Tuesday night, Below

The dining hall was warm, brightly lit, and still filled with the wonderful smells of dinner, and coffee. A few members were still eating, but most were finished, and lingered to enjoy conversation; many were carrying dishes back to the kitchen, wiping down tables, or sweeping.

Father had withdrawn to one side, with a large group of children seated on benches and on the floor in a semi-circle around him. He held two of the smaller children on his lap. "It was the month of September in the year 1346, in a small town in France called Calais on the coast of the English Channel." Ryan, the curly-headed cherub sitting on Father's right knee, played with the fringe on Father's vest. He loved the sound of Father's voice, and the smell of leather that emanated from him. "France and England had been at war for almost ten years, and France was losing. The English controlled many French towns, and they had Calais surrounded." Suzanne, the toddler that sat on his left knee, leaned her head on Father's chest to hear it rumble as he spoke; she pulled herself up by grabbing handfuls of his shirt, then reached out her fingers to touch his beard, the object of her fascination. "They had kept the town surrounded for months, all through the winter. When spring came, the people of Calais couldn't plant their crops or gardens, and the food they had harvested in the previous fall was gone. No supplies could get in." His eyes stayed fixed on the boy sitting with Geoffrey. "Son," he interrupted himself, "why don't I know your name?"

"He's Trevor, Father, he's one of the Griffins," answered Geoffrey. "We're going to ask Mary if he can spend the night with me."

"Ah, welcome, Trevor. Where was I? Oh, yes. Their food stores were depleted," he continued. "The French king's last message had implored them to hold on as long as they could, but they were beginning to starve. Finally they had to surrender to the English. But the English wanted to make sure that Calais would not rise up again, once they withdrew their forces. So they demanded that the town give up its leaders, and leading citizens, and they put them to death. How they met their deaths is a very important lesson for all of us. They didn't want to die, but they went bravely, to save their town…"

Winslow, William, Jamie and Cullen were seated at a table playing Blackjack.

"Hit me," said Jamie. She had the ten of spades and the two of hearts showing. Winslow shot her a card: nine of clubs. "I'll stand," she said. She smiled, and turned to Cullen.

"I'll stand," said Cullen. He had the seven of hearts and the ace of diamonds showing.

"Hit me," said William. He had the Queen of Clubs showing. Winslow flicked a card, and it skidded across the tabletop to him: five of spades. He pondered it. "Hit me again." Another card streaked toward him: two of diamonds. Another analysis. "I'll stand," he announced, satisfied.

Winslow's show card was the ace of hearts. He revealed his hole card: Queen of Hearts. He laughed as he swept in the other's chips; they shook their heads and sighed.

Mary was standing with three other women around a tub of fabric scraps. They were picking at the pieces. "Vincent needs a new tunic," she said.

"Samantha needs a new dress," answered Sarah.

"And Jamie needs a pair of pants," added Renee.

Geoffrey came careening toward Mary; Trevor, a meteor, hurtling alongside him. "Mary! Can Trevor spend the night?"

"Do his parents know where he's at? Is it alright with them?" she asked.

"If it's alright with you then we'll run back to the Griffins and make sure it's alright with them," he answered.

"Yes, it's fine with me. Geoffrey, try not to pick at those scabs. We're having huevos rancheros for breakfast. Do you like Mexican food?" she asked Travis.

"I love William's huevos," answered Travis. He loved the soft curves of Mary's face, her sweet smile. He scratched at a rash on his stomach. "Is he making fried potatoes, too?"

"I think so," she answered.

"Alright!" Travis cheered.

"We'll be back pretty soon," said Geoffrey, and they raced away.

Zach tuned his banjo, Samantha warmed up on her flute, Brooke strummed some chords on her guitar, and Michael ran scales on his accordion. On drums, Zach gave them a four count, and they were off.

Olivia and Rebecca were seated at a table, talking with Pascal and Vincent. "Well, we might have to increase the number of foraging parties, or increase the amount of time we spend foraging," said Rebecca. "I know Mary's running out of fabric and yarn, and we're low on food. I need more candle wax, lots more candle wax, and Olivia is out of her soap making supplies."

"I don't know what the answer is, Vincent, but we have to find a way. It's becoming critical," said Olivia.

Renee approached their group. "I wanted to remind everyone about the dance recital tomorrow night," she said.

Vincent raised his head a bit to listen to a message being tapped out on the pipes. "Excuse me," he said, and rushed out of the dining hall, his cape billowing behind him.

They watched his retreating back; Renee did her best to mask her annoyance; the rest of them grinned. "And he rushes off to meet Catherine," said Olivia.

"She taps, he runs," added Pascal, grinning broadly. Sarah stepped up beside Renee, and hugged her around the waist.

"I'm so happy for him," said Rebecca.

Kanin joined the group, sitting down next to Olivia.

"Does anyone know how she feels about him?" asked Pascal.

They were silent for a moment. "I'm pretty sure she's interested in him," ventured Olivia.

Winslow joined them. "What, Catherine and Vincent? He saved her life, what? four times now? How could she not be falling for him?" asked Winslow.

"And, anyway, what's not to love? He's a great guy," said Rebecca.

"He's a fantastic hero who stepped out of a fairy tale," said Renee.

"Yeah, but…" said Pascal.

"What?" asked Rebecca.

"We grew up with him. But ask Kanin, if you didn't grow up with him, learning how to accept Vincent would be…well, it couldn't be easy."

They looked at Kanin. "Sorry," he answered affirmatively. "I spent a long time trying to figure out what he is." Rebecca huffed in exasperation. "I'm sorry!" he continued. "I mean, first you have to get over your fear, then you have to get to know him well enough to accept him for what he is. I love Vincent like a brother now, but it took some time."

"I can only imagine what Catherine must be going through, what she could be thinking, what she might be feeling…" said Pascal. "She has to be grateful to him for saving her life, but can we expect her to have romantic feelings for him? Is it fair of us to expect that of her? At the very least, she needs more time."

"But he has feelings for her now," said Rebecca. "It's obvious."

"It is obvious," said Olivia. "And did you see Father glowering as he rushed out of here to meet her? It's shattered his dream of Vincent dying without ever knowing what it feels like to be in love."

"Olivia!" exclaimed Rebecca. Sarah and Renee looked appalled.

"You know it's true," Olivia answered. "You know it. When we were all twelve or thirteen, I remember Father starting to discourage Vincent from developing an interest in any of the girls. And then that mess with Lisa happened. He's been living like a monk ever since. It's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" asked Sarah.

"Everyone deserves to fall in love, to love, to be loved," answered Olivia. "It's ridiculous that Vincent isn't supposed to have those desires. He's just as human as any of us, he just has a few…quirks."

"Quirks," chuckled Pascal. "Like roaring, growling…" Winslow and Kanin laughed along.

"No, I think it's like if we were defending ourselves, we'd slap or punch or scratch because it comes instinctively; Vincent slashes because that's his instinct. I don't see how that's different from us," answered Rebecca.

Pascal cleared his throat. "I see your point," he said.

"I think Catherine loves him like a friend right now," Olivia continued. "But anything more than that…I think you're right, Pascal, we'd have to give her more time to feel about him like we do," said Olivia.

"I don't think there'd be anything wrong with pointing out his good points to her," ventured Rebecca.

"Oh-oh," said Pascal. "Awwwww," said Kanin. They shook their heads. Renee and Sarah sighed and rejoined Mary at the fabric bin.

~~0~~

Vincent re-entered the dining hall with Catherine on his arm; he was almost bursting with pride; he might have been escorting royalty. They stopped to speak with Mary, Renee and Sarah first. "What books did you bring, Catherine?" asked Mary.

"The Metropolitan has acquired several beautiful pieces of sculpture and paintings. These are pictures of them. I wanted to share them with Vincent."

She listened to their resumed conversation about garment design that would spread the fabric between all those in need. She met Rebecca and Olivia, and listened as they discussed with Vincent the possibility of expanding the foraging efforts. She asked Rebecca about making candles and Olivia about making soap. She shook hands with everyone else as Vincent introduced her.

At a few minutes before eight o'clock, Father asked the band to stop for the evening; he called Winslow, Mary, Pascal, William, Vincent, Rebecca and Olivia to pull a few dining tables away from the rest and push chairs and benches behind them. The Council was seated, facing the community.

Father leaned toward Vincent and spoke quietly. "Do you want Zach to guide Catherine back up?"

"No, Father, I wanted her to see our meeting, how we govern ourselves. She was very interested in attending."

"It's a little unusual, don't you think? She's not a Helper, she's not a resident; I'm not sure it's appropriate for her to be here."

"It will be alright, Father," Vincent reassured him.

Far from reassured, Father called the meeting to order. "Good evening, everyone, and thank you for attending. Our government is an exercise in true democracy, and as such, we need to hear everyone's voice. I'd like to start the Council meeting by introducing our two newest appointments, Olivia and Rebecca." He paused for applause. "We look forward to their insight, and leadership. The first item on our agenda will be our current needs. First, we are in need of wood to burn in the braziers for heat. Randolph, I believe you are in charge of that foraging team. Would you please make arrangements to borrow Mr. Wong's van? Then you can visit the warehouses for worn out pallets they want to discard, and also make the rounds on construction sites. Remember to ask for the scraps, don't just take them."

"Yes, Father, I know," answered Randolph patiently.

Catherine scanned her surroundings. The torches lining the walls and suspended from wagon wheels chained to the roof cast a flickering golden glow over the entire hall. The family groups clothed in patched-together garb, the rough-hewn tables and benches, the dim lighting made her feel like she was a character set in a Renaissance period piece.

"Alright then, our next item is a piece of good news: Mouse has finished modifying an oil-burning stove for William to cook on. It will burn waste oil we can collect from filling stations, and they might actually pay us to haul it away. We will need someone to volunteer to organize a new foraging team to collect waste oil." Mouse beamed with pride, but his brilliance dimmed as the silence stretched on. Father started to fidget, waiting for someone to speak up. The silence dragged on into an awkward lull. "Come now," prompted Father, "will no one volunteer?"

"Father," ventured one brave spirit, "I would do it, but is this stove going to work? No explosions? No fumes?"

"Mouse fixed! Stove works good!" Mouse protested.

Vincent spoke up quickly. "There were some earlier, unsuccessful attempts. But Mouse has refined his technology, Winslow and I have helped, and we have been testing the system on a number of heaters for several weeks now. It has been very successful, no explosions, no fumes, and in fact, Mouse has developed a very sensitive thermostat that maintains the temperature within one degree."

"We've tested the actual stove, as well," added Winslow. "It works fine."

"Well, okay then, since you're confident, I'll organize the team."

"Thank you, Scott," said Father. He sighed and shuffled some papers. "And now," he said completely without enthusiasm, "I will reluctantly re-open our discussion of creating an alliance with the Griffins."

Suddenly[MD2] everyone was yelling, at the Council and at each other; many had jumped to their feet. Randolph, the 28-year-old black man who had volunteered to gather wood, stood and shouted, "I came down here to get away from people like the Griffins! I don't want them and their hate anywhere near my family!" Emily, his wife, was a 23-year-old white woman. She held their daughter, Suzanne, the 10-month-old Father had held on his lap earlier. Scott, the 32-year-old man who volunteered to gather used oil, was also on his feet, and he also was shouting. "We will leave! We will either go back Above, or we'll move to the outer perimeter!" His wife, Elisa, 28-years-old and looking like she did not relish the idea of moving anywhere, was also on feet, but for the purpose of keeping watch on their son, Ryan, who was in exploration mode. "Father!" she cried out, "please! Please don't let this happen!" There were many older residents who pleaded in favor of the Griffins joining the Community, aghast that they had been deprived of a fresh water source for this long. Father held his forehead in his hand. The rest of the Council varied in their reactions: Winslow was agitated, Vincent looked pained, William and Mary were waving their arms and yelling at each other, Pascal closed his eyes and sighed, Rebecca frowned, Olivia urged calm.

Vincent looked at Catherine, to see her reaction to the uproar. She sat quietly, leaning forward a bit, trying to make out what the Dwellers closest to her were saying.

Gradually, the din died down. Father raised his hand in the air for quiet.

"We've been arguing for weeks, and we're no closer to a decision now than when we started. Let's try a different approach to this and see where it gets us. Let's have a debate. Mary, you're in favor of forming an alliance with the Griffins, William, you're against. So, let's do this: Mary, you argue against the alliance, William, you argue for it."

Mary and William looked stunned. Mary came to herself first. "No, Father, I'm not going to try to persuade people to vote against it! Why would I? We need this alliance! The Griffins need it— "

"Mary!" Father interrupted. "Please, let's just try! Nothing else is working and we can't go on being at odds against each other. We must make a decision and everyone must support it. If you can come to see William's point of view so well that you can argue for it, then perhaps others can reconsider their positions as well, and we can find a compromise. What do you say? Will you try?"

Mary nodded her head. "I see your point, Father, and I agree, we can't go on like this. Yes, I'll try." She looked at William.

"If you will, I will, too," he said. "Ladies first."

"Oh, no, William, age before beauty," she teased, her eyes twinkling.

William chuckled. He liked Mary very much, and had enjoyed a teasing, bantering relationship with her for years. Since they'd found themselves on opposite sides of the Griffin issue, their friendship had cooled, which had caused him a great deal of pain.

"Alright, then," he said, and stood up to speak. "The Griffins came to us several weeks ago, and asked us if we could join our two communities together. They'd been tapping into the city's water mains, but when the city laid new pipes and rerouted the flow, they lost their access to fresh water. They also wanted us to educate their children. They felt that we ran a better school than they did. At the same time, the Griffins are far better at foraging than we are. They've never suffered the kinds of food shortages we have. And there've been times when they've shared food with us, out of their excess. But they don't want to just share or exchange resources now. Water is too important. They want a stable source. And we would benefit from a steady, stable source of food."

"Yes, but why must we join our communities together?" asked Mary. "The Griffins have beliefs and values that are very different from ours." She chose her words carefully, because Trevor and Geoffrey had returned, and were listening closely.

Father followed her line of sight. "Children, it's time you got ready for bed." A moan went up. "Alright, children, you are excused." They obediently got to their feet, and filed out, the older ones guiding the younger ones.

"But haven't we always tolerated each other's differences? And hasn't having many differing points of view always strengthened us?" asked William.

After the last child left the chamber, Mary stood, and continued. "The Griffins don't treasure their children the way we treasure ours. The Griffins scream and curse at their children, and spank and slap them. Their children, in turn, believe the way to settle a disagreement is to fight. We've had to work with them to teach them not to hit when they're over here. Also, the Griffins have a religion that's…that is…I don't know how to put it, there's a lot of judgment and damnation, hellfire and brimstone, and burning in lakes of fire for eternity. When they talk about it, which happens too frequently, it frightens our children." She chuffed. "It frightens me. We disagree on many other things. They are actually a very large, extended family, and they have a patriarchal orientation: the grandfather is the rule maker and everyone is subservient to him. After that, the women are subject to their husband's authority. That's not going to go over very well with us, at all. They don't practice modern medicine, they don't have any doctors or nurses over there and they won't seek out any medical care when they're injured or ill. Their values are different. They believe it's alright to steal from the world Above, which is why they don't run out of food. There are many more things we differ on, but just the ones I've mentioned would make any kind of unification very difficult."

"If they wanted to live here among us," added Vincent.

"That is what they want," said Pascal.

"I understand now, Mary," said William, "why you want them to live with us. There's a chance that we could absorb the child rearing duties, which would take the children out of harm's way, and at the same time, it's possible that the Griffins might learn a better way of caring for children. They might learn to respect women from seeing our example."

"It's possible," said Mary. "As far as I can see, it's their only hope."

"They can't live here with us," said Winslow. "They're violent people. They're not gonna change. We'd be fighting and arguing constantly."

"We're going to have to let them join us," said William. "It's what they want, and if we don't let them come, they'll come anyway and try to drive us out."

"Since that's the case, maybe we could give them chambers on a different level," offered Olivia.

Father nodded. "Vincent, would you organize teams to scout possible locations to settle the Griffins in? As far away from us as possible, but with access to water."

"Yes, Father."

"And Rebecca, we'll need all the lanterns we can muster, torches and extra candles for our scouting efforts, so you know what that means."

"Yes, Father," she answered, smiling. "I'll make work schedules tonight and post them first thing in the morning. I'll also make an announcement at breakfast."

"Very good, then. Well…it seems we have all come to a consensus in spite of ourselves." A round of cheers and applause erupted spontaneously. "I believe that's all we have for tonight. Do I hear a motion to adjourn?"

At least a dozen people sang out, "Move to adjourn!" and another dozen sang out, "Second!"

"Moved and seconded. We are adjourned," declared Father.

Everyone rose and milled about, chatting.

Catherine approached Vincent. "What did you think of our meeting?" he asked.

"Yes, Miss Chandler, what do you think of our system of government?" asked Father.

"Let me make sure I understand what's been going on," she answered. "You've been talking about the Griffin situation for weeks, but you haven't been able to find an answer."

Father and Vincent looked at each other for a moment. "I think it's been closer to a month," said Vincent.

"Yes, I believe that's so," Father agreed. "We've had a very difficult time with it. And the Griffins are becoming impatient for an answer. I believe William was right when he surmised that if we didn't let them come, they'd come anyway."

"We'd better reconsider what our security arrangements should be if they're going to be living so closely to us," said Vincent.

"I'm afraid so," answered Father.

"Well, then, I think you are all to be commended for your determination to keep talking until you arrived at a solution. Not many people are capable of such persistence," said Catherine.

"Father's leadership has seen us through many challenges that seemed to have no resolution," said Vincent. He put his arm around Father's shoulders and hugged him.

"I don't doubt it," she answered. "It was very clever to ask Mary and William to argue from the opposing side."

Mary, passing by, overheard Catherine's remark and joined them. "Father is known for finding clever solutions to problems that appear insurmountable. We'd be lost without him."

"Nonsense, Mary," Father objected, "you give me too much credit. Each one of us is devoted to the other. It's not possible that we should fail to find solutions to our problems."

"Father, you are a genius," thundered Williams, suddenly at Father's elbow. "I think this is going to work out. After all, as a great philosopher once said, 'Hold your friends close, but hold your enemies closer.'"

"Who said that, William?" asked Mary.

William comically turned down the corners of his mouth, shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands. "Who knows? Who cares?" They all laughed. "Mary, come help me put out some hot apple cider and gingerbread." They strolled toward the kitchen.

"It's been a very long day. I'll say good-night now," said Father.

"Sleep well, Father," said Vincent.

"Good-night," answered Catherine.

"Catherine, I've been looking forward all evening to looking at the books you brought," he heard Vincent say as he turned away. It rankled that Vincent seemed so anxious to turn his attention to Catherine.

Vincent followed her back to the table where she'd left her books, and sat next to her on the bench. "The Met has acquired sculptures by Rodin, Carpeaux and Bernini, and paintings by Caravaggio," she said as she opened the first book to a plate of Rodin's Eternal Spring.

The image of the sculpture evoked an intensity of emotion so powerful that Vincent gasped. "Oh, Catherine…" he almost whispered. She was touched by his emotion. "…they are so in love. Look how she has completely opened herself up to him, her head thrown back, her back arched, her arm back and over her head. And he, look…he can barely find a foothold in the rock, his best hold leaves his knees bent and his legs crossed; he clings to a handhold on an outcropping of rock…so very tenuous is his hold, and yet how tenderly he holds her, one arm around her back, his hand cupping her upper arm, how gently he kisses her…he cherishes her…his heart is overflowing." It took him a long moment to catch his breath; when he came to himself, he laughed self-consciously. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"No, Vincent, please don't be sorry. This piece is very moving, I agree. Rodin is my favorite sculptor. He captures moments of intense emotion so perfectly. Can I show you my favorite piece?" He nodded. She started flipping pages, searching. "It's called The Burghers of Calais. Do you know the story?"

"Yes, Father was telling that story to the children after dinner tonight. He tells it often." He spoke fondly.

Catherine noted the warmth in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes as he spoke of his father. "You're very close to your father."

"Yes. He gives everything he is to all of us, every day. He loves us, he leads us, he inspires us. He has given me everything. He has taught me everything."

"Everything?"

He searched for words. "He educated me, of course, but beyond that, he's loved me unconditionally, and taught me to love and accept others. He's shown me that giving is far more satisfying than taking. He's taught me that true happiness comes from doing one's duty."

"And you trust others to care about you, to put you first?"

"Yes. It's how we live."

"That's amazing. Hold that thought…ah, here it is." She turned the page to Rodin's sculpture.

Vincent's eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply. "There they are…each one coping with sacrificing his life in his own way. This one stoically…this one mournfully…I see fatalism here…disbelief…anguish …grief." They stared at the picture for a very long time.

Catherine wondered about the Tunnel Dwellers, about how people unrelated to each other could develop such strong bonds. As kind and gentle as her father was, she recalled one of his most frequent sayings was, 'it's a dog-eat-dog world.' As a partner in a law firm, she knew there had been many times that although he'd liked someone on a personal level, he'd let them go because they failed to generate a certain level of revenue. She knew she would like to believe that she could have given up her life for her mother, or could give it up for her father, but for anyone else? She'd never loved anyone else that much, not even close to it. She thought about Vincent. She knew he regretted having to take other lives in order to save hers, but she wondered if it was as hard for him to take life as it would have been for her to give her life.

Plates of gingerbread and mugs of cider appeared at their elbows. "Hey," interrupted the female voice that belonged to the serving hand, "that one looks like you, Pascal."

Vincent and Catherine emerged from their absorption to find Pascal and Jamie looking over their shoulders.

"Let me show you Achilles Dying," said Catherine, and she flipped some pages.

There was a collective intake of breath as she revealed the plate. "Look at his face!" exclaimed Jamie. "He knows he's dying, and he's so sad."

"It looks to me like he's in a lot of pain," said Pascal.

"I think his eyes are focused on heaven, and he sees the gods, inviting him in," said Vincent.

"It's fantastic that one image evokes so many different interpretations. I believe that it actually takes all of them to fully appreciate and understand the work," said Catherine.

"But Rodin didn't carve that one, did he?" asked Pascal.

Catherine read the caption. "No, you're right, this one is by Ernst Herter."

"Good eye, Pascal," said Jamie.

"The style is very different," he answered.

"Let me show you Fallen Angels," said Catherine, flipping.

"Ow!" exclaimed Rebecca, now standing at Vincent's side. "I feel like I just slammed into that rock!"

Everyone else murmured agreement.

"It looks like they might have been embracing before they hit," said Jamie.

"Yes," answered Vincent, "terrified, clinging to each other, shaking with fear."

"Vincent, what are those lines from Paradise Lost, after Lucifer is cast out of heaven, he loses consciousness when he hits the earth, then when he comes to? '…peace and rest can never dwell…hope never comes that comes to all…'" asked Renee. She stood behind Catherine.

"I know the lines you're thinking of," Vincent answered.

"round he throws his baleful eyes
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:
At once as far as Angels kenn he views
The dismal Situation waste and wilde,
A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd onely to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all," he quoted.

"That's it," said Renee, "that's it exactly." Poignant sadness filled her eyes.

"Amazing," breathed Rebecca.

"Well," said Catherine, "I'll leave these with you to enjoy. It's getting late; I have to be going," said Catherine, rising.

"I'll see you up," said Vincent.

"Good-night," and "Thank you," and "Sleep well," they intoned severally as Catherine and Vincent made their exit.

Rebecca and Renee replaced Vincent and Catherine on the bench. Rebecca turned a few pages, to Carpeaux's Sons of Ugolino.

"I remember that story from Dante's Inferno," said Rebecca. "He was sentenced to death by starvation. They threw him, his sons, and his grandsons in a prison cell, locked the door, and threw the keys into a river."

"The others died before him, and he ate their dead bodies," added Pascal.

Rebecca raised her eyes to the door Vincent and Catherine had gone through. "I'd better think about turning in, too," she said. "I have to make those work schedules. I like scouting around. Our rock formations are beautiful. It's kind of romantic, don't you think so, Renee?" When Renee didn't answer, Rebecca asked, "Pascal?"

Pascal looked at her for a second or two. Realization dawned. "Now that you mention it, yes, it is. Romantic. There's an element of danger, too, because of the darkness. Makes it exciting."

"You know, maybe Catherine might enjoy scouting around down here," said Rebecca.

"Yes, maybe we should suggest it to Vincent," said Pascal.

"Let's do that," said Rebecca. "Well, good-night," she said as she stood up.

~~ 0[MD1] ~~

"It's still hard for me to believe that this place exists," she said as she extended her hand to brush across the rock face of the tunnel wall. It was cool, and rough, and unyielding.

Vincent glanced down at her, and smiled. "I can imagine. To have lived your life Above, then discovered an entire community Below…it must be astonishing." He raised the lantern to cast its light further out. A deposit of rose quartz sparkled in the wall beside Catherine; she gasped and brushed her fingers across it. "How pretty!" she exclaimed.

"Yes," he agreed, looking at her.

She raised her eyes to meet his, and smiled. She linked her arm through his, and rested her hand on his forearm. A thrill ran through his body, sending his heart into palpitations. He worked to catch his breath.

"What was it like to grow up in these tunnels?" she asked him.

He took a deep breath to settle himself, and think back. "When I was very young, I remember playing with my brother and the other children, running through the tunnels, exploring, swimming…I remember Father reading to us, teaching us. Father was a wonderful teacher. He made learning exciting. He kindled our curiosity and sparked our desire to research and experiment, to question and debate."

"You have a brother?"

"Another boy adopted by Father. Sadly, he left the Tunnels long ago. I count Renee as my sister, as well. We were very close growing up."

"And there are places to swim down here?"

"Oh, yes, there are many springs and pools, hot, cold, mineral, salty, shallow, deep…"

"Amazing. Sometime when you have a chance could you show me the springs?"

"I'd like that very much. When we go exploring for chambers for the Griffins, would you like to join us?"

"Over the weekend? I'd love that."

"We also love it. One mustn't rush when mapping, so there's plenty of time to enjoy the vistas."

"Vistas? In tunnels?"

"Much of our world is tunneled, but there are also caverns and canyons, cliffs, valleys, plains and summits. There are many rivers in our world which have flowed for centuries, carving deep channels into the rock. Interesting and beautiful rock formations are common, but they rise up so surprisingly that sometimes it can take one's breath away."

She smiled. "I can't wait to see it with you."

He covered her hand with his own. The gentleness of his touch, the warmth of his shining eyes, the softness of his voice: these tender qualities of his warmed a place in her heart. She'd never felt this way about a man, safe enough to let her guard down, safe enough to let her vulnerabilities show—safe. She realized that this man who cherished life had killed for her; this man who placed duty to his community above all else had not only jeopardized that community by bringing her into it, but done so at the cost of alienating his revered, beloved father. She realized she could let this man into her heart, and he would never break it.

He saw the tenderness in her glistening eyes and the catch in her breathing. Deep inside, he could feel her opening her heart to him. It was a warmth he'd never felt before, and he wondered if his own heart was melting. He took her hands in his, and lifted them to his lips. He kissed the backs of her fingers lightly, then replaced her hand on his arm.

"Come, Catherine," he murmured, and led her along. She followed; it was easy to follow Vincent.

~~ 0 ~~

In[MD2] bed at night[MD3] , making love to his wife was Kanin's favorite place to be. "Liv?" Kanin forced himself to murmur into his wife's intoxicating lips…

"Hmmm?" she moaned back to him.

But it was hard to stop kissing her to talk, especially about the topic on his mind, so he kissed his way down her neck. Then for several minutes he forgot what he was going to say. Then it came back to him, and he knew he had to speak up.

"Liv?"

"Kanin? Do you want to go faster? Slower? Don't be shy, tell me."

He groaned. "Well, we can talk about that later," he pulled away from her, "but I feel like I have to say something to you about Vincent. I don't think it's a good idea—no, I know, it's a terrible idea to get in between Father and Vincent."

"What do you mean?" She was intrigued.

"Or, Father and Catherine and Vincent. Don't do it, Liv. Father has a total blind spot for Vincent. He's a great leader, and a fantastic mentor for everyone here, but he does not want to lead or mentor Vincent. He thinks he knows better than him how to live his life, and as crazy as it sounds, he believes that Vincent should never put his hands on a woman."

"Tell me what I don't know."

"Maybe you don't know that if you cross Father things could get nasty for us."

She sighed. "I know. But Vincent's a brother to me, and it kills me that I've never done anything to help him. Father's always told him that love and sex were not for him, and that's just how he put it, too, 'that way of life is not for you.' I don't know how he's lived with no romance. I guess the way Vincent loves Father might have something to do with it."

"How does Vincent love Father?"

"Vincent adores Father. He always has."

"Was he a tattle-tale, as a kid?"

"Never. Vincent was one-hundred percent one of us, he never snitched, but at the same time, he was one-hundred percent devoted to Father." She laid her head on his chest and traced patterns with her finger on his breast.

"So, how many relationships with women has he had?"

"Zero."

"I couldn't have heard you right."

"No, not a one."

He was astonished. "How did he do it?"

"Exactly. And now he's stuck on Catherine. I'll be damned if I don't help him."

Kanin spent a few minutes pondering this revelation. Through his memory, he travelled back in time, to a wonderful place where he had filled his arms with the sweetness that was Olivia, held her close against his body, and felt his own heart pound with love, and joy.

"Liv?" whispered Kanin to the soft, lovely form that was now snuggled into his chest.

"Hmmm?" breathed her drowsy self, half listening to him, half dreaming him.

"Remember before we got engaged, we used to wander around the outer tunnels?" They'd go spelunking for hours, holding hands, finding a secluded spot by a stream or a waterfall, and kiss and neck.

"Mmmmmmm," she moaned, and dreamed a recollection of tasting his skin, feeling his weight, smelling his scent. "We were never lost," she murmured.

"Huh?"

"…never lost…"

He digested that piece of information. "Liv," he jostled her in his arms, "you're going to have to wake up, because I am going to do things to you," he said remembering the taste of cold fear refluxing up from his stomach, those times when he believed he'd gotten them hopelessly lost in the dark.

"Huh?" she croaked, blinking.

"You grew up down here, you always knew exactly where we were, you always knew exactly how to get home."

She smiled. "I had to have you all to myself for a few hours every now and then."

"Right." He pushed back the covers and started kissing his way down her torso. "I'm gonna make you moan and then beg, woman."

She grew hot and wet, anticipating. "We'll see who begs first," she whispered.