AN: I've been absent a while, working on some other projects. But I really feel the pull to get back to Catherine and Vincent. This is an AU story. Not sure how long it will go. We'll see.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. No profit or gain.

Reunion

Chapter 1

For the past seven years she'd thought he was dead.

Catherine Chandler kneaded her hands nervously, looking up from the table toward the coffee shop door. Each time it opened she flinched, expecting to see the walking ghost of a man she had hardly known, but had thought about every day since she had left Afghanistan seven years earlier. A man whose death she had grieved, a loss so painful it defied the logic of their short-lived affair, but not the love of it. A love that had burst inside her the first instant his pale green eyes had captured her own.

Catherine held her breath as another patron stepped into the warm, humid shop, escaping the below freezing winter weather outside. It wasn't him. She let the breath out slowly, the tension in her arms and shoulders almost painful now. The butterflies in her stomach did their best to make her nauseous. Her body nearly thrummed with anxiety - and fear. The same fear that had engulfed her two days ago when she'd screamed in repressed sorrow and then sobbed with joy as she'd read an email from an unknown address.

"I can't believe I've found you. I need to see you. Please. It's really me. Vincent."

At first Catherine had been wary, wondering if the email was a cruel, sick joke perpetrated by someone she had told about Vincent. But she could count on one hand the number of people with whom she'd shared the ecstasy and tragedy of her time working as a doctor for the Red Cross in Afghanistan. She had quickly dismissed the possibility that the email was a prank. After several responses back and forth she was convinced it was really Vincent. He knew things - intimate things, sacred things - that only Vincent could know. But she'd remained cautious, not revealing her phone number or address, finally agreeing to meet in this crowded coffee shop in the middle of the afternoon.

This whole thing frightened Catherine. She was scared that all of the feelings she'd fought so hard and so long to overcome - the grief, the loss, the love - would come rushing back to her. She wasn't sure she could survive those feelings again, only to live a life without him in it. But this time it would be worse than before. It would be worse, because this time he would be alive.

The tinkle of the bell mounted to the top of the door sounded as it opened and Catherine jerked her head up, wondering if this would be him. But it was just another cold Chicagoan looking for a warm cup of java. Catherine looked at her watch. Ten after four. He was late.

She'd been waiting for him seven years ago. Just like this. And he'd never shown. She'd waited a long time before she'd given up that night. Now it felt as if she'd never stopped waiting.

Catherine looked down at her hands which continued to fidget, as if with a mind of their own, and then smiled after a moment. When she and Vincent would arrive at the medical clinic storage shed in the back of the Green Zone base compound for their clandestine rendezvous, Vincent would pull her into his lap and take her nervous hands into his own.

His hands were large and strong, rough and calloused as befit the soldier he was. But they were warm and gentle and loving. He brought each of her hands slowly to his lips, caressing them softly. "There," he said. "Better now?"

"Ummm," Catherine hummed as she closed her eyes and leaned into his chest. Vincent slowly laid back onto the old hospital cot, Catherine lying on top of him, cradled in his arms. "Much better," she sighed as she snuggled into his warmth. His arms came around her and she felt safe. Safe was a special feeling in this place of war and death. A cherished feeling. A gift. And Vincent gave her that gift freely.

"Where were we?" Vincent whispered into her ear, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "Oh, yeah. You were just starting middle school."

Catherine giggled and launched into a continuation of her life's story from where she had left off before. She knew after a short while it would be Vincent's turn to continue his own personal saga, which was very interesting at this point because he had reached high school and was becoming interested in girls.

Unlike most couples in love they didn't talk about their days. Not when her days were spent in the ER trying to patch bloody soldiers and civilians back together. Not when his were filled with fire-fights and bombings and death. Instead, they told each other who they were, how they had grown up, their lives' stories.

But the whispered words and hushed laughter lasted only so long until the warmth of Vincent's body ignited a fire within her. As Catherine lay on top of him and gazed into his eyes she saw his own need reflecting hers. She brought her lips to his. Not crushing, nor frantic. But with need and purpose, and the trust that he would meet her with the same need and purpose. The kiss was warm and full and deep, and as their tongues dueled and their bodies writhed Catherine knew she needed to feel his skin on her own. She needed to feel him underneath her, inside her, moving with her as one. Without thinking, only a few minutes later, they were exactly that.

"I love you," Vincent whispered into her hair as she lay panting on his chest, spent and gloriously happy. She knew he meant it. She could feel it emanate from deep inside him. And she knew it because she felt the same way.

"And I am so grateful for that," Catherine murmured. "I love you too, you know," she said.

"I think you've finally convinced me," Vincent said with a chuckle.

Catherine heaved a contented sigh and sank deeper into Vincent's embrace, knowing that too soon their time together would end and they would have to endure several lonely days apart before their next rendezvous. But she would take what she could get. And in this horrible spot of the world she had found heaven. He was hers and she was his.

The tinkling of the bell pulled Catherine from her reverie and she looked up toward the door. Her breath caught in her throat. Emotion exploded within her - joy, sorrow, fear. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest it hurt and the blood rushing in her ears was so loud it was hard to hear.

He scanned the coffee shop, his face anxious, nervous. His beautiful face. As he turned Catherine took in a sharp breath. On his right cheek was a long, angry scar. It was ugly and reminded her of the horrible place they had been. Suddenly she wasn't sure this was a good idea. What did he want? What would she say? And why had he never tried to find her - until now.

Sweat trickled down her spine and Catherine's muscles were wound so tight she thought she might explode out of the chair. Maybe if she ducked down he wouldn't see her. She turned and looked behind the barista counter toward the kitchen, wondering if she could run out of the shop's back door. Maybe that would be the best for them both.

Catherine turned her head back toward the door and froze. Vincent Keller's pale green eyes were locked on her and as she stared back at him his smile slowly turned down into a frown.