Father’s chamber was filled with the discordant sounds produced by several musical instruments as the children in tuned up in final preparation for their evening concert. Seated at the top of the staircase that led to the book-filled loft, Vincent leaned forward and spoke close to Catherine’s ear.

"I promise – it does get better."

Smiling, she reached over and pressed his hand where it rested on his knee. "I hope that’s true because I’m beginning to understand why Pascal prefers the music in the Pipe Chamber."

"Then you enjoyed your day with him?"

Catherine heard the unspoken need in his voice and gently reassured him. "Yes, the time went by so quickly. It was fascinating, and although I know I have a long way to go, I think the practice really helped a lot. Were you surprised when you heard my message?"

"Yes, although I never doubted your ability to send one."

Puzzled by his response, she tilted her head to look up at him. "Then why were you surprised?"

He glanced at her and then shyly turned his head, hiding his expression behind a curtain of tawny hair. "Sometimes, Catherine, it’s a surprise when one of my dreams comes true," he whispered.

She tightened her grip on his hand. "If I could, Vincent, I would make all your dreams come true."

Her words drew his eyes to gaze steadily into hers. "You already do, Catherine. And I could wish for nothing more."

So filled with love for him that she could not speak, Catherine was content to lose herself in the simmering heat of his eyes. It was as if they were in a world of their own, and without conscious thought they began to lean closer together.

A hideous screech from somewhere below jolted them apart. "Geez, Eric, don’t do that! You’re gonna scare the whole audience away!"

"I’m sorry, Kipper," came the small, contrite voice as the younger boy wrestled with an unwieldy bow, nearly dropping his violin in the process. "I’ll be more careful."

"Aw, that’s okay. It took me a long time to get the hang of it, too," Kipper answered. "It gets easier after a while."

Vincent and Catherine smiled at each other as they settled back against the sturdy bookcase. "I think I heard that same sound earlier today when I was with Mouse," she commented.

"I didn’t know you had visited Mouse, too, Catherine."

She hesitated for a moment, remembering the way her visit with Mouse had begun. "I was going to tell you about it later. That noise Eric made sounded just like Arthur did when I dropped a wrench in his water bowl. I don’t think it would have been quite so bad, but he was about to take a drink at the time. And, actually, I think I may have screeched even louder than he did!"

Vincent chuckled. "It sounds as if you had a very full day."

"And I enjoyed every minute of it. It was especially nice having time to get to know Pascal and Mouse a little better. Pascal is one of your oldest friends, isn't he?"

"Yes, he was born in the Tunnels a year before I was found. You know that his father perfected the pipe communications system?" At her nod, he continued. "Pascal and I grew up together with Devin, Winslow, Rebecca, Olivia, Mitch… He has always been a good friend, someone to rely on and trust."

"I wish I had known you then," Catherine said with a wistful smile. "I’ll bet you were adorable."

"Adorable? I don’t think that’s true, but if you’d like, we can visit Elizabeth again one day, and I’ll tell you more about the history of our world that she has recorded in her paintings."

Her response was instantaneous and eager. "I’d love that, Vincent. I want to know everything about you."

He could not hide a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Everything, Catherine?"

"Yes!" Her whispered reply was at once fierce and tender. "Everything."

Further comment was cut short when from below them Father introduced the selections for the evening and the concert began. Moments later, Catherine sighed with pleasure and relief as Vincent slowly put his arm around her shoulders and gently eased closer to her. She reached up to stroke the silken-furred hand that clasped her shoulder and then leaned back to rest against the familiar strength of his chest. As she closed her eyes, she felt she had truly come home.

The various Tunnel dwellers who had crowded into Father’s study found themselves enjoying the children’s surprisingly skilled performance. This particular group had not been together long, and their desire to perform had been deemed somewhat premature. Many members of the community had attended the concert only to be courteous and encouraging. The children’s melodious success came as a relief and a pleasure to everyone, especially to the musicians themselves who grinned at one another when the first of their three selections was greeted with genuine applause.

"Look at their faces," Catherine whispered to Vincent. "I don’t think they expected to be this good!"

"No one else expected it either," he whispered back.

The second piece began, the Allegro from Mozart’s Concerto No. 3 in G Major. Catherine laughed softly and snuggled deeper into Vincent’s embrace, surprised – and infinitely pleased – that he had offered them this unprecedented pleasure. What would have been for others simply a casual and commonplace embrace, was for Vincent a very intimate gesture in a public setting. Once again, Catherine was deeply moved by his courage, and her heart was filled to overflowing with love for this unique man, love she knew would last forever.

Through their bond Vincent could feel the pulsing waves of Catherine’s emotions. Their strength renewed his belief that he had been right to take so great a risk. He had hesitated at first, even though he knew they both would welcome and delight in their embrace, recognizing in it a monumental step forward in their relationship. Yet he had found he could not entirely escape the sharp, insistent needles of old fear that pierced his resolve.

What would the others think, he worried. Would they be shocked, even repulsed if he dared touch Catherine so? And would their disgust, in turn, shame her? The cruel thoughts had taunted him ruthlessly until suddenly a vision of Stephen appeared in his mind’s eye and he remembered the boy’s smile as he offered a rose as Vincent’s gift to Catherine. The memory was followed swiftly by others – Pascal presenting a book of codes and a world of confidence; Samantha and Geoffrey including Catherine’s name on their Valentine party list with never a thought that she might not be there with them; Mary helping prepare the guest chamber, leaving a beribboned crocheted shawl spread across the bed where it would wait to embrace Catherine in warmth and welcome.

How could I have doubted their feelings, Vincent asked himself almost in shame. In so many ways my friends have shown that they believe in the love Catherine and I have for each other. This is a fear I need suffer no longer. And, he forced himself to admit, it is one I can no longer use as an excuse, a fortress to hide behind when all courage seems to elude me…

It had been that final confession that had at last given him the strength he’d needed to raise one slightly trembling arm to embrace Catherine, and then feel with deep relief and joy her immediate response as she snuggled happily against him. During their time together, Vincent had always known Catherine welcomed his embrace. And now he reveled in the flood of emotions he felt pouring over him through their bond – the pleasure, serenity, and even pride with which she greeted his lovingly demonstrative gesture. Without words her voice rose above all others and told him what he yearned to hear.

Lost in his thoughts, Vincent was unaware that he had closed his eyes and leaned closer to Catherine, and was now resting his cheek against the top of her head. From across the chamber floor below them, Brooke nudged Jamie and with a tilt of her head gestured toward the couple. Following with her eyes, Jamie took in the tender sight and smiled widely. Her delight was echoed in Brooke’s identical smile.

Their exchange, although silent and subtle, attracted Father’s attention, and he leaned forward slightly in order to see what had drawn the girls’ interest. His curiosity was replaced immediately by something darker, and he felt a spark of anger sear through him, rousing from his initial surprise.

How dare they, his mind screamed in protest. What can they be thinking! For an instant he almost rose from his seat to go to them. Then, with great effort, he managed to control the impulse and promised himself instead that he would confront his son as soon as possible.

For several minutes Father found he was unable to tear his gaze from them. The emotions that coursed through him were confusing and overwhelming, and even then he knew that their force would steal his sleep and leave him in turmoil far into the night. At last he summoned the strength to turn his attention back to the final moments of the children’s concert. He hoped no one else had noticed his fearful panic, nor its cause.

As had become a tradition in the Tunnels, refreshments and pleasant conversation followed the concert. Vincent rose and offered his hand to Catherine, and they descended the staircase to add their congratulations to the praise the children were deservedly receiving. Minutes later they helped themselves to mugs of steaming hot chocolate and a few oatmeal cookies that William had baked earlier that afternoon, and then spent a relaxing hour among their friends.

When he observed her trying to smother a third yawn, Vincent smiled fondly. "You’re tired, Catherine. It’s been a long day."

"Yes," she agreed with an answering smile. "But it really has been a wonderful day, too. I’m sorry I seem to be running out of energy."

"Would you like to go to bed now?" he offered. "I’m sure everyone would understand."

For a few seconds Vincent was baffled by Catherine’s look of great astonishment, followed by a delighted grin she did nothing to suppress. Then his own words seemed to reverberate in his ears. The smooth skin beneath the golden stubble on his cheeks turned a ruddy shade that spread quickly to his neck.

"What I mean, Catherine, is that if you’d like to go to bed now, I’ll take you there. So that you won’t have to go alone. To sleep, that is, if that’s what you want to do, or – I, uh, I – " His words trailed off in a choking sound as he realized that every syllable he uttered only made things worse.

Unable to subdue a trill of laughter, Catherine linked her arm in his and looked up at him. "Why, Vincent," she murmured in a low, sultry voice meant only for him, "I thought you’d never ask…"

For several heavily thudding heartbeats, Vincent could only gaze down at Catherine, and then he, too, laughed in both happiness and amazement. Somewhere within his mind surfaced the realization that he had not reacted to the situation with the shame and despair that would have consumed him in the past. And as he continued to look into Catherine’s sparkling eyes, he knew she shared his heartfelt relief and pleasure.

"What’s so funny, you two?" William’s warm, gruff voice brought them back to earth. "I could use a laugh after half an hour of that caterwauling."

"Oh, William, come on," Catherine chided gently. "They were fine. I thought the children did a great job, and some of their selections were pretty demanding."

"Yeah, I suppose so," he admitted with a smile. "But I hope this particular crew isn’t planning any encores tonight."

Vincent gestured toward Geoffrey and Meggie who were watching carefully as Kipper attempted to divide the last of the big oatmeal cookies into thirds. "I don’t think you have to worry about that tonight," he commented. "Their attention seems to be centered on far more important concerns."

The portly cook laughed appreciatively. "I guess you’re right. And I can’t say I’m sorry about that!"

"William, the cookies were delicious," Catherine added. "Do you think you could show me how to make them sometime?"

"Sure, anytime! Are you coming down next weekend?"

The brief look she exchanged with Vincent was almost shy, and something about it warmed William’s heart.

"I’m not sure. Maybe," she answered softly.

"Well, whenever. There’s nothing I like better than spending time with someone who has the good sense to appreciate the finer things in life – like my cooking!" His booming laugh rang out in the crowded room. "Just let me know when you’re ready."

"Thanks, William, I will," Catherine called as he left them to make his way toward Noriko who was looking very disappointed at finding only crumbs left on the cookie trays.

Another yawn forced its way to Catherine’s lips and she sighed. "I’m sorry Vincent, but I guess I should turn in now. It’s all right, though, you can stay here with everyone. You don’t have to walk me to the guest chamber."

"It would be my pleasure," he answered, and still arm in arm, they maneuvered their way to the chamber entrance, pausing only long enough for Catherine to exchange "good nights" with several friends. Once in the quiet corridor, they strolled slowly toward the smaller chamber, but despite their efforts they reached it all too soon.

"It’s been so nice having this extra day Below. I never thought I’d enjoy a blizzard quite so much!" Catherine said as they lingered just inside the entryway to the guest chamber.

"Yes," Vincent agreed. "And tomorrow we’ll be able to spend more time together."

"You don’t have any work assignments?"

"No, the entire day is free. Is there anything in particular you’d like to do, anything special?"

"Being with you is special enough," Catherine replied with a warm smile. "But since you asked, there are so many things Below that I’d love to do and places you’ve told me about that I’ve yet to see. Someday I hope we can see them all together."

Her heartfelt response meant the world to Vincent. Although he fully understood that Catherine enjoyed her days Below, he still harbored the fear that the wonders of his world could never compare with hers, and that despite her belief to the contrary, she would eventually become bored and frustrated by the confinements of life Below. Then, as they so often did, her words tenderly destroyed yet another of his fears.

"One of my favorite places is the Chamber of the Falls, but I know there’s a great deal of it I haven’t explored. We haven’t gone there together in months. Do you think we could do that tomorrow?"

"Yes, Catherine, if that’s what you’d like to do. I’d enjoy it, too, and maybe I could show you some of the smaller, hidden caverns behind the Falls, the ones I’ve told you about," he replied carefully.

She could hear the lingering caution in his vice and wondered, not for the first time, when the day would come when he would feel free to accept fully all that she offered him; when he would realize he need not fear that he controlled or diminished her life; when he would rejoice in knowing that what they shared made not only his life but hers so much richer.

She watched as he tilted his head toward her, awaiting her reply "That sounds perfect! I’ve often wondered about the places you’ve described, and I’ve imagined what it would be like to see them with you." Seeing the faint worried lines on his face relax as he heard her words, Catherine continued, "Will you come and wake me in the morning, or would you rather I meet you somewhere when it’s time to go? This afternoon Mouse gave me an alarm clock he found, so I can set it for whatever time we’d like."

Knowing he would greatly prefer the first option, Vincent chose the second, safer one. "We can meet in the dining chamber and have breakfast before we leave for the Falls. Is eight-thirty too early for you?"

"No, not at all." Catherine shook her head in emphasis. "I’ll be there."

Nodding, Vincent backed away and then paused at the entryway. "Then I will say good night, Catherine. I hope you’ll have pleasant dreams."

"Oh, I think I will," she answered, smiling. "You, too." She waited expectantly, and when he turned away from her, she called out to him, her voice soft and stirring. "Vincent? Before you leave, will you kiss me good night?"

When he took her in his arms, she felt as if her entire body might melt with pleasure, and it took all her will power not to cling to him and beg him to stay. His kisses were gentle and tender, yet they hinted unmistakably at the passion that waited, burning feverishly within.

Drawing apart slightly, they looked into each other’s eyes, and Catherine raised one hand to smooth back the golden fringe of his hair where it fell across his forehead. She trailed her hand from his temple along the high curve of his cheekbone and then lower to the tiny hollow at the corner of his mouth. She pressed one fingertip against him there, as if seeking entrance. Slowly, never taking his gaze from hers, Vincent turned into Catherine’s gently seductive caress. She held her breath as his lips parted slightly and she felt the moist heat of his mouth sear her skin as she waited, her pulse racing, for him to go on.

The moment never came. In a heartbeat, a sound approaching from beyond the nearest bend in the corridor forced them apart, and they turned toward it. The familiar hurried tapping meant only one thing, and any doubts they might have had were swiftly swept aside.

"Vincent? Are you there?" Father called. "Vincent?"

Sighing harshly, Vincent replied, "Yes, Father, I am here." The low rasp of his voice was unintentionally revealing, and yet he had no desire to even attempt to disguise it.

In seconds the older man was at their side. "Yes, I thought you might be. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?"

"We were making our plans for tomorrow, Father. Was there something you wanted of us?"

"No, just of you, Vincent. I need to speak with you this evening. I fear it’s rather urgent, so if your conversation here is finished, I’d appreciate your joining me in my chamber."

Father’s blatantly imperious tone had at first silenced any words Catherine might have uttered. Now, as he continued to ignore her, she felt an anger rise from within, and even without the bond, she knew it was an emotion Vincent shared. She did not wish to cause further discord between father and son, but it was with difficulty that she kept her voice light and even.

"Then I won’t keep you any longer." She reached out deliberately and for a moment rested one hand on Vincent’s shoulder. "Good night, Vincent," she murmured warmly. "I’ll see you in the morning." Dropping her hand slowly to her side, she turned toward the older man and nodded in his direction. "Good night, Father," she said calmly before turning and vanishing into the guest chamber.

Vincent stared after her and had to steel himself not to follow. When he turned to speak to his parent, his voice was low and guarded. "What is the meaning of this, Father?"

Jacob had begun to retrace his steps down the tunnel and his son’s words did not still his pace, forcing Vincent to catch up with him. "I’m not sure I understand, Vincent," he answered. "The meaning of what?"

"Your rudeness to Catherine and to me," Vincent replied. The words froze both men where they stood.

Father’s eyes were icy as he narrowed them in his son’s direction. "I think it best if we delay this conversation until we reach my chamber." The statement was nothing less than a command, and the two continued in tense silence until they were seated in Father’s study.

Father glared at Vincent, unable and unwilling to conceal the anger in his response. "How dare you speak to me in such a way, Vincent! What would possess you to do such a thing?"

Vincent took a deep breath before answering. His voice was calm but edged with harshness. "I apologize for that, Father. Perhaps it was wrong of me. But – "

"Perhaps?" Father interrupted.

"But," Vincent continued firmly, "it was no worse than your treatment of Catherine and me just now. What has caused this reaction in you? What have we done? Please tell me so that I can clear up any misunderstanding that might exist."

Any calming effect Vincent’s words might have had was destroyed by a single syllable that thundered through Father’s mind. It was like trying to put out a fire with kerosene.

"We, you ask, what have we done? I’ll tell you what you have done since you have so obviously lost all sense of perspective." Father paused only long enough to rake a hand across his forehead and through his greying hair. "Tonight at the children’s concert I watched the two of you together, Catherine and you, and I was not the only one to observe your behavior. How could you have forgotten yourselves like that in a public place! Have you entirely taken leave of your senses?"

Vincent stared at his father as the man’s angry words filled him with shock and dismay. He felt all the old familiar fears start to regain their treacherous grip on his soul, but somehow, even if just for a few moments, he was able to hold them back with the force of his own anger and hurt.

"And what was so terrible about our behavior, Father?" he began, his voice dangerously soft. Abruptly he raised one hand to forestall the inevitable response. "We did nothing wrong. Catherine and I are in love, a fact which comes as no surprise to anyone here, and our actions were in no way inappropriate or, I believe, unexpected to anyone – except perhaps to you."

Father tilted his head to one side, listening appraisingly to his son’s words. "Is that what you truly believe, Vincent?"

"Yes. I no longer have any reason to believe otherwise."

"Oh, you don’t?" Father’s voice was suddenly weary, but the fire burning in his eyes had not abated. "Then perhaps you would be good enough to explain that belief to me. I’m afraid I do not fully understand."

Vincent hesitated and the burgeoning pain in his eyes tore at his father’s heart. Yet almost against his will, the older man persisted. "Go on, Vincent. Tell me."

"For so long, Father," Vincent began softly, "I have believed that Catherine and I could never truly have a life together. You know of the reasons for my fears, the reasons why I have pushed her away when I knew she only wanted the same dreams I have cherished in my heart. And now at last, I have begun to truly accept what has always been – that we are meant to be together, that the doubts and fears have been only within me. Catherine has always believed in us. And now in recent weeks, I’ve come to understand that my friends, my family believe in us as well. They have shown me in many ways that they rejoice for the happiness Catherine and I have found together."

He paused and took another deep breath before continuing. "So why is it, Father, that you feel as you do? I had thought – I had hoped – that your feelings had begun to change, but now I see that they have not." Reaching out, Vincent grasped his parent’s hand in his. "Father, why are you doing this? Why?"

The ragged pain in Vincent’s voice was almost unbearable to hear, and for a moment Father tried to turn away from it. He realized at once that it was no use and forced himself to speak the words he knew might break his son’s heart.

"I am doing this, Vincent, as I always have, to protect you. No, son, hear me out. Please. I know that everything you have just told me is quite undeniably the truth. I have no question at all about that. But what I do question is the wisdom in that truth. I realize that for now your relationship with Catherine is progressing as you both wish it to, and despite my actions tonight, you must know that I, too, rejoice for you."

He waited as Vincent nodded slowly. "But you must also know that I still have many deep misgivings about that relationship. Not about the joy it brings you now, but rather the pain that lies in wait for you, for both of you. Vincent, I am sorry, and I mean this as no disrespect for Catherine or for the love the two of you share, but I still fear the day will come when Catherine must resume her full life Above. And when that day comes, what will it do to you? How will you survive?

"Even a few months ago, I felt that, devastating as it would be for you, you would eventually recover and go on to live your life here as you always have, even finding happiness and peace. But now that things are evolving so quickly between the two of you, my fears have grown. Catherine has become a very real part of our lives Below. How will you cope with her absence and what will it mean not only for you but for everyone who has believed in you? The very innermost secrets of your heart will be torn open for everyone to see, Vincent. And how will you ever withstand the grief and pain you will surely feel?"

"I don’t believe that will ever happen, Father. Catherine loves me. She will not leave me. I know that." Unaware that he did so, Vincent raised his hand and pressed it against his chest, near his heart. "We are part of one another forever. We will find our way together. Why is it that you cannot accept what will be?"

A quiet desperation tinged Father’s voice. "Son, you do not understand the ways of the world Above. I do. Catherine will always be a part of that world, and in the end it will claim its hold on her. It is inevitable."

"No, Father, it is not inevitable," Vincent replied, his voice strong but controlled. "I know you believe it, but I do not. I cannot…"

The two men gazed sadly at one another, both knowing their tragically conflicting beliefs would allow them to go no farther that night.

"Perhaps it would be best if we continue this conversation at another time," Vincent said quietly as he rose from his chair. "I’ll say good night now, Father."

"Yes," Father replied with a sigh. "Good night, Vincent."

Hours later both men rested uneasily in their beds, their deeply troubled thoughts allowing them little chance for repose. And in the guest chamber, Catherine’s dreams laced with pain and fears forced her to join them in darkness.

////////////////////

Hand in hand Vincent and Catherine entered the Chamber of the Falls. Their long walk had been full of painful silence broken only by the occasional comments they had forced themselves to make. They made their way to one of their favorite spots near a large, rounded outcropping of rock near the water’s edge at the far end of the enormous chamber. The pounding rhythm of the falls was a muted roar and they could talk undisturbed.

"Vincent," Catherine began carefully as they seated themselves on the thick blanket he had arranged for their comfort. "I know we planned to go exploring, but maybe we should leave that for another time. I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes," he agreed somberly. "I’m sorry. I know how much you had looked forward to this."

"Don’t worry," she answered as she reached for his hand, needing to feel the warm reality of him. "There will always be another time. This chamber has been here for probably hundreds of thousands of years. It will wait for our next visit."

When he did not return her small smile, she felt her heart catch. "What is it, Vincent? Is it whatever Father said to you last night?"

"Yes." He averted his eyes and looked away toward the powerfully foaming waters of the falls.

"Vincent, please, will you tell me?" The fear edging her voice drew him back to her. "Please."

"I don’t know where to begin, Catherine, how to tell you of these things without hurting you."

"As long as you’re here with me, Vincent, nothing can truly hurt me. Just tell me quickly and then we can deal with it and be done with it." She prayed silently that her brave words would not be in vain.

Gratefully, Vincent raised her hand to his lips and pressed a brief kiss to the smooth, cool skin before speaking. "Catherine, these past few months have been the happiest I have ever known. I have never experienced such joy, not even when you first entered my life and gave me the hope that miracles might be possible even for someone like me… I know now, without a doubt, that we are meant to be together, that someday all our dreams might be within our reach. That knowledge is the greatest miracle of my life. And I have come to realize that many others believe in our love. Our friends only wish us well and will do whatever they can to help us find our way. The doubts that it is right for us to love each other as we do have been…mine…but they no longer exist."

"Oh, Vincent, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to realize this, to accept and celebrate it as I have. And now we can share in hat joy freely and without fear." Her glorious smile began to fade. "But I feel in you that there’s something more. Please, you must share that with me, too. What is it that Father has said or done to bring your doubts to life again, to make you question everything that is true?"

He looked down into her deeply troubled eyes and felt his heart constrict with pain that ripped through their hearts. "No, Catherine! I have not begun to doubt our truth, our love. But I find I can’t ignore Father’s words or what he believes to be the truth as well." He hesitated, unwilling to hurt her, and then forced himself to go on. "Father still believes that although our love is right and true for now, someday you will find you must leave me to return to your life Above and that your loss will devastate me."

"But, Vincent, you can’t believe that any longer!"

"No, Catherine, I don’t," he assured her quickly. "I will never believe it again. The truth of your heart, of all that you are, tells me that you have made your choice. And with every breath I take, I rejoice that you have chosen a life with me."

She closed her eyes for a few moments as relief washed over her, leaving her filled with happiness. She drew closer to him and felt his arm go around her shoulders, pulling her to him as he had the night before. "Then what is it, Vincent? What about Father’s words still upsets you so?"

"It saddens me that he feels this way, that what he sees in us evokes such pain in his own heart. And that he cannot find the strength to free himself from his fears and be happy for us, with us."

"Perhaps it will just take more time for him, Vincent," she suggested with sympathy. "He has fears of his own to deal with, and it can’t be easy for him. You were able to overcome your fears, and I’m not sure that even now I fully understand how hard that was for you."

He smiled sadly at her. "But, Catherine, I had something that Father does not. I had you."

"You have me," she emphasized, returning his bittersweet smile. "And we must have faith that in time Father will be able to set aside all his questions, too, and find that he can truly accept the fact that we will be together forever."

For many minutes they held one another in silence, lost in thoughts that grew calmer and more peaceful, yet still shared an undercurrent of disquieting darkness. But they would not speak of it further to one another now, the horror that perhaps Vincent’s lifelong fears and self-doubts were once more being fed and strengthened by another’s misguided and devastating beliefs.

Finally Vincent stirred. "Would you like me to read to you, Catherine?" he asked, reaching for the leather backpack he had brought with them. "I have the Wordsworth volume we’ve been enjoying, or maybe the Keats instead?"

"Wordsworth, please," she answered as he leaned back against the rock again. She snuggled tightly against him in the familiar way they both savored.

In moments Vincent’s deeply mellifluous voice soothed over her, making the poet’s adulation of nature’s wonders sound like a blessing. Several minutes passed and as Catherine’s even breathing deepened, Vincent realized she had fallen asleep in his arms. Feeling fatigued by the stressful and sleepless night he had spent, he, too, gave in to the urge to close his eyes and rest.

Just for a few minutes, he told himself as already half asleep he set aside the book and then gently raised Catherine in his arms, cradling her for a stolen moment before settling her softly upon the blanket. He moved several inches away and stretched out next to her. His still deeply ingrained doubts permitted him to stay close but not to touch her within what he considered to be a very vulnerable and potentially dangerous situation.

Within seconds he was deeply asleep.

Three hours later Vincent opened his eyes and blinked sleepily, gradually awakening to his surroundings. He could hear the distant roar of the Great Falls and feel the hint of dampness in the air, while against his back and legs he felt the hard, rounded contours of the rock floor beneath the blanket on which he rested. Then, without warning, his attention was consumed by the woman who lay at his side, asleep in his arms. Every nerve in his body seemed on fire as he became acutely aware of her. The warm softness of her slender body was cuddled so close that she lay partly atop him, her head resting just under his chin. The cool cavern air lifted featherlight strands of her silky hair to send them drifting across his face in a phantom caress. She had draped one arm across his chest and her fingers clutched the heavy wool of his sweater as if to hold him to her always.

Vincent trembled as his awareness of her increased, and he discovered that even through the layers of their clothing he could feel the firm softness of Catherine’s breasts pressed hard against his chest. His senses filled him with fire as his wakefulness flared to full life. With a muffled groan, he realized that he had wrapped his tautly muscled arms around her, spreading his large hands against her back to hold her safely while she slept, that she had curved one leg across his, letting her knee come to rest between his thighs. For several moments Vincent remained as he was, torn between savoring the most exquisite physical sensations he had ever known and shuddering with fear as his tension escalated to alarming heights.

As if sensing his growing unrest, Catherine stirred slightly and moved even closer to hold him tighter. She slid one arm upward to caress his shoulder and the tensing muscles of his neck before burrowing her fingers in the lush, tousled mass of his hair. The arm she had flung across his chest tightened for a moment and then ever so slowly began to move, as in her sleep she stroked him from his waist to his shoulder. Over and over her hand traveled the hard contours of the wide chest that rose and fell with his rapid breathing.

Without conscious thought, Vincent’s hands began to imitate Catherine’s caresses, moving the length of her back again and again. It seemed to him as if he could feel the firm, satiny skin he knew was just beneath her fleecy sweater. His sensuous stroking evoked an answering response in her and she sighed deeply. The breathy sound was a contented purring from deep in her throat, and as its music reached his ears, he felt her nestle impossibly closer as she drew her bent knee upward and gently increased its hard pressure between his thighs.

Lost in a haze of sensual excitement, Vincent’s long-held inner controls warred with the delighted and immediate response of his traitorous body. He moaned and pressed closer to Catherine, unable to resist the overwhelming urge to deepen the pleasure that bordered on pain. More than anything else, he wanted to accept what was so willingly offered to him. But even now he knew that he could not. Shuddering heavily, Vincent arched his head backwards, breathing deeply through his parted lips. A ragged groan rumbled from his chest, and he knew he could not withstand much more, but he knew, too, that he could not find the strength within himself to let the moment end.

In desperation, he forced himself to reach through the bond, willing Catherine to awaken and offer him the control he both sought and rebelled against.

Second later Catherine slowly awoke, feeling very warm and comfortable in Vincent’s arms. She sighed deeply once again, and the low sensual sound vibrated through her body to strike an eagerly answering chord in his. Moaning low in his throat, Vincent swiftly rolled away from her, tumbling her from his arms in his haste to put space and distance between them. He sprang to his feet and strode to the edge of the vast, crystal lake to stand with his back to her, his arms wrapped around his massive chest.

Catherine sat up sleepily, shaking her tousled hair out of her eyes. She called to him, her voice still thick with sleep, and the low throaty sound made him wince. When he did not answer her, she rose to her knees on the blanket and called to him once again.

"Vincent, what is it? Is something wrong?"

Her quickly growing concern brought her fully awake and she started to rise, anxious to go to him, to look into his uniquely expressive face and discover the reasons for his distress. He heard the faint movement behind him and, without turning back to her, he immediately raised one hand in a gesture that halted her.

"Please, Catherine," he rasped, "stay where you are. I will be with you in a few moments." He held his breath, waiting for her reply.

"All right, Vincent. I’ll wait right here," she promised, her voice full of confusion and concern. "Whenever you’re ready…"

Several minutes passed as Vincent wrestled with the surging sensations that had threatened to consume him. Through sheer strength of will, he finally managed to calm his turbulent thoughts and his restless body enough to turn back toward Catherine. He returned slowly to her and seated himself on a large flat rock a few feet away from her. Bending his long legs, he drew his knees up against his chest and clasped his arms around them as if to physically hold himself together. When he raised his head to look at Catherine, he read instantly in her eyes all the worry and bewilderment he had felt from her through their bond.

Catherine knew she could not wait a moment longer. She could feel his pain as surely as if it were her own. "Vincent, what happened? Can you tell me?"

He hesitated but did not turn from her. "I was reading to you Catherine, from the Wordsworth poems…" Abruptly his courage deserted him and he faltered.

"Yes, Vincent, go on. We’ve read together dozens of times." Her gentle voice urged him on.

"Yes, that’s true. But this time…this was different. You fell asleep…and there is something very intimate about sleep…"

Her understanding of his concern was immediate. "I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I never meant to do that."

"Don’t apologize, Catherine. You did nothing wrong. It was me." He turned his face away from her then, hiding his shame at having disappointed her – and himself – yet again.

She approached silently and sat beside him on the rock. The tender pressure of her fingers on his chin raised his face toward her once again. "Vincent, you know you can tell me anything. We have no secrets from each other. But if you’d rather not talk right now, it’s all right. We can just sit together quietly for a while."

It was her compassion that broke through the wall he had erected between them. He began to relax, lowering his legs to a more comfortable position and turning toward her slightly. "What did I do to deserve you, Catherine?" he murmured almost to himself.

"I don’t know," she answered with a smile. "But I’m very glad you did it."

She waited expectantly, and when he’d gathered his inner courage around himself like an emotional suit of armor, he began again. "I was reading to you and I could feel your fatigue. I knew you needed to rest more than you needed to listen to Tintern Abbey."

She smiled softly. "The last thing I remember hearing was something about ‘tranquil restoration.’ I must have thought you were sending me a subliminal message."

"Perhaps," he agreed, the ghost of a smile playing about his mouth. "You fell asleep slowly in my arms. I could feel your whole body relax against me. You nestled close and for a little while I held you while you slept."

"Like the time I stayed Below after my father died. You held me then as I slept. You comforted me."

"Yes," he replied thoughtfully, " it was not unlike that other time…but there is more, Catherine, there are things you do not know."

"Will you tell me?"

He could not suppress a shudder of fear, yet he steeled himself to go on. "For many minutes I watched you sleep, and I could sense your feelings. You felt safe and content. You were happy."

"And that’s because I was here with you!"

His voice took on a husky rasp. "Maybe you wouldn’t have felt so happy, so safe, if you had sensed my thoughts…I began to fall asleep, too, and I moved away from you so that we might both rest peacefully. But as I slept, I lowered my guard and I was filled with thoughts…with feelings that shame me even now…I wished for things I cannot help wanting."

He felt his heart break a little when he saw the tender denial in her eyes. "It is true, Catherine. These are things I have no right to want. And when I woke, I found you in my arms. At first I thought I was in my own bed, dreaming as I do each night…of you. I thought the fragrance that I breathed was from the little pillow that you made for me, that your arms around me, your body so close to mine, was only my imagination."

He closed his eyes as if to hold to the painfully beautiful image for just a moment more, and when he looked at her again and began to speak, he could not keep the ragged emotions from his voice. "But it wasn’t my imagination. It was real. And as I held you, I could feel your warmth, your contentment, your love for me. I was overwhelmed by the depth of all that I felt from you and within you…But my shame, Catherine, is that even then I wanted more. I wanted more…from you. And I knew, too, that I wanted that feeling, that closeness, not just for stolen moments but forever. I could not let you go."

His gaze searched her face in terrified belief that she would turn away from him now, horrified by his disclosure.

Instead she reached up to cradle his face in her hands. "Vincent, why would those feelings hurt you so? They are the same as mine, and I feel no shame in them."

She could feel his beautiful face tremble slightly under the tender pressure of her hands and she released him gently from her touch. "There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you still haven’t told me."

He nodded slowly.

"And then shouldn’t we talk about that, too?"

He looked deep into her eyes. "As I awoke and found you in my arms, I knew such -- such physical pleasure as I have never known before. It was…overwhelming, and that is why I had to run from you. But I knew then, as I know now, that those feelings will never die. It’s not only that I want you to stay Below in my world forever, Catherine. I want you to stay here in my arms…to be with me."

Despite her words only moments earlier and the boundless depths of the love he felt through their bond, Vincent still half-believed his confession would sending her fleeing from him. Never had he so openly admitted to such feelings, not even to himself, and as his words’ resultant sensations cascaded through their bond, he deafened himself to them, for fear he’d hear things that would kill him.

Then there was only her voice soothing over him, healing and sheltering his aching heart. "In your arms is where I’ll always want to be. When you touch me, my entire body comes alive. And when you hold me, I feel that I’ve come home, that I’m finally where I’m meant to be. You said you have no right to want such things. But, Vincent, you do. I’ve given you that right as surely as I’ve given you my heart. I, too, long for the day when I can hold you and watch over you while you sleep, when I can know the joy of seeing you awaken safe and content in my arms. When we share everything life has to offer."

These were the words Vincent had dreamed of, yet never believed he would hear. They filled him with a trembling beauty and robbed him of all speech. As if to welcome the most cherished gift imaginable, he opened his arms to her. Their embrace was an impossible blending of passion and tenderness, at once defining the present and illuminating the future.

"I don’t know what to say to you, Catherine," he said softly as he held her close, his mouth moving gently against the silky strands of her hair. "I cannot find the words."

She raised her head to look up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears and tenderness. "Then don’t say anything. Just love me."

"Always," he murmured before claiming her lips with his. "Always…"

They drew apart slowly, reluctantly, and rose from their stony bench, smiling tremulously at one another. Vincent tilted his head to one side, as if listening to the reliable inner clock all longtime Tunnel dwellers seemed to develop, and made a quick decision. "We don’t have to go back yet, Catherine. It’s not too late to explore for a while, if you’d still like to."

She smiled happily. "I’d love to. But first there’s something I feel I need to tell you, too." A worried frown creased her forehead. "It’s about that visit with Mouse yesterday before dinner. I think what preceded it had a lot to do with Father’s reaction to us last night."

"Yes, Catherine?"

She quickly summarized the brief conversation she had shared with Father and Mouse. "…and I told him that I no longer wished to be considered just a guest Below. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so abrupt, but at the moment it seemed like the right thing to do."

Vincent surprised her by shaking his head and looking downward, unable to suppress a grin before looking up to reply. "It was the right thing to do," he assured her. "Maybe Father needs to be reminded that he proclaimed you a member of our community at Winterfest well over a year ago. I think that was when he began to accept our being together, although he hasn’t made a great deal of progress since then."

His words, as well as the smile on his beloved face, told Catherine that he applauded rather than censured her brief run-in with Father, and she wondered if perhaps they shared a small surge of pride that she had stood her ground with the formidable older man.

Smiling, Vincent extended his hand to her.

"Where shall we go?" she asked eagerly.

"Everywhere," he answered warmly, his voice giving new life to the words of her long-ago dream of sunlight and love. "I want to show you everything."

////////////////////

Hours later they made their way toward the home chambers, tired but at peace.

"Those little chambers behind the falls are beautiful, Vincent. How did you happen to find them?

"When we were children, there was very little the other boys and I wouldn’t attempt, especially if someone dared us," Vincent answered with a fond smile. "We’d been swimming, and I think it was Winslow who noticed an odd darkness behind one section of the falls. Mitch dared Devin to go see what it was, so naturally he plunged straight through. Later we found out that the force of the water had almost knocked him unconscious. We waited and waited, scared that something had happened to him, when finally he reemerged and told us what he had found. From that time on, we used the chambers as pirates’ caves, rustlers’ hideouts, anything we were able to imagine."

"And I suppose even after you discovered you could enter them from one side of the falls without even getting wet, you were all too brave and macho to go in any other way except straight through the water," Catherine teased.

"Macho, Catherine?" Vincent protested. "We were only little boys."

"That doesn’t make a bit of difference," she told him firmly. "It’s in the genes, regardless of age."

His agreeable chuckle masked his instantaneous understanding of the subtle message in Catherine’s humor; yet their bond echoed softly with the truth.

As they neared the guest chamber, Jamie ran up to them, somewhat breathless and clearly ill at ease. "Vincent, Catherine – hi – I’ve been looking for you. Didn’t you hear the message on the pipes a few minutes ago?"

They exchanged a guilty look, knowing their focus on one another once again had made them oblivious to everything else around them.

"We went to the falls early this morning, Jamie," Vincent began. "And we’ve just returned –"

"I know," Jamie interrupted. "Mary told me." She glanced quickly from Vincent and Catherine and back again. "I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, and spoil your weekend and everything, but there’s been trouble down near some of the new chambers on the outer perimeter. You know that blizzard yesterday? Well, the temperature has gone up all day, and now all that snow has just about melted. Everything’s half-flooded Above – and you know what that means for us!"

Worry hardened the relaxed planes of Vincent’s face. "Yes, all too well. How much damage is there?"

"Quite a bit from what the sentries said. A good-sized mud slide in the main passageway and two of the new retaining walls have collapsed. They never had a chance to dry properly. The first work crew has already left, and the second one will head down there right after supper. I’ll be going with them."

"And so will I," Vincent told her firmly.

"No, Vincent, why don’t you wait ‘til tomorrow? There’ll still be plenty of work to do and everybody would understand."

Before Vincent could reply, Catherine spoke up. Resting a reassuring hand on his arm, she turned to Jamie. "Thanks for being so thoughtful, Jamie, but it’s all right." She shrugged her shoulders and forced a smile to her lips. "Sure, it’s disappointing to have the weekend disrupted like this, but it’s the same for everyone else Below who had planned on having some time to themselves. And as much as we wish it wasn’t so, these things happen, and I know Vincent has responsibilities here that can’t be abandoned."

"Catherine is right," Vincent added. "I’m grateful for your concern, Jamie, we both are, but I can’t ignore what’s right. As soon as I change into my work clothes, I’ll join you in the dining chamber. Will you go and tell the others on the second crew that I’ll be there in a few minutes?"

"Sure, Vincent. See you two later."

Turning to Catherine, he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of reluctant acceptance. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t worry," she answered. "It can’t be helped. And besides, I was thinking that it might be a good idea if I left tonight anyway. No, wait –" She shook her head, anticipating his protest. "I’m just trying to be sensible. With the way Father is feeling right now, I really think it would be best to put some space between him and me, at least for a little while."

"I suppose you’re right, Catherine. But when will we see each other again? Will you be able to return next weekend?"

Her tentative smile vanished completely. "No, and that just makes things worse. On Saturday there’s an all-day seminar on investment planning that I’ve enrolled in, and on Sunday I promised Nancy I’d drive up to Westport for her daughter’s fourth birthday. They’ve planned one of those huge parties, complete with a pony if the weather’s nice and sleigh rides if it snows. Sounds silly, doesn’t it, compared with your celebrations Below?"

"No, not silly, Catherine, just different," he answered softly. Then with instinctive understanding, he added, "And your friends would be very disappointed if you changed your mind about attending the party."

Catherine could not help laughing, although the sound was tinged with pain. "I should have known you’d guess that’s what I was about to say. But the seminar on Saturday only lasts until about four o’clock. Do you think you might like to come Above for a while in the evening?"

He knew that nothing short of an earthshaking disaster would keep him away, yet he felt he must ask. "You have much to keep you busy. Are you certain you’ll have time for a visit?"

In unconscious imitation of his own endearing habit, she tilted her head to one side and looked up at him. "Oh, I think I can find a free moment or two."

"As long as you’re sure, Catherine."

"I am," she answered, "and this way at least we’ll be able to see each other, even if it’s only for a little while…I’m grateful for every moment I can spend with you." She felt tears begin to form in her eyes, and determined not to spoil their last minutes together, she tried once again to lighten their mood. "There’s a line from an old Bette Davis movie, something about not wishing for the moon when we already have the stars. It sounds like good advice."

"I have all the stars I’ll ever want," he murmured in his stirringly husky voice as he reached for her. "They’re all in your eyes."

"Mmmmm, Vincent," she sighed several moments later as his mouth gradually eased away from hers. "Have you ever thought about writing romance novels? I think you’d be a natural at it."

"No, I can’t say that thought has ever crossed my mind, Catherine. Perhaps I should consider it."

She returned his smile and reached up to caress the side of his face one last time. "But only if you research all your ideas for love scenes with me."

His soft laughter followed as she turned and entered the guest chamber, then paused and looked back at him. "Vincent, why don’t you go on ahead? You don’t have to wait for me. I can walk back to the sub-basement by myself. I think it would be easier this way."

He nodded. "Yes, but I don’t want you to go alone. Would you mind if I asked Mouse to go with you?"

"No, I’d like that. And I’ll see you on Saturday then?" Her voice was filled with wistful hope and complete trust.

"Yes, and until then, my Catherine, be well."

For several seconds she listened to the echo of his rapid footsteps as he forced himself away from her, half hoping to hear the sound of him returning, yet knowing that this time it was not to be. Sighing, she started to repack her belongings in her tapestry bag, letting her thoughts drift forward to the future they longed for.

"Someday, Vincent," she vowed to him. "Someday."

And with heart-stopping astonishment she felt his response echo to her through the miracle of their bond, so intense that she believed she heard his words.

"Someday, my dearest Catherine. Someday soon."

My Pain – Your Pain

Peggy Garvin

It is inevitable,
He said with a voice
That held so much conviction
And left him no choice.
She will leave you, I’m certain;
You don’t understand.
Your grief and your pain will be
More than you can stand.
I know this because I have
Endured live Above,
And felt it wrench from my grasp
My only true love.
Forget foolish dreams of this
Life that cannot be.
Send her back to her world – you
Belong here with me!