Only when her hesitant footfall told him that she was right behind him, did he raise his head and turn to acknowledge her presence. If matters hadn't been so serious, her appearance would have made him smile. Her hair had escaped the confines of the ribbon she had tied around it, and now framed her dirt-streaked face in loose strands. Her hands were clenched around the shoulder-straps of her backpack, and her posture betrayed her fatigue and exhaustion.

"Don't you see," she pleaded, "I had to come."

It touched him that she felt she must defend herself against his judgement, and his features softened just a bit. He did not speak, though. He just stood up and reached out to free her from the heavy backpack. She slumped down on the stony ground and wordlessly took the bowl of broth that he handed her. Noticing that her hands were shaking just a bit, he could not help but cradle them between his large palms, solicitously supporting her while she drank.

When she had finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of one hand, obviously unaware of the gesture and the additional smudge it put on her face.

That made him smile at last. "You need to rest," he said as her eyes widened into his and her features brightened with relief. She wanted to say something, but he put a gentle finger on her mouth. "Later," he advised, pulling her sleeping bag from her pack.

He grabbed a piece of cloth and an empty bowl and went to fetch some water for her to wash at least her face and hands, but when he returned, she had already shed her outer garments and was fast asleep in her bag.

He shook his head with a fond smile and knelt down to wipe her hot and sticky face with the cool cloth. She sighed with contentment, but didn't awake. Watching her sleep, Vincent wondered when his anger had left him, for all he was feeling now was his fathomless love for her and a deep peace.

The sound of the running river was slowly seeping into Catherine's sleep, and when she awoke, she opened her eyes to the total, impenetrable darkness of the world Below. Turning onto her back, she tensed and strained her ears to make out any sounds apart from the noise of the flowing water that gurgled and splashed against the rocky confinements of its bed. There was nothing -- nothing but her own breathing -- and she was instantly seized by panic. She was not even able to reach out for her pack and grab the flashlight to dispel the paralyzing darkness that engulfed her. Clenching her teeth, she tried to struggle against the panic, to resist the haunting images that were beginning to intrude on her mind; images of all kinds of ghastly things creeping through the dark, torturing and terrifying her, until she was helpless to stifle the cry that tore from her throat.

A soft, warm glow emerged from the blackness across the cavern, revealing shapes and objects and a tall figure holding up a lantern as he crossed the space between them in large strides.

"Catherine," Vincent gasped, kneeling down beside her and releasing the lantern in order to grasp her shoulders with both hands.

She became aware that she was still shaking like a leaf as she sat there, clutching the front of her sleeping bag to her chest. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I guess I have a problem with this total darkness."

He nodded understandingly. "I didn't mean to leave you alone in the dark," he apologized. "I was just taking a quick morning bath and had hoped to be back before you awoke."

"Is it morning already?" she asked, already quieted by his presence and the light of the lantern. "How can you tell down here?" At his indulgent smile she continued, "Well, never mind. A bath sounds wonderful. Do you think I could take one as well?"

He tilted his head, looking at her from beneath still damp bangs. "Of course, you could, Catherine. It's just that the water is rather cold, as is the air in this cavern."

Only now she took notice of his wet hair, cascading in unruly tendrils over his shoulders. He endured her wandering eyes patiently, as she ran them over his mane and face, and finally dropped them to his neck where his hastily donned shirt was still unlaced, presenting her with the sight of a profusion of tawny curls. She felt her face grow warm, and when she lifted her gaze, he was looking at her solemnly, his eyes steady and intense.

"I think I'll give it a try," she stammered, and he rose to his feet, busying himself with lighting the fire he must have built while she'd still been asleep. She realized that he meant to give her privacy for leaving the sleeping bag, since her jeans and heavy sweater lay clearly visible on the floor beside her.

She hurried to slip into her clothes, for the air was rather cool, indeed, and when she laced her boots he stepped up to her, holding a bundle of blankets and towels.

"I'll show you the way," he said, offering his free hand to help her up. She took it, and the touch of his warm palm brought back the memory of his revealed chest, making her wonder uneasily if he was able to pick up on the emotions that accompanied the image in her mind. By now, his shirt was firmly laced, and he was also wearing his quilted vest again. She followed him across the cavern and into the corridor beyond, all the while seeking for the right words for asking him to stay close by while she bathed. She knew that her anxiety was ridiculous, and finally she decided to say nothing.

When the corridor ended, the rocky path sloped gently down to the river. Catherine squatted down and held a probing hand into the water, finding that the temperature exceeded her worst expectations by far. Well, all she'd said was that she'd give it a try, she thought wryly.

"I will wait in the adjoining tunnel, so I hear you in case you need anything," Vincent offered quietly, avoiding her eyes.

"Thank you," Catherine said gratefully, touched once more by his empathy and sensitivity.

Leaning against the rough, stony wall of the corridor, Vincent listened to the splashing sounds in the water below. The first thing he had to do was see Catherine safely home. Of course it was out of the question that he take her with him to Paracelsus. That had never been an option. He would simply return another time. As expected, Catherine didn't take long to finish her bath. He smiled at the sight of her, teeth chattering despite the heavy blanket she had wrapped about her shoulders. Wordlessly, he walked her back to the campsite, where he took a pot with boiling water from the fire and poured it over two teabags in waiting mugs.

"Sugar?" he asked.

"Yes, please," she replied, taking the steaming liquid from him and curling her icy fingers around the mug. He scooped a spoonful of sugar into her tea and stirred it for her, lest she would have to relinquish the much craved warmth. He also offered her some bread and cheese, but she declined, claiming she wasn't hungry.

"You will need your strength," he insisted. "We will have to return on the long way. I'm afraid it is impossible for me to take you back the way you came."

"Return?" she asked, her surprise evident in every line of her features.

Concentrating on stirring sugar in his own tea, he said, "Did you really think that I would put you at risk by resuming my journey down there with you? No, Catherine, I won't do that." Twisting his mug between his palms, he inquired softly,

"What did you hope to accomplish by following me?"

Catherine lowered her face, studying her tea, before she responded, "I didn't have clear plans or intentions, Vincent. All I knew was that I wouldn't let Paracelsus harm you again. What he did to you last time..." She shook her head, unable to continue.

As much as it touched him that she cared about him so deeply, her inclination to plunge herself headlong into some unknown dangers for him, obviously without thinking twice, also worried him a lot. Apparently, all he could do to keep her safe was remain in safety himself, and the irony of that caused him to smile.

"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

Leaning over to her, he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. His heart ached with the intensity of his feelings for her, and with his concern for her. It was his fault that she was here in the bowels of this inhospitable world far beneath the surface. He should have been more patient and considerate. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and so very susceptible to his emotions that he became painfully aware of their being alone together in this remote and solitary place.

"We better go now," he said simply, tearing himself from the yearning in her gaze and starting to pack up the blankets and supplies. He heard that she had risen as well, helping him as best she could, but he didn't have the heart to look at her and see the longing and confusion that he could sense across the bond all too clearly.

"I'm sorry, Vincent," he heard her murmur behind him, "for imposing myself on you. I didn't mean to..."

Instantly he leapt to his feet, meeting her troubled eyes.

"It's all right," he soothed, drawing her into his arms. "I understand. I really do. I must apologize as well, for being so insensitive toward your fear for me. And Father's as well. You had both every reason to dissuade me from my intention, but I was too stubborn to listen. It is just that I..." he cast a desperate glance up to the vaulted ceiling of the cavern, "...I had to do something. It scares me that Paracelsus is able to make me feel so helpless."

Her warm lips on his throat almost startled him, and he lowered his head to look at her in surprise.

"I know," she whispered huskily. "That's why I wanted to be here for you. So you wouldn't be helpless anymore."

"I'm helpless now," he rasped, taking her mouth in a tender kiss.

Somewhere in his mind a voice told him that this was probably wrong, that he should not let it happen, that he must not. But her lips were so eager beneath his, so inviting as they parted slightly, allowing his tongue entrance. His heart pounded frantically as he explored her warm softness, tasting her, needing her like never before. Every point of contact between them was sparking with electricity, and he groaned as she pressed into him more firmly. She was so willing to receive him, so trusting, and her yielding flesh beneath his palms stirred a hunger inside him that drowned out any rational thought. Blurred images of how he would possess her swam before his eyes, of how he would use her for his own gratification....

A strangled sound tore from his throat, and his hold around her body slackened.

Again! He had done it again!

Dreading to meet her gaze, and ashamed of the tears running down his face, he threw back his head, staring blindly up at the shadows above them, which were rapidly growing, now that the fire was dying.

"See where I've brought us," he groaned. "I only meant to kiss you, to gently show you how deeply your words touched me, how much they mean to me."

She took his hands in hers, tugging softly to gain his attention. "You brought us to the brink of ecstasy," she said, her voice firm and steady, "and I would follow you there again, anytime, even though you're not yet ready to spread your wings."

Her reference to his dreams of flying made him flinch. "Sometimes I remind myself too much of Icarus," he murmured wistfully.

"Who fell because he burned his wings?"

"Because he flew too high and got too close to the sun," he amended.

"The fire of our love won't burn your wings," she whispered, pressing lingering kisses on the backs of his hands. "You won't fall."

"I might," he returned. "Catherine, I cannot bear the thought of pulling you down with me."

She gave him a confident smile. "Don't worry, Vincent, we will fly. Believe me. I know it." Brushing a fleeting kiss against his chin, she released his hands and went to resume her packing.

For a long moment he could only stand and stare at her, too stunned to move. The sparks of his arousal were still tingling on his skin and in his veins, and as he briefly closed his eyes, he could feel the whisper of some distant breeze caressing his face and ruffling his wings as he floated effortlessly through the air.

His eyes flew open as Catherine grasped his arm. "Vincent, are you all right?" she asked. "You were just looking a little dizzy."

He smiled and slowly nodded his head. "Thank you, Catherine," he spoke quietly, "I believe I am. And now, let's finish our packing. It is time to go home."