Catherine Chandler woke from a restless sleep to the sound a phone ringing. Glancing at her alarm clock as she groggily raised her head, she saw that it read 3:17 A.M. "Joe wouldn't," she muttered, moving to answer the insistent ringing.
"'Lo?" she mumbled into the receiver a few moments later.
"Catherine? It's Peter..."
Suddenly wide awake, she almost dropped the receiver, remembering the worry that had caused her to sleep so badly the last two nights. She had not seen or heard anything of Vincent for many nights...
"What happened?"
"I'll explain later. You should come Below immediately."
"Peter, tell me!" Her voice was frantic and insistent with worry and frustration.
"It's Vincent..."
"I know it's Vincent!" she snapped. "If it wasn't, you wouldn't be calling me at three in the morning. What happened, Peter?"
"He's ill, Catherine. We need you Below. He needs you." Click.
Oh, God, no, Catherine thought frantically as she threw on the first clothes she laid her hands on, tossed a couple more outfits into a bag, and hurried to the Tunnel entrance.
"Vincent sick." Mouse met her, looking as though he were about to burst into tears.
"I know, Mouse," she said, as gently as her all-consuming fear for Vincent allowed. "Take me to him."
Wordlessly, the two moved swiftly through the Tunnels, and soon she stepped into Vincent's chamber. Father was there, keeping watch, as was Peter, who must have returned Below as soon as he'd gotten off the phone with Catherine. Both men glanced up as she entered; Peter got to his feet. But Catherine's eyes were only for the dear, familiar form on the bed, now wracked with pain and fever.
He was tossing and turning frantically among the tangled sheets, but asleep, and didn't appear to be delirious. Thank God, Catherine thought. A sick, delirious, and more dangerous Vincent was the last thing she needed to be dealing with. Although she could always reach him when he lost himself, he had injured others, even Father, and always distanced himself from her after such episodes.
"Oh, Vincent," the heartfelt whisper escaped her lips in a rush as knelt by his bedside, grasping one of his callused hands in both of her own. At her touch, he stilled, as she'd known he would. "I love you," she whispered, as the tears that had threatened since Peter's phone call finally began to spill down her cheeks.
Suddenly she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She looked up, still blinking tears. Father. His face was lined with unspeakable sorrow; his eyes pleaded silently with her, this woman who meant the world to his son. Worried as she was for Vincent, she found herself startled to realize that Father was seeking comfort from her. She untangled one of her hands from Vincent's tight grasp and placed it over Father's on her shoulder.
"He'll get through this, Father. And I'll stay with him until he does."
Father nodded, still looking sadder than Catherine had ever seen him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Sadly, Catherine lowered her hand and turned all of her attention back to Vincent.
Peter approached and laid a gentle hand on his old friend's arm. "Come, Jacob. You need to rest. Catherine will stay with him." A moment later, Catherine was aware that she and Vincent were alone in the chamber.
She moved to sit on the narrow beside him, her eyes trained on the golden feline face that she found-had always found-so unspeakably beautiful.
"Vincent." She barely dared to speak his name. Lying there, helpless and vulnerable, he was heartbreaking. With infinite tenderness, she raised a hand to gently stroke his long blond tresses, now matted with sweat and tangled from his feverish thrashing. "Beloved," she whispered, drinking in the sight of him. Her hand strayed to lovingly caress the bare skin of his throat, and he sighed in his at her touch.
Tears welled in Catherine's eyes. "I love you so much, Vincent," she told him softly, sure that he could hear her. "Get well for me, please." Her hand brushed fur again, and she looked down, surprised and curious in spite of her overwhelming fear for his life.
She had never seen anything of Vincent's body other than his face and hands. He was too careful, fearful of hurting her and ashamed, she thought, of his difference, to let her see and touch him in the ways she longed to. Now the sight of his bare chest, gilded with downy fur and thick gold curls, left her breathless. She ran her fingers in a loving caress down the center of his muscular torso. "Beloved, you are so beautiful. And I am so blessed."
Catherine did not know how long she sat at Vincent's side before weariness began to overcome her. Peter had been in once or twice, to check on Vincent and report to her that Father was getting much-needed rest.
"He's been by Vincent's side for close onto three days, I think," he had told her on one visit.
"Three days?!?" she had squealed, outraged. "He's been like this for three days and no one sent for me?"
"We thought he'd recover, Catherine," Peter had replied calmly. "It didn't seem so bad at first…but then he got so much worse, and I knew you needed to be here." Then he'd left.
Now Catherine felt fatigue overtaking her. Vincent was still; Peter had said he seemed slightly improved. She hoped faintly that it was due to her being there. She looked longingly at the inviting empty space beside Vincent on the bed. Just for a few minutes, she told herself sternly. If he wakes up he'll be horrified. Not to mention what Father will think. Telling herself she could awake instantly if Vincent did, she lay down beside him, closed her eyes, and knew no more.
After insisting to Peter that he needed rest as much as Father did, Mary saw him to bed and then decided to check in on Vincent and Catherine. She was only slightly surprise to find Catherine asleep in bed next to Vincent, and after her initial start, she smiled with motherly affection at her favorite couple. Still, should Father come in and find them like this…She reached down and gently shook Catherine awake.
"Mary?" Catherine blinked in sleepy surprise, then sat bolt upright as she realized that Mary had found her asleep with Vincent. "I-I only meant to lie down for a few minutes…" she started.
The older woman chuckled softly and gave Catherine an understanding smile. "No need to explain, Catherine." She held out the bowl of cool water and washcloth that she had brought. "I think this will help bring his fever down some. But I'll leave the task to you." She set them on a nearby table and turned briefly back to Catherine before exiting. "I think he'd be much worse than he is if you weren't here, Catherine."
Once Mary had gone, Catherine sighed softly and rose to retrieve the bowl and washcloth. Holding them, she seated herself once again on the bed beside her beloved and began to tenderly dab his forehead and cheeks with the damp cloth. It eased her fear for him slightly to see that he grew quiet, his breathing deep and even, his face peaceful. Clearly, the worst was over.
Vincent opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. How had he gotten into bed? The last thing he remembered was talking with Father in the library and beginning to feel dizzy…
Suddenly he was wide awake, as his Bond with Catherine alerted him to her presence. He sat up and looked around his chamber to see her asleep in a chair nearby. Concentrating on their Bond, he was troubled to read her feelings as fear and grief…for him. He was mildly alarmed. How long had he been ill? Well, he felt better now, and he couldn't stand to have Catherine needlessly in pain for his sake. He rose from bed and went to kneel before her chair. Laying a gentle hand on her cheek, he spoke her name softly, with infinite love and tenderness. "Catherine."
Her green eyes snapped open and stared at him in shock for a moment before a flood of relief washed over him through the Bond. "Vincent!" His name escaped her lips in a whispered rush as she threw her arms around him. Then, just as suddenly, she pulled out of his embrace, feeling his face frantically for fever, calling loudly for Father, Peter, and Mary, and yelling at him to get back into bed.
Vincent was stunned for a moment before capturing her hands in his and silencing her with an enigmatic smile.
Just then Father and Mary burst into the chamber. "Catherine? Is everything-Vincent!" Father's relief was as obviously overwhelming as Catherine's. Vincent saw Mary let out a breath that he was sure she didn't realize she'd even been holding. He smiled at them and rose, still holding one of Catherine's hands.
"Father, Mary. I'm feeling much better."
"Oh, I'm so glad, Vincent. I was so worried." Father gave his son a relieved hug, which Vincent returned with his free arm. Then the older man backed away, suddenly aware of the electric emotions between Catherine and Vincent, and unsure whether or not to leave them alone.
Vincent felt Catherine give squeeze his hand and looked down to see her smiling up at him. Her feelings of love for him flowed to him through the Bond and left him momentarily speechless, staring at her with a gaze that returned those feelings. He realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing anything above his waste, but found that he was suddenly too overwhelmed with love to feel ashamed of Catherine's seeing him, his difference from other men.
"Come," he heard Mary say softly, and was aware that she had led Father from the chamber and dropped the tapestry behind them. It was as good as shutting and locking the door in a community where privacy was almost non-existent.
Catherine slowly rose, her eyes still locked on Vincent's as she gazed at him, willing him to feel all her love and longing. "I was so frightened, Vincent. Afraid I'd lose you…"
Not sure whether to push her away or pull her close and hold her forever, Vincent gripped her arms, gazing into her eyes with a mix of fear and wonder, speaking the words of comfort he knew she needed to hear.
"My precious Catherine, you will never lose me. I could never leave you."
Her look softened, her lips parted, and her voice became husky with desire as she replied. "Never, Vincent? Do you swear?" He shivered as she freed her arms from his grip and ran her hands slowly up his torso, wrapping them around his neck and pulling herself closer. Much closer.
"I-I swear, Catherine. But..."
"You're afraid." He nodded, unable to speak.
"Oh, Beloved, do you know how much I want you? How much I need you?"
He was still terrified of what might happen. "I want you as well, Catherine. But I don't want to hurt you..."
"You won't." She had her arms completely around him now, exploring his back in a sensuous massage as she melted into him completely. To keep her from falling, he had to return her embrace-and was forced to admit to himself that he did so quite willingly.
"Catherine-are you sure?" he asked once more.
"Oh, Vincent, I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She began to kiss him softly along his neck and the underside of jaw, and he felt any remaining doubts vanish from his mind as a low moan of escaped his lips.
"Catherine..." He guided her lips to his, and they parted willingly under his mouth. God, the taste of her, the emotions swirling in his mind...He had to have her.
Catherine continued kissing him as she unbuttoned her blouse, then let his hands reach up to remove it as hers found the zipper of his jeans. He jerked instinctively at her touch against the hardness that was already pressing against the material, but she murmured soothingly in his ear and felt him surrender to her.
"Vincent." She pulled away from him, walked to the bed and sat down, fastening her bra as she did so, then looking at him invitingly.
Ready to explode, he walked over and stood in front of her, slipping the forest green straps from her soft, smooth shoulders, even as he felt her pull his jeans down and off.
The sight that met her eyes was more exquisite than Catherine had ever dreamed. And oh, she had dreamed. "God, Vincent, do you know how beautiful you are?" He didn't respond, but his heavy, fast breathing told her it was because he couldn't. Smiling, she lay back and let him slowly finish undressing her as she contented herself by exploring his wonderful, beautiful body with her hands.
"Catherine."
He was poised above her, shaking, unsure and certain at the same time. Taking loving pity on him, she reached down and took his hardness in her hands, parting her thighs and guiding him into her.
Vincent was left nearly senseless by the ecstasy of being inside her. Responding to the sensuous rhythm she set for him, he thrust home, roaring her name at the same time she cried out his. At last the swirling, explosive emotions overwhelmed him and he quickly rolled aside so as not to crush her as he collapsed, senseless.
Vincent came to acutely aware of Catherine lying beside him, watching him with a seductive, slightly amused gleam in her eye. "I'm that good, am I?" she teased with a dazzling smile.
"You-are wonderful, Catherine," he told her, still left somewhat speechless by the beautiful thing that he had thought could never be his.
"Mmm." She nuzzled closer, leaving a trail of kisses from the base of his neck the whole way up to his ear as her hand wandered down his body to its new favorite location. "You were wonderful too, Vincent. Now, how about proving it wasn't just beginner's luck?"
He answered her the only way he could, by pressing his lips to hers and reaching for her once more.
"'Lo?" she mumbled into the receiver a few moments later.
"Catherine? It's Peter..."
Suddenly wide awake, she almost dropped the receiver, remembering the worry that had caused her to sleep so badly the last two nights. She had not seen or heard anything of Vincent for many nights...
"What happened?"
"I'll explain later. You should come Below immediately."
"Peter, tell me!" Her voice was frantic and insistent with worry and frustration.
"It's Vincent..."
"I know it's Vincent!" she snapped. "If it wasn't, you wouldn't be calling me at three in the morning. What happened, Peter?"
"He's ill, Catherine. We need you Below. He needs you." Click.
Oh, God, no, Catherine thought frantically as she threw on the first clothes she laid her hands on, tossed a couple more outfits into a bag, and hurried to the Tunnel entrance.
"Vincent sick." Mouse met her, looking as though he were about to burst into tears.
"I know, Mouse," she said, as gently as her all-consuming fear for Vincent allowed. "Take me to him."
Wordlessly, the two moved swiftly through the Tunnels, and soon she stepped into Vincent's chamber. Father was there, keeping watch, as was Peter, who must have returned Below as soon as he'd gotten off the phone with Catherine. Both men glanced up as she entered; Peter got to his feet. But Catherine's eyes were only for the dear, familiar form on the bed, now wracked with pain and fever.
He was tossing and turning frantically among the tangled sheets, but asleep, and didn't appear to be delirious. Thank God, Catherine thought. A sick, delirious, and more dangerous Vincent was the last thing she needed to be dealing with. Although she could always reach him when he lost himself, he had injured others, even Father, and always distanced himself from her after such episodes.
"Oh, Vincent," the heartfelt whisper escaped her lips in a rush as knelt by his bedside, grasping one of his callused hands in both of her own. At her touch, he stilled, as she'd known he would. "I love you," she whispered, as the tears that had threatened since Peter's phone call finally began to spill down her cheeks.
Suddenly she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She looked up, still blinking tears. Father. His face was lined with unspeakable sorrow; his eyes pleaded silently with her, this woman who meant the world to his son. Worried as she was for Vincent, she found herself startled to realize that Father was seeking comfort from her. She untangled one of her hands from Vincent's tight grasp and placed it over Father's on her shoulder.
"He'll get through this, Father. And I'll stay with him until he does."
Father nodded, still looking sadder than Catherine had ever seen him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Sadly, Catherine lowered her hand and turned all of her attention back to Vincent.
Peter approached and laid a gentle hand on his old friend's arm. "Come, Jacob. You need to rest. Catherine will stay with him." A moment later, Catherine was aware that she and Vincent were alone in the chamber.
She moved to sit on the narrow beside him, her eyes trained on the golden feline face that she found-had always found-so unspeakably beautiful.
"Vincent." She barely dared to speak his name. Lying there, helpless and vulnerable, he was heartbreaking. With infinite tenderness, she raised a hand to gently stroke his long blond tresses, now matted with sweat and tangled from his feverish thrashing. "Beloved," she whispered, drinking in the sight of him. Her hand strayed to lovingly caress the bare skin of his throat, and he sighed in his at her touch.
Tears welled in Catherine's eyes. "I love you so much, Vincent," she told him softly, sure that he could hear her. "Get well for me, please." Her hand brushed fur again, and she looked down, surprised and curious in spite of her overwhelming fear for his life.
She had never seen anything of Vincent's body other than his face and hands. He was too careful, fearful of hurting her and ashamed, she thought, of his difference, to let her see and touch him in the ways she longed to. Now the sight of his bare chest, gilded with downy fur and thick gold curls, left her breathless. She ran her fingers in a loving caress down the center of his muscular torso. "Beloved, you are so beautiful. And I am so blessed."
Catherine did not know how long she sat at Vincent's side before weariness began to overcome her. Peter had been in once or twice, to check on Vincent and report to her that Father was getting much-needed rest.
"He's been by Vincent's side for close onto three days, I think," he had told her on one visit.
"Three days?!?" she had squealed, outraged. "He's been like this for three days and no one sent for me?"
"We thought he'd recover, Catherine," Peter had replied calmly. "It didn't seem so bad at first…but then he got so much worse, and I knew you needed to be here." Then he'd left.
Now Catherine felt fatigue overtaking her. Vincent was still; Peter had said he seemed slightly improved. She hoped faintly that it was due to her being there. She looked longingly at the inviting empty space beside Vincent on the bed. Just for a few minutes, she told herself sternly. If he wakes up he'll be horrified. Not to mention what Father will think. Telling herself she could awake instantly if Vincent did, she lay down beside him, closed her eyes, and knew no more.
After insisting to Peter that he needed rest as much as Father did, Mary saw him to bed and then decided to check in on Vincent and Catherine. She was only slightly surprise to find Catherine asleep in bed next to Vincent, and after her initial start, she smiled with motherly affection at her favorite couple. Still, should Father come in and find them like this…She reached down and gently shook Catherine awake.
"Mary?" Catherine blinked in sleepy surprise, then sat bolt upright as she realized that Mary had found her asleep with Vincent. "I-I only meant to lie down for a few minutes…" she started.
The older woman chuckled softly and gave Catherine an understanding smile. "No need to explain, Catherine." She held out the bowl of cool water and washcloth that she had brought. "I think this will help bring his fever down some. But I'll leave the task to you." She set them on a nearby table and turned briefly back to Catherine before exiting. "I think he'd be much worse than he is if you weren't here, Catherine."
Once Mary had gone, Catherine sighed softly and rose to retrieve the bowl and washcloth. Holding them, she seated herself once again on the bed beside her beloved and began to tenderly dab his forehead and cheeks with the damp cloth. It eased her fear for him slightly to see that he grew quiet, his breathing deep and even, his face peaceful. Clearly, the worst was over.
Vincent opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. How had he gotten into bed? The last thing he remembered was talking with Father in the library and beginning to feel dizzy…
Suddenly he was wide awake, as his Bond with Catherine alerted him to her presence. He sat up and looked around his chamber to see her asleep in a chair nearby. Concentrating on their Bond, he was troubled to read her feelings as fear and grief…for him. He was mildly alarmed. How long had he been ill? Well, he felt better now, and he couldn't stand to have Catherine needlessly in pain for his sake. He rose from bed and went to kneel before her chair. Laying a gentle hand on her cheek, he spoke her name softly, with infinite love and tenderness. "Catherine."
Her green eyes snapped open and stared at him in shock for a moment before a flood of relief washed over him through the Bond. "Vincent!" His name escaped her lips in a whispered rush as she threw her arms around him. Then, just as suddenly, she pulled out of his embrace, feeling his face frantically for fever, calling loudly for Father, Peter, and Mary, and yelling at him to get back into bed.
Vincent was stunned for a moment before capturing her hands in his and silencing her with an enigmatic smile.
Just then Father and Mary burst into the chamber. "Catherine? Is everything-Vincent!" Father's relief was as obviously overwhelming as Catherine's. Vincent saw Mary let out a breath that he was sure she didn't realize she'd even been holding. He smiled at them and rose, still holding one of Catherine's hands.
"Father, Mary. I'm feeling much better."
"Oh, I'm so glad, Vincent. I was so worried." Father gave his son a relieved hug, which Vincent returned with his free arm. Then the older man backed away, suddenly aware of the electric emotions between Catherine and Vincent, and unsure whether or not to leave them alone.
Vincent felt Catherine give squeeze his hand and looked down to see her smiling up at him. Her feelings of love for him flowed to him through the Bond and left him momentarily speechless, staring at her with a gaze that returned those feelings. He realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing anything above his waste, but found that he was suddenly too overwhelmed with love to feel ashamed of Catherine's seeing him, his difference from other men.
"Come," he heard Mary say softly, and was aware that she had led Father from the chamber and dropped the tapestry behind them. It was as good as shutting and locking the door in a community where privacy was almost non-existent.
Catherine slowly rose, her eyes still locked on Vincent's as she gazed at him, willing him to feel all her love and longing. "I was so frightened, Vincent. Afraid I'd lose you…"
Not sure whether to push her away or pull her close and hold her forever, Vincent gripped her arms, gazing into her eyes with a mix of fear and wonder, speaking the words of comfort he knew she needed to hear.
"My precious Catherine, you will never lose me. I could never leave you."
Her look softened, her lips parted, and her voice became husky with desire as she replied. "Never, Vincent? Do you swear?" He shivered as she freed her arms from his grip and ran her hands slowly up his torso, wrapping them around his neck and pulling herself closer. Much closer.
"I-I swear, Catherine. But..."
"You're afraid." He nodded, unable to speak.
"Oh, Beloved, do you know how much I want you? How much I need you?"
He was still terrified of what might happen. "I want you as well, Catherine. But I don't want to hurt you..."
"You won't." She had her arms completely around him now, exploring his back in a sensuous massage as she melted into him completely. To keep her from falling, he had to return her embrace-and was forced to admit to himself that he did so quite willingly.
"Catherine-are you sure?" he asked once more.
"Oh, Vincent, I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She began to kiss him softly along his neck and the underside of jaw, and he felt any remaining doubts vanish from his mind as a low moan of escaped his lips.
"Catherine..." He guided her lips to his, and they parted willingly under his mouth. God, the taste of her, the emotions swirling in his mind...He had to have her.
Catherine continued kissing him as she unbuttoned her blouse, then let his hands reach up to remove it as hers found the zipper of his jeans. He jerked instinctively at her touch against the hardness that was already pressing against the material, but she murmured soothingly in his ear and felt him surrender to her.
"Vincent." She pulled away from him, walked to the bed and sat down, fastening her bra as she did so, then looking at him invitingly.
Ready to explode, he walked over and stood in front of her, slipping the forest green straps from her soft, smooth shoulders, even as he felt her pull his jeans down and off.
The sight that met her eyes was more exquisite than Catherine had ever dreamed. And oh, she had dreamed. "God, Vincent, do you know how beautiful you are?" He didn't respond, but his heavy, fast breathing told her it was because he couldn't. Smiling, she lay back and let him slowly finish undressing her as she contented herself by exploring his wonderful, beautiful body with her hands.
"Catherine."
He was poised above her, shaking, unsure and certain at the same time. Taking loving pity on him, she reached down and took his hardness in her hands, parting her thighs and guiding him into her.
Vincent was left nearly senseless by the ecstasy of being inside her. Responding to the sensuous rhythm she set for him, he thrust home, roaring her name at the same time she cried out his. At last the swirling, explosive emotions overwhelmed him and he quickly rolled aside so as not to crush her as he collapsed, senseless.
Vincent came to acutely aware of Catherine lying beside him, watching him with a seductive, slightly amused gleam in her eye. "I'm that good, am I?" she teased with a dazzling smile.
"You-are wonderful, Catherine," he told her, still left somewhat speechless by the beautiful thing that he had thought could never be his.
"Mmm." She nuzzled closer, leaving a trail of kisses from the base of his neck the whole way up to his ear as her hand wandered down his body to its new favorite location. "You were wonderful too, Vincent. Now, how about proving it wasn't just beginner's luck?"
He answered her the only way he could, by pressing his lips to hers and reaching for her once more.