Hello BATB fans/readers,
I just want to give you all a little heads up before you start reading. First of all, this story has multiple influences that informed it. First and foremost is the song Larissa's Lagoon by Idina Menzel. Here is a link to hear it; .com/watch?v=1ZNrod0iNxU . I highly reccomend listening to it. It really sets the tone of the character of Gwen and the story itself. Another is the episode of Law and Order: SVU called "Charisma". You do not have to watch it, however, it's a great episode, and if you haven't seen it, it's worth the watch. And finally, while I was writing this draft of the story, I was also reading The Mists of Avalon, which is about the Arthurian Legends. Its influence should be obvious.
Now, this is about the 3rd draft of this story that I started writing about 8years ago. I'm really hoping for some feedback. This story is up here tentatively, and I'd really like to hear what you guys have to say so that I can take it down and make adjustments as needed. So, please read and review!
Also, just to be fore-warned; this story contains heavy religious themes. It's not all good, it's not all bad. But, if you're easily offended, you may not want to read this. Just so you know.
Enjoy!
I Sing Of The Knight
Catherine Maya
Down in Larissa's Lagoon,
She sits by the light of the moon
She's hearing voices in her head
She must be strong
She must not give into their song
She's hearing voices in her head
But Larissa woke up one morning,
Singing "Hallelujah!"
She was pretty, Gwen thought. Really pretty. She would even go as far as saying gorgeous. Not like movie star gorgeous. Like natural gorgeous.
Engaging, Gwen corrected herself. She was engaging. She had these piercing eyes that looked like they could take or give life with a glance. She had this long, layered hair that framed her like a shawl. It gave her an old, otherworldly look. Like someone out of a dream. She had this glow about her, like if you were close enough to her to be a part of her light, you would be wrapped in warmth and strength.
The longer Gwen starred at her, the more she wondered; what was her name? Was she married? Did she have children? What did her voice sound like? Did she always dress so professionally, or did she have a completely different style at home? What did her home look like? Was she a neat-freak? Or did she just throw things everywhere? Did she always move so swiftly, with such purpose? Was she as focused and dedicated in the rest of her life as she was here? What did 'the rest of her life' entail?
"State your name, please." The bailiff instructed routinely, and Gwen jumped.
"Huh?" Gwen reluctantly found the bailiff's dark, kind face.
"Your name, honey," he reminded her in a low tone, and then continued in his normal, presentational voice. "State your full name for the court."
"Um... Guinevere Ann Maillar." Gwen glanced quickly at the woman as if such an engaging person may disappear in the blink of an eye.
The bailiff rambled on about telling the truth. Gwen only half-listened. She had heard the speech many times on television; on those cop shows. She was watching the engaging woman again.
"I do," Gwen answered him, still not listening, just knowing her cue to speak. Maybe the woman wasn't even real. Maybe she was seeing a ghost. Maybe she had died in that courtroom and her spirit haunted it, coming to every trial as if she were still alive and well.
"Gwen? May I call you Gwen?" The man, from the table opposite the engaging woman, had gotten up and was walking towards her.
Again Gwen glanced toward the woman despite having to pay attention to this man. She shrugged. "Sure, I guess." Her voice was a little hoarse. She hadn't spoken all morning.
"Gwen, I need to ask you some very important questions." Besides the patronizing tone of voice, the man had turned away loftily and seemed to no longer be speaking to her, but to everyone else. Gwen squeezed her lips tight in annoyance. "Do you think you can answer them truthfully?"
"Yes," Gwen croaked, her throat terribly dry. She was suddenly horrified that the engaging woman had heard that odd tone. She glanced at her again. The woman was watching her now, and she smiled when their gazes met. Gwen blushed bright red.
"Gwen," the man paced in front of her view of the woman, "can you point to your daddy for me?"
Gwen rolled her eyes toward the man, and she saw the woman put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. With confidence now, Gwen smirked at him. "I dunno. Can you talk to me like I'm twelve and not five?"
The whole of the courtroom chuckled softly, many stifling their laughter with their hands. But, Gwen only heard the woman snort quietly, her hand clutching her mouth even more feverishly as she began to scribble notes on the legal pad in front of her.
"Okay," the man was chuckling also, "fair enough. Would you point out your dad for me?" he asked in a somewhat less condescending voice.
"I can't," Gwen shook her head. "I don't know my real dad." The woman was gazing intently at her now, and Gwen felt weighed down by her stare.
"You're very clever, Gwen," the man conceited. "Would you point out your step-father for us, then?"
"There," Gwen pointed to the calm, familiar face of Jack Hoffman, "at the table."
"How long has Jack Hoffman been a part of your family, Gwen?"
"Since I was about eight. He just lived with us for a while. He married my mom when I was nine."
"You have two siblings, don't you?"
"Yeah," Gwen glanced at the woman; she had begun taking notes again.
"What are their names and ages?"
"Mora's thirteen. Arthur's ten."
"So, you're the middle child. That must be difficult for you."
Gwen shrugged. "It's okay. I'm used to it by now." The woman smiled as some people in the courtroom chuckled again.
"Your mother, before she met Jack Hoffman, was working three jobs to support all of you, is that correct?" He wasn't speaking to Gwen anymore, he had turned away again and was talking to the rest of the courtroom.
Gwen sighed, annoyed that he wouldn't look at her. "Yes."
"Well, surely that was difficult for you and your siblings. Your mother was never home, always having to fend for yourselves."
"I managed," Gwen shrugged.
"You managed?" the man repeated. The woman was watching Gwen still, but her hand seemed to be moving of its own accord, still scribbling notes. "Your brother and sister didn't help you? You didn't have a babysitter?"
"Well," Gwen shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "Mrs. Park lived next door, she looked in on us sometimes. Arthur was still too little to help much, and Mora..." Gwen's voice trailed off.
"Your sister is mentally handicapped," the man finished for her, facing the rows of jurors.
"She's autistic," Gwen challenged him with a look. She could have sworn she saw the corners of the woman's mouth twitch. But, by the time Gwen looked at her again, her face was buried in her legal pad.
"That's right; she's autistic," the man reconfirmed. "So you would be left with the care of your brother and sister for, God knows, sometimes days at a time?"
Gwen's lips were pressed tightly together. She searched her brain for a single reason to not answer. The woman's eyes were now trained on the man and they seemed to be flashing with anger.
"Guinevere?"
"Yes," Gwen croaked out reluctantly.
"Could you tell the court how things changed when Jack Hoffman began living with you?"
"We moved." Gwen watched the woman scribble again. "Mom only worked one job. We started going to Jack's church every week."
"Mm-hm," the man interrupted her, "and there were considerably less men in and out of the house, I should think."
"Objection!" Before Gwen could think, the engaging woman was on her feet and speaking loudly. Gwen's eyes were riveted to her, and her heart pounded with the sudden excitement. "Immaterial!" The woman continued in a voice that Gwen was surprised and desperate to hear. "We are not here to judge Sarah Maillar's life! We ask that respect be shown for the poor woman! Not to mention her daughter!" The woman glanced at Gwen with something of sympathy.
"Your honor," the man spun around to the judge, quickly defending himself, "I am merely trying to establish the fact that home-life was considerably better once Jack Hoffman was a part of it."
"Well, Mr. Russell, try to make your point without insulting the girl, and her mother's memory," the judge glared hard at the man. "Sustained," he ruled.
"Thank you, your honor." The woman sat back down quietly.
"Withdrawn," the man continued with a lofty wave of his hand. "Gwen?"
Gwen jumped at the sound of her name, suddenly aware that the attention was focused back on her.
"Would you say that your life was better once Jack Hoffman moved in and married your mother?"
Gwen shrugged, "A little easier, I guess."
"Guinevere... how long ago did your mother pass away?"
Gwen shifted in her chair. She glanced up at the man who starred indifferently at her, waiting for an answer. She looked to the woman. She was watching Gwen with sympathetic and concerned eyes. Gwen starred back at the woman, unwavering. "About six months, five days, and ten hours ago." The woman's eyes went suddenly very sad, and then she fell into her notes again.
"Your mother meant a lot to you. " The man was speaking again.
"She was my mom," Gwen insisted incredulously.
"Of course," the man granted. "Gwen, what did your mother say to you and your siblings when she married Mr. Hoffman?"
"She said that Jack was our dad, no matter what, and we were supposed to treat him as such. She said, he would always be there for us if we treated him with the respect of a father."
"And did you always treat him with that kind of respect?"
Gwen felt suddenly held down, as if there were bricks of lead attached to her wrists and ankles. "I did my best."
"And was Jack Hoffman always there for you as your mother promised?"
Gwen glanced at Jack. Long legs bent under the table, his hands folded on top. He watched her with a calm, blank face. His milky brown eyes seemed to form a band around her, pulling her soul closer to him; to examine. His mid-length brown hair framed his face like a picture. He looked comfortable here, in the courtroom. He had faith, Gwen knew. 'Faith keeps the demons away.' Gwen looked at the man again. "He always took good care of us."
The man smiled, nodding and turned away from her. "No further questions. Your witness, Ms. Chandler," he mumbled as he passed the woman on the way to his seat.
Gwen's heart raced as the woman stood up, stacking her notes. 'Chandler,' Gwen repeated the name in her head. 'Chandler.' Married or maiden name? What was her first name? Gwen tried to arrange her face so that it didn't look quite so eager.
"Good morning, Gwen." Ms. Chandler looked up and smiled at her.
"Morning," Gwen mumbled nervously, her eyes locked on Ms. Chandler, unable to look away if she tried.
"Gwen," she paused for a breath, "do you want to go on living with Jack Hoffman?"
Gwen almost didn't hear the question. The face she found so engaging had a voice to match. It was passionate and alluring. She didn't want to answer, if only to allow Ms. Chandler's voice to fill the room uninterrupted. Finally, she shrugged. "I suppose."
"Suppose?" The woman walked toward her and Gwen held her breath. "You don't know? It seems a little odd to me that you; being so willing to comply with your mother's wishes, wouldn't be sure that you wanted to go back to your father. He's the only person you have left and you just 'suppose'?" Her voice was never harsh or commanding. It was a simple question asked of another person... logically.
Gwen smiled at her, conveying meaning in her eyes. "Not the only person."
Ms. Chandler's smile spread across her face quickly, adoration in her eyes. "Your siblings. They mean a lot to you."
"I've always taken care of them," Gwen shrugged. "I guess they're kind of like my kids too."
"So mature at such a young age." Ms. Chandler moved back to her table. Gwen shifted nervously. Was she supposed to respond? She was elated when Ms. Chandler spoke again. "Gwen, I have your transcripts from your old Elementary School." Ms. Chandler held up a packet of paper. "It's very impressive," she flipped through the papers. "Top marks in English and Science. Teachers have raved about your dedication; not to mention your good nature, your willingness to help..." she dropped the packet on the table. "Gwen, do you like school?"
Gwen sank into her chair; for the first time, she was afraid of Ms. Chandler. She knew what was coming. She studied the woman before her, knowing that this woman would not ask her a straight question that she could deny. Ms. Chandler was going to come at her sideways, smiling, manipulating the truth out of her. "Yes," she answered quietly, her throat scratchy.
"Really?" Ms. Chandler's face turned to concern. "Because I went looking for your Middle School records, but I just couldn't find any. Nothing. Just a little memo that said," she pulled a sheet of paper out of a folder and read it aloud, " 'Step-father, Jack Hoffman, homeschooling.' "
"Objection! Irrelevant! What does Mr. Hoffman's homeschooling the children have to do with anything?" Jack's attorney was on his feet, speaking more passionately than he ever had to Gwen.
"Do you have a point, Ms. Chandler?" The judge sat forward.
"I would just like to know what the curriculum was for these children, your honor." Ms. Chandler sauntered back towards Gwen, her eyes fixed on the judge, and her heels clicking methodically. "Because I have found no record of it. Not one paper turned into the school to show what he had taught them."
"Your honor, what my client teaches his children is his own business."
"Actually, it isn't!" Ms. Chandler had made her way back to her table. "The law requires a waiver signed by the parent or guardian stating that he or she will give the school-"
"I am aware of what the waiver says, Ms. Chandler. But I still fail to grasp what you're getting at." The judge spoke calmly; the kind of voice that could easily put someone to sleep.
"Your honor, Guinevere Maillar is a smart little girl!" The woman spoke with such passion that the glow around her seemed to explode and illuminate the dark courtroom. "Top marks, dedicated, conscientious! She had friends, she was happy in school! So why did Jack Hoffman take her away from that? What was he teaching these children?" Ms. Chandler's attention re-focused on Gwen, and she finally saw how deadly the sea-green eyes could be. "Why did he ruin such a talented young girl?"
"Objection! Your honor, really..." Mr. Russell was on his feet, but the judge hushed him.
"I know. Ms. Chandler, you need to cool off. We'll adjourn for today, if Miss Maillar would come again tomorrow and indulge us." The judge smiled at Gwen, but she knew that it wasn't a sincere request. "And, Ms. Chandler, I'd like for you to keep two things in mind. One; any accusations you are preparing to make, do not even think about voicing them in my court unless you have some solid evidence to show me. Two; you are not writing a mystery novel. In the future, please stick to the point you're making. Court adjourned."
Catherine Chandler, coat thrown on her shoulders, and briefcase in hand, stormed out of the doors, barely noticing Joe following close.
"Cathy! Cathy, what the hell...?"
"He did something to her, Joe. I know it! I can feel it!" She didn't stop, she didn't even care if he was still following her.
"Cath, don't make this into something it's not! Just stick to your facts. They're a strong enough defense to keep those kids out of his hands at least for another year."
Catherine spun on him, fire in her eyes. "That's not good enough!"
"Cathy, I know you're..." Joe followed her stare, which was no longer concentrated on him, but on the little huddle by the elevators.
"Stop it!" Gwen yelled, struggling with her foster mother over a jacket. "Just give it to me!"
"Honey, it's fine," her foster mother tried to reason. "Just let me help you."
"No! Let go! I can do it!" Gwen tugged harder on the light wind-breaker.
Catherine found a small blonde boy, not far from the group, leaned against the wall, playing with the zipper of his own coat. His mop of hair fell heavily in his eyes and he shook it away every few seconds or so. But, he paid no attention to the fight ensuing right next to him. He just watched the zipper go up and down. This, Catherine deduced, was ten-year-old Arthur.
"All right! All right!" The children's foster father stepped between Gwen and the foster mother and ripped the jacket away from both of them. "I will settle this. I'll do it."
The foster father approached a young girl, barely a step from the fight. Raven hair falling thick down her back, her eyes fixed on the string wrapped around her fingers. She also paid no attention to the fight just beside her. Her fingers worked themselves quickly around the string, weaving in and out. Finally, she pulled the string tight, revealing a Jacob's Ladder formation. She squealed, high-pitched and long. Her hands held the string tightly in its artistic form, and she stamped her feet on the floor, a smile clear through her tangle of wild hair. This was thirteen-year-old Morgaine; Gwen had called her Mora.
"Come here, sweetheart," the foster father took Mora's shoulders and spun her around to face him.
"No! Just leave her alone!" Gwen charged at him, grabbing a sleeve of the jacket.
"Gwen, just let me do it," the foster father argued. He managed to hold the jacket with one hand and took Mora's wrist with the other.
Mora, gaze unfocused on the floor, squirmed and whined, trying weakly to take back her hand. Her Cat's Cradle formation ruined, she began to cry loudly in the echoing space.
The foster father was startled just enough to give Gwen time to pull the jacket and Mora away from him. A few paces away, Gwen glared hard at him. "Don't touch her! Don't ever touch her!" She turned back to her wailing sister and pulled her chin up so that their eyes locked. Gwen brushed the tears away, her eyes never moving from Mora's. She gently took the string away and pulled the jacket around Mora's shoulders. "One black hole," she prompted, and Mora grinned and quickly slid her arm through the sleeve. "Two black holes." Mora squealed with delight and quickly stuffed her other arm into the other sleeve. Making a sound that was strangely like a drawn out laugh through her teeth, Mora watched her sister carefully. Slowly, steadily, with less precision than her sister, Gwen wrapped the string around her own fingers and held it out to Mora. The raven-haired girl clapped and quickly pulled the crossed strings out and around the formation. She took the string, now a new formation in her own hands. She starred at it, beaming, and frozen. Finally, Mora looked up and held her hands out to Gwen, who shook her head. "Time to go."
Mora made a dejected face and dropped her hands, the string now webbed only in one. She linked her free arm into Gwen's and leaned her head lazily on her sister's shoulder.
"Arthur!" Gwen called to her brother, and the boy dragged his feet to her side. His chin seemed glued to his chest, and his eyes never left his coat zipper. "Take my hand," Gwen instructed. Arthur glanced up, making a face at his sister. "Take. My. Hand," she insisted. Slowly the boy slipped his hand into hers, shuffling his feet slightly. "Stay close," Gwen suddenly grinned at him, a joke in her voice. "It's New York City out there."
Arthur tilted his head up to Gwen's, grinning, but trying to suppress it.
"Ready?" she asked more of her siblings than her foster parents, but turned slightly to include them. She didn't wait for an answer, she just began marching her siblings to the front door.
Unable to stop herself, Catherine took a step forward, closer to the children. Gwen caught sight of her and froze, giving her foster parents time to catch up. Catherine and Gwen locked eyes for a moment. Gwen's gaze was hard and unyielding. Catherine opened her mouth to say something, anything. But the twelve-year-old had rendered her speechless.
Mora snapped them out of their trance. She had taken hold of Gwen's shoulders and was using them as leverage to bounce up and down. Their foster father touched Mora's shoulder to still her, but Gwen grabbed her sister's arm and pulled her away from him.
The group made their way out the doors, Gwen glancing back to keep a wary eye on Catherine.
"Who's that?" Arthur whispered, much too loudly to be truly secretive.
"That's the lawyer," Gwen answered in a normal voice. "She's the one who questioned me today."
Catherine turned back to Joe once the children had disappeared into the New York City crowd. "You saw that, right? Please tell me you saw that!"
"What? She's protective of her siblings; all foster kids are!" Joe argued.
"No!" Catherine insisted. "She wouldn't let him touch her sister. Didn't you see that? Jack Hoffman did something to those girls, Joe. I can feel it! I'll see you at the office in a few hours." With that, she practically ran out the doors, waiving for a cab as soon as she reached the curb.
Vincent looked up from his journal long before Catherine came running into the chamber. He smiled at her wind-swept hair, her red face, and her desperate cling to her briefcase. "There she is!" he spoke adoringly.
"Hey!" She threw the briefcase on the bed and began stripping off her coat as fast as she could. "Did I miss dinner?"
Vincent nodded with a smile, "As usual."
Catherine froze, one arm still stuck in the coat. "No! Oh, Vincent, I'm sorry!" she chastised herself.
"Honestly, love, we've just gotten used to it," Vincent mused.
"I'm so sorry! I was all over the place, and I completely lost track of time. Then I got a nice, long lecture from Joe about court today. I had to pick up a couple of things from my apartment, and I swear there were a million messages on my machine." She stopped when Vincent had pulled her so close that she had fallen into his lap.
He wrapped one arm over her legs, and the other securely around her middle; his hand resting on her belly. "Welcome home," he whispered with a smile, his sapphire eyes fixed on her face.
Catherine took a deep breath and smiled back. She let the weight of her head fall; their foreheads now touching and their eyes so close that they'd go cross-eyed if they tried to focus. They kissed, softly, briefly for a few minutes, until Catherine's head rolled gently onto Vincent's shoulder.
"How was court?" he inquired with a voice that sounded more like a lullaby.
"Well... I cross-examined the middle girl, Gwen." She sighed into his chest. "I just... I'm sure it's just my hormones going crazy, but..." she sat up and looked in Vincent's face helplessly. "I just want to take her away. I want to bring her here and take away everything she is afraid to admit that this man did to her."
"It's not your hormones, Catherine." He stroked her arm soothingly. "This child is truly effecting you."
"She takes care of her older sister, who is mentally handicapped, and her younger brother, who has been very despondent through every interview. She's twelve-years-old, Vincent. Twelve!"
"And we've seen younger here who have seen horrible tragedies in their young lives. Catherine, you've cared for them, you've cried for them, yes. But, until these three children, I have never seen you so passionate and angry. These children have struck something in you."
"You know what that means," she smiled shyly and looked away.
Vincent quickly caught her chin and pulled her attention back to him. "Don't even think it!" he insisted. "You love children! And that is reason enough."
"I suppose." Catherine was tired and didn't particularly feel like arguing this infinitesimal point. "I need a bath," she sighed, and kissed him, quickly but passionately. She felt that familiar purr rumble through his chest and was smiling by the time she broke off the kiss. She slid off his lap, her hand still resting in his. "Join me?"
Vincent smiled back at her, hesitating, but also knowing that he was trapped by that promising kiss. "You're a wicked woman. You know that, don't you?"
She licked her lips seductively and watched him with dark eyes. "You worry too much."
"Said the spider to the fly," he joked.
"Come on," she laced her fingers into his and began to tug his willing form out of the chair. "My arms are sore. I'll need someone to wash my hair."
Vincent followed her, chuckling, and running his fingers through that sweet honey-colored hair that he adored.
"Guinevere, do you understand why you're here today?" Ms. Chandler moved close to the witness stand. Such a kind face. How odd.
"Neighbors called the cops," Gwen shrugged.
"Why?" Ms. Chandler was leaning her arm on the stand now and Gwen could smell the unique scent of her soap.
"We got a little too loud, I guess," Gwen shrugged again, smirking, and looked away.
"A little too loud doing what?" Ms. Chandler's voice had turned dark and foreboding.
Gwen bit her lip, and couldn't bring herself to look at the woman.
"I need you to answer the question, young lady." The judge leaned over his desk and seemed huge as he starred down at Gwen.
"We were arguing," she mumbled into her balled-up hands.
"Gwen, you are under oath, so I need you to tell me the truth," Ms. Chandler's voice was back to that soft, comforting tone. She shifted her position and blocked Jack from Gwen's sight. "Did it turn physical? Did Jack Hoffman ever hit you or your siblings?"
Gwen shrank back under Ms. Chandler's gaze. She searched for a way out, both from the question and the courtroom.
"Gwen," Ms. Chandler spoke only loud enough for the judge, the stenographer, and the girl. "You don't have to be afraid of him anymore."
With clear, calm eyes, Gwen looked at Ms. Chandler and projected as much defiance and anger as she could at the woman. "No. He never touched us that night," she answered clearly.
Ms. Chandler closed her eyes and sighed, and Gwen felt a surge of guilt knowing that she'd disappointed her. But the attorney foraged on, as they do. "Gwen, what was the argument about?"
"My mother just died!" Gwen yelled and everyone jumped, startled at the girl's mood shift. "We were all really angry! It happens!"
"Not always, Gwen!" Ms. Chandler started after her, and the girl sat back. "And certainly not to the extent of the police being called and the children being taken away to foster care. Something must have happened, Gwen."
"Nothing! Nothing happened! Jack takes care of us!" Gwen insisted.
"Then why were you taken away from him?" Ms. Chandler argued back and Gwen suddenly felt as if she were being questioned by a mother, not a lawyer. Certainly not her own mother, but someone's mother. Someone's nosey, unrelenting mother.
"Objection, your honor. Badgering." Mr. Russell stood lazily, and then sat back down.
"Sustained," the judge ruled. "Ms. Chandler, the witness says that nothing happened and unless you have proof to suggest otherwise, I suggest you take her word for it."
Counselor and witness starred, panting slightly, determined to dominate the other. Finally, Ms. Chandler lowered her eyes, succeeding to the ruling. "No further questions, your honor."
Munching on the last bit of her granola bar, Catherine and Joe rode the elevator down to the ground floor. Joe was rambling in her ear and she tried to look as though she were listening. He was upset about court, and rightly so; she shouldn't have pushed like that. Maybe she shouldn't have been given this case. She was getting too emotional. This would be her last court case for a few months. After the hearings were over, it was back to the desk. Vincent would be pleased. He hated how stressed she was while in court. She smiled, thinking about him. Oh, to be safe in his arms this second.
"I'm begging you, Cathy," Joe rambled on as the elevator doors opened, "just drop it. If you're right, the wound is too fresh. Let our facts keep the kids safe for now and maybe next year they'll be able to talk about it."
"This isn't like breaking a dish or lying, Joe!" They rounded the corner, headed toward to large glass doors. "These kids will never want to talk about this, it's too shameful, too personal. They..."
Joe nearly ran into Catherine. She had stopped and was staring at the cluster of people on the far side of the lobby. Joe followed her gaze and immediately set a warning hand on Catherine's shoulder.
But she shrugged it off, and charged toward the little group. "What the hell does he think he's doing?" she cursed under her breath. When she was close enough, she began catching snatches of conversation.
"Mr. Hoffman, you are not allowed to speak to the kids, all right? Just go," the foster father attempted to mediate. He stood between Gwen and Jack Hoffman, holding both off.
"They're my children, they need my guidance." Jack was getting irritated, his fingers twitching, as if being physically held back.
"Jack, it's just for a couple more weeks, okay?" Gwen watched her step-father cautiously.
"Guinevere, please..." Jack stared at her sadly.
"Mr. Hoffman," the foster mother stepped in now, blocking Gwen, "the kids are off limits to you right now."
Jack was angry, read in the face, and almost visually seething. "My children..." he began.
But Catherine was there now. She moved in front of Jack Hoffman, placing herself at the head of the argument, facing him head-on. "You need to walk away... now."
But he wasn't angry anymore. He was laughing now, strange and quiet. The laugh wasn't dark, eerie, or psychotic as Catherine had imagined it, but light and friendly. If this weren't so serious, if she weren't furious, his laugh would even have been infectious. "Who are you?" he finally asked. "Who are you to stand there and accuse me of anything?"
He laughed again, and Catherine held her hand out behind herself. The foster parents recognized the visual signal, and began backing the children away slowly. A step, then two, and then three.
Jack leaned into Catherine and she heard Gwen gasp, almost inaudibly, behind her. "I know who you are, Ms. Chandler. What you are. There will be a reckoning one day, Ms. Chandler. And when that day comes..."
"Mr. Hoffman," Joe and a security officer appeared beside Catherine. The officer took Jack's elbow and backed him away from Catherine, leading him out. "I'm just going to get you a cab, Mr. Hoffman."
Catherine let out the air that she had subconsciously holding. She watched Jack move through the lobby, and shook her head when his lawyer found him and took over for the security guard.
"Cathy," Joe began, watching her closely, "that was just stupid."
But she didn't care, she had spun around to the little huddle behind her. "Are you okay?" She took note of each of them as they all nodded. The foster parents had ended up on either side of the children. Mora was cuddled close to her sister, her arms linked around the girl's waist. Arthur was tucked behind Gwen, his coat balled tightly in one of her hands, as if she had pulled him behind herself and held him there. Gwen watched Catherine with dagger-like eyes. She was angry and holding in the impulse to lash out at Catherine with every bit of strength in her. But there was an undercurrent of something else there. There was something that couldn't be named swimming in amongst the angry aura that Gwen projected.
Finally the foster parents had gained their footing again. They thanked Catherine and immediately herded the children out of the lobby.
"Joe," Catherine began in a quiet, apologetic tone. But he cut her off.
"No, Cathy! You need to go home and cool off! I mean, really cool off! And maybe I do too." He threw his coat on and stormed away from her. "I'll see you tomorrow," he mumbled as he passed.
She sighed, angry at herself now. She adjusted her scarf, switched the briefcase into the other hand, and made her way to the doors. Joe was right. She needed to go home.
Catherine didn't wait for dark, nor did she bother to stop and drop off anything from work at her apartment. She just made a seamless transition from one world to another.
Her feet made contact with the last wrung of the ladder, and she jumped the last half of a foot to the ground. She turned and was immediately enveloped in his arms. She sagged against him, held there lovingly and secure, and just breathed in the comforting combination of candlewax, musk, and him.
Vincent leaned down and kissed her urgently, drinking her in for a moment. When he broke away, he set his forehead against hers and breathed. His breath danced across her face. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, kissing him again, briefly.
"You were so frightened!" he whispered and held her closer.
"I'm all right." She buried her face in his neck and held him tighter. "I'm all right."
"Catherine..."
She smiled at the sound of her name on his lips. It was the most beautiful music she had ever heard. But she was shocked when he suddenly pulled away and looked at her with such concern.
"What were you thinking?" he almost yelled at her, and she was completely taken back.
"What?"
"What were you thinking just confronting him like that? You knew he was dangerous! Why didn't you just have someone else go, Catherine?" He had a hold of her shoulders, and was so frustrated, he was shaking her slightly.
She shrugged off his grip and took a step back. "He was try to get to the kids, Vincent! He was going after the children!"
"Why didn't you let someone else handle it? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" he fumed, beginning to pace now.
"He will not get those children, Vincent! If it's the last thing I do!" she yelled at him.
"It may well be, Catherine! Don't you understand that? You have to stop this! You can't keep doing this; to either of us!"
"I won't abandon these children!"
"I'm not asking you to abandon them, Catherine!"
"Fine! You know what, fine! I'll just give up! Is that what you want? I'll quit my job, I'll walk out of court, it'll be declared a mis-trial, and the kids will go back to Jack Hoffman! How does that sound?"
"Catherine..."
"And in a year down the road when we're happy and cozy, we'll go out for a walk and find one, or maybe all three of them, dead in an alleyway somewhere! You're right, Vincent! I like this plan much better!"
He threw up his hands at her and turned away. "I can't talk to you like this."
"Vincent!" she stopped him in his tracks, red anger burning through the bond. "I am not the one who started this argument! Come back here and finish it!"
He turned slowly and watched her for a moment, so small and seemingly frail, but full of such power at the same time. Even when her was so angry with her, he was forced to admire everything about her. "I understand," he spoke slowly, quietly, with effort, "that you care very deeply for these children. I do! But this isn't just about you and I anymore, Catherine."
"I know that," she acknowledged, still seething, "but I can't just walk away."
He sighed, dropping his shoulders. "Then we must agree to disagree."
Dinner that night was conducted in tense silence. Catherine and Vincent spoke to others cordially, even carrying on short conversations here and there. But eventually the couple, who were usually the central part of conversation at dinner, had caused the whole community to fall eerily quiet. Occasionally someone would whisper to the person next to them, but they were quickly silent and stealing glances at the young couple through the whole meal.
Catherine glanced at Vincent, whose eyes never left his plate for the duration of the meal, and then glanced around at the rest of the quiet dinning chamber. She noticed all of them quickly averting their eyes; they had been stealing glances at her too. She politely excused herself from the table, feigning a weak stomach, and thanking William for the meal. She saw them all watch her leave the chamber and, once she was in the tunnel, rolled her eyes, knowing that they would be the talk of the tunnels for at least three days... again.
Vincent strolled into his chamber, his pace never changing even when he saw Catherine, on the bed, look up from her book. He hung his cloak on a random hook and began rolling up his sleeves. Catherine was pretending to not be watching him, and he knew it. It just made him more upset. Why did she insist on playing these games, even now? He went to the basin of water in the corner and splashed his face, running some of the water through his wild mane of hair to tame it somewhat.
"I didn't think you would stay tonight," he stated mildly. He pressed a towel to his face to soak up the excess water.
"Why?" her voice was strange. She was holding something back. "Where else would I go?"
"You're angry with me." He moved to the armoire, pushing clothing around in the drawers. "I just assumed you would be at your apartment by now."
"You want me to go? I'll go," she shrugged and was half-way off the bed before he turned around.
"Catherine, stop this, please!"
They watched each other in silence for a moment. Finally, Catherine, with raised eyebrows, folded her arms and sighed. "I don't know what you want, Vincent."
"Well, I don't want to fight!" he insisted.
"Well, I can't help that," she spoke calmly, hardly an emotional flicker. "You were the one who started it."
"Catherine," he began, now so amazed at her statement that he was almost at a loss for words, "do you not acknowledge that what you did today was utterly dangerous, and completely unnecessary?"
"Dangerous, yes. Unnecessary... absolutely not. And I would do it again, a thousand times."
"Catherine," he groaned, tired of fighting and ready to just have it over with.
"I can't, Vincent," there was that odd tone of voice again, like something stuck in her throat. "I can't just give up on them."
Suddenly she was sobbing and Vincent fumbled for a moment. He hadn't felt or seen that coming. He could only watch her for a moment, startled by such a drastic mood swing.
"I don't know... what it is." Tears were streaming unrelentingly now. "I just... I just... I can't." She was wrapped up in his arms again, crying against his chest.
"Is this how it's going to be?" he teased as he rocked her.
"I don't even... know why... I'm crying!" she sobbed, and he laughed, his eyes beginning to water also from such an intense emotion through the bond. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I frightened you today."
"It's all right," he rocked her still. "I understand why you did it, and I would have done the same. But, Catherine, if you must, do your heroics at night when I can still protect you!" they both laughed. He let her cry it out, which didn't take long, and soon they were just sitting in each other's arms.
"Vincent?" Catherine looked up at him, but her head never left his chest. "Are you tired?"
He smiled, figuring that he already knew where this was heading, "No, love."
"I'm not either," she sighed and was quiet a moment before she elaborated. "Let's go for a walk."
He was a little surprised, but nowhere near opposed. "That sounds nice."
"Mora!" Gwen whispered harshly, the cold air biting at her vocal chords. "Mora!"
"Gwen, let's just go!" Arthur mumbled, tugging on her arm. He looked around himself nervously. The predators this night were countless.
"Arthur, I swear, if you don't shut up right now, I will punch you in the face!" Gwen growled at him, holding firm to his sweaty hand.
"Gwen, I don't like it here! Let's go!" he urged.
"Not without Mora. Mora!" she called again. Central Park was silent, not even the wind in the trees.
"Please. I'm cold," Arthur dragged his feet.
"Get used to it!" she snapped. "Mora!" A twig snapped and Gwen pulled Arthur behind her.
"Please?" Arthur's voice quivered and he clung to his sister's coat. "Maybe... Gwen, maybe Jack... Gwen, do you remember what he said?" The boy was sobbing now, trying desperately to keep his voice low. "What if... what if they get us?"
"Shut up, Arthur!" She gripped his hand tighter and backed away from where the sound came from.
"They... they live in the shadows," Arthur mumbled, his tears gone, but a quiver still in his voice. "They know your name. They take you in the dead of night..."
"I swear, Arthur! One more word and I will duct tape your mouth shut, so help me God!" She pushed him backward a step to make it final. "Keep your eyes open! She could be anywhere."
"But what if they-"
"Shh!" Gwen yanked him behind a bush and pulled him down to the ground beside her. Voices were approaching; Gwen listened intently and Arthur was silent, tucking his head low. There was a deep, indistinguishable sound of a man's voice, and then a woman's light laugh. The voices were closer and Gwen began to be able to make out the conversation.
"... anytime."
The woman laughed again.
"Someday... and that's when... but only when you learn to keep out of those situations," the man insisted.
"I like them. They're challenging," she told him playfully.
"And dangerous. Listen..."
The pair stopped. Their voices were close, they couldn't be more than five feet from where the children huddled.
"You are everything to me! Don't you see? I can't live without you. Years ago, these... heroics were... just that; heroics. We can't be heroes anymore. Especially not when we're so close. When we have everything to lose."
"I..." she was apparently searching for words. Gwen knew that voice. "Vincent, I went to work at the D.A's to give myself to this city. I wanted to change the world. I wanted to help people. I want to be a hero."
"And you have helped so many people, Ms. Assistant District Attorney Chandler," he teased.
Gwen's eyes shot wide open.
"So why should these kids be any different? Why should the next person after them be any different?"
"Because, Catherine, as much as we would all love to be able; you cannot save-"
"Everyone," they finished simultaneously.
Catherine made a small snorting sound and continued. "Even Superman couldn't save everyone, but he still tried when he saw someone in need."
"Who?"
"Superman," she chuckled again and continued. "The point is that these kids mean a lot to me and I can't explain why. I just... I have to help them, Vincent."
"Then, please, from the sidelines, my love. For me." There was a silence and then a sweet low whisper, "Morgaine, Arthur, and Guinevere are lucky to have you, Catherine. Even if they don't know it yet."
Crouched behind the bush, the siblings hadn't heard past their names. To Gwen it only confirmed her suspicion; that was Ms. Chandler talking. But to Arthur, who was already paranoid and terrified, the sound of his name on the stranger's lips was shocking. He involuntarily gasped, and then began whimpering to Gwen.
"Did you hear? Did you hear that? They know our names, Gwen! They've taken Mora! Jack was right! Jack was right!"
Despite her best efforts to calm him, Gwen was forced to clamp a hand over his mouth and tell him to "shut up!" again. But the damage had been done. The couple beyond the bush had fallen silent.
"What is it?" Catherine asked. Her voice seemed closer.
"I can't tell," hardly any sound escaped from Vincent, but Gwen could feel him closing in. She did her best not to breathe while keeping a grip on Arthur.
"Vincent..." Catherine warned him. Gwen tilted her head curiously. Catherine's voice held just as much fear as Gwen's own heart. How odd; why was she afraid?
It's New York City, Gwen rationalized. Any fear is well-founded. But still, her voice was strange, and it seemed to hold a thousand secrets that she was terrified to release.
"Vincent..." she warned the man again. There was suddenly audible contact between the couple. She must have grabbed him somehow. "Leave it," she suddenly pleaded. "Please, Vincent. I have a bad feeling. Let's go home."
Gwen held still for a moment and then peered through the bush. The couple was a few yards ahead, their pace quick and constant. She released Arthur, but he was paralyzed with fear and had fallen perfectly silent long before. "Come on!" Gwen grabbed her brother's hand and dragged him to his feet.
"Gwen!" Arthur bulked as he regained his senses and realized Gwen was leading him through Central Park, toward the fleeing pair. "Gwen! What about Mora?"
"Keep your eyes open for her still. Don't worry about where you're going, I'll lead you. Just look for Mora!" Gwen's eyes were riveted on Catherine and Vincent, proud of herself for gaining ground on them. Catherine half-skipped and moved quickly to keep up with her partner. This Vincent was quick, swift and agile; pulling and directing Catherine just as Gwen was leading Arthur, albeit less rough. For such a swift and smooth person, Vincent looked huge and bulky. Gwen marveled at him as she ran to keep up. This man was just as enigmatic and engaging as his companion.
"Gwen!" Arthur whimpered behind her.
"Shh! They'll hear you!" Gwen snapped in a whisper.
"Gwen! What if they really are just like Jack said? What if they took Mora?" he pleaded, purposefully dragging his feet.
"Then we're headed in the right direction! At least we'll have found her," Gwen shrugged, pulling him up a hill.
"Gwen..." Arthur whined.
"Arthur!" she stopped suddenly. "We won't leave without her!" Just as suddenly, they were running again.
They came over the hill, and Catherine and Vincent were gone. As if they had vanished, there was no hint or clue of them having been in the park at all. At the base of the hill, Gwen panted and surveyed the area for any sign of them. Nothing. Trees, scattered snow, another hill covered in dead grass, and a drainage tunnel was all she could see.
"Okay..." Arthur caught his breath, "can we go now?"
Gwen cursed and pushed unruly curls out of her face. "Where did they go?" she whispered to herself.
"Gwen, please! I'm cold... and I'm hungry. Maybe the Harrisons won't have noticed we left and we can sneak right back in," Arthur pleased.
"We are not going back!" she growled through clenched teeth. "And besides, no matter what we do, we can't do it without Mora."
"Gwen, please," Arthur pulled on her arm, but she didn't budge. "It's dark," he reluctantly whispered. "We're not supposed to be out in the dark, remember? They'll catch us Gwen!"
"Shhh!" she snapped at him suddenly. But he whined her name one more time, and she clamped her hand over his mouth again. "I mean it! Shut up!" she growled and then listened hard. "Do you hear that?"
Arthur didn't answer. Even if he had, she wouldn't have heard him; her focus was elsewhere. "It's coming from the tunnel."
With strong, determined steps, Gwen headed for the dark tunnel, but Arthur bulked and pulled. Not caring anymore, Gwen simply let go of her brother and left him where he stood. A few paces later she felt him grab a hold of her jacket, keeping close.
"Ugh!" Catherine groaned, following Vincent closely. "I just want a bed! My kingdom for a bed!" she sighed dramatically.
Vincent's arm encircled her suddenly. He pulled her around in front of him and held her against the bars of the gate. He leaned his face close, his unique lips barely brushing hers. "A bed, you say?"
Eyebrows raised in surprise, Catherine's lips skimmed his as they were pulled into a smile. She couldn't help but smile when he did this. He was so sweet and sexy, and almost dangerous, and she was putty in his hands. "Indeed, good sir," she played along. "I'm quite exhausted after such a foray." She faked a tiny yawn and stretched her arms out, then up and around his neck, drawing him even closer. "I can scarcely keep my eyes open."
"Really?" He watched her with sky blue eyes that were glowing smokier by the second. "That is very unfortunate, my dear lady," he appraised her body seductively with a mere flicker of his eyes. "I had something," he kissed her briefly, "quite magical in mind."
"Really?" She kissed him, a little more deeply this time. "It sounds tantalizing!" she teased, another, deeper kiss. She made to break it off, but Vincent held her there, teasing her, making her squirm with the warmth in her belly. And she was lost in him, in that powerful kiss once again. When she descended back to Earth, she smiled up at him again. "You are not allowed to speak to another woman. She would try to steal you in a heartbeat!"
Vincent blushed, but quickly came back with an innocent boyish look. "There are other women in the world?"
Catherine giggled and buried her face in his neck. She breathed heavily, truly praying that she would be able to stay awake. Make-up sex was always the best. And make-up sex with Vincent was other-worldly.
She was shaken when Vincent shifted and pulled away from her. She looked up and saw him searching the tunnel with every sense available to him. "What is it?" she whispered, but before she finished, he set his fingers against her lips to silence her.
Suddenly there were audible footfalls against the tunnel floor. Catherine made a silent gesture at the area the noise was coming from, and Vincent nodded, warily taking a step toward it. But Catherine caught his arm and shook her head, wild fear being projected through the bond. Vincent's calm eyes found her fearful ones, reassuring and chiding her at the same time. If she insisted on taking risks, why couldn't he? Besides, if someone had followed them, they couldn't allow themselves to be seen going through the passage.
Catherine released him reluctantly and crossed her arms around her middle. She nervously watched him take a step, and then another, toward the noise. There was a sudden scuffle and the noise fell silent. Vincent glanced back at Catherine and she took a step forward, his safety foremost in her mind. But he shook his head and signaled her to move back. She stubbornly held her ground.
Vincent rolled his eyes at her as he turned back to the source of the noise. He felt Catherine's fear elevate as he stepped into the shadows. Her eyesight was not as keen as his, and he used his given talent freely, adjusting to the darkness as fast as he was stepping into it. He saw an odd dark heap on the dirt floor, just a few feet from him. He made to move toward it when it began moaning. It made guttural, low-pitched, and sorrowful sounds as Vincent moved near, slowly. Suddenly it began rocking, slow at first, but growing steadily quicker. It was at this distance that Vincent knelt and found a dark-haired child huddled over herself, rocking, and crying, and moaning. She made no acknowledgment of his presence. Her eyes were fixed on a point of the floor and she never deviated. She repeated on sound, amongst her myriad of other moans, that Vincent couldn't decipher, but felt sure that it meant something.
He watched her for a moment to see if she would react to him at all. When it seemed clear that she wasn't acknowledging the world around her, Vincent looked up at his companion. "Catherine," he called softly, "come see what I found."
Catherine, on edge from minute one, leapt forward and rushed into the shadows to Vincent's side. It took her a moment to adjust, but as soon as she had, she realized that she was sitting in front of a familiar young girl. She reached forward tentatively and tucked one half of the girl's hair back behind her ear. The girl never flinched. She only moaned and rocked and repeated the same sound, over and over.
Catherine sat back and sighed. "Morgaine," she called to the girl sadly, but she never looked at her audience. "Damn!" Catherine cursed quietly and then looked at Vincent, angry at her own irony. "This is Morgaine Maillar. The oldest sibling." She turned back to Morgaine and leaned in. "Honey, what happened?" No reaction from the child. "Where is your sister?" Nothing but a blank face, coated with a few tears. "Your brother?" It was no use, the girl was stone. In a final effort, she reached forward and clutched the girl's hands. "Mora! Where's Gwen?"
Mora whined and struggled to free her hands, but Catherine's words struck something in her. She was repeating that guttural sound with more urgency now, insisting it to nothing and no one in particular.
Vincent looked up slowly and nodded at Catherine, "Gwen. She's looking for her sister. She keeps saying, 'Gwen'. "
Catherine took one sad examination of the child and immediately set to work. "I don't know how she got out here," she informed Vincent as she moved behind Mora, "but I have to take her back to her foster parents." She reached under the girl's arms and tried to lift her to her feet. Mora kicked and squealed, though, with no intention of moving.
Slowly, Vincent took Catherine's place behind the autistic child. He moved Catherine out of the way and looked at her with true concern. "Please, dearest, don't strain yourself." When she gave an agreeing nod, he turned back to Mora and knelt down, setting his head on the side of hers. Catherine watched with admiration and the deepest love as her Vincent whispered indistinguishable words, only meant for his charge, as he slowly, calmly, coaxed her off the ground.
Eventually, Mora was standing, her eyes fixed on a new focus point and half of her fist buried in her mouth. Catherine cautiously moved to the girl's side and smoothed out her oily raven hair, smiling all the while at Vincent in adoration. "I have to get her back home." She put an arm around the young girl and coaxed her barely a half-step. "Come on, sweetheart," she encouraged.
"We're not going back!" a strong voice announced from the other end of the tunnel.
Mora tried to move toward the voice of her sister, but discovered Catherine had become a barrier that she couldn't get past.
"Gwen!" Catherine exclaimed, surprised, but holding out an arm to catch Mora, and glancing back to be sure Vincent had moved deeper into the shadows.
Gwen moved forward stiffly, peering warily into the shadow where Vincent hid. Arthur trailed behind, terrified of every patch of darkness he fell into. He held fast to his sister's coat, as if a talisman to his fears.
"Mora, come here!" Gwen commanded, her hand outstretched, but shaking.
The girl happily made to run to her sister, but Catherine caught her shoulders and held her protectively to her breast. "Gwen, tell me what's going on."
"Give me my sister!" She was shaking harder now and Arthur was practically glued to her side.
"Did you run away? Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how dangerous-"
"Give me my sister!" Gwen screamed, Arthur whimpered at her side, and Mora struggled in Catherine's hold.
"Central Park is dangerous at night!" Catherine insisted, fighting her hardest to hold Mora, but the girl had already wrenched an arm free and had begun trying to hit Catherine.
"Give her to me! Please!" a genuine plea from Gwen was stuck in her throat. "Please, Ms. Chandler! Let her go! Please!" There were true tears coming from the girl.
Catherine was stunned and let her grip loosen just enough that Mora's elbow to her chest knocked the wind out of her and she released the girl. Mora raced to her sister, but Catherine stumbled back, trying to catch her breath. She felt Vincent reach for her, but she pulled away, pulling herself together, and refusing to lose any connection to the children.
"All right," Catherine coughed. "All right. You have her." She watched Mora wrap herself around her sister and lose her focus on a piece of rust. "Just tell me what you three are doing out here."
Gwen was silent, holding fast to Mora and occasionally glancing back to be sure Arthur was securely attached to her.
"Why did you leave the Harrison's?" Catherine tried again, but Gwen only watched her intently. "Were they mistreating you? Gwen?" The girl's gaze shifted to the shadows where Vincent hid and her stare intensified, making Catherine very uncomfortable. "Gwen! Answer me!" Through the bond, Catherine found Vincent's curiosity coursing through him as the child studied the area in which he stood. "Gwen!" she tried to distract the girl again. "Gwen," a softer approach now, "I'm going to take you all back, okay?"
"No!" Gwen snapped, her attention back on Catherine after another evaluation that her siblings were attached to her.
"Gwen... what happened?" Catherine spoke slowly.
"Nothing! Nothing happened. Just leave us alone! Okay?" Gwen pushed her brother, indicating that they were collectively going to back away.
"Listen to me, Gwen!" Catherine insisted desperately. "You three are safe with the Harrison's. He can't get to you there! Do you understand?"
"But they can!" Gwen cried out. "You don't understand! They can still get us!"
"Who?" Catherine took a step toward the trio to keep them in her sight.
"We'll leave New York! We can go north! They aren't there. Then we'll be safe!" Gwen was rambling now, all of her inner thoughts spilling for Catherine to decipher without a code.
"Gwen, please," Catherine stepped forward, cautiously following them, mentally grasping for them, "let me help you."
"You can't!" Gwen screamed, uncontrollable emotions spewing out of her. Mora crushed her ear against her shoulder to block out the noise, beginning to whine, and Arthur clung to his sister tighter as if his holding her would keep her from exploding. Catherine stood stock still, waiting nervously for some sort of opportunity. "You can't help us! Leave us alone!"
"Gwen..." Catherine started forward in a low, soothing voice to coax the girl like a wild animal.
"No! You're one of them, aren't you?" At Gwen's accusation, Arthur whimpered and tucked behind her further.
"Gwen, honey," Catherine spoke calmly, her hands held up in surrender, "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I would like to help you..."
"You are!" Gwen inhaled sharply as Catherine's step forward pulled her into a patch of shadow. "You hide in the shadows!" Gwen tucked Mora back so that she stood in front of both her siblings. "You live in darkness, don't you?"
Catherine was perfectly still, in total confusion, and watched Gwen carefully. "What has he done to you three?"
"And you're with him!" Gwen pointed a sharp, accusing finger right past Catherine and into the blackness behind her.
Catherine froze, shocked and terrified now. She searched for Vincent through the bond and found him very quiet, but waiting; more curious than afraid, and this calmed her. She breathed deeply and dropped her hands. "Okay," she spoke soothingly to the children. "Okay. Calm down. Just calm down." The children's sobs had quieted, but Gwen was still half-bent and pointing at Vincent. "Gwen," she tried to get the girl's attention. "Gwen, look at me."
Catherine heard Arthur whimper, "don't do it!" to his sister, and she didn't move.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Catherine assured as sincerely as possible. "Please, just look at me. I want you to see that I'm telling you the truth."
Slowly, Gwen's arm dropped, along with her head, and gradually she made her gaze focus on Catherine. "Who is he?" her words stabbed at the woman.
"Not now," Catherine told her, never losing eye contact. "Right now I want you to-"
"Who is he?" Gwen demanded.
"Listen to me!" Catherine yelled back. Once again, she was shocked to see the children freeze and pay attention to her suddenly. Their reactions to what seemed, to her, to be such an insignificant act was fascinating and terrifying to her. "Who are these people you're running from?" No one spoke. "I want to help you," Catherine tried again, "but unless I know who 'they' are, I can't protect you." Gwen's eyes lowered to the ground and she mumbled something unintelligible. Catherine took a small, tentative step toward the siblings and tried to re-capture Gwen's eyes. "What was that?"
"It doesn't matter," Gwen mumbled again, a little more clear this time.
"What doesn't matter?" Catherine inched closer again, as if creeping up on a nervous animal.
Gwen raised her eyes to Catherine, surprised to find her so close, and shook her curls out of her face. "You're not one of them, are you?"
"I don't even know who you're talking about, sweetheart." Catherine was elated at the new-found comfort, but diligently tried not to show it.
Gwen didn't answer, she just looked at Catherine with piercing hazel eyes, examining every detail of her face. "Your protection," she finally spoke, "it doesn't matter. They always find us, no matter where we go. There's nowhere you could hide us."
"Gwen..." Catherine was close enough to touch the girl now, but she didn't, "who are they?"
She examined Catherine for a moment longer. For that moment all of the walls between them vanished. Everything was honest and there was no manipulation. For a moment, Gwen's brother and sister were gone, and there was only she and Catherine. "Who is he?" she asked the engaging woman, calmly and clearly.
Catherine breathed, nervously fighting with herself to not answer the child.
"It's a fair trade. You tell me who he is, I'll tell you who they are," Gwen reasoned and squeezed Arthur's shaking hand to reassure him.
Catherine opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again. Suddenly, she felt Vincent, encouraging her through the bond. She sent her fear and insecurity back to him, but he insisted. She swallowed hard and her attention shifted back to Gwen, who was still, calm, and waiting patiently. "Um..." she faltered and turned back to Vincent with uncertainty.
"Go on," his melodic, comforting voice emerged from the shadows.
"He..." she stumbled as she turned back to the children. Arthur's eyes were wide and terrified, but Gwen was simply calm and curious. "He's my husband," she answered quickly and simply.
There was a moment of silence and Vincent's voice filled it suddenly. "Don't be frightened. I won't harm you. My name is Vincent."
Mora suddenly took notice and tried to step toward his voice, but her sister held her back. "Why are you hiding there?"
"I don't want to frighten you."
"You're already frightening us," Gwen insisted, showing no fear at all.
"All right, Gwen," Catherine took control, beyond worried about this unnerving encounter, "now you tell me who you're running from."
"Come out into the light," Gwen spoke right past Catherine, ignoring her completely. She shook off Arthur's physical plea and waited.
"No!" Catherine immediately pounced in front of Gwen's line of vision. Simultaneously, Vincent reached for her through the bond, and she turned to stop him as well. "No, Vincent! Now Gwen, I've held up my end of the bargain. I want to know-"
"I don't trust anyone who hides," Gwen insisted, as if Catherine had no need of existence at that moment.
"Strange," Vincent began, his voice only a sweet whisper, "isn't that exactly what you're trying to do?"
"Yes," Gwen admitted, but proudly glanced back at her brother and sister, "but I'm not just doing it for my own benefit."
"Neither am I," Vincent responded quickly.
"Aren't you?" Gwen challenged with a flash in her hazel eyes.
"That's enough!" Catherine nearly yelled, and Mora suddenly cowered behind her sister. "Vincent, stop it. You're just toying with the girl."
"And she's gaining ground," Vincent admitted, amazed and impressed.
Catherine ignored his comment, and turned back to the children. "I want answers, Gwen. Otherwise, I see no reason not to take you right back to the Harrison's."
"We'll just run away again, Ms. Chandler," Gwen's intense stare switched back to the woman, and she corrected herself. "Mrs. Chandler."
"Catherine..." Vincent took a step forward, not quite in the light, but his outline now distinct.
Catherine didn't even look back, she just pointed commandingly at him. "Vincent, stay there! If they won't trust us with their secret, then we can't trust them with ours." This was meant to intrigue the children, but Arthur was too afraid, and Gwen remained stone.
"Catherine," Vincent began again with a tone that said he wouldn't be interrupted again, "they're afraid. Don't push them." And then his tone went soft, obviously meant for the children. "Don't worry. You're safe. We'll hide you where no one will ever harm you again."
Catherine's eyes shot wide open. "Vincent!" she half-turned back to him.
Gwen was just as terrified as her brother now, horror flashing on her face. She had walked them straight into a trap because of her own stupid curiosity. Why didn't she ever learn? Now they would be taken again.
"Guinevere, no," Vincent assured suddenly. "Don't be afraid. It's a good, safe place. They'll take care of you there."
"I can take care of myself!" Gwen insisted, pushing her brother and sister a step back.
"We're not taking them anywhere!" Catherine argued. "They have to go back to their foster home!"
"No!" Gwen yelled, another step backward.
"Gwen..." Catherine tried to appease her, but Vincent cut her off.
"Catherine, you told me just the other day that you wanted nothing more than to keep them safe with you."
"It's not that simple, Vincent! There's a trial going on and we need these children!"
"They're children, Catherine! Not textbooks! You can't just extract information from them!" Vincent fell right back into their argument.
"They can't hide from the world, no matter what you or I want for them!" Catherine expertly argued while keeping an eye on the children to be sure they didn't run off.
"And did you not put yourself in danger today for them? Do you want to prevent that from ever happening again? Do you want to keep us all out of harm's way, Catherine?"
"Vincent, don't do this," she sighed, exhausted and unable to hide it anymore.
"Look at them, dearest," Vincent's tone was so light, he knew how tired she was, but this was a fight that had to be won. "They're truly afraid. We can't turn them away. Catherine..." he pulled her attention back to him and whispered the words she uttered to him not long ago, "you can't abandon them."
She turned back to the children and found them a couple paces further from her than before. But even Arthur wasn't so afraid anymore. They were watching Vincent and Catherine, baffled by the argument, and even more fascinated by its abrupt end.
"I'm sorry," Catherine apologized to them with a sigh. She smiled when Gwen and Arthur glanced around themselves nervously, unsure of how to answer. "Look," she looked back at Vincent for a moment and then back to the children, "this will not be as easy as he makes it sound. There are a lot of complications. You have to understand that."
Gwen watched her nervously, not sure where all of this was going. She clung tight to Arthur's hand and kept Mora close, confused whenever her sister would try to step toward Vincent's voice.
"You know that I can't just let you go off on your own," Catherine continued. "So, you have two options; you can go back to the Harrison's, and I will arrange for an officer to stay with you to protect you at all times, or you can come with us. Listen," she stepped close to the trio, dropping her voice low, "there are a lot of responsibilities that come with going with us. We will keep you secluded and safe and free from all of the threats up here, but you will have to do the same for us, and everyone else who is there. They are all there for protection as well, and you cannot betray them. Do you understand?"
Gwen watched her for a moment and then tilted her head, her brow furrowed. "No."
"Of course not," Vincent spoke softly from the shadows. "You have no idea what we're talking about." He sighed quietly and began, "There is a place, cut off from the rest of the world up here. It's far below the city, under the subways, even. People go there to heal, to be among kindred spirits, and to live their lives without so much pain. But this place has to remain a secret because there are some of us there who aren't like yourselves, or Catherine." Slowly, steadily, Vincent moved forward, out of the shadows and into the strips of light. "We cannot live in your world. We're different, and we know what your world would do to us, were we ever found out." He stepped up beside Catherine, wrapping a strong arm around her waist to lean her tired body against.
Gwen and Arthur stumbled back a step. Arthur nearly fell, thinking that they were going to run again. But Gwen held her ground and struggled with her sister who tried to move toward Vincent. Arthur regained his footing and his grip on his elder sister's jacket. Crying openly now, he yanked and pleaded with her to run, but she refused. She was busy controlling Mora who just kept trying to run to the couple who were hardly feet from them. Finally, being pulled in two different directions, Gwen took a long, hard look at Vincent and then a deep breath. She pulled Mora around to face her and held her hands between her own.
"Stop," she whispered to Mora, connecting to the girl on a plane that no one seemed to understand. Mora fidgeted for a minute more, trying to pull her eyes away, desperately wanting to stare at Vincent. Finally she stilled and Gwen moved her to her side.
Gwen turned then to Arthur, who was still crying and pulling on her, refusing to look up from her jacket. "Arthur!" she yelled, her tone very different from the one she used with Mora. "Arthur, stop that! Stop crying! Arthur, look at me!" He shook his head, so she grabbed his chin and pulled his face up to hers. She heard Catherine step forward, but Vincent whispered, "no". Gwen wiped her brother's tears off of his face, but held his chin firmly. "Listen to me! Not everything is as it seems!"
"But," Arthur sobbed, "but, Gwen, he's..."
"Stop it! He's offering us a place to hide. No more shelters. No more foster parents. No more running, Arthur," she encouraged him with everything in her, even though she didn't believe a word of it.
"But... what if they're..."
"Mrs. Chandler doesn't even want us. She wants to send us back to the Harrison's. If she were one of them, she wouldn't want to take us back there." She released his face and spoke gently now. "And look at him, Arthur." The boy hesitated. "Go ahead, just look at him." Without looking herself, she watched Arthur reluctantly peek around her at the massive figure. "Why would he be trying to convince us? He's big enough, fast enough, he could just take us." She smiled at the absurdity and necessity of her next statement. "No, he's just as afraid of us as we are of him." She turned now and hooked an arm around Arthur's shoulders, smiling at the beautiful and engaging woman. "And I think Mrs. Chandler's even more terrified."
"Catherine," she corrected gently, with a fond smile.
Gwen nodded and then focused back on her brother. "It's gonna be okay."
"I'm afraid," Arthur shivered from head to toe. "What if we never come back?"
With no smile, in complete sincerity that broke Catherine and Vincent's hearts, Gwen replied, "Then we'll be the luckiest people in the world." With the deepest uncertainty, Arthur nodded his agreement and swallowed hard.
The huge iron door, the gateway to that supposed wonderland, slid back and Arthur, terrified, took a step away. Gwen reached out her hand as she had back at the courthouse, but her face was stronger and softer all in one now. Arthur clasped her hand, pulling her ear close to his lips. It didn't matter, he was too frightened to be quiet enough, and Catherine and Vincent heard him clearly.
"The Underworld!" he tried to whisper to her, though his trembling wouldn't allow it.
Gwen turned and whispered to him, true secrecy this time, though both adults strained to hear them. Finally, she looked up at them, and nodded that they were ready. Slowly, steadily, the Maillar children followed them through the passage, and were locked into the tunnels.
The tunnels were dark and moist tonight. Catherine kept herself amongst the children in case one wandered off out of curiosity. At least that's what she told herself. Vincent knew the truth, of course, and she wished he wasn't so conspicuous about it. Every one of the siblings were ready to run at any second. Catherine didn't have to be empathic to feel it. She saw it play across each of their faces.
Mora seemed trusting of both Vincent and Catherine, however the new smells and strange sounds of the tunnels had put her on edge. She was tense, and scuffled along the path that Catherine led her. She seemed keenly ready to turn and run at any second.
Arthur was in full scale panic and did nothing to hide it. He clung to Gwen as if his holding onto her kept him together. He jumped at every sound and hid every time Vincent would turn to check on them. A few times Catherine had seen Vincent look back and felt Arthur pull back on Gwen's arm, as if he were turning to run.
Gwen, however, remained eerily serene. Her body was ridged as a rock, but she followed Catherine as a chick follows a hen. Catherine had to wonder at this child. She had such a strong will and such conviction; fierce instincts and bitter experience. Yet, for all that, she was blindly trusting a woman she had been terrified of in a courtroom not 24hours ago. Still, this girl was so prepared. One false word, one odd look, and both Catherine and Vincent were quite aware that she would grab Mora and Arthur and run as fast as her legs could carry her.
"It's not far," Catherine assured them in order to break the tense silence.
"Where are we going?" Gwen asked, trying to keep her voice level.
"My Father," Vincent called back. "He's the leader of the community. He has to meet all of the new-comers."
Catherine heard Arthur whisper urgently, and Gwen scolded him unintelligibly. There was nothing to be done to dispel the boy's fears. Both Catherine and Vincent were having trouble accepting it for the time being.
"Should we..." Gwen faltered, surprising them again with her unwillingness to be rude, "know anything? To say, I mean?"
Catherine smiled at her, happy to find a fear that she could soothe away. "Father founded the community. Everyone calls him Father. Vincent only has special privileges because he was adopted by Father as a baby," she teased.
"Adopted?" Gwen seemed surprised and Catherine's smile grew, knowing that the girl had gotten the message.
"Yes. Vincent was found by a dweller outside St. Vincent's hospital. He had been abandoned. The woman brought him here to keep him safe and Father cared for him..." and with a sly grin toward her husband, she added, "for the rest of his life."
"Not fair," Vincent called back, and turned a corner into the center hub.
The siblings' eyes grew wide as people; normal, happy people, began passing them and waiving, staring curiously at the new children, and wishing them all a good evening. To their utter shock, a large group of children, no older than themselves came running by, calling to each other, and passing a ball between them. They were corralled by a young woman, her thin hair in a ponytail, and the first female they had seen in pants. She stopped, breathless in front of their train.
"Hey guys!"
"Jamie," Vincent greeted her, "are you all right?"
"Just so you know, I'm getting on pipe repair next time. I don't do well with children. Whoever suggested me for this was mean and cruel." She inhaled suddenly, "Cullen! It was Cullen, wasn't it?"
"I honestly don't know, Jamie," Vincent suppressed his laughter, knowing it would only earn him an annoyed look, and maybe a punch in the arm.
"Oh, Catherine!" Jamie pulled a sling off of her shoulder. "Lena said to say thank you."
"Well," Catherine sighed, an odd sadness washing over her suddenly as she took the sling, "someone should put it to use."
Jaime watched Vincent wrap a soothing arm around Catherine, and added her own supportive smile. "Really sweet of you to loan it out. Well... I guess Father and Mary might be a little upset, to say the least, if I didn't put these guys to bed."
Vincent threw a glance back to the children trailing behind him. "You'll soon have three more."
"Don't tell me that!" Jamie whined, rolled her eyes and sighed as they fell back on her group. "All right! Come on, everyone! Bedtime. And first one who whines about it gets left out of the story tonight."
"What about the second?" a boy shouted out.
"I call third!" another yelled.
Catherine giggled as the group moved beyond their earshot. She gave an ironic smile to Vincent and the siblings. "Harsh sentence. Poor dears."
Vincent's mouth twitched into something of a smile and his arm tightened around Catherine. The siblings seemed lost on what was funny. But, they quickly followed when called.
They didn't travel much farther before Vincent stopped in front of an archway and turned, catching a glimpse of Arthur stumbling back and quickly clawing at Gwen's shirt. Vincent caught eyes with Catherine, and they shared a half-second of disappointment. "Stay out here. I'll try to break this to him gently."
"Good luck," Catherine squeezed his hand. "And, do me a favor, love? Let him know that I had nothing to do with this."
"I absolutely will not," he told her sweetly and kissed the side of her head. "I'm telling him it's all your fault because you don't know how to delegate the work."
"Vincent!" But her scolding came too late. He had already ducked through the entrance. She sighed and leaned against the wall, awkwardly catching the eyes of the three children staring expectantly at her.
"Father," Vincent greeted the old man as he came down the steps.
"Vincent!" Father looked up from a journal and smiled at his son. "Come to say goodnight?"
"Uh..." Vincent bowed his head, "no, Father. I came to apologize. For many things, actually."
"Well," Father took off his glasses and waited, "you certainly have my attention."
"Yes; well," Vincent stumbled, suddenly feeling eight-years-old again, "first I'd like to apologize for dinner this evening. Catherine and I... were not in the most conversational moods."
"No, I could see that. Would you like to talk about it?"
"No... Father, thank you. We've... um, worked it out. I think. I hope." Vincent glanced nervously around himself.
"Vincent, is something the matter?" Father examined him. "Is Catherine all right? Is she feeling-"
"She's well, Father. It's just..." he took a deep breath and began. "It's the custody case that she's been working on. I've told her to be careful, but... well, you know Catherine."
Catherine tried her hardest not to stare, but the children before her were drawing her attention so strongly. She couldn't look away if she tried. Mora was alert, but had calmed a little since they had stopped walking. Gwen was keenly aware of everything, but amazingly, she only had eyes for her siblings. Arthur, however, was beside himself with fear. He jumped at the flicker of every torch and every sound that danced across the pipes. It was all too much for Catherine to bear. Finally she was compelled to try to soothe all of them.
"Arthur?" The boy jumped at the sound of his name. "Are you all right?"
"He's just scared," Gwen informed, tucking her brother into her shoulder.
Catherine nodded. "Yes, I see that. You know, I was scared the first time I was here too. I didn't know anyone or where I was. I think I would have tried to run away if I could have."
"You were kidnapped," Gwen guessed, now locked onto Catherine's face.
"No. No, I was rescued." Catherine caught Gwen's skeptical glance. So young, and so determined to suspect the worst. "You're right, though. I had been kidnapped. Some men put me in a van and hurt me. Then they left me in Central Park."
"The Harrison's talked about that," Gwen interjected. "They said it was fortune that we had 'a victim' on our case. Didn't know what they meant." She paused and dropped her eyes. "I wasn't supposed to hear that."
Catherine smiled at the curly-haired tween wild-child she suddenly saw in front of her. "Someday, Gwen, people won't take you for granted quite so much." Gwen looked up at her quickly. "So, what else weren't you supposed to have heard?"
Gwen shrugged. "You were found in your apartment or something, weeks later. No one knew how you got there. Not even you."
Catherine chuckled. "I couldn't very well tell them I had been here, now could I? Vincent had found me that night in the park. He saved my life. He brought me to Father," she gestured to the archway, "on a night... a lot like tonight." She attempted to slyly draw a parallel without Gwen directly catching on to what she was saying. But, once again, the child was too quick for her.
"Is that what you think is happening here, Mrs. Chandler? You think you're saving our lives?"
Catherine was caught a little off guard, but gave an honest answer, knowing that Gwen would catch her at a bluff. "I certainly hope so."
Gwen tucked her face into Mora's raven hair, but kept her eyes on Catherine. Such a gesture was worthy of a mother protecting her child, and Catherine's heart ached suddenly. She took the sling Jaime had handed her off of her shoulder and hooked it properly over her head, so that it hung around her neck and under her arm.
"... out of your minds?" The sudden shout echoed out into the tunnel, but was quickly silenced.
Catherine turned back to the siblings and found they had taken a step away. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Don't worry. He just needs a minute to overreact."
"Catherine," Vincent emerged from Father's study, obviously a bit worn. "Father would like to speak to the children."
"Come on," she coaxed them, careful not to touch them. "It's all right. Don't be frightened. He just wants to talk." She herded them through the passage.
"Catherine," Vincent caught her arm and kept her in the tunnel. "I need to speak with you."
Catherine glanced back, the children had frozen and were staring at them. "Vincent, I can't leave them."
"They'll be fine. I need to speak with you privately." Vincent was nervous and upset, Catherine could feel it practically radiating off of him.
She nodded and turned to the siblings. "It's all right. No one will harm you. I will be there as soon as I can."
Gwen nodded and edged her brother and sister through the passage, looking back at Catherine as much as she possibly could.
Vincent pulled Catherine away from the entrance to give them more privacy. "We have a problem," he began with a sigh.
"What's wrong?" Catherine reached up and gently pushed his hair out of his face. He was struggling with something.
"I don't know why I jumped into this. I was just so compelled. I just want to protect you... and them. I just..."
"Vincent, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
"We have no room, Catherine. There's nowhere to put them. We have one bed available, but no place to set it up."
"Father-"
"Father won't turn them away. He can't, but... that doesn't solve our problem."
"Well..." Catherine glanced around as if looking for an answer, "we could build, couldn't we? Add onto the dorms?"
"Of course, but not for a couple of weeks. There are other projects that have to take priority." There was quiet between them for a moment, but Vincent was still holding something back.
"What?" Catherine finally asked, looking deeply into his eyes. "What is it?"
"Father..." Vincent exhaled and looked away from her. "Father suggested..." it took effort and her touch on his chest to draw his gaze back to her, "he suggested our spare room."
Catherine's mouth opened, but closed it quickly. She dropped her head, searching for words, but none came.
"Catherine," Vincent took her hands, "if you don't want them in there, we won't put them there. It's as simple as that."
Catherine nodded, solemn. "Do you want to put them in... the spare room?" She asked in a bit of a mumble, a little bitterness creeping in at the end.
Vincent sighed, his eyes closed. He gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. "I... want them to be safe. I think they truly will run away again if we don't take them. And I think that this is something that we have to sacrifice for them."
Catherine nodded, inhaling deeply, and stepped away from him. "If you think it's best." She turned, tucking her face away from him.
"Catherine," he reached for her, "don't be angry."
"I'm not." She took his hand and let him see her tearful eyes. "You're right. It's for the best."
"This isn't forever, love," he assured her. "This isn't giving up."
"Of course not," she gave him a fake smile and squeezed his hand. "You'd better go. They're tired. They need someplace to sleep tonight."
"Catherine..." he grasped for her, but she had moved beyond his reach.
"Please go, Vincent," she choked. "I need to be irrational for a few minutes before I go into the study."
Vincent hesitated, but Catherine had already turned away from him and begun to sob. "I... I'm so sorry, my love." He finally, painfully, backed away from her, and down toward their chamber.
When Catherine finally entered Father's study, her eyes dried and looking as normal as possible, the children were all piled onto the chair that Vincent normally sat in. It brought a strange smile to her face. Mora, with her feet tucked under her, leaned back into Gwen, who was perched on the arm of the chair, playing aimlessly with her sister's hair. Arthur was on the opposite arm, closest to Father. Catherine could see something had happened in the ten minutes she had left them alone with Father. They were smiling, Arthur was relaxed and laughing, the girls looked like sisters and not their mother/daughter-like relationship. It was like magic. The same magic that Father seemed to work on everyone who was brought down to him. Catherine half regretted not seeing what had happened in the last ten minutes.
"But just so that you know, he is here," Father informed, good naturedly. "So, if you see him around, he's perfectly harmless."
"And his name really is Arthur?" the boy leaned forward, hanging on every word that fell from Father's mouth.
"Yes, of course! You know, I believe Mouse meant to name him after the legendary king of England." Father opened a large volume that seemed to always be sitting on his desk. "Which makes me wonder... Arthur," he looked at the boy, "as in King Arthur?"
Arthur nodded vigorously, "Yeah! Mom's favorite story."
"Really?" Father smiled. "So, Gwen... short for Guinevere?" The girl nodded, blushing a bit. "A king and a queen. Your mother had great ambition for you, didn't she?" The children giggled in agreement. "Mora, though. I can't quite place that one."
"Morgaine," Catherine came down the stairs and stood behind Gwen.
"Ah! Yes! The great sorceress!" Father leaned forward, trying to take Mora's attention away from the string on her shirt. "You know, there is some debate as to whether she was good or evil. What do you think, Morgaine?"
Morgaine didn't stir. Gwen pulled her dark hair away from her face and whispered, "go on" to her. The young girl's eyes scanned the chair, but eventually she worked her way upward and caught Father's eyes for a second, but ducked her head quickly, smiling shyly.
"She doesn't really talk a lot," Gwen explained apologetically.
"She should give lessons," Father chuckled. "There are people in this world who talk far too much. Myself included. It is time for bed." He looked up, giving Catherine his full attention, a wary look in his eyes. "Do they have a room, my dear?"
Catherine breathed deeply, gave him a tight smile, and nodded.
"Good! Children, why don't you gather your things. I'll see you all at breakfast. You can meet everyone then." Father made his way to Catherine, tucking her into a moment of privacy rather quickly. "Are you all right, dear?"
"Yes. Just fine. Vincent explained everything. I appreciate you allowing them to stay." She was determined to get through this quickly.
"Cathy... I know this is hard for you. It is hard for Vincent too. You should know that."
"I do know, Father. It's fine, really."
Father sighed, "Oh, Catherine, I wish I could make this easier for you two."
"Thank you, Father," Catherine declared loudly, breaking their privacy. "I appreciate everything you've done, and now I have to get these guys to bed."
It was Father's turn to give a tight smile. "Of course. I'll see all of you in the morning."
The tunnels were strangely quiet, as if every dweller were peeping out from somewhere to get a good look at the new-comers. Some of the relaxation the children had built with Father was ebbing away, and even more so when a voice emerged from the new chamber they were entering.
"There they are!" Vincent proclaimed, his arms wide.
The children were very still at the entrance, watching Catherine sink gladly into Vincent's waiting arms. She turned after giving him a quick kiss. Her back molded against his front, and his arms drawn lovingly around her, the couple took a moment to watch the children who were watching them. Both Catherine and Vincent noticed that even Mora seemed to be looking at them, possibly closer than the other two siblings.
"Come on in," Catherine called softly. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
Gwen led the way, pulling Mora along behind her, and took Arthur's hand when he'd made his way to the other side of her. Arthur's eyes never left Vincent as he shrank behind his sister.
"Well," Catherine began awkwardly, "um, welcome."
Gwen and Arthur surveyed the room. The huge king-sized bed, stained glass window, statues and paintings and tapestries, two oversized armoires, and a writing desk.
"We're staying here?" Gwen asked in awe, focused almost completely on the window.
"Oh, well, this is our chamber," Catherine explained, "but you'll be staying in the joining room."
"I've set up three beds," Vincent offered, stepping out of Catherine's hold. "They're not much, but they should be comfortable." Vincent made his way across the room and pulled aside a set of striped patterned curtains to reveal a candle-lit room behind them.
The children hesitated, watching Vincent like frightened prey. Catherine felt so awful for her husband. The children were always the first to trust him. She'd never known a child to shy away after ten minutes, much less two hours with him! She could see Gwen's fear over-taking her and she took a step forward to guide both Arthur and Gwen forward.
"Go on. You three are tired," she cooed lightly, ever-mindful not to touch Mora, lest Gwen take it as an attack. "It's just a room. There's nothing to be afraid of."
The siblings inched forward, tucking close to the wall farthest from Vincent as they passed through the curtain, one by one. Catherine stepped forward to follow, but stopped a foot from the passageway.
"Catherine," Vincent moved toward her slowly. "Are you coming?"
"I don't think I can," she whispered, desperate for the children not to hear.
"You can!" he encouraged. "It's just a room."
"Don't make fun of me!" she snapped.
"I'm not! I swear to you, I'm not." He sighed, "But we have three children in there who can barely lay eyes on me. I need you. They trust you. I need you to be strong for them."
Catherine dropped her eyes. "I haven't been in that room in over a year."
"I know. And I think it's time we both go in and give ourselves over to just a little bit of hope," he reasoned, soothingly.
"Hope hurts," she stated, lifting her eyes to those soft striped curtains.
"Catherine, you can do this! I don't want to keep pretending-"
"I'm really tired, dearest," Catherine suddenly announced, turning from him and setting herself atop their bed. "Would you get them settled? I'm just going to get ready for bed."
Vincent watched his sweet and sad wife start digging through her armoire, pulling out sleepwear, and humming to herself as if he were already gone. He sighed, wishing he could make all of this go away. A wish for simple, happy lives that would never be. It would always be difficult, and painful, and frustrating, and heartbreaking; as it had been from the beginning. With a few candles lit, Vincent watched Catherine set herself at the desk and open her journal. He sighed heavily, took a moment to compose himself and ducked into the joining room.
Gwen led her brother and sister into the adjoining room, but she stopped when she realized where she was. In the far corner was a baby's crib, beautifully crafted wood, smooth and shiny. It was hand painted with moons and stars, suns and leaves. There were faces painted on it as well, though Gwen had no way of knowing who they belonged to. Close to where she stood, against the wall, there was a changing table. Against the wall to her left were two tall shelves; one piled high with children's books and music, the other decorated with toys of all varieties. There was a sea chest near the crib that seemed to be bolted closed, but a bit of fabric was peeking out from the lid. A small dresser was against the far wall, also obviously beautifully handcrafted. A large rocking chair was perched along the wall as well, cradling multiple blankets and pillows. The floor was covered with an ornate woven rug, and the only thing that covered it were three beds, scattered throughout.
Gwen turned back, expecting Catherine and Vincent to be behind her. Instead she found her brother cowering, with a confused expression, to one side, and her sister, twisting her fingers, on the other side. There were voices whispering beyond the curtain; they were fighting. At least some elements of life didn't change. This situation wouldn't last long. She could tell. Nervous now, Gwen surveyed the shelves built in, high up on the walls. They held multiple candles that circled the room.
Eventually Gwen's eyes fell on the beds. One was off the floor, barely, but held up by wheels. The other two were plain mattresses laid on the floor near each other, covered with old sheets.
Arthur had processed the layout at the same time as Gwen. He practically flew to the wheeled bed. But Gwen was faster. She stepped in front of him, cutting him off from his prize just as he reached it. "That's Mora's," she told him sharply.
"But Gwen..." he whined.
"No! The bed's Mora's!" she commanded with practiced authority.
"Gwen, if you sleep on the floor, and Mora sleeps on the floor, then you can put your beds together if she gets scared," Arthur argued expertly.
Gwen glanced between the beds, and then to Mora. She heard shuffling along the rock floor; large footsteps, a man. Vincent had joined them... only Vincent. Forcing herself to stay calm, she relented with a heavy sigh. "All right, take it."
"Yes!" Arthur moved around Gwen and fell on the bed.
Arthur had cleared Gwen's view of Vincent, standing in front of the exit, peering around at the room as she had just done, but with an odd, unrecognizable expression. Was he sad, angry, in awe? It didn't matter; he was closer to Mora than made her comfortable. She took Mora's arm and led her to the mattresses on the floor.
Gwen stopped and starred at the two make-shift beds spread out on the floor. Her eyes glazed over at the sight of the bed in the middle, the one she had picked for herself. Too perfect; all set for the perfect sin. She shook off the thought. She reminded herself that she was stronger now. Nothing of the past would ever happen again.
"There are pillows and blankets on the rocking chair. Would you like help with them?" Vincent made to move toward them, but Gwen's tone stopped him.
"We've got it!" her eyes met his, level and narrow. It calmed her, strangely so, to know that she could make this man; this full grown creature, back down at her will. He didn't want to hurt her, she knew that, acknowledged it. That didn't mean she wanted to be left alone with him any time soon.
"The accommodations will get better," a soft voice sounded from behind Vincent. Catherine stepped slowly into the chamber, taking in all of its contents. "You weren't expected, so there was hardly time to prepare."
"Catherine," Vincent breathed. He wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her against his side, sending immense pride through the bond.
But no sooner had he done so than she broke away from him and moved into the center of the room. "You moved the furniture," she stated, barely a flicker of emotion. "The crib was here. The bookshelves weren't next to each other."
"I had to make room," Vincent apologized. He was keenly aware of both Gwen and Arthur's eyes on them. He needed to keep her calm. "I'll put everything back as soon as there is room in the dorms for them, all right?"
"I suppose," Catherine sighed.
"A-are we..." Gwen stammered, looking between to adults, "intruding or something?"
"No." Catherine was suddenly at the girl's side, speaking clearly and calmly. "No, never intruding, dear. I'm glad this room's being put to use." She pushed Gwen's curly hair back off of her shoulder. "You three look tired. Why don't you get some sleep? I'll give you the grand tour after breakfast tomorrow morning. Does that sound good?"
Gwen glanced at Arthur, who looked hopeful at the prospect of breakfast. She met Catherine's gaze again and nodded.
"Here," from her folded arms, Catherine produced an array of clothing, "it's just some old t-shirts and shorts to sleep in. Tomorrow we'll get you all a clean change of clothes."
"Thanks." Gwen took the clothes and tossed a shirt and sweatpants to her brother.
"We'll be in the next room if you need anything. And make sure you blow out all the candles before you fall asleep," Catherine insisted, looking around the room and beginning to lose her composure. She reached back and found Vincent's hand quickly. She caught hold of it as if it kept her standing as she moved back out of the room. "If you need anything, we're right here," she repeated. "Sleep well. We'll see you in the morning."
Finally Vincent had moved her back behind the curtain and there was a heavy, shaking sigh as the couple disappeared. Gwen surveyed the absent baby's room again. Arthur was at the shelf that held the children's books. He reached up to pull one out when Gwen caught his wrist. "Don't touch it."
"It's just a book. She said that no one was using this room anyways. Please, Gwen?"
"Just..." Gwen glanced at the hanging pink, blue, and green striped curtains and heard the muffled, whispering voices, "just don't touch anything. Okay? Go to sleep."
Arthur complied, begrudgingly, happy in that at least he had won his bed of choice. Gwen passed him a pillow and comforter once he'd changed into his bedclothes. She set up hers and Mora's beds as well and instructed Arthur, sternly, to roll over and try to sleep. She heard him snoring before she even began helping Mora into her over-sized t-shirt. Her siblings settled, Gwen made her way around the chamber, blowing out the candles. The chamber was pitch black when she crawled under the blankets, and attempted to hide from all her fears that emerged in the darkness.
Down in Larissa's lagoon
There is no force that's greater
Looming deep within a very
A very, very troubled girl
She stays awake for hours
Picking out the sweetest flowers
To lay upon the grave
Of a very, very troubled girl
Catherine came to consciousness slowly. She had been dreaming. A moving sidewalk. Six children, piled on the platform and she couldn't reach them. She would barely touch their fingers when the sidewalk would carry them away.
Catherine shook her head, too tired to open her eyes. It was still early, from the tapping of the pipes; still too early to get up. She contemplated her coming morning; she and Vincent had estimated the siblings sleeping until about 10am, to get their energy back. By then, she had hoped to have gone up to her apartment, get a phone call from Joe, spent 30minutes panicking with him about the missing Maillar children, and be back Below for breakfast. She squirmed a moment in Vincent's embrace, beginning to feel light-headed. 'Not today,' she scolded herself. 'I need to function today, please!'
Suddenly there was a release of breath from above her. She considered it just being Vincent in her ear, but she had the uncomfortable feeling of a presence standing over her, watching her. Squeezing her eyes tightly, partly to make the dizziness go away, partly to give herself the energy to open her eyes, she finally found the ambition to acknowledge the world beyond her eyelids.
Little Gwen, pale, and looking terrified by the light of the single candle that she carried, stood above Catherine, watching the woman struggle to awareness. She shifted, looking over her shoulder, keeping a steely eye on Vincent, as well as seemingly willing Catherine awake.
"Gwen? Are you all right, sweetheart?" Catherine squirmed again to prop herself up on an elbow.
"I... I just..." Gwen stammered. Catherine gave her the universal sign for 'quiet' after looking back to be sure Vincent was asleep. "I... um..." she fumbled still, but quieter. "Would you help me?" she finally pleaded desperately.
Confused, and still a little disoriented, Catherine cautiously picked up Vincent's arm and placed it at his side. She nodded to Gwen to move; she had to do this as swiftly as possible. Quickly, Catherine swung her legs over the bed, and slid off in one fluid movement. She was proud only for a second before a sleepy voice drifted up to her and she rolled her eyes.
"Is everything all right, love?" Vincent moaned, barely opening his eyes.
"Everything is fine, Vincent. Go back to sleep. I'll be right back," she cooed to him, an arm already draped around Gwen to spin her back toward her room.
Catherine followed Gwen past the curtain with as little hesitation as she could muster. When she spoke, her whisper was even quieter, and it was hard to make herself not seem anxious. "What's the matter, Gwen?"
"Um..." Gwen swayed, uncertain. "I'm really sorry to wake you up."
"It's fine, honey, what do you need?"
"Um... Mora won't sleep," Gwen said fairly quickly.
Catherine was skeptical for a moment. The girl's response seemed terribly contrived. But she glanced over, and there was Mora, rocking back and forth on top of her covers. Catherine glanced at Gwen, who seemed to be trying desperately to look innocent, and quickly knelt down to Mora's side.
"Hey, honey," Catherine swept the girl's hair back behind her ear, "why can't you sleep? Huh?"
Mora rocked persistently, her eyes focused on her hands that twisted around each other. Finally she looked up at Catherine for a moment, and then ducked her head again. "Mmm... dark," she stated firmly.
"It's not dark now," Gwen was kneeling in front of her sister. "I lit a candle. It's not dark anymore. Can you sleep now?"
"No," Mora shook her head so that her hair fell out of place again.
"What do you need, then?" Catherine leaned close, suddenly noticing that her hand-twisting had a pattern to it that she would repeat.
"Play!" Mora declared loudly, looking up at Gwen hopefully.
"No, Mora." Gwen placed her hands on top of Mora's, "No playing. It's bedtime."
"Oh my god, Gwen!" a moaning voice emerged from the heap of blankets on the one bed off the floor. "Please just give her the string and shut her up." Arthur was snoring again before anyone had a chance to speak.
Gwen met Catherine's eyes sheepishly. Quickly she was focused back on her sister. "Mora, honey, I forgot it. I left it at the Harrison's. I'm sorry. You can't play."
"Gwen," Catherine caught the twelve-year-old's attention, "what kind of string do you need?" The girl stared, stricken and confused. "You asked me to help, Gwen. If this will put her at ease, I won't deny her." Still Gwen didn't speak. "Guinevere, what kind of string?"
"Um... any," Gwen finally answered. "Long. It needs to be kind of long. Any kind is fine."
Catherine jumped up and went to the dresser. She found twine inside the top drawer measured it out to her arm's length and cut it off. She hurried back to the girls, not even bothering to close the drawer. "Okay..." she knelt beside them again, "not so hard, now was that?"
"Thanks," Gwen took the twine from her with a confused stare that Catherine couldn't interpret. She tied the ends of the string together and held it out to her sister. "Mora, I have a string. Can you use it?"
Mora didn't answer. She took the string and wrapped it around her fingers, smiling. The twisting she had been doing before with just her fingers suddenly took shape in the looped twine; bridges one minute, ladders the next.
Catherine leaned close to see Mora's newest creation. "She is amazing!" she breathed.
Gwen creased her brow. "It's only a habit. I taught it to her one day and she never stopped."
"And that's amazing!" Catherine assured in hushed tones. "Her dexterity, her focus... it betrays everything about her disorder. Autistic children have this amazing ability to do things that most of us can't even imagine." She looked up and found Gwen staring at her as if she'd grown another head. "I apologize. When I was assigned your case, I did some research. We have a couple autistic children down here, but they're fairly high-functioning. Mora's level of autism completely fascinates me."
"Um... okay, I guess," Gwen shrugged, lost on the wonder Catherine seemed to see in her disabled sister. "Bedtime, Mora," Gwen set her hand on top of Mora's fast and furious fingers. The girl whined for a second, high-pitched, and Gwen hushed it. "You can keep it. You can keep it. I just want you to lay down, okay?" With no word of protest, and her eyes never leaving her structures, Mora laid down and settled into her pillow. Gwen pulled the blankets up under her arms and pushed her hair off of her face.
"Okay," Catherine breathed, "crisis averted. Get yourself settled, Gwen, and I'll-"
"Catherine!" Gwen's face had gone pale again and she bit her lip nervously. "I..."
"Gwen, honey, are you all right?" Catherine leaned closer to see her better in the candlelight.
"I just... I'm..."
"Sweetheart, you have to tell me what's wrong or I can't help you," Catherine tried to soothe her.
"I'm... um," Gwen squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the reaction, "I'm... bleeding." Her voice was so low that Catherine almost didn't hear her.
"You're bleeding?" Catherine examined her from where she sat; a panicked once, twice, and third over.
"Not..." Gwen shifted uncomfortably and looked at the floor, "not like that."
It took about a second for Catherine to inhale lightly. "Oh! Oh, Gwen, you should have said before. Has this ever happened to you before?"
Gwen shook her head, refusing to look at the woman, white as a sheet and looking sick. "I- I think it got on one of the blankets. I'm so sorry!"
"Oh, no, Gwen it's okay! Don't be upset, honey." Catherine reached forward and lovingly ran her fingers along the girl's curly hair. "It's going to be all right," she soothed. She climbed to her feet and pulled Gwen up too. "Come on, I'll get you a clean change of clothes, and a new blanket, and we'll fix you up, okay?"
Gwen wrapped her arms around herself, still not looking at Catherine. "It's okay, you know. I mean, I know about it, and stuff."
"Okay," Catherine nodded encouragingly. "That's good. Come on, we'll get you cleaned up, and you can ask me anything you don't know about."
Catherine put together a full bath for Gwen, as quietly as she possibly could. Still she woke Vincent, as she knew she would.
"It's nothing, Vincent. Go back to sleep."
"Can I help? Let me help you."
"No, Vincent, I'd very much prefer that you didn't."
"You need your rest, Catherine."
"I'll have a nap tomorrow. Sleep now."
She checked in on Arthur and Mora as Gwen had begged of her, half way through her bath. Both were sound asleep; Arthur snoring, and Mora with her hands still holding her perfect Jacob's Ladder in the twine. Catherine didn't dare take the twine for fear of waking her.
Clean and dry, Gwen tip-toed through Vincent and Catherine's chamber. Even though Catherine held her shoulders gently and walked close behind her, fear still gripped at her stomach, twisting it into knots. Catherine could feel how tense the girl was, simply being in the room with Vincent. It broke her heart to not be able to put Gwen at ease. Catherine caught up the tunnel-made shift that hung on Gwen like a sack, and dragged on the ground. It was all Catherine could find within her own clothes that would even nearly fit the little twelve-year-old who seemed so small at the moment.
Gwen climbed under her blankets after checking on both of her siblings, her wet hair, perfectly straight with the weight of it, spread across the pillow like a fan around her head.
Catherine tucked the blankets up around Gwen, kneeling next to her bed, leaning over the girl, and feeling her own maternal nature like a stabbing pain in her heart. "We probably should have dried your hair somehow. It's very cool down here. I don't want you getting ill," she whispered as she ran her fingers through the strands of wet silk.
"I'll stay warm," Gwen promised, and then looked over to find Mora turned toward her, her perfectly formed twine between her cheek and pillow as she slept. "Thank you, Catherine."
"You're welcome," Catherine smiled warmly at her. She realized it was the first time Gwen had called her by her first name. "Are you uncomfortable at all? Feeling any pain?"
Gwen shook her head, mutely, unable to make her eyes leave Catherine's face.
"If you do, let me know. I have some tea from Chinatown, it works almost instantly. The women down here use it often." Gwen only stared up at her. "You know, the first time I began my cycle, my mother had died too." Gwen was quite alert now, and watching Catherine intensely, in all her innocence. "She died when I was very young, and I grew up with my father. Oh, I was so embarrassed the morning I woke up and I realized what was going on. My father must have known because I didn't say a word at breakfast. It was the first time I ever skipped school. I met my best friend just outside and told her what had happened. She had started hers a few months before me. Her mother was furious when we turned up at her house until Nancy explained. I spent the whole day in her living room, eating pie with Nancy and her mother," Catherine laughed a little at the memory. "But, I remember... sitting there, talking to Nancy's mother... I was so angry with my own mother for not being there. Even though I knew it wasn't her fault."
Gwen closed her eyes and nodded slowly. She turned her head away from Catherine and curled slightly under the covers.
"Gwen..." Catherine stroked her shoulder soothingly, "I know I'm not your mom, but if you have any questions, anything you want to ask me, anything you want to talk about, I would happily answer you as best I can."
Gwen didn't move. She laid perfectly still as if she were waiting for something to befall her. She was always at the ready, this poor little girl. And again, Catherine had to wonder what horrors Jack Hoffman had done to this sweet little creature.
Satisfied that Gwen was done talking for tonight, Catherine gathered the base of her nightgown to climb to her feet, but Gwen suddenly grabbed her arm to stop her. Sinking back down to her knees, some fear gripped her abdomen as the girl's sad eyes met hers.
"Can I ask you something?" Gwen pleaded in a whisper.
"Anything," Catherine assured again.
Gwen hesitated, and Catherine felt her fear lurch into her throat. "What happened to your baby?"
Catherine gaped at her for a second, not really prepared for that kind of question. She finally dropped her eyes and closed her mouth. "Um..." she bit her lips, desperately trying to think of a way around this. She raised her eyes, hoping beyond hope that Gwen was going to let this go and she wouldn't have to say a word. But, there were those clear, hazel eyes waiting for her; sympathetic, but waiting. Catherine sighed heavily and dropped her eyes again. "She..." a breath for strength, "she was born too early. She died... before she came into the world."
Those sweet, clear eyes stared back at her with such detached sympathy that Catherine could only glance at them briefly. This girl unnerved her so. "How old would she be now?"
"She would be..." Catherine stared at her hands in her lap, "almost two-years-old."
"Do you think you'll have any more?" Gwen's questions were so innocent sounding, never knowing how she cut Catherine like daggers... or did she?
"Well..." she began uneasily, trying to word her response so that it didn't sound as brutal as her heart made it feel, "um... I'm two months pregnant now, so..."
"Really?" Gwen studied her, looking almost as if she didn't believe her. "So, why aren't you happy?"
Catherine struggled for a moment; opening her mouth to speak, and then closing it upon her better judgment. Finally, she met Gwen's gaze. "Why are you asking?" she inquired calmly, truly curious herself.
Gwen sighed and turned her head to stare at Arthur and Mora. She spoke so softly that Catherine had to strain to hear her. "You were so sad. I could tell, that first day that you questioned me. Like... you were trapped and you knew that even if you were to cry for help, no one would know how to begin to help you. I knew that. I know how that feels," she mumbled. She paused, taking a breath before going on. "There are things about my mother that aren't in those files. There are things no one would know. Things no one could know." Gwen was quiet again and Catherine did her best to hold herself in check. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. "Catherine, I've hardly spent more than a total of 6hours with you, but you've been nicer to us than we could ever hope to deserve."
"Gwen," Catherine began to reproach her, but the girl locked eyes with her again and stopped her.
"Please. You don't know how true that really is. Just let it go." She sighed, "Anyways, I figure anyone who can take care of us so easily; no second thoughts... well, you actually deserve to be a mom. You'd be a real good one."
Catherine smiled, her heart somehow lightened a bit. "Well... that was a very good answer. Thank you." Gwen nodded to her, but then those eyes were still waiting. She wanted an answer, and she wouldn't let Catherine go back on her promise. Catherine released a breath, and looked around the room; the disarray of baby furniture making her almost self-conscious, as if someone were judging her from behind one of them. "About... about five months after my daughter died, I was pregnant again. And I was happy. I was! I came back in here, I began painting the crib again. Mouse made that rocking chair. Everyone thought that it would be better this time. Father kept a close eye on me. We did everything right." Catherine's gaze grew distant, lost in memory. "Everything was going so well. I felt so much stronger, so much more prepared than I had been before." Catherine focused on Gwen, tears swimming in her eyes, and she shrugged bitterly. "And then, one morning, I woke up and I had miscarried. And that was that."
Gwen's face was near to stone, though she studied Catherine as if the woman were some alien object. Everything in her expression seemed to scream to know more. And, for some unknown reason, Catherine felt the need to keep answering.
"So, now..." Catherine brushed her tears away angrily, "it's not so much a happy occasion as it is..." she searched for the word, "waiting for the worst to happen."
Gwen exhaled heavily and turned quietly back to her brother and sister. "Yeah," she whispered, "I know what you mean."
Catherine closed her eyes and tried to calm her rapid heartbeat that she was so sure Gwen and everyone else in the tunnels could hear. She tried to justify it to herself; the children had to know sometime of the situation they'd been brought into. But really, Catherine had no idea what made her speak so frankly to the twelve-year-old girl that she hardly knew.
"Catherine?" Gwen's whisper reached her through her thoughts, and she told herself that she would fall apart if the girl asked her for any more details.
"Yes?" Catherine tried to keep her voice steady as she braced herself.
"I don't feel well," she whined quietly and curled a little more under the blankets. "Will you stay here until I fall asleep?"
Catherine released the breath she'd been holding and smiled at the sweet child beside her. "Yes, honey," she stroked that silk-like strawberry blonde hair that was now forming perfect curls as it dried. "I'll be right here next to you."
And, as the child fell asleep, amongst her brother and sister, in Catherine's nursery, that empty feeling in Catherine's heart began to sink into her stomach. It sat there like lead while the Maillar children slept in her baby's room. She set her hand on that place where that feeling sat and felt a warmth grow there suddenly. For a moment, just a brief moment, she swore she could feel something. A kick, a pulse of life beneath her palm. She smiled. In all this time, in these weeks of knowing, she'd never once thought of this baby as a life inside her. It was a bad omen, a bringer of inevitable despair that grew more painful the longer it lived inside her. But here she was, her hand pressed against the child growing steadily within her, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with all the promise and dreams that it brought along with it.
"Okay, little one," she submitted, sighing deeply, "here we go."
Darkness. So much darkness. It closed in on her, forming shapes at the last moment before the black figures grabbed her, tossing her back and forth between each other. And then she was sinking, fighting as she was dragged downward in a never-ending vortex.
Gwen jerked awake, her head coming sharply off of her pillow, feeling as if she'd landed belly-first onto her little make-shift bed. She breathed heavily as she surveyed her surroundings. She was still disoriented and slightly confused by the scattered baby furniture around her. The past 24hours came quickly back to her and she breathed easier to find Arthur and Mora on the wheeled bed playing Cat's Cradle.
She pushed herself up to sitting, the area just inward of her hips suddenly tightening, sending a heavy ache through her abdomen. She would need a bathroom soon, but she tried not to think about it. Just the thought was making her ill.
"You okay?" Arthur glanced up from the string twisted around his fingers.
Gwen nodded, tucking her knees up under her chin, wrapping herself up. Everything would go away if she could just make herself small.
"Is that what you went to bed in?" Arthur examined her closely, making Mora wait, with her hands tied up in the string.
Gwen looked down at herself, the off-white silken shift that was practically falling off of her, and the freshly washed hair that fell in perfect pin-curls down her arms. She shrugged and tilted her head to lay on her knees.
Mora whined and pushed the string formation against her brother's chest, protesting how long he'd made her wait. Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes, quickly finding the crosses to grab in her formation.
"Children?" a deep, rumbling voice called from beyond the curtain.
Arthur and Gwen froze. Mora innocently followed the direction her brother and sister were staring, but did not grasp it's importance, and so she shoved the string under Arthur's nose again. But neither of her younger siblings were paying attention. They were staring at the curtains, their bodies rigid, their eyes wide, and thousands of thoughts racing through their minds.
"Children?" Vincent called again. "Are you all awake?" The siblings wouldn't, couldn't respond. "I have clean clothes, and there is breakfast when you're ready." More silence. "Arthur?" the boy inhaled involuntarily. "Gwen?" she stiffened and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. With a sad sigh and a tone that implied resignation, Vincent made a final effort. "All right, if you need anything, I'm right outside."
Gwen released her breath as Vincent seemed to move away. With a deep inhale for courage, she quickly called out, "Vincent!" There was a scuffle of feet drawing closer and Arthur snapped his attention back to his sister. She waited, in fear of him bursting through the curtain. But there was a hesitation in the air that they could all feel, and the footsteps stopped at the curtain. Gwen swallowed, regaining her tongue and her courage. "Where is Catherine?"
"She's Above," Vincent answered with as soothing a voice as he could manage. "She had to go into work today. If you need anything-"
"No!" Gwen responded quickly
"All right," he tried to reassure. "She'll be back soon, children. And... I'm right outside."
There was silence again, and Arthur and Gwen let their nerves relax. Mora, who had given up on her brother, was making her own string designs as she climbed down onto her sister's bed, and dropped her head onto Gwen's shoulder. Gwen shifted, the cramping in her abdomen growing worse. But she wouldn't leave the room... not while he was out there.
"Good morning, Vincent!" Mary's voice seemed to sing as she came through the entry way. Her arms were occupied with a large silver box, and she smiled easily at him.
"Mary!" Vincent looked up, startled, from his journal work. "Good morning. Well," he glanced around himself, "nearly afternoon. What can I do for you?"
"Father was concerned when you and the children didn't come to breakfast. He said they might be too shy." Mary smiled wide at him, "Naturally, he sent me."
"Naturally," Vincent chuckled, but sobered quickly when Mary began glancing around the room, searching.
"Where are the children?" she asked pleasantly, but quickly took note of Vincent's fallen expression.
Vincent cleared his throat and glanced nervously at the curtain. "They're... well, they're in the baby's room." At Mary's raised eyebrows, he reluctantly continued. "They won't come out. They're... Mary, they're frightened of me."
The sweet woman paused for a moment, but then a smile broke across her face again. "Oooh, nonsense, Vincent. This is all so new to them, I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. Poor souls are just shy, I'll bet you." Mary patted his arm as she passed him. "Give me a moment with them, dear. I'll show you."
Vincent watched her pass him, some foreign sense of worry coursed through his body suddenly as she approached the heavy curtain. Keenly, he noted that she hesitated. It was barely perceptible, but she had hesitated, as if she suddenly doubted herself. Vincent couldn't help himself but watch in wonder; children had never given anyone Below, least of all Mary, any reason for pause.
"Children?" Mary called softly; her melodic, maternal tones carrying easily and sweetly to the ear.
"Catherine?" Gwen's hopeful voice responded hesitantly, and Vincent's heart sank a bit at the fear that inevitably escaped from her.
"No dear," Mary answered swiftly, to the point, "my name is Mary. May I come in?"
There was quiet from the other side of the curtain, a tangible pause, then scuffling feet and hushed whispers as the children seemed to scramble. Mary tilted her ear, trying to better hear what was being said. The scuffling drew close and then the curtain was pulled carefully aside.
Young Guinevere, her brother cowering behind her, drew the curtain only slightly open, half her body still hidden, and leered at Mary. The hardness in her hazel eyes surprising and unnerving Mary at first. Gwen watched the old woman closely, examining her from head-to-toe, waiting for any reason to distrust her.
"Hello," Mary smiled sweetly, "what's your name?"
"Gwen," the young girl croaked, still staring, probingly at Mary.
"Gwen," the elder repeated kindly, "what a lovely name. As I said, I'm Mary. Father sent me. He was concerned when you weren't at breakfast. I thought I'd come and see if you needed anything."
Gwen glanced at the floor, then Mary, surveying her. She fidgeted, but only because Arthur was bouncing a bit behind her to get a look at their new person. She bit her lip and glanced at the floor again, her rigid body relaxing slightly, looking as if she may give in to Mary's charms. But when Gwen glanced back up to Mary's face, Vincent had shifted in such a way that he was now visible, and he caught her attention. the young girl's eyes went wide and she backed half of a step away, that distrustful glare returning. Vincent shrank from her gaze, and she would have relished the power she had over him if there were any waiver in her focus.
Mary quickly noticed Gwen's suddenly fixed attention and glanced over her shoulder to find Vincent with his proud chin tucked deep in his chest, his pitying, sorrowful eyes casting nervous glances at Gwen. Mary turned back to the girl, deciding to face this problem head-on. "You're not afraid of Vincent, are you?" she chuckled sweetly, being very careful not to sound condescending. "Why, he's as cuddly as a teddy-bear!" The girl's eyes were still glued to him, never acknowledging Mary. "Gwen, dear, please don't be frightened. Vincent would never harm you. You must know that," Mary searched the girl's eyes for any sign of recognition, but none. "Well, he brought you here to us, didn't he?"
Gwen's eyes suddenly snapped to meet Mary's. Quickly, she glanced between the two of them, Vincent and Mary, as if suddenly realizing some connection. As if suddenly understanding that they were in this conspiracy together. Slowly, her eyes wide and fearful, and casting daring looks at both adults, Gwen threw her hand backward, forcing Arthur to move as she backed away from them like a frightened animal, the curtain closing gracefully on her petrified little face.
Mary could only stand there, dumbfounded. It seemed so silly to her; it was only a curtain, a piece of cloth that she herself had probably helped weave. But it was much more. Young Gwen had created a barrier. Somehow that little girl had made Vincent, and Mary too, believe that this simple piece of cloth was somehow impenetrable, forbidden in some way. Of course, she knew, and she was sure Vincent knew, that barrier was purely mental. But, she had to marvel at how that mental barrier seemed almost physical to everyone else but Gwen. Mary looked back over her shoulder, her sad, watery blue eyes locking with Vincent's.
The look on his face was so full, it was difficult to pin-point. Anger and frustration, pity and sorrow, guilt and self-loathing, all somehow marking themselves on his features.
Mary was at a loss. Never had any child shut her or Vincent out. If anything, they were the ones the children would run to the most. All she could do was attempt something of an encouraging smile and state, "you moved the baby's furniture."
Vincent sighed, his eyes falling to the floor. Slowly, he dropped himself into the seat at his desk and let his face fall into his hands.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Catherine practically flew into their chamber, her coat hardly orderly, her hair wind-blown, and her briefcase abandoned as soon as she had crossed the threshold. "Vincent?" As quickly as she had breezed in, she expected an answer from her husband.
Vincent raised his cobalt eyes to meet his wife's sea-foam green and he nearly smiled at her. Oh, how he loved it when she made that face! Nothing could stop her when she made that face. Words like 'determination' and 'resolve' were only building blocks to describe Catherine when she made that face. That take-charge attitude, that focus, that hot-blooded alertness coursed through his veins, simultaneous with hers, electrifying him. The only comparable feeling was when they climaxed together during love-making. That thought lingered for moment, a flash of a mental image, enough to make him sweat slightly. Oh, how he loved it when she made that face.
"Vincent?" she was waiting, and he straightened slightly under her stare. "Don't play innocent with me. I know what I felt. I had to make a ridiculous excuse to Joe as to why I needed to leave, and I rushed home. Now, just tell me what's wrong!"
He sighed and glanced regretfully at the curtain at the far end of the chamber. "You shouldn't have rushed home, love. You have more pressing matters to handle. And I'd rather not have you rushing anywhere at the moment."
"I'm fine," she waived him off routinely. "It's the children," she was focused again. "Something's wrong with the children."
Vincent sighed, inwardly hating how good she was getting at reading the bond. "The children are fine, Catherine. Please calm down."
But it was too late, she was already at the curtain, hesitating only slightly when faced with the reality of walking into that room. But the hesitation was short-lived and, calling to Gwen, she passed into the extra chamber with ease.
Vincent was a little shocked. She had done it. She had just walked in there, no questions asked. Why shouldn't she? It was only a piece of cloth, not a brick wall. But somehow, once again, his Catherine had amazed him.
Vincent suddenly heard a relieved chorus of "Catherine!" from Arthur and Gwen. He imagined the brother and sister rushing into her arms and clinging there like a life-line. But, he was too afraid to go over and find out if this was true. What if, like with Mary, the children suddenly saw he and Catherine together and decided they didn't trust Catherine either. He couldn't bear the thought of taking her comfort and security away from them. But he did so want to be a part of the loving picture being creating in his baby's room.
He waited. The barely audible mumbling in the next room was driving him insane with curiosity. Even for all his keen hearing, he still couldn't make out what was being said. Here and there he'd catch the edge of a word, but no amount of straining could clear up the muffled conversation. What felt like forever passed, and when the curtain was finally pulled aside, Vincent tried not to look too eager. But, he couldn't manage to relax himself back off the edge of his seat.
"Go on," he heard Catherine encourage, and slowly, the three children emerged, clumped tightly together. Arthur clung to Gwen's arm, while she had a firm grip on Mora's, hugging her close to her body. The trio stopped when they found Vincent at his desk, and he, in turn, could find no words for them.
"Guinevere," Catherine's stern voice sounded, "take your brother and sister to the washroom. There's nothing to be afraid of." She was standing behind them, her face an odd mixture of anger and pity. She watched the children begin to move, a tight ball led by Gwen, holding firm to her expression when one of them looked back.
Never had Vincent felt so helpless in the face of a child. He couldn't bear the frightened glances being cast at him by the little mass, so he tore his eyes away to watch Catherine. Her green eyes held fast to the children, never acknowledging him, but he knew she felt his stare. Something was different about his Catherine, he'd felt it all morning. There was an odd, yet refreshing, resolve in her heart. It was as if she had committed herself to something, but hadn't informed him of what. Vincent was terribly confused, but utterly intrigued by this change in her. Whatever it was, she was somehow lighter for it, despite her current troubling situation. He had to take a moment to rejoice in it, whatever it was. Catherine had endured so much heartache in the last 24 months. How she had managed to keep her spirit was beyond him. He had barely managed himself.
Once the siblings were out of sight, Catherine's whole body seemed to collapse. She let out a sigh, and seemed to drag her feet as she made her way over to Vincent. Like a child, she climbed into his lap, curling into his broad chest, and he hugged her close as she buried her face in his neck.
"I love you," she mumbled, throwing her love intensely through the Bond. "Do you know that? No matter what happens, no matter what anyone ever says, I love you deeper than I'll ever be able to express. Know that!" she insisted.
"I do know that," he held her tighter. "And I love you just as much."
"And you'll always protect us. You'll never let anything happen to us," she insisted, feeling him try to look at her, but not allowing him to pull away. "Promise me!"
"I promise! Always!" Vincent kissed her hair and rubbed his cheek against it. Through concerned, he had to smile. 'Us'; he knew what she meant by 'us'. She's sent it clearly through the connection. It was herself and their unborn child. She was including their baby in their future. She hadn't done that since the first time they had conceived.
Catherine sat up, looking deep into his eyes. "They're afraid of you."
"I know," he nodded regretfully.
"They won't tell me why. No matter what I say, they're convinced that these people, whoever they are, are still coming after them." Her eyes suddenly went distant and harsh. "Whoever they are, whatever it is, it's got to do with Jack Hoffman! I know that."
"You think he raped Guinevere?" Vincent asked, quiet and delicate, as if he saying it too loud it would make it true.
"No," she pursed her lips, "well, yes," she sighed, "but it's more than that. This paranoia goes deeper than a rape victim's fears. And Arthur's afraid too... it goes much deeper than rape." Catherine took a shuddering breath.
Immediately, Vincent pulled her tight against him, his face buried in hair, nuzzling the scar by her ear, and whispering, "I won't let anything happen to you. To either of you. I swear it! And no matter how much those children fear me, I will protect them just as ardently!"
A small smile passed her lips and, slowly, Catherine turned her head, capturing Vincent's lips with her own almost immediately. They kissed softly at first, without need for anything more than comfort and love. But, ever so slowly, the kiss grew deeper and more passionate, their tongues suddenly becoming involved and their grips becoming more possessive.
Eventually they came up for air, their foreheads pressed together, kissing softly here and there, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm themselves. With a smile, and another small kiss, Vincent slid his large hand along her belly, stroking it softly. "So," he kissed her briefly, "is there something you want to tell me?"
Catherine looked down at his hand, a sheepish grin forming. She bit her lip and brought her eyes back up to meet his slowly. Those beautiful emerald spheres were glistening, sparkling with the beginnings of tears. "We're having a baby," she shrugged.
"Yes," he teased, "I've known for quite some time. When did you find out?"
"I'm sorry," she looked away again her tears quickly taking form. "I'm so sorry. I've just been so afraid. I couldn't bear the idea of going through the disappointment again. I thought, maybe," her tears fell onto his hand, which kept up its soothing strokes, "maybe if I tried to ignore it, if I tried to not care... maybe it wouldn't hurt so much this time."
"Shh," he soothed and dipped his head to quickly capture her lips, salty with tears. "Do not apologize, Catherine. You have nothing to be sorry about. You have been through so much, I am amazed by your strength every day! I only wonder one thing." Her wet eyes met his, and he smiled as he tucked her hair back behind her ear. "What's changed suddenly?"
She smiled through her tears, even though her face muscles strained against her. "Um... Gwen had something of an emergency last night. We talked and... I suddenly realized..." she laughed at herself, "I'm a mother."
Vincent smiled and kissed the crook of her mouth. "And you have been for a long time."
"And it suddenly occurred to me; I'm no different than any other woman. I have this precious time in which to be a mother to this baby. I can't know, can't guarantee, that nothing will go wrong, but I can acknowledge this time that I have... however long or short it may be." Catherine released breath, trying to regain composure and locked eyes with Vincent. "Does that make sense?"
Vincent watched her for a moment before he could no longer contain himself, and he kissed her desperately. He clutched her close as she responded wildly with a hint of amusement at his reaction. When they broke apart, he tenderly traced the edges of her face with his fingertips. Eventually, his hand dropped and he was stroking her stomach again, as if rubbing a baby's belly. "I love you," he whispered, his forehead pressed against hers. "How are you so wonderful?"
She shrugged and giggled softly, her own hand on top of his now, following his motions on her stomach. "Just lucky, I guess. I've got you, haven't I?"
Gwen looked on silently. Her eyes were cold and focused. She clung tight to her siblings, resolved not to lose them, but her attention was on the couple before her. Their foreheads pressed together, their hands swirling against her stomach, and all the while whispering and kissing softly, in no particular pattern. They were just sitting there, smiling. They were just happy. Gwen's placid expression broke, and her brow furrowed into something like confusion. Vincent was Catherine's baby's father. He had been the father to both of the children she had lost. Gwen had known this last night, it wasn't as if Catherine had held anything back, or lied. But, the reality of the two of them, sitting there together, smiling, touching her stomach, it was just a little shocking.
Gwen was terrified of Vincent, there was no question about that. But there was something about him holding Catherine, the thought of him being with her, knowing that she wanted to have his baby... it made her question and ponder. Vincent seemed to be the source of all Gwen's nightmares, and the subject of all Catherine's dreams. Her head was swimming with conflict.
Arthur was shifting glances at his sister, then back to the couple. She could feel his gaze, his anticipation, his nervous energy, but she couldn't stop staring. Finally, Mora wrapped both her arms around Gwen's and began bouncing on her toes, smiling, and emitting a low-pitched squeal through her teeth.
Catherine quickly looked over her shoulder to find the siblings and smiled wide. "Ah!" she wiped her eyes clear of what was left of her tears. "We've got company."
"We've had company," Vincent corrected with a grin of his own.
Catherine quickly brought her gaze back to him, her smile holding true, but mentally scolding him for not informing her of their audience. "Feeling better?" she returned her attention to the children.
Arthur nodded shyly, but Gwen gave no response. She only stared, her face blank and her eyes wary. She wouldn't have moved if not for Mora's incessant jumping. The raven-haired girl was also nodding now and she suddenly shouted, "BETTER!" She landed for the last time, then cuddled her sister's arm close and set her head on Gwen's shoulder. But still, Gwen would only stare, without a flicker of emotion or physical change.
With his arms wrapped so intimately around Catherine, Vincent felt more confident with the children. Carefully, he leaned forward, giving them his most pleasant face. "Would you like to eat now?"
Mora was the first to jump forward, a bold smile on her face, but never releasing her sister's hand. "Pep! Pepperoni! Gwen, pepperoni!"
Gwen held Mora's hand and wrist to be sure she didn't try to get any further away from her. Gwen's eyes fixed on Catherine as Mora squealed and giggled. Catherine was sending her a clear, silent message. Perched on Vincent's lap, her arms tangled around him, Gwen read her face clearly. They were a package deal. Either she took Vincent, or she didn't get Catherine... and, oh, how she desperately wanted Catherine. She still wasn't sure why, but from the first moment Gwen saw her in the courtroom, she knew that she needed this woman. She was desperate for a mother, and Catherine gave that to her so easily. She wouldn't and couldn't lose her, for her own selfish reasons. And in those few seconds of Catherine posing this ultimatum, Gwen examined Vincent.
Everything about him was different from anything she'd ever known. Physical appearance was only the surface. His eyes were so clear and genuine. His voice held no lofty, holier-than-thou, tones; but was soft and earthy and honest. He was large and foreboding, but with Catherine tucked into him so, he looked more like a warm, welcoming blanket. And then, finally, Gwen took in his continual response to her; he was afraid of her. She had the power, she was in control. She wouldn't have to do anything she didn't want to. He would follow her rules of behavior.
Gwen breathed and took in Catherine's waiting expression before letting go of Mora and stepping forward herself. "Thank you, Vincent," she struggled, dropping her eyes for a moment, then regaining control. "We're all very hungry."
Both Vincent and Catherine smiled, him with relief, her with pride. Though nervous, and showing it, Gwen made eye contact with both of them in turn, and they each shared a moment of mutual understanding with the girl. Catherine checked in on Arthur quickly, who had fallen in behind Gwen. But, even he seemed to have gotten the message. He met her eyes and smiled shyly, then found Vincent and, though his smile tucked nervously into the corners of his mouth, he breathed deeply and sat a little taller.
"Pepperoni! Pepperoni! Pepperoni!" Mora insisted while she bounced.
"Oh my goodness," Catherine laughed as she swung her legs off of Vincent and climbed to her feet. "Yes, yes, yes! Pepperoni! Pepperoni! Vincent," she joked as she wrapped a motherly arm around Mora, "we have to get some pepperoni in this girl before she starves!"
"Well, by all means, if it's an emergency!" he played along, and quickly jumped up to follow them out of the chamber.
"Now, you three have a very special job!"
The large man with a kind face, standing on the other side of the table, passing plates full of food to the siblings, seemed to them a type of Santa Clause. His laughter was low and deep, and his eyes sparkled as he smiled at them. He handed them food as if it was sacks full of toys, or maybe that's just how it felt to the hungry children whose stomachs ached together at the delicious aroma wafting from their plates.
"This is a new recipe," William announced officially, smiling at the children's eager faces. He winked at Catherine and Vincent as he continued. "Now, it will be up to you three to make sure that you talk nice and loud about how delicious it is as everyone comes in for lunch. Shout it if you have to. Father is usually one of the last to arrive, so if you three do your job, he should get here and find everyone talking about how good this meal is." William leaned close, only barely holding their attention away from the smells of the meal only inches from them. "Father doesn't take to change very well, you see? Just ask Catherine and Vincent here, they'll tell ya! But, I think, if you three make enough buzz, he may just take to this before he even tastes it." He stood back up, staring down at them again with his great Kris Kringle face. "So... can you do it?"
Gwen and Arthur nodded profusely, not fully acknowledging what they had agreed to, but agreeing none-the-less. Mora, however, had already shoveled a large spoonful of corn into her mouth and she grinned as she shouted, "Good food! Catherine," she insisted, "come eat! Good!"
William laughed, low and hearty. "Well, she's got it! You two could take a lesson from your sister."
But his advice was too late, the younger siblings had already taken the cue and practically buried their faces in their plates.
"Vincent!" Mora shouted again after swallowing a mouthful of chicken. "Eat! Not pepperoni, but eat!"
It was a meal unlike any other they had ever had. They would have shouted it to all of the tunnels, as William had asked, if their mouths weren't continually full of the delicious food. Gwen occasionally would glance nervously at Vincent, feeling his eyes on her. It was a warm smile that greeted her, but her distrustful gaze didn't see that, nor Catherine watching both of them closely.
It did, however, catch her eye when Vincent stopped watching her and began speaking to Catherine. They spoke low and quiet, but Gwen could hear bits and pieces, and she listened even harder as the room began filling with people.
Vincent wrapped an arm around Catherine's waist and pulled her close. "How bad was it this morning?"
"As expected," she shrugged, turning away from the children and back to him. "When I left, they had Jack Hoffman in custody for questioning. I hope they keep him there for days," she remarked bitterly, her jaw clenched. A glance back to the children, buried in their food, and then she was back to Vincent. "Joe is probably going crazy that I'm not answering him. He's paged me four times since I made it to the tunnels. I don't even want to think of how many times since I got here."
"How did you get away?" he inquired with a mischievous smile.
She gave him a tight smile, her eyes sparkling, "I told him I had cramps."
"You did not," he laughed softly, his forehead falling against hers.
"No," she giggled, "I told him I got a call that someone had seen the children and I was going to check it out."
"Not a complete lie, I guess," he shrugged.
"Don't try to justify it, love," she rolled her eyes. "There is going to be much more lying for a long time before all of this settles down."
"Ugh!" a loud voice protested from the other side of the table. "Can't you two do that in your chamber? People eat in here." Cullen dropped, unceremoniously, onto the seat across from them, a large grin etched across his face. "We get it, you're not fighting anymore. Hooray, no more awkward dinner conversation." Before either Vincent or Catherine could interject a witty come-back, Cullen's attention was diverted. "Who's this?" he waived his hand at the siblings, his easy smile and handsome face being the only thing saving him from his somewhat rude outbursts.
The children, their attention immediately taken away from their food at Cullen's exclamations, glanced between each other, and then to Catherine. Mora delved back into her food, uncaring of what may happen next. But Arthur shrank a bit into Gwen, and she examined Cullen with nothing like the harsh eyes she gave Vincent.
"This is Morgaine, Guinevere, and Arthur Maillar," Vincent announced officially. "They arrived last night. Children, this is Cullen. One of the best craftsmen down here."
"Good to meet you!" Cullen reached an enthusiastic hand across to Mora, who didn't look up, but he waited.
Gwen bit her lip, watching Cullen and her oblivious sister, and quickly apologized. "Sorry, she's autistic."
"So..." Cullen's eyes locked with Gwen's, but his hand never wavered, "does that negate manners?"
Gwen sat back a bit, surprised by his frankness, considering his words, and watching his intensely dark eyes. Finally, she leaned into her sister's ear and whispered. Mora's eyes crept up to Cullen's face, but she quickly tucked her chin into her chest, shyly. However, to Gwen's amazement, Mora reached out and shook Cullen's hand. He smiled at her, and quickly released her, moving on to her brother and sister as fast as he could.
"Cul! Cul!" a brilliantly blonde toddler cried as she raced (as best a toddler can), to Cullen, climbing immediately into his lap.
"Hey!" his large, strong hands embraced the child, holding her securely on his lap, his grin shining almost as bright as hers. "It's my kitty-Cat! Where's your momma?"
"I'm here," Lena fell into the seat beside Cullen with a sigh. "Cat," her eyes immediately locked onto her mischievous daughter, and the dinner roll half-way to her mouth, "did you ask for that?"
"I handed it to her," Catherine immediately took the blame for her little namesake.
"And did you say thank you?" Lena wasn't convinced of that innocent little face yet.
Cat's brilliantly blue eyes shyly slid to the side and she tucked her chin. "No," she mumbled, but immediately began giggling uncontrollably when Cullen buried his face in her little neck, growling "say thank you!", and tickling her without mercy.
Vincent's keen sense caught Gwen and Arthur's sudden nervousness. They were tense, watching this man teasing and tickling this baby in an effort to make light of her lesson in manners. But Vincent could feel the siblings' discomfort, and when he glanced at Catherine, he found her keeping a close eye on their reactions as well. Even when Cat finally thanked Catherine, and everyone settled, Gwen and Arthur were still on edge.
"So," Lena began, dropping her dark disciplinary tones, and adopting her usual light musicality, "no more fighting?" She posed the question abruptly, giving the impression of simply expecting a positive response.
Both Catherine and Vincent smiled, Catherine tucking deeper into his arm as she answered. "No more fighting. We're very sorry for making you so uncomfortable."
"It's just weird," Lena shrugged, resting her hand on Cullen's knee as his arm reached around her. "You two never fight. If you're fighting, what does that say about the rest of us?"
"Lena," Vincent shook his head futily. No matter how many times they spoke to her, Lena always seemed to judge her relationship based on Catherine and Vincent's.
"Lena," Catherine usurped the conversation, expertly curbing it, "this is Morgaine, Guinevere, and Arthur. They came down last night."
"Oh," Lena's attention was immediately diverted while she blindly guided Cat onto her lap, "hello! It's nice to meet you. How are you adjusting?"
Gwen and Arthur glanced at each other. The instinct was to be polite and respond positively... but they weren't adjusting, and they knew it. They had just spent their morning hiding in the baby's room. They were still afraid of each person who made eye contact with them. There was no adjustment. Brother and sister looked to Catherine, but she was waiting for them to answer as well. Both children shrugged non-committal, suddenly becoming oddly interested in their plates.
Catherine released her breath, trying not to emit a sad sigh, but gave an encouraging smile. "We've had a rough start, but things are starting to look up, huh?" she answered as she tucked Mora's dark hair behind her ear.
The children didn't answer, and Lena got the message, nodding and dropping her voice a little lower. "Mary never mentioned new children coming Below," she spoke directly to Vincent and Catherine, allowing the siblings to be out of the hot-seat for a moment. Cat slid off of her mother's lap and began scampering from dweller to dweller, seeming to have something to say to each of them.
"They were unexpected," Catherine answered quietly, glancing at Vincent with accusatory eyes.
"Oooh," Cullen leaned into Lena, smiling his mischievous smile, "one of those. Well, Morgaine, Guinevere, and Arthur, as one former stray to another; welcome!"
Gwen couldn't help but smile, her eyes shyly snaking up to his and then quickly averted. "Gwen'" she mumbled, "just Gwen."
Cullen nodded, his dark eyes sparkling at hers. But his attention didn't leave the siblings and after a moment he whispered loudly to Lena, "How sad, honey, the other two are mute."
Lena immediately slapped his leg, fire in her eyes and her jaw tight. "Stop that! It's all right if they're not ready to talk yet." She turned back to the siblings, her expression instantly softer, "It's perfectly all right if you're not ready to talk."
Gwen and Arthur glanced nervously at their onlookers. They just didn't know what to say, how to respond. Mora finished her lunch and cuddled into Gwen's side, her head on her little sister's shoulder, and producing her cat's cradle from a pocket.
"Vincit!" Cat cried, suddenly at his side, clawing her way into his lap, giggling as she went. "Vincit! Look!" The little toddler proceeded to perform the signs for 'food' and 'please' in Sign Language as Vincent had taught her.
"Very good, Catherine," he praised, handing her one of his carrots, which she took eagerly.
"More!" she demanded, bouncing in his lap, and then signing 'please' again.
Vincent handed her another carrot, but Catherine suddenly tugged on his hand for him to look her way. He found her staring at Mora, the girl's precious piece of twine hanging, useless, from her hand as she repeated the signs for 'food' and 'please'. With her head still tucked into her chest, Mora watched Cat's hands intensely, her own long fingers mimicking the toddler, over and over.
Vincent slowly, with half of his attention on Gwen to gauge her reaction, reached across Catherine and handed Mora one of his carrots. She took it from him as slowly as he handed it to her, her face unmistakably scrunched in confusion as to why she'd been given such a thing.
"Well," a new voice sounded, and settled in front of the children, "there you all are! We were missing you this morning." Father set his food on the table, and paused when he found everyone staring at Mora.
Suddenly, as if snapping out of a trance, Arthur looked up at Father and proclaimed loudly, "William's new recipe is really good, huh Gwen?"
Gwen exerted only enough energy to turn her head and stare incredulously at her brother. After a beat, Cullen grabbed Lena's hand and, with a twinkle in his eye, gaped, "He speaks!"
