A/N - Picking up where ep 208 left off. And here we go...

Hold Fast to Dreams

"Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly"
- from "Dreams" by Langston Hughes

Chapter 1

Vincent squeezed the bloody rag out one more time and pressed it to his gut. At least the bullet had gone clean through, although that also meant he ached in two places at once. Pain. He was a soldier and not unfamiliar with it, yet this wound went much deeper than muscle and bone. It cut to the heart, and might be the death of him yet. Because this time Catherine had inflicted it.

He gritted his teeth, not in anger, but anguish. Reynolds had stolen his life in so many ways! The fact that he'd turned out to be Catherine's real father still stunned him, but he shouldn't have been surprised. Everything connected to Catherine was linked, somehow, to him. He should have at least finished the job. He'd had the man in his clutches. But he'd hesitated, and that's where he'd made his mistake. Or had he?

He hung his head. Where did this end? As long as that master manipulator still lived, it didn't. Tori was right—Reynolds deserved to die. The man had sent him out to kill other beasts as if they weren't human. But Vincent was a beast himself. And Tori. What had she done? Merely had the misfortune to be born to a father with tainted DNA.

As Catherine had her father's. But she was nothing like him.

"Why did I ever think I was different?" he asked the empty room, the kitchen of his boathouse apartment, bought and paid for by the good ole' U.S. of A.'s Federal Bureau of Investigation. He looked around at the sparse living space, soon to be confiscated back by them. It was as cold and sterile as his memories. For everything he knew was a lie. He was no soldier. He was just a pawn in a sadistic man's horrible, horrible game.

That he'd groveled before Reynolds at the house in Montauk, wanting to make a good impression for Catherine's sake, just made him sick. The man had played him from the start. It was embarrassing not to have figured it out before this. But as soon as he'd seen Tori tied up in that chair and heard the ticking of the bomb, he knew. He knew who had coldly set it all into play.

Vincent pressed his bandage harder. The bleeding wasn't stopping. This was an awful mess. Tori might be responsible for amplifying his reaction, but the rage was his own. And now he could pay the ultimate price.

Before meeting Catherine, he never knew what he'd lost. Then they found his nephew and he'd started to realize what giving his body to Muirfield had really cost him. Family. A future. Then there was Zach—a fellow victim of Muirield twisted and torn apart by his own loneliness and isolation.

It was only having Catherine in his life that had spared him from that, as well. But now he'd lost her, too. He hadn't liked it when she talked about him losing his humanity. He was a man! This other part of him, the animal, wasn't who he was. But what did she expect him to do when faced with the man responsible not only for the original experiments on him but this diabolical scheme to use him to kill the others? Who was the real monster?

He closed his eyes and saw her face, the look of anguish when she shot him. She had pleaded with him to stop and he nearly had. But then he realized it was too late. And if he didn't stop Reynolds, no police precinct ever would. All of their lives would be in jeopardy. He had a chance to end it and he'd taken it. How could she blame him for that?

He left the scene after being shot and had run the entire way back to the boathouse. He'd lost a lot of blood, but he knew he'd survive. He always did. Just one more scar. Somewhere along the line he'd lost the ability to heal quickly, a trait he'd apparently had before. No matter. Mind-numbing pain was better. If only that were the case. Instead, he kept seeing the scene play out over and over in his mind – a lesson he'd never forget—and the pain went much deeper than skin. Amazing what a moment of clarity that was. She shot him. She. Catherine. The look on her face said it shocked her as much as it had him. No. No dying today. The guilt he felt would keep him alive for ten thousand more years.


Tori burst through the door of the boathouse while Vincent was still trying to figure out how to stop the bleeding without stitching himself up. And that seemed an impossible task. The pain was enough to make him pass out. If he didn't stop the bleeding soon, he'd do that anyway. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of all the blood. "What happened?!"

She started to rush forward but he held out his hand to stop her advance. "Stay back."

"But you've been shot!"

"I'm fine. You just need to keep your distance from me right now."

"But—"

"I went after Reynolds."

That brought her head up. "And he shot you? But you killed him, right?" Her eyes started to glow at the name, she was still so angry.

Vincent shook his head slowly. It hurt too much to move any faster. "No. Catherine stopped me. By shooting me in the gut."

Vincent watched the shock contort to rage on her young, pretty face.

"Tori. Tori, listen to me. You need to calm down. I need your help, not your anger." Her face slowly relaxed, but she fought it. She was coming to enjoy that rush of adrenalin.

"What can I do? I mean, Th-that doesn't exactly look like something you can just slap a bandage over. You need professional help! Isn't there someone you know—someone you can turn to?"

Someone other than her. For some reason JT sprang to mind—an image of him with a syringe in his hand. JT had helped him before. But he was too close to Cat, wasn't he? Tori was growling and pacing. He needed to calm her down. "Listen to me. I need your help, but you have to calm down."

He must have looked convincing or she realized how close he was to losing it because her face changed immediately to one of concern as she rushed over.

"This place is no longer safe. We've got to get out of here, and I don't think I can drive."

"Uh—sure, but . . . where should I take you? To a hospital?"

"No. No hospitals. They can't get hold of my blood."

"Right. Of course."

"Take the extra sheet out of the linen cabinet upstairs and tear it into long strips. Then find me a clean shirt and help me into the car." They'll come looking for him. If not the Feds, then Catherine's cronies at the precinct. He had no doubt about that. "You'll have to drive, but I know of a place." It was a small hotel downtown that he had a recollection of being in before, although he couldn't quite recall why . . . .


Vincent used the last cash he had from the emergency stash Reynolds had fed him and booked them into the only two-bedroom suite they had available. For the price, it was no luxury, but it would do.

He had to allow Tori to touch him, briefly, but made sure it wasn't skin to skin. He was having a hard enough time maintaining his calm with her in such close proximity. He wanted to tell her to leave, but he knew not only would he have trouble getting her to agree, but he had no one else right now. He needed her. And keeping her nearby meant she wouldn't be going after Catherine.

He changed the bandages one last time, although he was still losing blood, and got himself, awkwardly, into bed in one of the rooms.


"This is Detective Chandler. Yes, I know I already called and asked the same question. Has anything changed? Anyone new brought in with a gun-shot wound? Fine. Thanks for your help." She slammed her desk phone into the cradle. "Not!"

"Cat. What are you doing?" Tess ran over to where Catherine paced in front of her desk at the precinct. "I've been looking everywhere for you. When did you get here?"

"I'm calling all the local hospitals. Somebody has to have seen him."

"You're looking for Vincent?"

"He's injured, Tess. And he can't heal himself quickly like he did when you shot him." That was ages ago now. Or so it felt. "What I did could kill him."

"I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that both you and I have put a bullet in that man's gut." Tess shook her head. "And you think he checked himself into a local hospital?" She squinted. That seemed pretty unlikely.

"What if he couldn't make it? He could be lying somewhere . . . bleeding out onto the street!"

"Hey." Tess put a comforting arm around her friend. "Vincent is a doctor. Or was. Despite his memory loss, he should know instinctively what to do to save himself. He had the strength to run away. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"You didn't see the look on his face, Tess, when I shot him. I shot him! He's the man I have loved and poured my entire life into for the last year and a half and I fired a bullet into him!"

Tess looked at her best friend with sadness. This was about much more than a simple shooting. "You didn't have a choice. Listen to me. You didn't have a choice, Cat. You gave him fair warning. You've given that man every chance under the sun since you found him again, and he was about to kill your father. Not that he didn't deserve it," she added, sotto voice.

Catherine glared at her.

"I know. It doesn't matter that Reynolds is the biggest jerk that ever lived. Vincent was wrong, and you had no choice but to stop him. Come here." Tess pulled Cat over for a hug. "I'll scan the hospital admittance records. You go home and rest. I'll call you as soon as we find him. Have you checked the boathouse?"

"Gabe headed there as soon as we booked Reynolds into the jail." Well, that wasn't exactly the truth. There was the time Gabe spent comforting her before heading out, but she wasn't about to admit that to her partner. She was having a difficult time going there, herself. She'd needed a friend to turn to and Gabe had been there. That's all. Although she was awfully glad he was. But it could have been anyone, really….

"And?"

"There was blood, but no sign of Vincent."

"Then that's good. He probably got home, patched himself up and then headed out with Tori to . . . do beasty things." At the look on Cat's face, Tess shrugged uncomfortably. "Not that I have any idea what beasts do in their spare time." Gah, this was messy!

"Tess, this isn't funny."

"No, it's not." She sobered. "But now is the time for you to step back out of the picture and let things play out. You gave him every chance. He made his choice. The next step is up to him." She picked up the phone. "I'm calling you a cab."

"I can drive—" Oh, yeah. Her pretty blue KIA was undriveable after the accident—which Vincent caused—and had been hauled away to the collision repair center.

"No arguments. And put some heat on your neck. You're going to be feeling it tomorrow."

The collision could have been worse, but she could still smell the acrid odor of the air bag as it deflated after protecting her head from ramming into the steering wheel. All the muscles in her neck, back and shoulders were really tight. A long, hot bath might be the best idea. But first— "I'll call JT."

"No. I'll call him. He'll find Vincent. He always does. Don't worry."

"Okay."

"Okay."


Catherine agreed to go only because she thought there was a chance Vincent would show up at her place. He always did. But no. A cold, dark apartment was the only thing that greeted her. She sighed. Maybe it was better this way. She took a shower then dressed in some comfy sweats and her favorite flannel shirt. She dried her hair but nothing more. It was all she could manage at that point.

The doorbell rang just as she was about to slide down into the soft cushions of the couch. She grimaced and wearily opened the door to Gabe.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on you," Gabe said. "Mind if I come in?" He'd phrased it as a question, but he didn't wait for an answer, just pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Catherine didn't have the energy to stop him. "Gabe, you don't need to babysit me."

"You've had quite a shock tonight, Catherine. I didn't feel comfortable leaving you alone. I'm here just—just as a friend, okay? That's all I'm offering."

"But—"

"Got any tea? I think I'll fix us some tea."

Catherine frowned as he walked into the kitchen and helped himself to her cabinets. "Okay, but I warn you—I plan to sit in front of the TV and veg while watching my favorite who-dunits for the next several hours."

Gabe turned with a big smile. "Great! I love those."

That wasn't exactly an invitation. She inwardly groaned and rolled her eyes. She supposed it didn't really matter.


JT had spent the night scanning his computers, ever since Tess had called and informed him what had gone down last night. Once again he was terrified for the man he still considered his best friend, even though Vincent had few, if any, recollections of said friendship. When the phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was 5:30 a.m.

"The Beaumont?" JT's eyebrows shot to the top of his head. An excited Tori Windsor babbled to him in a worried and aggravated voice something about not being able to wake Vincent. Just the fact that V and Tori were together in a hotel room and Vincent had been shot didn't give him warm fuzzies, but at the Beaumont? Could that have been a coincidence? It was the same seedy hotel downtown that his pal's ex-fiancée, Alex, had lured Vincent to once upon a time in order to turn him over to Muirfield. He wondered if the choice of hotel was Vincent's idea or Tori's. Considering little miss heir-to-the-amazing-Windsor-fortune would never have been caught dead in such an establishment, it had to have been Vincents' idea.

He quickly jotted down the address she gave him and agreed to meet them there, although his gut squeezed in a familiar and uncomfortable way with stress. He grabbed his bottle of Tums. It hadn't sounded like a trap, and he'd have to go no matter what if his friend needed him, but he wasn't cool with she-beast Tori at all. What if he didn't do what she asked? She could slice him to bits in seconds. He tamped down his fear and tried to concentrate on Vincent and the fact that in his hour of need his old buddy still thought to turn to him. He grabbed all the medical supplies he had on hand and left.

"How long has he been this way?"

"I—I don't know, exactly. He was fine when he went to bed, but this morning he wouldn't wake up."

"Did he wake in the night? Was he coherent?"

"I don't know. I was in the other bedroom and never heard him."

That was a relief, at least. They hadn't spent the night together, not that it mattered anymore, really, with the state of Catherine and Vincent's relationship. They were obviously no longer a couple. He spared a brief moment of sadness about that. So wrong. He knew how Catherine had anguished over Vincent's disappearance for three long months. To have come to this, well, it went past anguish to terrible heartache.

JT cautiously moved around the bed extremely aware of Tori's watchful eyes. At least they weren't yellow. He wasn't happy with the idea of his friend immediately turning to Tori, although he tried to understand it. But not only was she quite a bit younger than he or Catherine, she had a devastatingly negative effect on him—exactly what he didn't need. JT wondered to himself, not for the first time, if Tori's strange influence on Vincent was what had pushed him over the edge.

It didn't matter. He couldn't just order her to leave. He'd have to work around her until he could quietly suggest she remove herself for awhile in order to help Vincent. She obviously wanted to help. That might be the only way he would be able to convince her go.

An hour later he sent her off on an errand to get more supplies from the Club. She left reluctantly, but she left. Hopefully she wouldn't kill anyone along the way! He turned back to Vincent.


Gabe woke to the tones of his phone reflecting off the wooden coffee table. He shifted to sit up and felt a stiffness in both his neck and right shoulder. Catherine's couch was not long enough for a grown man to sleep on. She'd offered the other bedroom, but he felt safer in the front room. If anyone came to either door, they'd have to go through him first.

He looked at the screen of his iphone. Tess. "Detective. What have you got for me?"

Catherine must have heard the sound and had already been up. She came around the corner. "Anything?" She raised her eyebrows impatiently.

Gage held up a hand to tell her to wait. "That's very good news. Thanks. And keep me informed of the other situation."

"What good news and what's the 'other situation'?"

"Tess got a call from JT. Vincent is alive and with him." He didn't tell her where; Catherine was better off not knowing. "See? Nothing for you to worry about."

"Gabe . . . "

"Catherine, Vincent is okay. That's what's important. You know JT will see to that."

Her relief was evident in the relaxing of her tense shoulders. Gabe itched to massage them, but he knew she wouldn't allow him to do that.

"I hear a 'but' in there."

She was too sharp by half. "We're looking for Tori." That was the part that worried him. He smoothed an unconscious hand down his jacket. The tranq was still there.

"So they aren't together?"

So she was worried about that? "Not at the moment. And she's not at the boathouse or any of her parents' holdings. JT sent her on an errand but she didn't return. I'm sure she's fine; I'd just feel better knowing her whereabouts right now."

"Especially if she's angry over what I did." Catherine caught his movement. "You think she'll try to come after me. Is that really why you're here?"

"I'm here because I want to be. And . . . yes," honesty was the best policy with Catherine. "If Tori knows what happened and blames you, she might—"

"Take it out on me. I got it."

"Catherine, Tess is on it. She's monitoring the situation and will let us know if she learns anything new." Gabe walked over to the balcony door and tested the lock.

"That won't stop her," Catherine grimaced. "It never stopped Vincent." She cringed. Not really what she wanted to admit to Gabriel Lowen. Thankfully, he pretended not to notice.

"How 'bout some more of that tea?"