, a low boulder at the apex of the upper level which offered a clear, unobstructed view of the numerous falls across the other side of that vast chamber.  Catherine sat down along one side, but instead of moving to the other, as he usually did, Vincent sank down behind her.  A moment later his hands were at her shoulders drawing her jacket away.  She was stunned by his unexpected behavior, feeling the sudden coolness of that endless space through the cotton oxford shirt and silk camisole she wore.  Then that coolness was replaced by the warmth of his hands against her back and she jumped in surprise.
 "            Vincent, what...?"
 "I'm sorry, Catherine.  I shouldn't have brought you way out here.  We'll stay for a while, until you're rested, then we'll go back."
             As he spoke his hands began to move over her, sliding down to massage the quivering muscles of her lower back.
             "Perhaps you'd like to soak in the hot springs pool after supper.  I think it will help."
             "Mmmm...."  Catherine wasn't really aware of his words at all, his hands were working magic, the sensations at once soothing and erotic.  The pain within her was receding under his tender touch, her mind floating free to enjoy this rare sensation.  Vincent was usually so careful around her, his touches confined to the platonic and comforting, except during those exquisite episodes first experienced a few weeks ago.  He couldn't control the sensual nature of his touch then, though even now she wasn't sure how much of it had been real and how much imagined through the heightened bond sensation.
             No matter, the pleasure had been real, and that's all that counted.  But this touch was definitely not imagined, and though its intent was to soothe and comfort, the sensuousness could not be denied.  For a fleeting moment she reflected on his actions, wondering if he was even conscious of the inevitable effect upon her.  That thought spun away lazily as a drifting wave of pleasure crept over her, robbing her of reason and will.  She sighed with contentment and sank forward against the flat, smooth surface of the boulder at her side, her cheek pressed against it to absorb its cooling comfort while his hands infused the rest of her with a drowsy warmth that was insidious in its winding intent, filling her completely with his loving adoration.
             Vincent was intent upon easing her pain.  The guilt he had felt upon seeing her gaunt paleness at the threshold this morning had been growing within him throughout the day, commiserate with her pain.  That guilt had reached its peak as they'd approached their promontory, when the pain and fatigue he’d felt from her had overwhelmed him completely.  But he had no sooner touched her than the erotic sensations felt by her had been fed back to him through the bond, channeled somewhere within the very depths of him to a spot over which he seemingly had no control.  Instead he could only respond to the hazy pleasure building in her, his own following inevitably, like the tide flowing to the sea, filling the inlets and shallows along its curving coast.  He sank into the sensation, he had no choice.  Within minutes an erotic joy was radiating through them both, displacing her pain completely in its quest to fill all the corners of the entity that was Catherine and Vincent in the bond.  His hands continued to move along her flesh, but that awareness provided only a small part of the sensations filling them now.  A moment later and his hands began to still, then finally stopped altogether, slipping around her waist as he sank down to rest against her back, his face buried in the silken sweep of hair at the back of her neck.  Her scent rose to enfold him, adding to the building sensations of the bond, the effect electrifying and irresistible
             No!  With a strength he didn't know he possessed, he pulled away from her and the dizzying emotions filling them, pulling him down.  That strength was almost not enough, the bond urging him back, drawing him to her with a force of unimaginable proportions.
 Catherine tried not to respond, but she couldn't stop the mewling whimper that escaped her throat as he left her, left the bond.  She clamped down quickly on those tumultuous emotions, trying to stifle both them and the returning pain, determined not to add to the guilt she'd sensed so plainly in him this day.  He needed her patience now, and her care.  She reminded herself of the vow she had made a short month ago.  She would love him and care for him, and she would give him the space he needed, for whatever time it took.  She pulled her control tightly about herself, then turned to face him.
             "We should go back now, Vincent.  It's almost time for supper and I'm famished."  She gave him a gamin grin, trying to make this as easy for him as she could.
             His grim features softened at her teasing response, his fingers reaching up to smooth the hair back from her brow.  His palm slipped from there to cup her cheek, the action irresistible to him.
             "Yes, we should go now."  His voice shook slightly at those first words, but evened out as the moment passed.  "I'm going to have to talk to William about this.  He's not going to be happy when he finds out his lunch wasn't sufficient to tide you through the day."
             Catherine batted at his broad chest playfully, skillfully concealing the pleasure she experienced at even that slight contact with him.  "Don't you say a word, Vincent, he'd be devastated.  And besides, I don't want to risk losing my special tea source."

             The walk back was a silent one.  Vincent couldn't stop thinking about what had almost happened.  He went over and over it in his mind, trying to determine when he had lost control of the situation.  One minute he'd been filled with guilt and remorse, the pain radiating through him a constant reminder of his failure to ease her suffering, and the next....
             How could he have moved so seamlessly from that noble attempt to alleviate her pain to the shamelessly seductive path his hands and body had relentless pursued at the slightest contact with her?  But even as he chastised himself over his unwarranted and ill-timed actions, another voice whispered insidiously in his ear.  You feel what she feels.  Where was the pain?  Gone...it was gone.  The moment the bond took hold the pain was pushed aside.  You felt it yourself, you know you did...
             Catherine was aware of the turmoil raging within him, but she couldn't focus on that right now.  She was in the midst of her own internal battle, trying desperately to control the pain, to not let it reach him in his vulnerable state.  She couldn't remember the last time the cramps had been this severe.  For a short while, in the midst of that lovely interlude at the falls, they had been gone completely.  There had been nothing then but the feel of Vincent's hands against her, the warmth of his love stealing over her until there was room for nothing else but it and the passion building in them both.  Another wave of pain gripped her and she stumbled, reaching out for the wall to catch herself.  She couldn't withhold the gasp wrenched from her lips and the tight grasp she held upon her end of the bond faltered for the barest second.  That small lapse was all it took.
             Vincent's right arm swept around her waist, the other reaching blindly for the wall to steady them both.  For a moment he rested against both it and her, completely oblivious to the intimate press of his body along hers.  The wave finally receded and with it the rushing in her ears.  The panting of his breath was now audible to her, the sound harsh and deep.  A moment more and he had regained control, pulling his body away from hers slightly to stand trembling just inches from her.  His face was a conflicting mass of expressions; they flowed and changed so quickly that for once she was unable to read them.  A second later and even that attempt had flown as he swung her up in his arms and continued on towards the inner tunnels.
             Catherine wanted to protest, to insist that she was capable of walking, to tell him to put her down before anyone saw them.  Instead she turned in his arms to bury her face against his chest, one hand stealing up that broad expanse to wrap around his strong neck, under the silky fall of his hair.  It had been so long...so long since he'd held her like this.
             She lost all track of time then, her only awareness that of his heart beating rapidly beneath her cheek and the almost unconscious sensation of speed as he unerringly traversed the dark, twisting terrain.  The next thing she knew they were standing quite still, the sudden absence of motion shocking in comparison to what had been before.  There was light here, she could sense it quite clearly though her eyes were squeezed shut and her face still pressed tight against him.  He set her down and she sighed as he released her.  She opened her eyes in resignation and slowly scanned her surroundings.
             They stood in a small bathing chamber, the circular pool filling almost the entire space.  There was a walkway about five feet wide along a third of the pool, but no more than a small ledge separated the remaining perimeter from the rocky walls.  The ubiquitous torch was resting in its wall niche and there was a tunnel entrance at either end of the walkway, with two wicker baskets resting next to one of them.
             One of the baskets was empty, a repository for dirty clothes.  A laundry crew made the rounds daily to collect clothes from all the bathing chambers in the hub, down to the outermost ring of level D.  She had laughed when she'd discovered that all the tunnel clothes had name labels sewn in them, just as she'd done for summer camp when she was a child.  But when Ellen, the head laundress, had explained the system to her, she'd had to admit it was flawlessly logical.  Everyone had assigned chores, and not much else would get done if they all had to wash their own clothes.  Despite the relatively small size of their community there was no way to remember what clothes went with whom, especially when hand-me-downs were the rule rather than the exception.  And just as the clothes were passed down and on, labels were changed regularly.  The second basket held towels and containers of soaps and shampoos.  These were also checked and restocked regularly.  All in all it was a very efficient system.  But though she'd been in several different bathing chambers, she didn't recognize this one.
             "Where are we, Vincent?  What's the location of this chamber?"
             "This is A1."
             All the public chambers were identified by an alpha/numeric system.  The letter indicated the level it was on, the number it's relative location to the 'population center' of that level.
             "A1?  We're in the center of the main tunnels?  I thought Father's Study was A1.  Why haven't I ever seen this place before?"  She looked around curiously, trying to guess exactly where this chamber was situated.
             "Winslow carved out this pool for Father 10 years ago, so he could soak his hip without walking too far.  The entrance is here."  He pointed out a spot marked by a two foot long strip of water-insoluble paint.
             Catherine glanced down and could see the highest step just inches below the pool's rim, with the water level two inches above that.  All the man-made pools Below, and many of the naturally occurring ones, had steps carved into them in a consistent pattern for safety's sake.  They spiraled around the pool's perimeter.  The ledge was almost always 18 inches wide, though the length of the benches at each water level varied dependent upon the diameter of the pool.  Scanning this one, she guessed each bench was probably no more than three feet long.  The drop between benches was never more than 8 inches, and there might be anywhere between three and seven bench/steps in each pool, depending upon its depth and diameter.  Most of the pools were between two and five feet deep, with water entering at one end, through one or more orifices, and exiting at the other.  The water was supplied by moving table streams and springs, and so was in a constant state of motion, providing a continual filtration system of fresh bathing water.  Most of the pools were spring fed, and naturally occurring, but a few, like this one, had been carved by hand, with water from a nearby underground stream rerouted in a truly miraculous feat of civil engineering.  The man-made pools were a result of the combined genius of Mouse and Kanin, with a good deal of back-breaking labor supplied by everybody else as required.  But nobody ever complained; the spring pools were very popular places -- the more the better was the general consensus Below.
             "The original water source is a hot spring some distance from here, but the pool is still quite warm nonetheless.  This path leads to Father's chambers."  Vincent gestured towards the entrance with the baskets.
             "Where does the other one go?"  Catherine glanced down that tunnel curiously.  Both were obviously man-made.
             "To a small side tunnel near my chamber."
             Ahhh.  This was the bathing pool Vincent used.
             "I'll get your nightclothes.  Would you like some tea and soup?  I can bring it here if you'd rather not eat in the dining hall tonight."
             Another wave of pain chose that exact moment to sweep through her and both of them winced as it built in intensity, then finally tapered off.
             "Yes, I think I would.  Thank you, Vincent."  The words were a bare whisper, husky and weak.
             "I'll be back in a few minutes."
             He turned and left by way of 'his' exit, and Catherine lost no time in stripping off her clothes and stepping into the pool.  The water was not as hot as the large spring pool she had shared with the other women twice during the last month, but it was comfortably warm.  She walked halfway around the spiraling perimeter until she was on the fourth bench, with the walkway and entrances now across the pool from her.  The water barely covered her breasts when she sat at that level.  It was perfect.
             "Catherine?"  Vincent's voice called out to her from the entrance across the pool directly to her right.  She was stunned.  She had expected him to send Mary or Rebecca or one of the other women.  She looked down at herself appraisingly then slipped off the bench to stand on the floor of the pool, the water now reaching just beneath her shoulders.  She knew how uncomfortable this situation must be for him, she didn't want to make it more difficult than it already was.
             "Come in, Vincent."
             He entered holding a tray in his hands, with a bundle tucked under one arm.  His gaze was locked upon the tray, as if the contents there were of extreme importance.  He set it down near the edge of the pool and laid the folded bundle next to it.  He busied himself pouring out her tea and uncovering a large bowl of soup, his eyes studiously avoiding her general direction.
             "Story hour is going to be a little earlier tonight, right after supper.  But you should rest.  I'll come to the guest chamber to check on you afterwards.  If you need anything before then..."  His voice faltered, the words eluding him.
             "You'll know."  She completed his sentence for him.
             He straightened up and turned to leave, but as he reached the exit he paused, finally turning to seek her out in the shadows of the pool.  He drew in his breath as he found her, the flickering light from the torch reflecting off the water to waver about her shimmering form.  She stood in the center, her gaze locked upon him, the bond filled with a strange blend of pain and yearning which he could not ignore.  He had a sudden impulse to stay here with her, to be here for her in the midst of her pain, somehow sure his presence would be of solace to her.  But no...that was impossible.  He blinked that dangerous thought away hazily and focused upon her luminous eyes.
             "Do you need anything else, Catherine?"
             She shook her head, for a moment speechless as tears threatened to spill over at this evidence of his care and concern for her.  I only need you, Vincent.  But she didn't say the words, knowing the effect they would have on him.  "I'll be fine, really."
             Indecision was suddenly evident in his face, and Catherine was astonished, wondering if he could possibly be considering staying with her.  Finally he nodded, then turned and left her.  She watched the dark tunnel exit, hoping that he would come back, but she knew it was only wishful thinking.  A few moments later she slipped up onto the third level bench and pulled the tray of food towards her.  On this step the water reached waist high, with her shoulders above pool level.  The tasty aroma of the soup and warm bread drifted to her, her stomach suddenly churning with hunger as well as pain.
             A few moments later the large bowl was completely empty and she found herself ruefully wishing William had included a second helping of crusty bread and soft cheese.  The tea kettle was still quite full however, and she settled back with a hot mug, letting the spicy tendrils curl through her.  The combination of that and the warm, swirling waters eased the ache low in her back, though the pain in her belly seemed there to stay.  The heat of the pool was helping to alleviate the aching of her stressed muscles, but as the contracting pains low in her belly grew, her internal heat increased to an uncomfortable level.  Finally she moved up to the second level bench and turned to rest her head upon her folded arms on the cool stone ledge of the chamber floor.  With her torso bared to the cool tunnel air and the warm water swirling over her hips and legs, she found a temperature combination that seemed to minimize her pain as much as possible.  The fatigue she'd felt throughout the day suddenly seemed overwhelming, and before she knew it she fell asleep, the mug of tea still clasped between her hands.

             Though the pain he felt from Catherine had diminished only slightly, he felt the easing of their bond and suspected she was sleeping.  He took a detour on his way from the dining hall to Father's study and stopped at the guest chamber to check on her.  He stood in the chamber entrance, confusion apparent on his face; she hadn't been there at all.  Finally he turned towards his own chamber, but she wasn't there either.  He hurried to the bathing chamber, concern suddenly filling him, though he could sense no distress over the bond.  Outside the entrance he hesitated for a moment before calling out softly.
             "Catherine?"
             No response.  He tried again, and then once more, still nothing.  Finally he stepped into the silent chamber.  His eyes found her slumbering form immediately, and he froze in consternation.  She was curled up on a shallow section of the ledge, fast asleep.  Her body was turned towards him, her breasts pressed lightly against the upper edge of the pool wall with the sweet curve of her waist, hip and belly naked to his gaze.  The water swirled over the spot where her thighs met her hips, curling about the shallow indentation there.
     He gasped at the erotic sight of her, turning away abruptly, his breath panting and harsh.  He stood in the tunnel entrance in indecision, fighting to gain control of the arousal sweeping through him.  He couldn't leave her here like this, he had to wake her.  Finally he glanced back towards her, searching for the tray he had left earlier.  He found it pushed back to one side behind her left shoulder.  He walked over to that spot and immediately felt an easing of the tension filling him.  He stood behind her now, between her and the torch.  From this angle, with the light dimmed, he saw only the rounded fold of her shoulders and arms, and the top of her head.  He leaned down and moved the empty tray back against the wall of the walkway, then noticed the mug was not on it.  He looked back at Catherine and found her hands still wrapped around it.  For some reason that sight undid him.  The image of her resting here, where he bathed, sipping the tea he had brought her touched him deeply.  Suddenly a wave of emotion washed over him, a strange mix of deep love and desire, filling him completely.  The sensation was overwhelming and he was incapable of withholding his response to it.  He had been crouching down on one knee between her resting form and the far tunnel wall, but now slid down to sit against the wall, his eyes shut tight as he struggled to contain the emotions sweeping through him.  He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms about them, his whole body trembling in response to her.
             He had meant to wake her, to make sure she didn't spend the next hour sleeping here while he was reading to the children.  But now, as he gained some slight control, he knew he could not.  He couldn't be here with her like this, not with her awake, not without his body betraying him.  He couldn't find that level of control, not now, not here.  With one last, longing glance in her direction, he slipped the mug out of her hand, picked up the tray and made his way out of the chamber.  Once in the outer passage he leaned against the rocky wall, his muscles trembling uncontrollably for several long minutes.

             "We didn't say a word for a good while.  There warn't anything to say.  We both knowed well enough it was some more work of the rattle-snake skin; so what was the use to talk about it?  It would only look like we was finding fault, and that would be bound to fetch more bad luck -- and keep on fetching it, too, till we knowed enough to keep still."
             Vincent paused at the end of that paragraph, his reading of Mark Twain's 'Huckleberry Finn' momentarily interrupted.  He had felt the pains increasing in Catherine over the last 15 minutes or so, and now he knew she was definitely waking up.  The sensations muted slightly and he realized that she was trying to protect him from the pain she felt.  Even in the midst of her own discomfort she was thinking of him.  The thought stunned him, her love for him impossible to deny, yet just as impossible to comprehend.  He was near the end of chapter 16, about five pages into his reading.  Normally he read at least 10 pages at a sitting for the children, two or three chapters of this particular work.  He had checked ahead before he'd begun; chapters 16 and 17 were about eleven and a half pages total and he was determined to read both, though a small voice inside him was urging him to leave chapter 17 until next week.  He sighed heavily, refocused on the page in front of him and continued reading, anxious to reach the end, so that he could go to her.

             Catherine paced about Vincent's chamber trying to walk off the cramps gripping her.  It was no use.  They were increasing in strength and she was suddenly suffused with heat, heavy and smothering.  She stopped in front of his wardrobe hesitantly, then opened it and went to the top drawer where she knew he kept her tunnel nightclothes.  Folded next to them were several of his own nightshirts.  She searched through the heavier fabrics until she discovered a light cotton one, pulled it from the drawer and shook it out.  It would be long on her, though it probably reached just below his knees.  She pulled her robe off and threw it on a chair behind her, her tunnel gown followed a moment later.  She drew the cotton shirt over her head and rolled the voluminous sleeves up to her elbows.  The front opened up to below her bellybutton and had only two ties, one at the top edge, the other midway down.  Much better.
             She glanced around the chamber then, wishing he were here with her.  Her gaze caught sight of his black cloak near the chamber entrance and she walked over to it as if mesmerized, imagining him within it.  When she reached the hanging garment she leaned against it, burying her face within its heavy folds.  She rubbed her cheek against wool and leather, deeply breathing in the scents there; candle smoke and his own unique, musky aroma.  She was lost in the fantasy completely now, feeling him with her in some hazy, indefinable way.  Her arms slipped between the cloak and the rock wall as if to hug him to her.  The fabric draped along her length and she rubbed her breasts lightly against its enticing folds.  Their tips, aching and sensitive, tightened at the feel of that seductive, familiar weave, and her hands pressed upon them, pushing the cloak against her yearning flesh strongly, as if she would draw it into herself.  The pain within her had been forgotten for that precious moment, but it reasserted itself now, gripping her as if in a vise.  Her hands slid down from her breasts to wrap around her belly as she doubled over.
             Suddenly she felt strong hands upon her, lifting her up to hold her close.  She couldn't help herself then, turning in his arms to press her breasts against the muscled expanse of his hard chest.  She rubbed against him shamelessly, seeking to assuage the pain she felt in the aching fullness there.
             Vincent stood still in indecision.  He had felt the tumultuous swing of her emotions over the last few minutes, felt the increasing pain broken only by those moments when her thoughts had turned to him, her desire pushing all else aside.  Finally he turned towards the bed, pulled the quilts back and laid her down on the cool sheets.  She curled up in a ball facing him, a whimper pulled from deep within her at his absence of his arms about her.
             "Vincent..."
             "Shhh, Catherine.  I won't leave you."  His voice was husky and low.
             He looked down at her searchingly, recognizing for the first time the nightshirt that she wore.  It floated like a cloud around her, making her look almost like a child wrapped within its folds.  But the cotton was thin, almost translucent, leaving the shadowy outline of her body visible to him and what he felt for her now held nothing of child-like innocence.  He was consumed instead with a fierce need to alleviate her pain and to assuage his own.  And deep within him a voice whispered of a way that could be done.
             Finally his stillness broke.  He kicked off his boots, and undid the heavy, ornate overbelt girding his hips.  It dropped to the carpet with a muted thud.  He moved about the chamber quickly then, putting out all but the one candle behind the stained glass inset at the far side of his bed.  The room was quiet and dim now, only his outline plain to her from the other side of the chamber.  Then he was moving towards her and her heart could not be stilled.  Halfway across that small expanse his hands raised up to strip off his over-sweater, leaving only one layer -- his white thermal shirt -- covering his chest.  She gasped in response to that virile sight.
             When he reached the bed he did not pause, sinking down to lie facing her.  He pulled the quilts up until they were covered completely, cocooned within a warm, hollowed space, the two of them alone, together.  He pushed against her shoulder until she found herself turned with her back to him.  Then both hands were moving upon her, massaging the tensed muscles there as he had earlier at the falls.  Only now she felt a certainty filling her -- he would not stop as he had before.  She gave in to the rising sensation, a sigh whispering out through the darkness.
             Vincent opened himself to the bond completely, moving into the channel connecting them with a conscious intent he had never before allowed.  There was a strong physical sensation associated with this action, the thread of their bond tighter and tauter as he approached the entity at the other end.  Catherine.
             He pushed against the tightness there, determined that she should feel the bond now as he did always.  He felt her response, both within and without, as he moved strongly along the bond.  Her muscles quivered under his hands and he felt a vibrating convulsion along their connection.  It welcomed him and drew him on to the very center of her.  He pushed deeper and she moaned in response.
             Liquid heat filled her, pulsing within her veins to surge to her farthest reaches until she was drowning in it.  She felt the bond now in a way she never had before, with the possible exception of that very last time two weeks ago.  But now his power was held in check, leaving her a degree of rational thought with which to observe and participate.  Right now all she wanted was to feel -- feel him filling the bond in ever expanding waves as he moved towards her, feel the connection between them stretching and opening to lead him to her.  She gasped as he moved to touch her completely, every corner of the bond filled with his presence, sure and strong.  What happened next stunned her with its raw power.  He gave one final strong push and the bond surged open on her end.  She fell into it, pulled deep within to mix and twist with Vincent in a rapturous symphony of love and desire.  The erotic sensations were overwhelming, astonishing.  The pain was gone completely now, displaced by a pleasure that was almost unimaginable in its breadth and scope.
             Vincent!  She didn't know if she said his name aloud or only thought it along the bond.  It was irrelevant really, she knew he heard.
             She called out to him and he pulled her close, curving his taut length against hers.  He felt everything now, the dual sensations of the bond and her body against him.  Within the bond they were experiencing a delight he had never expected, even given what had come before.  And there was more now, so much more.  He felt her soft, quivering curves pressed against him through the light cotton shirt she wore...his shirt.  The pain was almost gone now, but he still felt some last vestiges of it along her muscles.  His hand slid down from where it rested at her waist to stroke along the front of her thighs, pushing away the last evidence of the pain that had consumed her throughout the day.  His other arm slipped between the curve of her waist and the mattress to wrap around her hips, holding her still and close against him.  Finally his stroking hand moved upwards to cup her slightly rounded belly.  He caressed her softly there, then suddenly tightened his grip as he pushed his hips up against her firm, round softness.  They both groaned loudly at that full, lusty contact, moving together to quench the ache growing in them both.
             Oh, the feel of him!  She had waited so long for this.  Waited so long for him to show her his passion, his need for her.  She knew how he had feared that, how he had dreaded this moment.  And she gloried now in his triumph as he trusted her with his deepest needs.
             That was her last conscious thought before logic was drowned completely by emotion.  The maelstrom encompassing them quickened, pulling them together closer and tighter until she felt utterly surrounded and filled by him and he felt her holding him within, her caressing length a heavenly end he had searched for all his life.  The streaming vortex spun out of control, flinging them off to some star-filled horizon in an agonizing burst of flaming lights.  She cried out his name, her own reverberating through her ears, his voice hoarse and rough.  His arms tightened about her as he strained against her, the pulsing within matched by their quivering, rapture-filled bodies.  Waves of pleasure pounded through them for what felt like an eternity, then slowly receded.  The flickering lights gradually winked out and faded to black, until there was nothing.  They sank into it willingly, gratefully, the dark, watery depths a welcoming haven to their weary souls.  They rested together now in blissful peace for the first time in two weeks.

             She woke abruptly to the dim light of his chamber, the backlit glow of the decorative glass their only illumination.  They lay wrapped together, their limbs entwined, her cheek pressed against his chest.  She lay still for a moment, concentrating on the magical combination of hard, muscled strength and soft, silky downiness she felt so clearly through the single layer of his thermal shirt.  Under that, comforting and sure, his heart beat slowly and evenly.  The pounding sensation of it earlier this evening came back to her then, and she smiled at that contrast.  They were no longer within the bond as they had been hours before, but she felt him now in a way she never had.  He was sleeping deeply, contentment and satiated satisfaction filling him.  She turned her attention inward, noting the symptoms which always woke her in the middle of the night at this stage of her period.  She pulled gently away, disentangling their limbs slowly while sending soothing waves through the bond to him.  She slipped over him and went to the table where her clothes lay stacked.  She rummaged through her coat pocket and found what she needed.  Pulling on her tunnel robe, she headed out in search of the nearest facilities.
             On her way back she paused besides the entrance to the guest chamber, wondering if she should spend the rest of the night there.  It would probably be best if she didn't press her luck.  No...she wanted to wake with Vincent in his chamber.  She hadn't had near enough of his arms around her, his hands against her, their emotions twisting together through the bond.  She turned and continued on to his chamber.
             Once there she stood in still silence for several long minutes watching him sleep.  He lay on his back now, close to the edge of the bed.  One arm was flung up over his head, the other lay across his chest, as if he still held her there.  She watched the slow, deep rise and fall of his chest, mesmerized by the subdued power resting there.  Her eyes traced upwards, along the strong column of his throat, exposed completely now to her avid gaze.  His face was turned slightly towards her, his mouth open just enough for her to see the gleaming tips of his sharp teeth.  She slipped her robe off, throwing it carelessly towards a chair, then walked forward slowly, drawn inexorably by that lusty sight.  When she reached the side of his bed she slid under the covers and slowly, carefully, eased across him, trying to move to the far side of the bed.  She was halfway there when his head turned towards her, his mouth opening to draw in a deep, searching breath.  Though he still seemed deeply asleep, Catherine was suddenly certain that he was fully aware of her presence.
             A moment later and her suspicions were confirmed.  His arms swept up to pull her body down to his, even as he rolled over to pin her beneath him with his heavy weight.  He buried his face in the hollow of her throat, breathing her scent in deeply, the eroticism of his actions stunning her, despite all that had happened so recently.  His mouth moved over the sensitive skin of her throat and collar bones with a slow, steady pace, moving inexorably lower.  His hands had been circling her waist and back, but now one slid around her waist and up across her abdomen, its goal plain.  He paused momentarily to gently stroke one breast through the thin cotton, then moved further upward to unlace the tie at the throat of her nightshirt.  He traced her silky skin with the barest tips of his fingers and sharp nails until they reached the second and last tie, just above her bellybutton, undoing that one, too.  Catherine shook as if in a windstorm, his touch so light it might only have been imagined.  But she couldn't doubt this, not now.
             His hand slid down to rest upon her fully, palm flat upon her belly.  He was warming her inside and out in ever expanding waves of pleasure.  Slowly he stroked upwards until he reached the center of her chest, then slid outwards, pushing the shirt open to fully expose her left breast.  Her nipple contracted tightly at that passing brush of his palm and the cool air of the tunnel chamber.  That coolness disappeared as his palm slid back to cover and cup her completely.  His fingers moved upon her slowly, reverently, holding her still as his mouth moved downward against the silky flesh of her chest.  She held her breath tightly, her heart pounding wildly, until finally his hand slipped away to be replaced by the liquid heat of his mouth.  She couldn't contain the moan of ecstasy that shuddered through her.  Her hands came up to slip into his silky mane, holding him tightly to her.
             Vincent was encased in a deep dreamless sleep, aware of nothing but the comforting warmth of the entity beside him, the second half of his soul, the one that completed him as nothing else could.  That awareness shifted suddenly, and he moved restlessly, not sensing any danger, but wanting her back.  Then she was there, her seductive female scent surrounding him.  He moved instinctively to draw her close, tracing her silky flesh to taste and smell that elusive scent more fully.  He drew her softness into his mouth, suckling upon her as though to draw the deepest sweetness from her very essence.  The textures of her changed, tightened, and he pulled more strongly against her, the pleasure excruciating.  He felt a deep craving within her and moved instinctively to her other breast, tugging that yearning peak forcefully with lips, teeth and tongue.  Her scent was drifting over him in billowing waves and he groaned against her softness, his mouth tightening upon her in response.
             Oh god...  She had to make him stop, she had to, before he woke and retreated once more from her.  But oh, how she wanted him to never stop.  Wanted to feel his hands and mouth against her everywhere, his body cherishing hers with the deep passion she knew he was so capable of.  She couldn't contain the small cry that his caresses pulled from her, wanting to let go completely.  And she was so close, so close...
             But she kept a tight hold on the bond, determined that she not lose herself in it now.  She needed to stay in control, there was too much at stake.  She couldn't afford the deep sleep state that might result if she let go.  She couldn't risk Vincent waking up first and finding them like this, it would only strengthen the deep fears he still held about the thought of a physical relationship between them.  Oh, but if only she could hold the bond at bay, for just a few minutes more.
             And then she lost her train of thought as his body moved against hers strongly.  His legs wrapped around one of hers, her thigh pressed tight to his throbbing erection.  She gave a mewling cry at the sensations surrounding her, then gathered all her strength together in an attempt to pull away from him.  But at that movement his hold upon her tightened.  His arms crushed her to him, one curving tightly around her back and ribs, the other sliding down to cup her round fullness firmly.  He pushed his thigh between her legs, pressing upwards against her strongly.  He rubbed his swelling flesh against her with wild abandon, the pressure of his mouth increasing, the heat of him melting her in shimmering waves.  He arched against her suddenly, his mouth pulling away from her taut flesh as a moaning cry was pulled from deep within, his sharp teeth glittering in the pale light.  She felt the spasms of his body as if he were within her and her response was instantaneous and inevitable.  She cried out in rapture, holding him close until their convulsing bodies slowed and then stilled.
             She gasped for breath, the trembling of her muscles easing now until finally they relaxed entirely.  A sweet feeling of relief swept over her, leaving her empty and drained, and she stretched languorously beneath him.  His weight was heavy upon her, and at that small motion, ever attuned to her, he rolled to his side, pulling her along and keeping her close.
             These thoughts had been more shadow than substance at first, the sensations drifting through her lazily in the aftermath of her pleasure.  But they finally penetrated her foggy haze and her eyes widened in shocked dismay and trepidation.  She scanned his face urgently, then sighed with relief.  He still slept soundly, and somehow she was sure he'd never really awakened from the deep sleep the bond had enclosed them in after that first encounter earlier in the evening.  She watched him sleep for at least twenty minutes, enjoying the feel of his arms about her, their legs entwined.  Her nightshirt was pulled open completely, her bare breasts pressed tight against his strong chest.  Oh how she wished she could feel the naked silkiness of him!
             Finally she knew she could hold sleep off no longer.  She gently disentangled herself from him, straightened her cotton shirt and tied the laces.  She moved away from him slightly, but couldn't resist slipping one hand into his as she lay facing him.  She sighed happily, and within minutes drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*    *    *

             Vincent began to awaken, slowly, easily.  He was surrounded by a lazy contentment, letting it suffuse him completely as he swam upwards from the warm well of slumber enclosing him.  He blinked hazily, and his gaze immediately fell upon Catherine, asleep at his side.  She lay facing him, their tucked knees touching, her hand resting within his.  He sighed in utter happiness, certain there could be no greater joy than to wake to this sight.
             As he lay watching her, he let the hazy images of last night wash over him, experiencing the sensations once again.  As usual, it was impossible to separate the emotional and physical components of their bond experience.  But there was no doubt that the physical effect seemed stronger than ever -- perhaps an evolution of the expansion experienced over the bond during that critical time two weeks ago.  His eyes drifted shut and he felt those touches over his body once more.  Felt the soft length of her against him, the taste and scent of her strong in his mind.  He had to clench his jaw to stop the moan building in him at the recollection of those powerful memories, stunned at the intensity compared to their earlier experiences with lovemaking through the bond.  He had an almost irresistible urge to slip his hand within her nightshirt and caress her gently, his hand actually disengaging from hers and reaching towards her before he caught himself in horror.
             He shook off those seductive images, pulled away from her and slipped from the bed.  He stared down at her for a few moments, then turned to his wardrobe.  He found a clean change of clothes, pulled his cloak on and headed out towards the bathing pool he shared with Father -- though in his thoughts he would never again see it as anything but hers, the image of her there last night burned forever in his mind.
             Once in that chamber he hastily discarded the clothes he'd slept in and slipped into the warm water.  He washed quickly and shampooed his hair, then couldn't resist lying back to soak, his thoughts turned once again to the vision of her here and the shared ecstasy of last night.  Without thought his hand rose to lightly stroke across the silky expanse of his chest.  He wasn't really aware of that action, feeling instead Catherine's warm caress there.  His fingers delved through the downy covering to stroke against his nipples, and he couldn't contain a low moan as his body responded to that whispered touch.  That sound drew him out of his daydream and he glanced anxiously about him, unutterably relieved that Father, or heaven forbid, Catherine had not wandered in.  He sighed heavily, knowing it was impossible, but wishing it were not -- to feel Catherine's hands upon him in such a tender caress.
             But relaxation was beyond him now.  He couldn't trust the direction his thoughts would take if he let his guard down here, in even this relatively private place.  He left the pool, dried off and dressed quickly, all his senses turned toward the passage that led towards his chamber.  When he left he took Father's exit, a short-cut to William's kitchen.
             Father was nowhere in sight and Vincent suspected he might yet be sleeping.  William was already hard at work though, preparing the scrumptious brunch that was typical in the tunnels on Sunday mornings.
             "Good morning, Vincent.  Is Catherine feeling better today?"
             Vincent didn't need to check through the bond to answer that one.
             "Yes, she is, thank you, William.  Still, I believe she'd like some of your special tea this morning.  May I have a pot?"
             "Of course!"  He turned away to fill a tea ball with the fragrant blend, deftly slipping it into a large steaming kettle.  "And tell her there'll be fresh bread and muffins with breakfast today, along with a whole lot of other good things.  We've got to fatten that girl up!"
             "I don't think there's any doubt as to her liking for your food, William.  We'll probably be the first ones in line.  Can I help you with anything?"
             "No, you go on and take care of Catherine.  My crew's got everything under control."
             He turned away for a moment to pour some of the tea into a smaller, china teapot and returned with it upon a tray, along with two mugs and a plate with two slices of warm bread thickly coated with honey butter.
             "Just to tide her over until breakfast."  The burly man grinned and gave him a wink as he passed the tray.
             "Thank you, William."
             A few minutes later Vincent entered his chamber and set the tray on the small bedside table.  Catherine still slept, though he could feel through the bond that she was on the verge of waking.  The wafting scent of tea filled the chamber and he watched her closely as she reacted to that spicy scent, the bond slowly releasing her from slumber.  But his strong senses were picking up another odor now; the seductive, musky smell of them both, rising from the bed in voluminous waves.  He flushed darkly, amazed that he'd been so oblivious to it earlier.  The only explanation he could think of was that he had woken immersed in that disheveled state himself, not really noticing it until now, when the scent and memory came back again so strongly.
             He knew then that he should leave, but Catherine was truly waking now, and it was too late.  He gritted his teeth and wrapped his control tightly about him, wishing he hadn't dropped his cloak over the chair on the way in.
             "Mmmm, Vincent.  Is that William's tea I smell?"
             He swallowed hard at her words, his senses completely consumed now by that other absorbing scent.
             "Yes, Catherine.  And William sent some of his fresh bread with honey butter too, though he'll be expecting us for brunch this morning."
             She was fully awake now, images of them together flooding over her.  She smiled shyly, pulling herself up to sit against the headboard and drawing the quilts up along with her.  Vincent reached behind her to pull some pillows up, making a cozy nest for her there.  She held her breath as his damp hair brushed against her cheek and throat, visions of last night almost overwhelming her.  She tightened down on the bond, hoping against hope that those later events would be only a hazy, vague memory of a bond dream for him.  She spoke rapidly then, trying to keep him distracted from any reflection on the hours past.
             "I'm sure he knows I'd never miss his Sunday brunch if I can help it.  I wonder if he'll have fresh muffins today?"  She mused that question almost to herself, not really expecting an answer.
             Leaning close to adjust her pillows had been a mistake.  A moment before he had been aware of the complex mix of their combined scents.  Now, so close to her, her own unique scent came through pure and strong.  He pulled back, trying frantically to distract himself from the enticing waves surrounding him, but instead that only brought into focus the image of her in his thin cotton nightshirt.  She had pulled the quilts up to tuck them under her arms as she sipped her tea, but the outline of her shoulders and arms was plain to him, and powerfully seductive, despite the overall innocence of her appearance.  Desperation suddenly filled him.  He had to get out of here, now, before he was lost...lost in her scent and lost in her.  He mumbled some vague excuses about needing to see Father before breakfast and left the chamber with more haste than grace.  Catherine stared out after him, wondering how he would react if he remembered what had occurred between them in the depths of the night.

*    *    *

             Vincent sought out his chamber immediately upon returning from the threshold.  He had barely entered it when the sensual scent of he and Catherine together assailed his nostrils once again.  He stopped short, his gaze drawn inexorably to his bed, the quilts and sheets a tangled mess.  He stood frozen by the entrance for several minutes, then resolutely turned and left, grabbing a lantern on the way.  He left it, unlit, at the end of the side passage that led to his chamber, then returned.  In those few seconds he had let loose the memory of last night; the images and sensations washing over him once again.  A feeling of almost decadent indulgence swept through him as he immersed himself in those visions.  He pulled off his clothes and crawled into bed, the scents there encompassing him completely.  Drawing the blankets up about him fully, he was cocooned with the heat and passion that had consumed them last night.  Those sensations were amazingly physical.  They pulled at him with a stunning strength, but for now he concentrated on the kiss they had shared just twenty short minutes ago.

             It had been almost noon by the time they had left the dining hall, their time there filled with fellowship, relaxation and last but not least, good food.  William stopped by their table continuously, plying Catherine with his delicious breakfast fare until it seemed she had tried everything at least twice.  At some point she had cast a chagrined smile in Vincent's direction, explaining that it would hurt William's feelings if she refused.  He had agreed with her immediately, passing along a basket of fresh pastries that rested to his right, outside her reach.  She had blushed beet red at that teasing response, but that hadn't stopped her from taking another strawberry danish.  He waited politely until she'd made her selection, then took an apple one for himself.  She'd bent a wicked grin in his direction then, and it was his turn to blush.
             They had left for the threshold immediately after brunch.  Catherine was anxious to get caught up before Monday.  She didn't go into detail, but Vincent knew that she'd been unable to concentrate during their separation, especially last week.  He suspected she had fallen farther behind than she cared to think about.  As with the previous twenty-four hours, they scrupulously avoided any discussion on that separation, or where they would go from here.  It was enough that they were together now.  Vincent knew he had to address this, at least within himself, but he couldn't get beyond the pleasure they'd shared last night, how her pain had fled until ecstasy consumed them utterly.
             Though they had spoken idly of numerous things on their lazy walk to the threshold, once there they fell silent.  He didn't want her to go, but could never say that, not after how he had behaved during the last two weeks.  And despite the fears that had filled him just a few hours before in his chamber, he had a desperate urge to hold her close again, to kiss her and never stop.  But he didn't do that either.  He stood frozen in indecision, anxiety filling him at the specter of yet another separation, though he knew this one would be as short as he could reasonably contrive.
             While he hesitated, torn between what he craved and what he feared, Catherine took the initiative.  She moved into his arms, wrapping her own tightly about his waist beneath the folds of his cloak.  He drew in a ragged breath at that action.  He was usually very careful to slip his arms about her waist first, so that he had the ultimate control over how much contact occurred between them.  Now she was pressed up tight against him and he couldn't ease that distance, short of pushing her away from him.  And he couldn't do that, he absolutely couldn't.
             Catherine snuggled against him and his body tensed, all his strength focused on the control necessary for this close contact.  He'd allowed a degree of physical intimacy last night which stunned him now, in this more rational state.  Though, as always, the details were hazy and indistinct, he was quite certain that most of their sensations had been generated within the bond, as they had in the past.  Still, he clearly remembered letting their full lengths touch, allowing her to feel his body's desire for her -- something he had fought against constantly in the past.  But this was different.  They stood in the open now, full consciousness upon them, and again he was filled with trepidation at how she might respond to this part of his need he was so uncomfortable with.
             Just when he thought he'd have to pull away from her, she slid her hands around his waist and began a slow journey up his chest.  He was lulled into a momentary state of relaxation then, grateful for the slight distance now between them.  Her hands moved slowly, gently, smoothing over the soft wool of his sweater.  He closed his eyes, letting her tender touch drift over him, a well of emotions rising in him -- a strange blend of contentment and excitation.  Her hands moved beyond his chest to trace the strong column of his throat with the tips of her fingers, stroking gently along the smooth flesh there.  When they reached his jaw, her hands stroked outward to cup his face in her warm palms.  He trembled at those erotic caresses, but stayed still, his eyes closed.  Then her fingers were moving along the planes of his face, touching and tracing every furrow and feature with a loving exploration that made him want to weep.  He felt the joy within her, felt her happiness that he was allowing this touch.  He was amazed at her response, stunned that these small touches could mean so much to her.
             Finally she began to stroke along his lips; the smooth, full lower one and the silky clefted upper one which held so many unsuspected sensations.  He couldn't stop the shudder that ran down him at that first tentative touch, his lips parting helplessly to begin a panting that he couldn't contain.  She moved slowly, caressing and tracing him without yet delving within the sensitive cleft.  He held his breath in anticipation of her touch and was shocked when, instead of that, she slipped one finger into his mouth.  She traced the tender tissue of his inner lips first, then moved along the edges of his gleaming teeth, staying longest at the pointed tips of his deadly incisors.  His mouth dropped open further at that touch, the panting now harsh and gusting.  She slipped deeper within his mouth until she found his tongue, stroking that luxurious flesh until he was helpless to withhold his response.  His tongue curled around her, drawing her deeper yet within the hot cavern of his mouth.  He suckled strongly, feeling a strange sense of deja vu mix with the passion rising in him.  One hand reached up to grasp her wrist, stopping any question of retreat, though she never made a move in that direction.  His other arm swept around her waist, drawing her closer to his trembling body.  His arm slipped a little lower against her hips, then pulled her tightly upwards and in to press strongly against his growing arousal.  She moaned loudly at that sensation, moving against him helplessly, passion filling them and spinning out of control.
             At that sound, and the realization of what was happening between them, Vincent exerted all his will, pulling her hand from his mouth and loosening the grip he had on her waist.  Catherine whimpered at that withdrawal and he stared down into her yearning eyes.  The lines and planes of her face were taut with desire, with her need for him.  He drew in a deep breath then pulled her back to him as his mouth sought hers in a timeless kiss which contained all his love and desire for her.  Their tongues twisted together with wild abandon for what seemed like an eternity.  Back and forth the kiss swung between them.  When he probed the depths of her mouth with his searching tongue she drew him deeper still, sucking upon his questing flesh until he thought he'd die with the ecstasy of it, his erection swelling and pulsing against her rounded belly as he ground himself against her.
             He held her tightly to him, for once oblivious to his fears and concerns.  Then he pulled his tongue away from hers, sliding it along her silky lower lip in what might have appeared a retreat had it not left his upper lip so achingly open to her tender caress.  He heard her groan deep in her throat, then she was licking and suckling against that silky flesh, her objective plain.  She slid within that secret spot, driving him to distraction with the deep caresses of her tongue and mouth.  His thoughts spun away like dandelion clouds on a breeze, nothing left within him to resist her.  'More, Catherine, more...'

             The memory of those intimate touches swept over him again full strength.  Vincent writhed on the bed, his body throbbing with his need of her.  Don't stop, Catherine, don't ever stop...  The scent of them rose up around him, pulling him deeper into the dream until he didn't know where reality ended and fantasy began.  He had pulled back from the brink at their threshold, easing them down from the passion enfolding them, knowing instinctively the dangers inherent for them in that place, neither Above nor Below, but at the public juncture between their worlds.  But he could not do so now.  The fire burning through him could no longer be contained. It smoldered and grew until it burst from within, the ecstasy a searing flame that consumed him until there was nothing left but ashes.  A long while later, from the warmth of those flickering embers, he drew back towards the light.  He found himself whole and complete, born again within the shining purity of their love.

*    *    *

             Catherine lay in bed staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.  It had happened again, just as it had a month ago.  Vincent had left to 'finish up some final details' on level F two days ago.  Late last night he had come to her through the bond, his presence filling it and her until there was room for nothing else.  And just as it had happened thirty days ago, that frenzied lovemaking was followed inevitably by a deep, dreamless sleep.  Luckily it was Saturday today, and she relaxed, certain that Joe at least wouldn't be calling.
             Despite the anxiety and separation that followed that event last month, Catherine felt certain Vincent would not allow the same to happen now.  The loneliness and grief they'd both suffered, and the guilt that had overwhelmed him at her own pain, wouldn't allow a repeat of that.  That awful two week separation had finally ended when her period had begun and she was wracked by another sort of pain.  Vincent had brought her Below and taken care of her, their evening together culminating in one of the most sensuous and erotic bond episodes they had ever shared.  And it hadn't ended there, though she kept that secret close to her heart, knowing he wasn't yet ready for this part of it.  She had awakened from the deep sleep, drawn by the internal rhythms she was conditioned to heed during that time.  He hadn't awakened, but he had definitely been aware of her presence.  Even asleep, he responded to her with all the passionate depths of his being.  He touched her and kissed her, this time truly in the physical reality, not only within their bond.  His touches had overwhelmed her completely.  She had meant to make him stop, beginning to feel guilty for taking advantage of his vulnerable state, but his mouth had found her breasts then, and she was absolutely incapable of stopping.  Before it could go any farther they were engulfed by a sweeping orgasm, their bodies pressed tight and throbbing together.  So far as she could tell he didn't remember that episode, and she had no intentions of telling him of it, at least not yet.
             That had been two weeks ago, and there had been no enforced separation since then, with the exception of the last few days.  Just before he had left he told her he would be back by Saturday afternoon or evening, though she could have figured that out for herself.  He always stayed away for three days, the crucial twenty-four hour time period blanketed by an extra day on either side, just to make sure.  Catherine was quite certain he still didn't suspect that she was aware of the connection between his disappearances into the lower levels and the ovulation time of her cycle.
             It was almost noon now and she still lay in bed dreamily replaying the exquisite sensations of last night.  Finally she bestirred herself and got up to shower.  She couldn't wait to see him again.

*    *    *

             "Catherine."
             She jumped at that unexpected voice, whirling around to stare towards the entrance of Vincent's chamber.  She had arrived just minutes before and had immediately sought out this place, anxious to be among his things, if she couldn't be with him.
             "You startled me, Mouse!  Are you looking for Vincent?  Is he back yet?"
             Mouse shook his head wildly, the flashlights attached to the cap at either side of his head bobbing and flickering in response.
             "Not yet.  Soon.  Just sent a message through Pascal.  Ellen sent me."  He held out a bundle of clothes and Catherine took them, feeling strangely housewively.  She brought them over to his wardrobe and began to separate the clothes into drawers.  She'd never done that before, but somehow it felt right to her now.  Her mind had begun to wander as she smoothed the fabrics, imaging him within them.  Mouse's voice brought her back to reality yet again.
             "Catherine's waiting, for Vincent."  He said this with a wise air, as if he alone could divine the inner workings of their relationship.  She couldn't help smiling at the simple truth of his words.
             "Yes, Mouse.  I'm waiting for Vincent."  I'll always wait for Vincent.  "Do you think it will be long now before he returns?"
             "Not long.  Two hours, maybe three.  Way is simple, just follow the chalk, can't get lost."
             Now she was confused.  "Follow the chalk?  What chalk?"
             "Chalk on the wall.  Always mark the wall.  It's the rule, Father says.  Don't mark, big trouble.  Mouse knows."
             He was nodding wisely again, and Catherine could easily guess how Mouse came by that knowledge.  But suddenly the mirth filling her was forgotten as an idea took hold.  A very fine idea.  Vincent would be up shortly, Pascal had received a message.  And he wouldn't come up unless it was safely beyond her time.  Unless there was an emergency of course, and she could see no sign of that.  She was filled with nervous energy, and had suddenly been presented with the perfect way to work it off.  She would meet him halfway.  Mouse had said the way was simple, and she knew it wasn't far; only about two hours even if he hadn't yet started up.  Yes.  Her mind was made up.  She would surprise him.
             "Mouse, where does the chalk trail start?  Can you show me?"
             "Course.  Mouse knows everything.  Come on."
             Catherine grabbed her flashlight, certain Mouse wouldn't be willing to give up one of his, and ran to catch up with him.
             He led her through the main hub until they came out near the outer perimeter on the other side.  She recognized this area -- it was near where she and Vincent had lit the candles and strewn lilacs in Kanin and Olivia's new chamber.  They stood in a 4-way tunnel juncture.  The path to her left led to Kanin's, the one to the right to a park entrance, the one behind would lead them back to the hub, and ahead of her...ahead of her lay the way to Vincent, of that she was certain.  She shone her flashlight along the walls and easily spotted the chalk marks on the right side.
             "Wait here, for Vincent?"
         It was more of a question now than when he'd asked it before, back in Vincent's chamber, but he smiled shyly, sure that was her intent.  She was about to tell him of her plan to meet him halfway, but changed her mind, afraid that he might offer to keep her company.
             "Yes.  I'll wait here, for Vincent.  Thanks for showing me this, Mouse.  I'll probably see you at supper."
             "Sure?  Can wait with you.  Play hopscotch.  Mouse has chalk too!"  He pulled a chunk of yellow chalk from his pocket and set about to sketch out a hopscotch grid.  Catherine had a sudden image of them hopping and jumping about down here and had to stifle a giggle.
                 "Mouse?  Could we do it another time?  I'd like to be alone while I wait for him.  Do you mind?"  She held her breath anxiously, hoping she hadn't hurt his feelings.
             "No problem.  Mouse likes to be alone sometimes too.  Especially when Father's mad.  Alone's very good then."  He rolled his eyes and grinned at her.  "See you later, Catherine." 
            He waved and headed back towards the hub.  She watched until he'd disappeared around the far bend, then turned and looked down the marked trail.  She closed her eyes and slowly tightened down on the bond.  She hoped it was enough to keep him unaware of her approach without worrying him.  She stood silently for several minutes locking those numbed feelings into place, then headed down.

             The walk had been pretty mundane so far.  She passed a few places that looked vaguely familiar during the first hour, but nothing she recognized outright.  This area was nowhere near the deeper areas they had visited together; the great hall, the chamber of the winds and the chamber of the falls.  Still, Mouse had been right -- it was a very simple trail, and she felt no hint of danger.  Perhaps she would get to see the underground river that ran through the area they were working in.  Of course that would only happen if she made it to the work site before Vincent had started up.  Still, she'd been walking for an hour and a half now and it couldn't be much further.  Though she was terribly anxious to see Vincent, she was now also quite excited about making it down to this new area unassisted.  But she kept those emotions carefully muted, still intent on surprising him with her arrival.
             The next forty minutes flew by, and before she knew it she entered a gaping, cavernous chamber, the air there filled with an eerie whistling and rushing sound.  The wall to her left disappeared, and flashing her light that way she jumped back in surprise, stunned to see the sudden drop-off falling down to the dark river some twenty feet below.  The walkway was much narrower in this cavern, perhaps only four feet wide.  But it didn't seem dangerous and she proceeded cautiously ahead.

             "Catherine?"
             Vincent was about three miles from the work site, exploring that side path he'd wandered along a month before.  He was checking out a small cave-like opening when he felt Catherine's surprised response through the bond.  It was there for only a moment, and then it was gone.  She hadn't really felt frightened or threatened, just surprised.  But it was the strength of her emotion that caught him off guard.  For that small moment he had felt as if she was very close to him -- physically nearby.  But that was impossible.
             He scanned the bond closely, but found nothing to worry about.  Still, perhaps it was best he go up now and make sure everything was all right.  The events of last night were strong in his mind, but he refused to give in to the despair that had overwhelmed him last month.  Catherine had felt pleasure with him, he’d felt that clearly then and this morning when he had finally wakened.  He wouldn't close her out, as he had done before.  He turned and began his way back towards the new chambers.  He had made this trip alone, the normal 'buddy system' rules not applying since there was no rock work remaining.  He would make one last check on everything there, then head back up to the home tunnels, back to his friends and family, back to Catherine.

             Catherine had been walking along that narrow passage of the river cavern for only a few minutes before she noticed a light up ahead.  It seemed to be about a hundred yards off.  She picked up her pace, suddenly certain she had reached the newest chambers.  The light got brighter as she approached and within minutes she had reached its source.  A small chamber opened in the wall to her right.  The light came from a torch resting in a niche inside the room.  One quick glance confirmed that it was the way-station.  It was a small, cozy chamber, sparsely furnished.  She immediately recognized the furniture Mary had described; the table with two chairs off to one side, the rocking chair and side table near the bed, with the trunk resting at its foot.
             There was a ledge along one wall, hand carved by the looks of it.  It held two lanterns and several boxes of candles and matches.  Along the floor rested a large metal container -- probably the lamp oil, she thought, and a five gallon plastic container near a pail with a long rope tied to its handle, for water no doubt.  She was amazed they had gotten the furniture down this narrow path, especially the bed frame and mattress.  It must have been quite dangerous hauling anything of that size along this cavern's walkway.  Still, if anyone could accomplish such a feat, it was the tunnel dwellers -- they persevered where others would have thrown up their hands and quit.
             She left that chamber and went in search of the freezer storage and the bathing pool.  Just beyond the way-station she found a small side tunnel.  About twenty yards down it there was another chamber, this one unlit.  Her flashlight showed it to be the hot springs pool.  It was small, about six feet in diameter only.  She dipped her hand in the bubbling waters there and found it quite warm.  A strip of water-insoluble paint marked the entrance point to this pool, as was done on all the pools she'd seen Below thus far.  She glanced down and saw the topmost step/bench of the pool just below the water's surface.  Nothing was done by halves Below.
             Leaving that chamber she headed on in search of the freezer storage.  She walked about 100 yards but could find no other chamber.  Finally she gave up and headed back -- perhaps it was farther along the main trail of the cavern, somewhere closer to the river. When she reached the end of the side trail she turned right and moved along that narrow path in search of the ice chamber.  Suddenly a blast of cold air swept out at her from her right.  She swung away from it, flashing her light toward the black hole that yawned open there unexpectedly.  As she stepped back from it, she suddenly lost her footing.  She flailed wildly for a moment, realizing she had stepped too close to the drop-off.  She tried to regain her balance, but it was too late.  The flashlight flew out of her hand and she plunged over the edge, screaming Vincent's name once before she hit the cold, rushing waters.

             "Catherine!"
             There was nothing vague or uncertain about the emotions filling him now.  She was here, Below, and in desperate danger!  He raced through the tunnels, pulled towards her with unerring accuracy.

             The water was freezing, fast and deep.  She couldn't touch bottom and all her efforts were geared towards keeping her head above water as she was rushed downstream with a strength that filled her with fear.  There was no way to fight this, no way she could swim out of it.  She had to hope there would be something to grab onto, and soon, before her hands were completely frozen.  She tried to find some purchase along the drop-off wall, but it was so smooth, and the waters so fast.  And there was nothing else.  Nothing.
             "Vincent!"
             She'd been crying out his name for what felt like an eternity -- though in reality it had only been a few minutes -- now it came out as no more than a whimper.  But her mind screamed out to him and the bond rang with his urgent response.  He was coming, she could feel it clearly.  It almost seemed as if she could hear him calling her name, the bond opening fully between them during this desperate time.  Suddenly she realized she was hearing it not only through the bond, but close now, somewhere just ahead of her.  She heard a splash and a moment later felt his strong arms close about her, holding her tight.  She gave in then, her strength completely sapped.  She sagged against him and everything went dark.

             Vincent fought the current, searching desperately for a way out.  Ten long minutes passed in the freezing waters before he found his opportunity.  The waters ahead sounded choppier and more violent than what had been so far.  He swam as close to the river wall on their right as possible in hopes there would be something to grab onto soon.  The river had been rushing straight, but suddenly it took a swing to the left and he and Catherine were dashed against a rocky outcropping.  He reached out with a roar of anguish and held tight.  The waters pulled at him furiously, but he held on with all his strength, knowing this might be their last chance.  Little by little he pulled them closer to the wall until finally they were out of the major current and protected by a small group of boulders.  With his last ounce of strength he pulled them up the rocky wall.  It took another five minutes, but finally he lifted her over the edge and pulled himself up alongside her.  He chafed her hands and arms, trying to warm her, but she didn't respond.  Her breathing was shallow and harsh, her pulse rapid.  The freezing cold was stealing over him, draining his strength away, but he had to get her safe, had to get her warm.  He lifted her into his arms and headed quickly back up river, towards the way-station.
             Thirty minutes later they were there.  Without hesitation he stripped off her clothes and slipped her under the quilted comforter.  He went to the trunk and pulled out the remaining blankets and threw them over her.  A moment later and he too slid naked into the bed.  With the last of his strength he pulled her into his arms and joined her in deep and utter darkness.

             She was cold, so cold.  Images flew by her, some speeding so quickly they could not be held in her memory, others slowing and stopping until she fell within them and became one with them...
             Something was wrong.  What was it?  She couldn't separate the details, they were so mixed up.  Something was wrong with Vincent.  He was in a struggle...yes, a struggle with himself.  Why?  What was happening?  She felt the chaos, the tumultuous emotions, the internal conflict.  Somehow she knew they centered on him.  He was drawing her to him, then pushing her away.  Suddenly the focus changed and she was heading Below, deep into the bowels of the earth.  Why?  Why was she doing this?  Vincent.  Of course, she was following Vincent.  She drifted on when suddenly an urgency swept over her.  Hurry, she had to hurry.  Something was wrong.  She ran now, moving to where he was, deeper and deeper she went.  Out of the corner of her vision she could see the others, almost hear their voices; Mouse, Pascal, Jamie, Mary, Father...  Father.  What was he telling her?  Something about being Below, with Vincent.  It was confusing though, she couldn't decide if he meant to tell her she should be with him Below, or that she mustn't.  She brushed those whispers aside and went on.  She had to find Vincent.  Something was wrong...something was dreadfully wrong.  And then she heard him, heard the fierce growls from up ahead, around that far bend.  Hands reached out to pull her back, but she eluded them and went on.  She reached the curve and entered a huge cavern.  She couldn't see anything, and all she heard now was a rushing sound that filled her ears.  Vincent...Where was he?  A hazy whisper floated out and touched her somewhere deep inside.  She spun around frantically, searching through the dark for him.  Suddenly the ground disappeared from beneath her feet and she was falling...falling...
             "Vincent!"

             She sat up with a start, gasping for breath and perspiring profusely.
             "No...no!  Vincent!"
             Strong arms reached out and pulled her down.  Her heart began to slow its fluttering rhythm until finally she was calm again and fully awake.  They were in the way-station.  The torch had burned low and now only dimly illuminated the chamber.  Vincent held her tight, soothing her even as he slept.  And they were both naked.  The memory rushed over her then; the fall into the rushing river, and Vincent -- somehow he'd gotten them out.  The bedclothes were wet, either from the drenching waters of the river or the sweat now streaming off her.  But Vincent wasn't sweating, his skin felt like ice.
 She molded herself along his shivering body, desperately ignoring the masculine beauty of him, finally bare to her touch.  Her hands rubbed against his back and shoulders, willing the heat from her own body into his.  Finally she thought she felt a lessening of the cold.  His arms tightened about her and he burrowed along her length, seeking out the nooks and crannies of her body to rest against.  His thigh slid between hers and his chin nestled against her neck, his face buried in her hair.
             Catherine shuddered strongly, the dream of a moment before pushing insistently at her.  It obviously had to do with her trek Below this day, and yet it had taken such complex twists and turns.  In it she could have sworn it was Vincent rather than herself who was in danger, at least that's how it started.  But it had ended with her own fall and she'd awakened before the dream had resolved itself.  It didn't matter, she knew how it had to end; Vincent would always be there for her, as he had this day.  In the dream the others had called her Below to be with him, but at the last minute Father had tried to persuade her not to go to him.  Why?  It was so confusing.
             But of course she had gone -- how could she not?  And there had been a danger, but it was vague and illusive, eluding her even now.  The river...it must have been the river.  Wait...  Perhaps that was only part of it.  Vincent's struggle with himself...  Could the changes they'd experienced over the bond during this last month be at the heart of that struggle?  He was certainly fighting it, giving in one moment, resisting it and her the next.
             Whatever the dream had been, it seemed to be over with now.  She felt all right, and she sensed that soon Vincent would, too.  He was still in a deep sleep, even her cries had not awakened him.  She should have been worried, but for some reason she wasn't.  Why?!  She concentrated fiercely on the bond, trying to determine if the strange certainty filling her came from it.  She sensed a growing current there, weak and slow at first, but now building and swelling.  It was strangely reminiscent of the power of the river just outside this chamber.  It grew in strength until it was no longer a whisper.  It roared through her with a sudden power that flamed along the bond, pushing it open and wide until she could sense every nuance of it, and she gasped in pleasure as she felt herself drawn within.  Vincent still slept, but he was responding to that force as well, his presence clear and strong in the bond.
             Vincent’s hold tightened upon her, his flesh now radiating heat.  His arousal was a living, breathing thing; his hands moved over her with a bold confidence while he nuzzled and nipped along the line of her throat, his erection pushed against her thigh, pulsing and strong.  She moaned in ecstasy as those sensations swept over her, the bond now joining in the swirling maelstrom surrounding them.  She rolled to her back and pulled him down to her with a strength she never knew she possessed.  His weight settled over her, an exotic blend of hard strength and downy softness.  She wrapped her legs high around his hips and felt the urgency of his need seeking entrance.  Slowly, surely he pushed against her yearning flesh until he was buried completely within her quivering, silky sheath.  She thrashed beneath him, crying out at the overwhelming eroticism of his actions, his flesh hard and throbbing, touching the deepest part of herself.  His groans turned to growls, filling the room and vibrating through her with a stunning virility that was somehow inexplicably linked to his pulsing flesh within her.  He held her tight and began to move in short, deep thrusts, barely withdrawing from her body.  He was hard and strong within her, filling her utterly.  A moment later she moaned deliriously as she felt his throbbing heat surge, swelling further yet.  She didn't know how she could take any more, but cried out to him, demanding everything.  She ground her pelvis tightly to him and bit down on the muscled flesh at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  His response was instantaneous, the growls escalating to a rushing roar that filled the chamber with an echoing cacophony of sound as his questing flesh filled her with his hot seed.  His response drove her own, no separation between them.  She screamed out his name and lunged against him wildly, the savage convulsions of her flesh eagerly devouring him.  Finally he collapsed, his weight heavy against her, his softening flesh pulsing weakly within her.
             For untold minutes she lay beneath him gasping for air, yet holding him tightly to her, the pressure upon and within her something she couldn't give up.  She was exhausted, her mind spinning with all that had transpired here.  There was no indication that he'd ever really awakened.  It seemed obvious to her now that his actions had been driven completely by instinct, the compulsion magnified by the growing current of the bond as it opened between them.  She tried to focus her thoughts, to think about what would happen now, how he would react.  But the trickling sensations she'd felt just before they'd made love were back again.  They were growing within her mind and soul, even as his flesh was growing once again within her body.
             Oh god...
             The trickling stream became a rushing river, sweeping all else aside.  He moved upon her again with a strength undiminished by what had come before.  She held him tight, crooning her love for him over and over again, the ecstasy radiating through her until there was nothing else.  Their climax was as before, stunning in its intensity, all-encompassing.  And still it was not over.  Once more the urgency filled them, and once more their bodies blindly sought completion.  Catherine's strength was utterly depleted now, and she lay still beneath him in a hazy rhapsody of agonizing pleasure.  His strength seemed endless, but finally their release swept over them in a rapturous burst of fiery flames.  It burned through them until the light was utterly consumed and there was nothing more, nothing left.  They sank together then into the deep, dark well of their bond.

*    *    *

             Catherine woke slowly, swimming upward through the drowsy haze enfolding her.  She felt empty and light, as if she'd never had a worry or concern in all the days of her life.  She sighed in contentment, easing more fully along Vincent's slumbering length.
             Vincent!
             She woke fully then, the memory of their lovemaking rushing over her with a blazing heat.  They lay on their sides, their arms wrapped around each other tightly.  Her leg was slung over his hip, the warm, soft weight of him resting intimately against her female flesh.  She had never in her life felt so open and satiated, so yearning and full.  The contrasting sensations somehow made complete sense to her, and she wasted no time trying to unravel their complex meanings.  She felt like she could stay here forever with him like this, their resting moments interrupted only by the lustful joining of their greedy bodies.  Even now, filled to over-flowing with the proof of his love, her strength utterly gone, she wanted him again.  She felt that desire begin to grow within the bond and he stirred against her, responding to her slightest wish.  She clamped down on her desire and on the bond, awareness surging through her of the potential risks of that action.  There was no assurance that Vincent would respond to this as she had, not given the almost hypnotic state that seemed to enclose him during those hours.
             Slowly, cautiously, she eased away from his heat, wanting desperately to be back again.  She sighed heavily and resisted that craving, slipping off the bed and gathering up her clothes.  They were strewn about the floor of the chamber, mixed with his and still quite damp.  She resolutely pulled them on and picked his up to drape them over the chairs in hopes of drying them a little more before he woke.  Glancing once more his way she found him still deeply asleep.  She took a candle from the rock ledge, lit it and left for the bathing chamber.
             Once there she stripped off her damp clothes and slid into the bubbling waters.  The last thing she wanted was to wash the scent and feel of him from her body, but she knew that evidence might only cause him further distress when he woke.  She wasn't going to take any unnecessary chances.  The warm water felt heavenly, but she stayed for only a few minutes -- she couldn't stand to be away from him for even that short length of time, not now.  The aftermath of their lovemaking was still fresh within her, the pull to him sure and strong.
             She went to the rocking chair when she entered the chamber and sat down to watch over him as he slept.  He was so beautiful...so beautiful.

             A dim light began to glow about him, the dark slowly pushing back by its growing force.  He blinked hazily and the way-station chamber settled dreamily about him.  He lay deep within the bedcovers, warm and comfortable, despite the dampness of the sheets twisting about him.  The memory rushed over him then of their perilous escape from death.  He hadn't stopped to dry either of them before pushing Catherine into bed and following himself.  If he hadn't been on the verge of collapse, he certainly would have, especially knowing how much water his hair and silky covering held.  But he hadn't been able to do any more than he'd done.  And he thought now it was all right, it had to be.  How else to explain this lazy warmth filling him.  The bond hummed lowly between them, telling him of Catherine's well-being and contentment.  His hand swept out to touch her and he jolted fully awake when he could not find her sleeping form beside him.  He sprang up frantically and immediately saw her sleeping in the rocking chair next to the bed.  His gasping breath and pounding heart slowed as the bond reasserted itself, pushing past his panic to reconfirm her steady presence.  Catherine...
             He glanced over and found his clothes hanging upon the other two remaining chairs.  He turned his attention towards her once more, reassuring himself that she was indeed asleep before he slid from the bed.  He grabbed his still damp clothes and dressed quickly, his gaze never leaving her.  Once dressed he eased back into a chair, watching her closely and monitoring her through the bond.  She was fine, he felt it clearly.  Her sleep was light but sound, no evidence of distress or discomfort within her.  His sigh was heavy with relief.  When they had finally escaped that river he'd been almost sure she was deathly ill.  The fear had overwhelmed him entirely, knowing they were too far down to get help.  The pipe system hadn't been expanded to this area yet so he couldn't even send for Father.  And there was no way he could have made the trek above, his own condition perilously weakened.  In fact he was astonished he felt as well as he did now.  He searched within himself, trying to determine how much time had passed, but it was impossible to tell.  How strange...
             Well, whatever time it was, it was long past his last meal, that much was certain.  He went to the trunk and removed a package of dried food and a mug.  He dispensed fresh water from the container on the floor and drank five glasses in quick succession -- he couldn't recall ever being this thirsty!  His thirst finally quenched, he moved back to his chair and opened the sealed bag -- it contained beef jerky.  At the first taste hunger surged through him in ravenous waves.  He finished off the bag in minutes, staring at the empty remains ruefully.  But his attention was quickly drawn back towards Catherine when he sensed her stirring through the bond.  He found her sitting as before, but now her eyes were open and she watched him calmly, a slight smile upon her face.
             She chuckled at his dismayed expression, the laughter evident in her voice when she spoke.
             "I hope there's more where that came from, I'm starving!"
             His smile answered her own, immeasurably relieved to see and hear so clearly the evidence of her well-being.  He didn't speak, his heart too full for words.  Instead he got up to pour out a mug of water.  He brought it back to her and she drank it without pause.  He got another, pulled a second bag of jerky from the trunk and returned.  She drank the second glass quickly and he poured out a third.  When he came back to her she was happily munching on the dried beef.  She smiled shyly up at him and gratefully accepted the water, sipping it slowly now.
             "Catherine, do you feel up to returning to the home tunnels?  We shouldn't stay down here any longer than necessary.  There are no pipes here yet, and I want Father to check you as soon as possible."
             "I'm fine, Vincent.  And you were in the water almost as long as I was.  How did you get us out?"
             "Pure luck.  We ran into a ragged edge of the wall, with some boulders along its side.  I was able to hang on and pull us up."  He watched her for a moment, suddenly silent and pensive.
             "Why did you come down here, Catherine?  Why did you block the bond?"
             She blushed at his words, suddenly feeling foolish and irresponsible.  She suspected she would hear more along those lines when they finally encountered Father.
             "I wanted to surprise you.  I came Below to wait and heard that you'd sent Pascal a message that you would be up soon.  The chalked trail seemed easy to follow and I didn't think it was so very far -- you and I have walked deeper into some areas of the tunnels.  I assumed I'd meet you somewhere along the way, but when I had been walking for about an hour and a half I got excited about seeing the new chambers.  I thought I was paying attention.  I guess I was wrong.  I'm sorry, Vincent, it was stupid of me.  I treated this unknown area as if it were just another part of the home tunnels.  I should have known better."
             Catherine hung her head in shame, truly contrite.  She had endangered herself and Vincent.  Only his amazing strength and speed had saved her from certain death.  But far worse than the thought of her own death was the knowledge of what that death would have done to him.  She swore then and there to herself never to risk that grief to him.  Never.  The shame was quickly displaced by relieved distress and she buried her face in her hands as sobs overwhelmed her.
             "Shhh Catherine.  Don't cry, please don't cry."
             He was at her side, his arms surrounding her.  She was lifted up and found herself seated in his lap, the rocking of the chair and his soothing voice and touch lulling her back from her tears.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into the wildness of his hair.
             "I'll never do this to you again, Vincent, never.  I promise."
             He didn't answer, but his arms tightened about her, pulling her closer to his hard strength.  They stayed that way for a long time, rocking together and holding each other tight.  Finally Vincent spoke.
             "We should go now, Catherine.  Are you ready?"
             "Yes."  She sighed against his throat, wishing they never had to leave this place.  But those other memories were perilously close now, and she shook them off resolutely.  She had worried about his response to their lovemaking, but it was apparent he didn't remember it at all.  Though she thought she had anticipated every possible reaction, she hadn't expected this.  She thought he would have assumed it was a dream at the very least, but she was sure he didn't.  His response to her hadn't indicated anything in that vein, and she was sure he couldn't hide it from her if there had been anything at all of those passion-filled hours in his mind.
             Catherine didn't know how she felt about this turn of events.  The only thing she knew for certain was that she couldn't allow herself to dwell on it, not here, not now.  She pulled herself from his lap and reached down to take his hand.  He stood beside her and they  turned to leave the chamber.  On the way out he took a lantern and extinguished the torch.
             Once outside they stood in silence for a moment, looking out over the wide, rushing river.  She could see the danger clearly now, the lantern at his feet casting a low illumination over this section of the cavernous hall.  She was lost in the reflections of what had occurred out there, what had almost occurred, when her thoughts were broken by the sound of his voice.
             "Catherine?"  His voice was husky and low, a strange quiver there that was so unlike the strong certainty usually evident in his tones.
             She turned towards him, one arm about his waist.  "What is it Vincent?"  He looked out over the river for a few minutes more, silent and strangely withdrawn.  "Tell me."
             "If anything ever happened to you, Catherine..."  He didn't finish that sentence, he didn't need to.
             The scenario she had envisioned so recently was still clear in her mind, the guilt a heavy reminder of the consequences she had almost made him bear for her foolish actions.
             "There are dangers all around us, Above and Below, I know that.  And I know that you may be in danger again.  I've accepted that possibility.  How could it be otherwise, living and working as you do?  I can live with that as long as I know that I can sense that danger, that I can do everything within my power to protect you."  He paused again, as if uncertain whether or not to continue.  Finally he did.
             "Promise me you'll never close the bond to me again.  Please."
             She felt the urgency of his plea, his stillness a cover for the fear within him as he waited for her response.  She knew how difficult this was for him, making this claim upon her life.  It was an intimacy he had never thought to allow between them, she was sure of that.  If only he knew of the greater intimacies waiting for them to share yet again...
             Her other arm came up around him to lightly rest at his waist, her face pressing tightly against his chest.  Her words were a low murmur, spoken against the weave of his sweater, but he heard them clearly, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close.
             "I promise, Vincent.  You're everything to me...everything."
             Her mind flew once again to the passion they had shared.  Suddenly a thought struck which hadn't occurred to her before.  Mouse had said that he would be returning soon.  She'd assumed from that the danger of conception was past, trusting more in Vincent's knowledge of her cycle than her own.  But their lovemaking had been strangely similar in sequence and intensity to the bond episodes they had shared while apart, both last night and the month before that.  What if...  Oh god...was it possible?!  Her arms tightened about him, holding him close.  Her next words, though phrased differently than he had grown to expect from her, were inexplicably comforting to him.
             "Whatever happens, Vincent, whatever comes...know that I love you."
             Vincent felt his emotions welling up within him and could find no words to respond to her emphatic claim.  Instead he tightened his hold upon her and nuzzled against her hair, pressing a warm kiss there.  Finally they turned and began the trek back up, towards home.

*   *   *
 

TO PART FOUR

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