AN: Okay, I know, I shouldn't be writing this when I have so many unfinished stories, but swear I'm not doing this on purpose. I recently had a problem that resulted in losing all my stories. So now, everything I had written down has to redone from scratch. Yeah, it sucks. I'm trying to update as soon as I can, so for now, I hope readers will enjoy this one-shot while they wait.
I thought up this story a while back, but after watching Unlikely Angel and hearing the same-name-song, I knew I had to write this. This story is completely Third Season AU so Gabriel, and all the mess after Vincent goes mad, does not exist.
Disclaimer: All rights to the Beauty and the Beast characters belong to the show. Unlikely Angel is a 1996 TV movie and the song "Unlikely Angel" is by Dolly Parton. I am only borrowing the BatB characters, the song and title. I claim no ownership but for the plot line of the story about to be read.
Hope you all enjoy, and sorry again for the update delays.
Like the phoenix
From the ash and dirt
I rose up from the pain and hurt
When I was at my very worst
I found you
Darkness…
So terrifying yet it holds a mysterious sense of peace. All is quiet. Thoughts float freely without distraction of light and sound, while senses are heightened by shadows. Above the sky revealed nothing. The once bright starlight became shrouded in a cloak of night. But this darkness, this embodiment of silence and shadow came deep below the earth, in a place with no memory of sunlight's warm embrace. Nothing lived here but sorrow, fear, and an unbridled rage.
Alone in this darkness, Vincent sat with only his thoughts. He had come to this place of despair seeking answers to what he did not understand. His mind was troubled while his heart and soul were shrouded in contentment. This single thought, this one burning question kept him from the true peace he craved for. For some time it had troubled him, yet he knew not what had him so restless. Never in his life had he felt such bliss as this, so what could it be? He could not recall.
And that was the problem.
He had forgotten.
Forgotten everything.
He had forgotten her.
Months had passed since that terrible day. The illness had not plagued him since his adolescence, but due to the wicked deceit of Paracelsus, it had returned with a vengeance. No one was safe. He became agitated, like a wild animal locked within a cage that was too small; pacing back and forth, longing for escape, and attacking anything that stood in the way of his freedom. The Other could not—would not —be contained any longer. To protect his loved ones from the beast lurking within him, Vincent sought solace in the lower tunnels, wanting to lock away his demons where they belonged: back into the darkness.
No one from the Tunnels could even get close to him. His inhuman roars rose up from the depths and sent a cold shiver through their hearts. The sound was both frightful and full of a pain from a wound too deep, and unable to heal.
But Vincent remembered nothing.
Try as he might, that night—not a single memory of that moment, nor his progression into madness—was lost to him. Even with this newfound contentment, its price had been too great. The worst of it all had been the loss of his Bond, and the memories of whom it had connected him to. The loss of their Bond was a heavy blow.
While he could never forget she was the woman he loved, her name and other precious moments between them were lost. He recalled the pain in her eyes as he told her he did not know her name. The once bright sea of emerald green mirrored a wounded spirit. It would have been better had he struck her with his claws than to have inflicted such pain to her heart. Yet despite this, she still smiled at him and told him her name.
Catherine
The sound of that one simple word caused a fluttering deep in his chest at its familiarity. It was though it were the sweetest note of music, and he longed to hear its beautiful sound over and over again. Though somewhat unsure at first, he repeated the precious gift with utmost care. The word lingered on his lips with the tenderness of a shy caress. It felt so right to say it, as if her name were a sacred treasure and he need whisper else the fragile gem break in his grasp. And it fit her so well, his Catherine—for it was fitting to call her so. The way she looked at him and spoke his name as though it were as valuable as her very breath.
All from the simple act of his name spoken in her voice. To think someone like her, a woman of the world Above with possibilities at her fingertips, could love a lowly being like him, and treasure him above all else.
They sat for what seemed like hours, her retelling him memories of their times together. She was so patient with him, sitting quietly when he interrupted to ask questions, and eagerly willing to comply. And her smile. It was so beautiful; full of love and happiness, and it was for him. Yet that happiness never fully reached her eyes. There was always a small, dull pain that lingered in those windows to her soul, but Catherine never spoke of what troubled her.
That was why he was here. That was why he had returned to this place, this hidden cave below the earth where he had surrendered to madness. It was here in this place of darkness Vincent hoped to gain the answers he desperately sought. While Catherine and most of his friends had tried to help him remember, there was still one thing; a block that remained hidden deep within his subconscious. Something else, something no one would reveal to him, had transpired that night. Father insisted that it would be for the best. The look of horror on his parent's face spoke volumes of a father's fear for his child. He thought it best to leave it alone.
But Vincent could not. He needed to know, hoping that not only could he ease his troubled mind, but also to take back what had been robbed of him.
His Bond with Catherine.
Slowly, he began to step into the cave. He placed a hand along the wall as he walked, finding the stone marred by deep scratches. His mind suddenly flashed to a vague vision: animalistic growls filled his ears, while unholy roars echoed in the dark as lethal claws struck, embedding solid stone with long, deep scars. Returning to the present, Vincent drew back his hand as though the flesh had been burned by the stone's touch.
Was that truly me? he thought. He starred down at his hands. He recalled Father had bandaged them, along with several other self-inflicted wounds. I... I remember blood, but Father said it was my own. But… What if I...
His whole body shook. No, he would not let his thoughts linger there. He knew Father's words were true; he had not harmed anyone but himself. There was comfort in that. None of his friends had seen him in such a violent state, let alone been close enough for him to harm them.
But what of Catherine?
Vincent then recalled Father had spoken of what had happened that day. Mouse had followed him to the cave, leading Father and several of the men along. They had made attempts to reach him, but the power of his far-off roar prevented anyone from stepping beyond the barrier. None save for Catherine. They had called for her, thinking her love could bring him back as it once had when drugs had clouded his mind, and she alone had been able to get close—touch him—without being harmed. Father hoped just hearing the sound of her voice would be enough to draw him back to his senses. It had not. That was when Catherine did what no one dared to do: she entered the cave, alone.
To think his beloved had the strength, let alone the courage to face his darker side. Never had he wanted for her to see that side of him. It was purely primal; a beast with no thought or remorse that thrived only by instinct. All his senses were overpowered, leaving behind no trace of the man he had tried so hard, and for so long to be. He could have killed her...
Knowing this, Catherine still entered. And she had succeeded.
She had stood and faced his demons with only her love to guide her, standing unafraid for herself, but fearful for him. She reached out, pulling his tormented soul from the depths of his own personal hell, and into the safety of her comforting embrace, back into the warm light of her love.
Eventually, Vincent abandoned the cavern. The hour was late. Most of the Tunnel residents would be asleep in their chambers, while the sentries kept watch. As he continued toward the main hub, Vincent's mind returned to thoughts of Catherine. He had to admit, even with what he could remember of their previous relationship, he knew something had changed between them. He now took comfort in holding her hand as they walked through the Tunnels, never removing his hold when passing by others until they reached their destination. Once chaste hugs goodnight now became lingering embraces. Vincent knew he never held Catherine so close before, but now he took comfort in pressing her closer to him, even being so bold as to place a soft kiss to her forehead whenever they were to be apart for some time. He took great joy in this newfound intimacy, though never going any further.
Still, he longed for the return of feeling Catherine's steady heart beating alongside his own. He missed sensing what she was feeling. Now he had to ask whether something troubled her, and never truly knowing if her answers were completely true. And something was troubling her. He had seen it each time they were together since his recovery. Catherine was holding back, and he could not understand why. She had always been able to confide in him before, had she not? She also knew that he would gladly help any way that he could. All she needed was to ask, and if it were in his power, he would give her whatever she wished.
Alas. Whatever it was, Catherine wished not to tell him, and Vincent would never force her into anything.
Still, what could it be? Catherine made no mention of any difficulties in her work, though she had mentioned an intolerable amount of paperwork received by her office daily. Often when he visited her balcony, he had seen her relaxing with a cup of tea in hand and her feet soaking in a bowl of heated water. He remembered how swollen they appeared, and the look of exhaustion on her face spoke of her lack of sleep. Those were the nights he would remain a little longer, sitting by her side with one of their favorite books, and carrying her to her bed when she dozed off. He would tuck her under the blankets and smooth back the hair from her face. She worked so hard, and needed her rest. Though he could not prevent himself from placing a secret kiss to her temple, his heart warming as she smiled in her sleep and released a contented sigh.
If only she would tell me what troubles her, he thought. Then I could ease her mind, and she would no longer carry this burden...
"Vincent, is that you?"
Thoughts interrupted, Vincent looked up to find he now stood just outside Father's chamber. He had not realized he had walked so far, so lost in thought. Stepping inside, Vincent found the Tunnel patriarch at his desk in his dressing robe. He sat comfortably in his chair, a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other, looking at him over the rim of his reading glasses. Father set aside his book and motioned for Vincent to have a seat. With a nod, Vincent took his place and waited for him to speak.
"It's awfully late. Is something on your mind?" he asked, the voice of a concerned parent.
Vincent shook his head. "It's nothing to be concerned of."
"Vincent, I know when you're not telling me everything. Now, I'll ask again: what is bothering you?"
Vincent sighed. "It is Catherine," he finally answered.
"Is she all right?"
"Catherine is well, but I believe she may be concealing something from me," he explained. "These past few months, I look at her face and I can see her unrest. She is holding back from me... Tonight, I went back to the cavern, hoping to find some sort of answer."
Father tensed. The thought of Vincent going back down there brought about fear his son would delve back to the brink of insanity. Seeing the perplexity in his son's unique face quickly calmed Father's worries. He set aside his tea and stood up to walk over to Vincent's side, placing a hand on his shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze.
"I do not have an answer for you," Father spoke truthfully. "I know your Bond has not returned, and this cannot be easy for you. You have no knowledge of what Catherine is feeling, and you struggle to understand." Vincent nodded, and Father continued. "What you feel is the same as any other man in a relationship. Do not let it trouble you so, my son. Catherine is a bright young woman. She will tell you in her own time."
"Thank you, Father. I needed those words," Vincent replied, placing his furred hand over the elder man's.
"I'm glad to have helped. Now, get some rest." Father placed a kiss to his son's forehead and then walked toward his sleeping chambers.
"Goodnight Father, be well," Vincent whispered as Father disappeared from sight.
Taking his advice, Vincent rose from his chair and headed toward his chamber. He lit a few candles and started to prepare for bed when he paused. He knew his mind was swirling with thoughts, and if it continued, he would not have a restful night. He decided to remain up a bit longer and write in his journal. He always had a more peaceful night's sleep after putting all his thoughts into words.
He retrieved his journal and pen, and sat down at his desk. As he wrote in eloquent script by candlelight, his thoughts returned to Catherine. He imagined her in her apartment by now—more than likely tired from another day at the District Attorney's Office—sitting in her living room enjoying a moment to herself. He wished he could be there with her.
Thought I could never love again
When a stream of light came beaming in
A thread of hope
For me to spend around you
Above, Catherine was just arriving home from work. It had been another exhausting day at the office, and she was ready to collapse into her warm bed.
Finally, the elevator let her out, and Catherine walked toward her apartment, eagerly digging through her purse for her keys. Hiding at the bottom of her purse, Catherine pulled them out with a triumphant sigh and unlocked her door. Once inside, she slumped against the door to rest as the day's exhaustion took over. Her briefcase full of papers was immediately discarded to a corner of the room. Kicking off her shoes, she stared at the vile things in disgust. She had stopped wearing her heels, but now even her flats caused her feet discomfort. Her whole body was sore from a day of filling cases, talking with witnessed, and running around the office doing things for her ever-the-taskmaster boss. She loved the man like a brother, but he was such a slave driver. She had just about snapped until Joe graciously told her to "Get the hell outta here." Thankfully, he had also allowed her the weekend off, and she planned on using the time to finish up a few of her cases. But they would have to wait until tomorrow.
Yet, despite the craziness of the day, all Catherine could really think about was Vincent. So much had happened between them since he had recovered. She found he wanted to be closer to her, and she cherished every moment—especially the gentle kisses he gave her when they parted, though she longed for them to move to her lips. Either way, she was content that he was allowing this contact. Besides, there were other benefits. Since she had resigned from fieldwork for a position that meant she would no longer be in danger, Catherine found that she was running all over the place trying to get everything filed. This resulted in back pains from leaning over case files, and constant sore feet from running around the office. Even the heat from her homemade foot baths did not take away the ache completely.
On one of the rare nights Vincent came to her balcony, he had caught her by surprise as she sat on her balcony with her sore feet soaking in warm water. She always wanted to look her best for him, and sitting there in her sweats with swollen red feet in lukewarm water was not the image she had wanted to present.
As she moved to discard the foot bath, Vincent gently eased her back into her seat. Baffled by his actions, Catherine received another surprise when he then took her right foot in his hand and gentle began massaging it. As he lightly applied pressure, Catherine instantly relaxed. The way he undulated his large thumbs against her aching feet sent pulses of pleasure shooting up her spine. He attended to each foot, showing a particular gentleness to the sorest places while also applying pressure to the more worn out areas. Catherine had never felt so well taken care of, not to mention the feel of his hands against her skin made her tingle.
That night had truly been special, along with many others, but part of her could not take comfort. She knew Vincent still felt the loss over their Bond. It defied explanation why he could no longer sense her, but Catherine had her theories. One being what had happened when she followed after him into that cavern alone. Sometimes she could still hear it, the pain of Vincent's tormented soul. Father and the others had only seen what happened after: Vincent lying on the ground with his head lying in her lap. His pulse was steady and his breathing was labored. Many of the Tunnel residents had tried to ask her what had happened, how she had managed to ease his illness, but the look on her face made it evident it was too painful to talk about.
If only they knew the truth.
When she entered the cave, all she could see were shadows. There were no sounds expect for Vincent's growls that echoed all around her. She pressed on, determined not to go back without him at her side. That was when she found him.
There he was, violently thrashing about the small space. It was the blood she saw first. Claws were extended, slashing at anything and everything. His hair was matted with perspiration, and parts of his clothing were torn. She recalled when he was in her apartment those three days, once lashing at some enemy only he could see. Clearly he was battling that same force now, only the damage was being done to his own body. And when he finally looked at her, Catherine gasped.
His eyes. Even from where he lurked in the shadows, the image of his eyes still haunted her. The dazzling blue was lost in a sea of black; no trace of the man she loved was left. He snarled, warning her in a low growl not to enter any further. She pressed on.
Before she knew it, he leapt at her, claws extended and ready to strike at anything he saw as a threat. She cried out his name and in that instant, she saw the look of recognition on his face…and one of horror in his eyes. Catherine rushed to him as his body collapsed to the ground, taking her with him. He neither mover nor drew breath. Realization hit her immediately: he had tried to kill her and now he was protecting her once more by willing himself dead, exchanging his life for her own.
She would not allow it. She cried out to him, begging him not to leave without her. And then, she kissed him. It was first an attempt to breathe back air into his lungs, but it quickly became one out of desperate need. She poured al her love into that kiss. She needed him with her; her life was nothing without him. Then, he responded. Softly at first, provoking her tears of joy at the feel of his shallow breaths as they warmed her skin. In her joy she deepened the kiss, cradling his face between her palms as she felt him returning to her.
It had all been so fast. One moment of pure, unbridled passion. In that moment, they had crossed that final barrier and become one. Vincent had passed out afterwards, and Catherine lay close to him, watching the rise and fall of his chest to know he was alive. She only had a moments rest before the others would come after her. She had barely managed to rearrange their clothes and move Vincent's head to her lap when Father appeared.
No one knew of what had taken place that night. Catherine had decided to keep it a secret until she could speak with Vincent about it. But when he told her he did not remember even her name, Catherine held her tongue. She could not tell him. The shock of it might have sent him back, and this time she might not be able to save him. So she remained silent.
Back in the present, Catherine stretched the kinks out of her muscles, only to wince as her lower back protested the movement. It was a small, sharp pain that had started early that evening. Catherine just shrugged it off.
Too many files, she thought. That and an uncomfortable chair. What I wouldn't give for a back rub. The idea made her smile dreamily as thoughts of her beloved massaging her back, quickly turning to images of a full-body rub in her mind.
Sighing at the fantasy, Catherine decided it was time to unwind. She slipped into the bedroom and stripped off her work clothes. She then took a T-shirt and baggy sweat pants from the dresser, and put them on. Much more comfortable, she then headed into the kitchen to scrounge up a late dinner. As per usual, the refrigerator was practically vacant. She settled for the remaining half of a deli sandwich, and a large glass of milk. She started to sit at the table, but the idea of sitting in a wooden chair caused her thoughts of more discomfort. She opted for the couch.
She turned on the television and watched the news while she ate her dinner. Not even ten minutes in, Catherine was dozing on the couch. About an hour later, a piercing pain awoke her. She gasped, wincing as it started in her back and worked around to her lower abdomen. She got up, taking her empty glass with her, and started for the bathroom. She reached for the medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of Advil before filling up her glass with water. Taking out two pills, she swallowed them before she made her way back to the couch.
It was nearing close to midnight when the ache worsened. Now it centered in Catherine's stomach, causing her discomfort. No matter what position she was in, the pain only got worse. For once she was glad the Bond was gone. Vincent had enough to worry about without sensing her pangs. Unable to bear it any longer, she decided to call up her family friend and doctor for advice.
It took a while but after the third ring, he picked up the phone. Hello?
"Peter, it's Cathy. Sorry to call so late but I need some help." She hissed as another wave of pain hit her, twisting her insides like a knife. "I've been having some back pain all evening, and it's just now getting worse."
Hmm... Did you take anything for it? he asked.
"A couple hours ago," she replied, grunting. "I took two Advil but that didn't help. And now its spread to below my stomach."
Peter was silent for a moment. Cathy, it sounds to me that it's just your time of the month, he explained. Take a few more Advil, and maybe try a bath. The warm water should relive some of the cramping. If you're still experiencing pain, come to my office in the morning and I'll have a look at you.
"Okay. Thanks Peter." She hung up the phone and set to work filling out Peter's orders. First, she took a few more Advil and cleared her dishes from the coffee table. Placing them in the sink, she walked back into her bedroom and readied herself for a bath. She changed out of her lounging clothes in exchange for one of her dressing robes. The smooth silk felt wonderful against her skin. As she turned back to pick out her nightgown, Catherine suddenly doubled over in agony. Her right arm wrapped tightly around her waist as her left arm sought for support, landing on the dresser. Her hand gripped tightly to the wood and Catherine moaned as the pain increased. Tears came to her eyes as she gritted her teeth against the overwhelming sensation. It felt like her whole lower body was being stabbed with small, sharp needles that dug deeper into her.
When it became more bearable, Catherine abandoned her dresser and slowly made her way to the bathroom. She immediately turned the water on hot and poured in a bath set Jenny had given her last Christmas. She also added some Evening of Primrose bath oil. As she stood, her body began protesting its soreness with a vengeance. It was almost too painful to walk. She sank back to her knees and waited for the tub to finish filling up. Once it was full, Catherine turned off the faucet and shed her robe, slowly easing her pain-ridden body into the steaming water.
The heat from the bath soothed her almost instantly. The cramps she felt slowed to a dull ache, and the pain she felt in lower back nearly disappeared. Sitting back with a contented sigh, Catherine began lazily lathering herself with the soap. The calming scent made her drowsy, so she ducked her head under the water. The heat from the bath felt wonderful on her face. Only the need for air caused her to surface. As she leaned back into the wall, the combined effects from the water's warmth and the soaps calming scents worked their magic, and Catherine allowed her tired body to be lulled to sleep.
The peace lasted less than an hour before a wave of pain woke her. She cried out, spasms ripping straight through her core. The agony had only escalated and now it threatened to split her body in two. Never in her life had she experienced such torture, and she had been stabbed, beaten and shot. Something else was wrong. She needed to call Peter, now!
Taking in a sharp breath, Catherine eased herself from the bathtub. Her legs felt like rubber and she struggled to support herself against the tiled wall. She braced herself, waiting until the pain slowed enough to allow her a chance to reach the phone. She struggled for breath, uncertain whether the worst of it was over, or if this was merely the calm before the storm. Either way, she had to reach the phone.
As she moved to step out of the tub, Catherine was hit by a stronger blow of pain. The intensity of it caused her to lose her footing, and she fell backwards into the tub. Water and suds splashed onto the floor as Catherine fell hard on the bath floor. The added convulsion to her lower back was too much, and Catherine screamed in pure agony.
XXX
Vincent woke with a start, roaring as a stabbing pain tore through him. When it passed, he sat back against the headboard, trying to discern what had woken him so abruptly. He recalled feeling a stinging hurt to his lower back, possibly his tailbone, but he had not fallen out of his bed. So what had caused it?
Nothing else had occurred that evening. He had gone to the cavern, spoken with Father, and then sat at his desk to write in his journal. While he was writing, Vincent remembered experiencing mild discomfort. He thought it was his body telling him to rest, so unwilling to change into his nightshirt he took off his boots, and crawled into bed. He had had difficulty sleeping, a small throbbing ache in his temples keeping him awake. He had barely been asleep more than an hour when the unexplained intense pain occurred.
The headaches suddenly increased, doubled by a pulsating sound so loud that Vincent had to cover his ears. The sound emanated from within his conscious like thundering gongs being repeatedly hit with a stone mallet. He grabbed his aching head between his hands and squeezed his eyes shut until the pain passed. As he endured it, Vincent noted an odd sense of familiarity. The sound was like that of a drum, steady and beating in precise rhythm. In fact, it sounded very similar to that of a heartbeat.
Exotic blue eyes shot wide open in fear. This sound was not like a heartbeat, it was a heartbeat.
Suddenly, Vincent sprang from the bed and began searching for his boots, thankful for having been too tired to change into nightwear. As he was pulling on his left boot, Father appeared in the entrance. He looked frightened, but Vincent did not bother asking what had startled his parent. He knew by the questioning gaze in the older man's eyes and arduous breathing the older man had heard his outburst.
"Vincent, are you all right? I heard a terrible roar."
Vincent merely finished lacing his boots and retrieved his cloak, unable to look Father in the eye. "I cannot say but I am certain it is Catherine. I fear she is in danger."
"Catherine?" Father exclaimed. "You've sensed her then? Has your Bond returned?!"
Vincent turned back, standing just outside his chamber. "No. Our Bond remains the same, but I... I cannot explain it. What I feel, it-it is different from what we shared." He tried to find the words, but the beating was growing stronger. "I'm sorry. I must go."
Without another word, Vincent was racing down the Tunnels, heading straight for the park entrance. It was closer and the hour was late, so no one would see him. Though, he doubted he would notice if anyone was about. All his thoughts focused on reaching Catherine. Whatever he was sensing might be the Bond attempting to reform. If so, then Catherine needed him now more than ever. She could be in pain or... He would not know until he saw her with his own eyes.
Catherine, I'm coming for you.
Unlikely angel
Standing there in front of me
As if you were my destiny
Like we were always meant to be together
Vincent landed on the balcony without as much as a sound. He had been very fortunate no one had required the elevator that evening, making his accent to the roof much quicker. Now he stood before the French doors, the only barrier standing between him and Catherine. He peered into the window, finding the living room devoid of light. He had barely turned to check her bedroom when he heard a scream come from inside.
Growling, Vincent ripped open the doors and lunged into the bedroom. Catherine was nowhere to be seen, but a light coming from a crack in the door told him she was in the bathroom. Without giving it a second thought, Vincent burst through the door.
"Catherine!"
"Vincent?!"
Blue eyes met green as they stared at each other. Catherine was lying back submerged in the heated bath water; her hands and feet braced against the tub as she held Vincent's gaze. She had not expected him to come to her, but her heart swelled with joy at the sight of him. He stepped into the bathroom and knelt beside the tub. Then, he took ahold of Catherine's hand and used his other to smooth back the damp hair from her face.
"Catherine, tell me what's wrong?" he pleaded, his concern for her growing at her labored breathing and the tightness of her grip on his hand.
Catherine struggled to sit up, the jolts of pain making it difficult. She felt Vincent gently brace his hand on her back and she managed to sit somewhat straighter. She hissed through the pain, and the look she gave Vincent turned to desperation. Her words were lost as she struggled not to cry out. Vincent was at a loss. Without an idea of what was causing Catherine such pain, he was helpless. If only Father were here. The elder man's medical knowledge would have answers and a quick solution.
Catherine's sudden grip on his arm drew Vincent's focus back to her. "P-Peter…" she struggled to say. "Call P-Peter. He… He-Aaah!" She shrank back into the tub, her whole body tensing as she writhed in agony.
Not wanting to leave her side, Vincent forced himself from the bathroom. He made his way into Catherine's living room, and found the phone on the desk. He had never used such a device before, but once as a child he had watched Devin make a call on a pay phone. However, he had no knowledge of the Peter's telephone number. As luck would have it, Catherine's phone book lay next to the device. Vincent scanned the pages until he found the number. Quickly dialing the buttons, he anxiously waited for Peter to answer. As he listened, Catherine's cries tore at him to abandon the call to rush to her side. He remained on the line.
Finally, there was an answer. Hello? Cathy, is that you again, honey?
"Peter, it's Vincent."
Vincent?! What the-
"No time to explain," he interrupted, too panicked for common curtsies. "Catherine is in a tremendous amount of pain. She is unable to move or even speak without crying out."
Oh dear, Peter replied. Cathy had called earlier complaining about mild spasms, but I didn't think they'd become this serious.
"Peter, what can I do?" Vincent asked, the desperation not lost in his voice.
For now, stay with her, Peter suggested. From what she told me earlier, and what you're telling me now, I fear Cathy may have appendicitis. I'll head over there immediately and examine her myself, but if she worsens call an ambulance. Don't even bother waiting for me, understand?
While Vincent was conversing with Peter, Catherine's pain was intensifying. Her lower abdomen felt like someone was twisting a knife inside her. She struggled to move to her knees, gasping as each movement caused her body more pain. It took all she had but she only managed to lean her body over the side of the bathtub. This caused her stomach to press against the side of the tub. Then, she felt something warmed rush past her legs, and she looked down.
"VINCENT!"
Catherine's sudden scream caused Vincent to drop the phone and rush back into the bathroom. He gasped at what his eyes beheld. Cather lay over the side of the tub, her lower body immersed in water and blood. Lots of blood.
"Catherine!" He rushed to her side and helped her to her knees. Catherine moaned at the movement, and her body slumped against him. Vincent tried to keep her steady. She had already lost a lot of blood, and he feared Peter's assumption of a ruptured organ had been correct. If so, he needed to contact the paramedics immediately to take her to a hospital.
For now, Vincent concentrated on getting her out of the tub. He stood and gently coaxed Catherine to her feet. Her legs struggled to keep her upright, and she leaned on him for support as her hands gripped tightly to his upper arms. Her face pressed tightly into his quilted vest to muffle her sobs. She was trying so hard not to worry him, even though she was suffering. He kissed the top of her head. She shivered and he noticed some goosebumps on her arms. Remembering she was still naked, Vincent grabbed the towel that had been lying on the counter, and quickly wrapped it around her shoulders. After rubbing his hands over the towel in an attempt to dry her a little, Vincent then lifted Catherine into his arms, cradling her tender body against his broad chest, and walked her back into the bedroom.
As he laid her on the bed, Catherine groaned. "I swear, these have to be the worst cramps I've ever had," she muttered, slightly embarrassed by the confession.
Vincent didn't seem to notice. Instead, he kneeled beside her and began stroking her hair, his palm quickly becoming damp. "Peter said he would come to examine you," he told her. "But fear I must call for an ambulance."
"Vincent, I don't think it's that serious," she rebutted, hoping to lighten the mood. "I-I've been…irregular before, so I think it's just-" She hissed. "Damn it! This hurts!"
At the same moment, Vincent was blindsided once more by the strange headache that had woken him earlier, causing him cringe. He pushed it aside; Catherine's pain was more important. Luckily, she did not notice and he was glad for that. She didn't need to worry of his own pain while she was suffering so. But he began to wonder for the second time: What was the cause of this bothersome ache? He puzzled over if this was some form of sympathy pain because it would occur each time Catherine was in pain.
If only I had the Bond, he thought to himself. Then I would be able to help you, my love. All he could do was offer his love and comforting touch. He took a hold of her right hand as she struggled through another bout of pain.
He could stand it no longer. Though it pained him, Vincent slipped his arms from Catherine and headed into the living room. He could wait for Peter no longer; he had to get Catherine to a hospital.
Catherine caught sight of Vincent picking up the phone. As he started to dial 911, she tried to say something, but her words were cut off by her pain-filled cries. Hearing them, Vincent abandoned the phone and hurried to her side. Her body began convulsing, and she clung to him for dear life.
"I am here. I won't leave your side." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, sealing his promise.
The gesture made her smile. If only circumstances were different, she thought. I swear, this apartment is cursed. Thinking back, the only times Vincent had ever entered her apartment were when she had been beaten and the three days he had spent there during his illness. When this was over, she was going to have to find a way to get Vincent into her apartment without either one of them being in some form threat.
Catherine was torn from her thoughts as her lower body was consumed by a shooting pain. She leaned forward to put pressure on her front and gripped the back of her knees. The position put strain on her back from where she had hit the tub in the fall, but it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. It felt as though something was putting an immense amount of pressure inside of her. The pain escalated to the point Catherine thought she would split in two, like something would tear through her body at any moment. She screamed.
The sound horrified Vincent to the core of his soul. Nothing, not even the blood-curdling cries of those cut down by his hand, could compare to the raw anguish of Catherine's cries. He jumped to his feet, panic overtaking rational thought. He gathered Catherine into his arms and just held her, praying to anyone who was listening to take this pain away from his beloved. He looked down at her. The towel had slipped from her shoulders and covered her lower half, but to Vincent's horror the bottom—along with the comforter and sheets—was stained with her blood. He turned his gaze back up to her face, only to find Catherine moaning as small tears escaped from her eyes.
The pressure inside her intensified greatly. Something was coming out of her body. Removing one of her hands, Catherine slowly reached down to try and feel what it was. Something slimy met her fingertips, and Catherine feared her body was pushing out her own organs. The urge to push overwhelmed her. Despite her fear, Catherine gave in, wanting nothing more than to be rid of this pain once and for all. She gave one more soul-wrenching scream.
In one motion, the pain was gone. There was nothing; it had finally stopped. Catherine stopped screaming, her tired lungs and aching throat slowly took in deeps breaths of air. Her eyes grew heavy and in a blink, her whole body collapsed. Vincent instantly caught her in his arms, bracing her against his chest while her body went limp. His heart stopped beating as she lay completely still. Only when he saw her chest move, and felt the light breath from her lips did he allow himself to breathe again. He began tightening his hold as he gently rocked her. Catherine slowly titled her face towards him, her eyes too heavy from exhaustion to open just yet. Vincent didn't care. He kissed the top of her head repeatedly, and whispered her name softly. It was finally over.
Or so they thought…
A tiny wail broke the silence. The sound caught both Vincent and Catherine's attention. Forcing her eyes open, Catherine looked around for the source of the sound. She looked to Vincent, but his eyes held the same questioning gaze. Then, unbelieving of what they were hearing, they looked down at the bed. The bloodied towel lay sprawled across Catherine's spread legs, and something was stirring beneath it. Neither one of them could move. Finally, with a shaky hand, Catherine used what little energy she had and leaned forward to lift the towel. When she managed to lift it halfway above her thighs, she dropped the towel.
There, nestled between her legs on the bloodied sheets was a baby.
Time stood still. Nothing could describe the thoughts and emotions passing through their minds as the baby continued to cry. Only the tiny, mewling wail of the infant filled the room. Neither Catherine nor Vincent could tear their gaze from the sight.
Again, Catherine was the first to move. She eased forward, wincing slightly, and gently gathered the baby into her arms. She held him—though swollen from the birth, Catherine saw the baby was a little boy—to her and instantly the child calmed, knowing he was safe in his mother's embrace. Catherine began deftly tracing over the baby's tiny features. He looked just like any other newborn. His eyes were puffy and he was covered in a vernix coating. He had all ten fingers and toes, with no sign of bruises or immediate signs of suffering from trauma; fine downy hair covered his shoulders, back, forehead, and temple. All-in-all, a perfect little baby boy.
Catherine just stared at him. The only thought running through her mind was how? What she thought were menstrual spasms had been labor pains. How had she not known? Her mind tried to process it all but nothing could lead to a conclusion. But still, how had she just given birth when she did not even know she was pregnant? It just was not possible! She had had no symptoms. No cravings, no morning sickness, and she certainly had not gained any weight. So how was it possible?
The cavern! It was in that moment Catherine made another startling discovery. That night, it had been the only time, and we… she suddenly thought. Then this child is…
Feeling someone watching her, Catherine turned to find Vincent's wide blue eyes glued to the baby in her arms. His face remained blank but Catherine could see a thousand questions running through his mind. If not for being paralyzed by shock, he might have begun pacing the room, or rushed from her apartment and escaped to the deepest part of the Tunnels. All he could seem to do was stare at the infant.
This child, this unexpected miracle was their son, hers and Vincent's. The thought brought tears to her eyes, but her joy was quickly overcome by sadness. Even if Vincent was the father of this child—and Catherine was all too sure of that—he had no memory of them making love. He would not know this was his child. The thought caused Catherine alarm. What would he say? If he did not remember, he might think she had been seeing someone else. She looked back at his face, but she could decipher nothing from him. What was he thinking now?
It was then that Catherine heard a knock at her door. "Cathy? It's Peter. Are you all right?"
The sound of Peter's voice drew Vincent from his frozen state. His face remained emotionless, and it was though his body moved automatically as he removed himself from her side. She watched him walk out of the room to answer the door. She listened to the door opening and the sound of Peter as he hastily entered her apartment.
"Vincent, thank heaven," he said. "I'm glad to see you, but where is Catherine?"
When Peter did not receive an answer, Catherine called out to him with a shaky voice. "I-I'm in the bedroom, Peter. Could… Could you come in here?"
Hearing the footsteps, the familiar face of her godfather appeared. He closed the door behind him before rushing to her side with his medical bag in hand. "Cathy, how are you feeling?" he asked. "When I heard you scream on the phone, and I lost the connection with Vincent, I was scared out of my wits."
"I'm okay now, I think, but I'm still recovering from the shock." She looked down and only then did Peter notice the baby in her arms.
He nearly fell over backwards. "What the!? Catherine, you-you had a..a…" Peter couldn't even finish his sentence. Of all the things he had thought were causing Catherine's pain, he had certainly not expected this.
Catherine just shook her head. "I didn't know myself," she admitted. "I just felt all this pain, and then the next thing I knew, I had a baby."
"I-I can see that, Cathy." Peter stared for a moment, then shook his head. This was not the time to be overwhelmed by shock. He was a doctor, and right now he had two patients to attend to. He was all too glad he had grabbed his emergency medical bag. He pulled up the bench by Catherine's vanity and dug through his bag for tools. First, he would examine the infant. Peter took the baby from Catherine and used a small suction from his bag to clean the mucus from the baby's mouth and nose. He was also relieved to find he had a few items from his last home delivery still in the bag.
Then Peter put a few antibacterial drops in the baby's eyes, placed a cloth diaper on him, and made a guess on the baby's weight and head circumference. Finally, he pulled out a stethoscope and made a quick examination of the baby's heartbeat. Satisfied it was good and strong, Peter wrapped him in a towel and gave him back to Catherine. He quickly checked her pulse and mades sure she was alert, before moving to see to the afterbirth.
"Cathy, I'm just going to give you a quick examination," Peter explained. "I just want to see if I need to deliver the placenta, or if that can wait until I get you to the hospital."
"No!" Catherine's outburst nearly made Peter jump.
"Cathy, this is not up for debate," he retorted. "You've had no prenatal care and we've no idea how far along you were…"
"I'm not going!" Catherine shouted.
Unlikely angel
It feels so right inside your love
Like God has sent you from above
To honor, cherish, and to love forever
A child…?
Alone in the darkened living room, the two words played over and over in Vincent's mind. He felt numb. It was though he had been crossing a large road when an oncoming truck started rushing towards him. He tried to get out of the way, but like a deer, he was caught in the headlights; paralyzed, waiting until the inevitable blow. And what a blow it was. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. There was just no reason and yet it had happened. Catherine had been pregnant! He would not have believed it had he not been right there, holding Catherine in his arms as she delivered the baby. The shock of seeing the tiny newborn had been unreal to him. But even in his shocked state, Vincent recalled seeing the same look of awe in Catherine's eyes. She had no knowledge she had been carrying a child, but how? It was impossible! Wasn't it?
We'll, he knew how she had become pregnant, he was not naïve. He had witnessed a few births in the Tunnels, the last being that of Lena's daughter. But she had been heavy with child, yet he had only been with Catherine a few days ago and she had looked the same as always, perhaps even thinner. So how could she have been pregnant? But more importantly, when had she become pregnant?
Vincent began to pace. The motion seemed to help him clear his mind and sort his thoughts. He started with his first question: How had Catherine become pregnant? Still, Catherine had no knowledge of ever being pregnant. Despite the concept being completely implausible to him, Vincent knew Catherine must have had no intension of becoming pregnant. That left his other question. Who was the father?
Catherine had not indicated she was seeing anyone, nor would she. She had made it clear long ago he was the only one for her, despite the countless times he had pushed her away. But he and Catherine had never been intimate. He stopped as a thought came to him. Perhaps someone had taken advantage of her. In his mind, Vincent pictured Catherine being grabbed, and dragged into an alley as someone forced himself on her. The thought caused a low growl to emit from Vincent's throat. His claws punctured his palms as his hands bawled to fist at his sides. If anyone had violated his love in such a way, he would hunt them down and make them pay with their life.
Perhaps that had been why she seemed so distant from him. It would make sense. She would want to tell him, but the humiliation of it would keep her closed off. Vincent began to pace again. These irrational scenarios would do nothing for him but to fuel his rage.
"I'm not going!"
The sudden outburst drew Vincent from his thoughts. Catherine's voice was panicked and laced with fear. He stood just outside the door but stooped himself from entering.
"But why?" Peter asked. "This baby is more than likely premature. You both will need to be tested."
"Peter, I love you, but I cannot take this child to a hospital," Catherine protested.
Vincent was confused. Catherine had just had a baby, without any knowledge of having been pregnant, and she was refusing to go to a hospital? He listened further.
Inside, Peter was standing at the foot of the bed while Catherine stared back at him with a defying look in her eyes. But he was glaring back. This was not just about a doctor fighting with a patient on medical affairs. This young woman was like a second daughter to him, and he had promised her father that he would look out for her. While he had never been harsh with her, if Catherine was refusing to see to reason, he was going to have an explanation.
Catherine looked hesitantly at the closed door. She knew Vincent was on the other side, but a part of her knew she could not let him know just yet. She motioned for Peter to come closer. When he stood close to her bedside, Catherine leaned over and told him in a hushed voice, "I can't have any doctors examine the baby because…because Vincent is the father."
Peter took a step back and nearly tripped. He sat down on the vanity bench and placed one trembling hand to his forehead. "My god… But I, I mean… I didn't even know you two had…"
"He doesn't know," Catherine quickly explained. "It happened during his illness when we were alone in the cavern. I tried to tell him, but he hasn't been able remember anything. So I kept quiet about it. But I'm telling you, I swear, I didn't think that I was pregnant."
"Well, this day certainly is full of surprises…" Peter looked at Catherine. Seeing her with her baby brought back memories of when she was a newborn. How he loved to tell the story, getting in a little parental teasing at mentioning how they had first met. Now it appeared he had a new story to tell.
"Alright Cathy," Peter said when he found his voice. "I won't take you to a hospital, but I would like to have you and your baby in my office once you both have had a few days rest. I didn't see any problems, but as a doctor, I want to make sure both of you are one hundred percent healthy. In the meantime, let's see about making you two more comfortable."
Catherine nodded but then she felt another bout of smaller contractions. Peter caught this and was quick to reassure her. "Nothing to worry about," he said. "The contractions mean the placenta has detached from the uterine wall. I'll need one more push from you, and then you can relax."
He slipped into the bathroom and found the bowl Catherine had been using to soak her feet. He washed and sterilized it before coming back, and directing Catherine to give another push. Once the placenta was out, Peter placed it into the bowl and said he was going to take it with him when he left. He explained that he would take it to the lab where he had Vincent's blood tested. Even though the child more than likely shared Vincent's unique DNA, Peter wanted to be certain the child had no problems due to Catherine's lack of prenatal care, and it would help determine whether the baby was born prematurely.
Catherine told Peter there was a small cooler in the kitchen he could use carry the placenta. She had recently bought it to bring Popsicles down to the Tunnels for the children. Next, Peter began rummaging through his medical bad and pulled out a pair of scissors and a set of clamps. When the umbilical cord stopped pulsating, he attached the clamps and cut it. He placed it in the bowl with the placenta, and then walked back to Catherine's side.
"Now then, young lady," he said, taking the baby from her arms. "Let's see about getting you cleaned up."
"Don't you need to bathe the baby?" Catherine asked.
"Not necessarily," he answered. "The baby's temperature needs to remain stable for at least a few hours. Seeing as his body is already stabilizing faster than a typical newborn, I may bring him in during the end of your bath. The heated temperature and the contact with you will will keep him warm. But I want you to have a chance to bathe first, so I'll have Vincent look after him while I see to getting you some fresh bed sheets and something to wear."
Catherine was hesitant at first, but then she agreed. She waited for Peter to take the baby to Vincent, assured she would be the one to tell him the news. When he returned, she draped her right arm around Peter's shoulder and let him help her into the bathroom. Once they were in the bathroom, Catherine opted for sitting on the toilet with the lid up. Her lower body was still tender from the birth, and Peter explained she would be sore for a couple of days. He also took a look at where she had hit her back, noticing a dark bruise beginning to form. The poor girl was in for a ruff night.
"Now," Peter began as he started filling the tub. "I want the whole story."
Catherine smiled. "Where should I begin?"
The smile upon your angel face
The heaven in your eyes replace
The hell that I've been going through
Before you
While Peter and Catherine were speaking, Vincent has lost part of the conversation as Catherine hushed her voice. Though it would have been easy for him to listen, he respected Catherine's privacy and stepped back from the door. But one word had caught his attention: father.
Catherine had confessed the name of the father of her child. As he moved to sit on the small couch, Vincent sighed in despair. He heard the door open and Peter came out with the baby. He asked Vincent to watch him while he cleaned up Catherine's sheets. Taking the baby, Vincent watched as Peter then turned on the living room light, and then slipped back into the bedroom.
Then Vincent was alone with the baby. He looked down at the sleeping being. His eyes were less puffy and there was some red discoloration to his skin. As he looked, all Vincent could think of was that his assumptions were correct. Someone had forced themselves on his beloved Catherine, and now she would be reminded of that with the child. His thoughts turned bitter. This is not what he had wanted for Catherine, and this fate was cruel even for the child. Only the thought of it receiving Catherine's love could ease Vincent's troubled thoughts. No matter the reason, Catherine loved children. He had seen how the children Below would surround her, embracing her love and laughter as she played with them. And this child would have her undying love.
"She will make a wonderful mother," Vincent said to himself. Suddenly, the baby began to fuss. He tried to calm him, but the child would not settle down.
Having heard the wailing infant, Peter quickly emerged from the bedroom. Vincent looked up at him and he was met with a warm smile. "Nothing to worry about," Peter assured the younger man. "The baby just needs to be fed. I'll take him to Cathy."
Peter returned to the bedroom, but about a minute later he walked back out and went into the kitchen. He took a small white box from Catherine's refrigerator and took it back inside the bedroom. Vincent heard some shuffling sounds and the soft murmur of Peter instructing Catherine on how to breastfeed. When he confirmed she was doing fine, Vincent heard Peter move frantically about the bedroom. The door opened long enough for Peter to place a large hamper bag—likely containing the soiled bedsheets—next to the laundry and walked back inside.
The whole time Vincent could not stop thinking of Catherine. He wondered what she would do now. Would she keep the child? Vincent was sure Catherine could never part with her own baby, but how would she care for it on her own? Before long, Vincent heard the water in the bathroom shut off. It was another forty minutes before he heard Peter bid Catherine goodnight. Then he emerged from the bedroom. In one hand, Peter held his medical bag and in the other a small cooler. The older man looked worn but his eyes held something Vincent could not quite discern. Shifting the medical bag to his other hand, Peter made his way to Vincent's side and placed the hand on his shoulder.
"Catherine and the baby are going to be just fine," Peter reported. "She delivered the baby beautifully. From what I can tell, he is a little underweight, but he doesn't exhibit any signs of trauma from Catherine not having prenatal care, nor from her fall in the tub."
Vincent stiffened. He had not known Catherine had slipped, but Peter was quick to calm his fears. "Nothing to worry about; just a bruised tailbone. She gonna be pretty sore, but a few days rest, and she'll be back to herself again." Peter noticed Vincent had not said a word. His eyes were locked on the door leading to the bedroom.
"Vincent, I know this is a lot to take in, but this surprisingly isn't an uncommon thing," he continued. "Pregnancy varies and there have been other reports of women who carry to term without ever knowing. She is very lucky there were no complications."
When Vincent still did not answer him, Peter sighed and walked to the front door. "I'll be back in a bit. It was shear luck I happened to have a few cloth diapers in my bag, but I'm going out to pick Cathy up a few things for the baby. If you want, you can go in now. I'm sure Cathy would love it if you did." Receiving no reply, he quietly left the apartment.
Vincent's eyes never left the door. He did not know what to do. He felt like running back to the Tunnels, and hiding himself by the Nameless River until his could sort this all out. Yet his desire to remain with Catherine, and his curiosity to gain some answers held him in place. He was torn. Luckily, he didn't have to make the choice.
"Vincent? Are-Are you still there?"
The pleading of her voice was enough, and soon Vincent found himself crossing the apartment. He slowly entered the bedroom, his eyes drinking in the image before him. His heart skipped several beats.
Catherine sat upright against the headboard, clean and resting on new bedding. A blanket covered her from the waist down, and she now wore a silk button-up nightshirt. Her hair had been combed back and she smiled at him with tired eyes. When he lowered his gaze, he spotted the infant in her arms. He was bundled up in a large blanket, content and sleeping soundly. Vincent recalled seeing the new mothers of the Tunnels as they proudly held their babies. He thought of Lena and how she offered him a chance to hold her newborn daughter. The feeling it stirred within him was one he would never forget. Looking now, the image paled in comparison to how beautiful Catherine looked.
Vincent's eyes stung with unshed tears. He had always known Catherine would make a wonderful mother. Seeing her with the children Below stirred up visions in his mind of Catherine with children of her own. Part of him longed for those children to be his. But this would never be. When he drew his gaze back to her, and their eyes met, Vincent gasped at the look Catherine gave him. It was that of a proud mother looking at her lover and presenting him with his child. But why would she give him such a look?
Before he realized it, Vincent was standing at the foot of the bed. He felt drawn to her. He wanted to be by her side but he was afraid.
Catherine held her breath as Vincent drew closer. Her thoughts tumbled about in her mind, some of what Peter had told her and others on what she would do now. The first thing she needed to do was call Joe, but it would be hard to explain she needed immediate time off because she had had a baby. No one had known she was pregnant, and there would be too many questions about the baby and his father. Peter could probably make up an excuse for her, though she would still need to figure out how she would continue with her work at the DA's office now that she had a baby. But she could worry about that later.
Then there was figuring out how she would raise this child. Could she move Below, or would she have to raise this child on her own Above? If she quit her job, she could be a stay-at-home mom. She had plenty of funds her father had left her, so money wasn't a problem.
All her questions led back to Vincent. She wanted the baby to be raised by both his parents. She never found the right time to tell him the truth, but now it seemed fate had chosen for her.
Catherine untucked one hand from the baby and patted the spot next to her on the bed. Hesitantly, Vincent walked around and sat down, sitting closer to her feet. He seemed nervous and Catherine could tell he was holding himself back from running away. She took one glance at their baby.
"He's beautiful," she whispered, unable to keep the small smile from her face.
"Yes, he is." Vincent tried to keep the strain from his voice, but he was unable to deny Catherine's words. Looking at the child, Vincent found the babe looked just like his mother. His face was all Catherine. This child is blessed to have you for his mother, he thought. "I have so many questions…"
When he stayed silent, Catherine decided it was time. "Vincent, do you… H-Have you remember anything from when you were ill?" she timidly asked.
Vincent shook his head. "No, I am sorry Catherine, but I have not. I have tried, and sometimes, I can see fragments; small pieces, but I cannot be certain whether they are memories or visions from bouts of delirium." His hands clenched and he stared down at the floor. "Tonight, I returned to the cavern in hopes to find some answers," he continued. His left hand tightened into a fist and he sneered in disgust. "I found only darkness."
Catherine felt her heart break at his description. She shifted forward, grunting as her body protested the movement. Vincent instantly tried to insist she remain still, but Catherine brushed off his hand. When she was comfortable, she tried to speak but was cut off.
"Catherine I know you have been keeping something from me." Vincent saw her wince, conforming the truth of his words. "I've never forced you to confide in me, but…"
"Believe me Vincent," Catherine interrupted, "I wanted nothing more than to tell you, but the time never seemed right. You were so weak after you'd awakened, and then you had lost your memory. I wanted to tell you so badly but-"
"But…" Vincent gently shushed her, placing his right hand over her arm. "You feared I might relapse."
Catherine nodded. She took his hand in hers and squeezed his fingers tight. "I was so scared I was going to loose you," she confessed. "But then you were going to be alright, and you were so happy. So I... I hid the truth from you. I thought, if you could remember what happened on your own, we could talk it over."
Vincent brought their joined hands up and placed a tender kiss to her fingertips. "I know you will tell me anything you wish, but only when you are ready. But I must ask. Catherine, who is the father of this child?" His plea was desperate; he had to know. Had someone forced Catherine, or had she succumbed to his pleas and found another. He knew not which answer would be more damaging to his soul.
Catherine was silent for a moment. She still did not know the best way to tell him, so she decided to start from the beginning.
"After I heard you had retreated deep into the Tunnels, I was taken to where Father and the others were waiting," she explained. "No one would go any further, so I went after you alone. Father tried to stop me but I went anyway. I remember following the sound of your growls, using it to guide me through the darkness. When I found you, I didn't know what to do. It was like you were fighting someone I couldn't see. There was nothing I could do. You finally spotted me and you-you didn't recognize me. Then… Then you came after me."
So… It's true… he thought bitterly. What I saw in the cavern… That was me. His heart dropped. To think she had seen him like that. In a state of blind furry, the beast within him had… Did she say he came at her?! His eyes looked to her in horror as her words sank in. No! Then that… Then I…
"No Vincent!" she assured him, grabbing into his arm when she spotted that he was ready to run away from her. "You didn't hurt me. You could never hurt me."
Vincent sighed in relief but when looked at her, there was only shame in his eyes. He knew the truth of her words yet it did nothing for the knowledge of what he had done. It had always been his greatest fear that he would harm her, and while she claimed she had not been harmed, Vincent could not prevent the horror that he had even attempted to strike her. Catherine was the woman he loved more than his own life. And he had tried to attack her.
He took her hand from his arm, and held it in his grasp. Such differences: her small feminine hand with smooth skin and manicured nails, engulfed by his. His hand, with work-worn, calloused palms, dark fur and deadly claws. So different, so dangerous…and Catherine felt safe enough with her hand held protectively in his grasp. He once told her his hands were not meant to give love, but she knew otherwise. His hands were her hands, the hands of the man she loved; hands that cared for the sick and injured, and comforted frightened children. And they were the hands that held her heart.
As though time had gone back to that night, Catherine brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed Vincent's furred knuckles. He gave her a shy smile and knelt beside her on the floor, reaching out with his other hand to gently caress her face. Time seemed so perfect. If it could still only this moment, Catherine would be content. But she knew she had stalled long enough. It was time to tell him the truth. All of it.
"When you came after me, I called your name. The moment your eyes met mine, I saw recognition and fear overtake you. Then you collapsed, taking me with you as I tried to keep you upright. You-You didn't move, and I could not feel your pulse. You even stopped breathing." Catherine had to pause as the memory brought back emotions from that night. Tears pooled in her eyes, some spilling down her cheeks, and she had to close her eyes.
"There wasn't anything I could do. I called out to you, begging you not to leave. But my voice couldn't reach you anymore. I held you, but you couldn't feel my touch. That's when I knew… You were willing yourself to die, to-to protect me."
It was then that Catherine started crying. She curled her body into a ball, careful not to harm her baby. Her sobs tore Vincent's heart in half. He gathered her in his arms, and moved to sit beside her on the bed just as he had done after her father had died. He wrapped his arms tightly about her shoulders and under her arms, supporting both her and the baby. Then, he gently rocked her and rubbed her back. Catherine melted into the embrace. She buried her face into his quilted vest and cried. Her tears were a mix of sorrow for having almost lost the most important man in her life, and joy that he was still here, warm and alive; holding her in his arms.
"Forgive me, Catherine," Vincent whispered. "I never…" He held her tighter, wishing for a way to go back and prevent Catherine from feeling this way. "I see now why you've kept this from me. I'm sorry you've had to endure this alone."
When she calmed down, Catherine pulled back to lay her check against his chest. She pressed against the many layers of his clothes. Though it was faint, she could still hear his heartbeat. The steady sound eased her, giving her the strength she needed to tell him what happened next.
"There's more." Catherine pulled back until she was looking directly into Vincent's eyes. "Something else happened that night, and I-I'm not sure how you will react once I tell you," she confessed. Vincent waited patiently. "When I thought I was going to lose you forever I… I kissed you. And you-you responded. It was brief but then I could feel your breath against my lips, and I knew you were alive. I was so happy, I couldn't stop kissing you. And, well, one thing led to another…"
Her sudden hesitation befuddled him. Just a moment ago, she told him he had died in her arms, only to be brought back by her love. Still, there was something else she was keeping from him? And why had she still not answered his question about the baby's father? "Catherine, what is it exactly that you are trying to tell me?" he asked.
Summoning all her courage, Catherine looked into his eyes with a look of love, challenging him to deny her words. "We loved, Vincent." She held up the baby in her arms towards him. "This child is your son."
The moment it was said, Vincent had no sense of what to do. He looked into Catherine's pleading eyes, but he neither heard nor saw anything around him. He removed his hands from her and scooted back, too stunned to fully except her words but needing to remain close. All evening his thoughts and emotions had taken many surprises, but nothing—not even the horrifying scenarios conjured by his fearful mind—could have prepared him for this.
"C-Catherine… How…" He could no think of a single word when a million questions assaulted him at once.
Catherine only smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. "Like I said, we loved Vincent. When you responded to my kiss, I guess all our pent-up frustration finally took over, and we made love. I'll admit, it was not how I planned and it was a little fast, but I can assure you it was definitely consensual." She giggled as he lowered his head, using his long hair to hide his embarrassment from her. She lifted away a section of those golden locks and drew his gaze back to her.
"I know it's hard to believe. There were times I wondered if it really happened," she confessed. Then she looked down at their child, still fast asleep in her arms. "Though I wish I'd known about you, young man. Might of saved me and your father a lot of trouble."
The sound of Catherine calling him "father" had finally broken Vincent from his trance. Quietly, he looked once more at the tiny infant, and again, he was at a loss for words. The child looked fully human. There was no fur or claws; the baby did not even have hair, yet there was no indication of his father's fearsome features anywhere. He slowly reached with his right hand to brush a finger over the child's small cheek. Almost instantly, the baby began to stir. Tiny, dull gray eyes opened and attempted to focus on the two beings before him. Catherine and Vincent held their breath, awaiting the baby's reaction, but the child nether cried nor fussed.
Seeing the shock on Vincent's face, Catherine maneuvered her arms to give Vincent the baby. He was hesitant and shook his head. Catherine laughed.
"Vincent, it's all right. Please, hold your son." Not waiting for him to answer, Catherine placed the baby in the crook his right arm, and then wrapped his other arm around the baby's back and bottom. She sat back and felt a mother's pride, smiling openly at the sight of father and son together.
Nothing could properly describe the joy filling up Vincent's heart. He had held children Below, and a few times he had lent a hand in the Nursery. Even holding baby Cathy had been a memory he would always treasure. But this… Holding a child, his son, while he slept soundly was like nothing he had ever felt before. Tears filled his eyes and he tried to hold back the sob in his throat. A single tear slid down his cheek. Seeing it, Catherine sat up and kissed it away.
"T-Thank you," Vincent whispered, though not for the kiss. "This gift… I have never been so blessed. Thank you, my love."
"No Vincent," Catherine said, touched at his open declaration. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder, joining him in looking at their baby. "Thank you."
How long have you been there for me
I once was blind but now I see
A future full of hope
How I adore you
The sun rose, bringing the dawn and casting the world in beams of light. Golden orange and deep blues; hints of pink brushed into the clouds. Silently, Vincent watched from the window. Such hues were lost Below, only to be seen in meager patches of worn clothing, or in Elisabeth's Painted Tunnels. He had only witnessed the sun rise a handful of times before, but this was the first he had seen it in such a peaceful setting. He was able to fully enjoy the warmth and beauty of the sky painted in a sea of colors.
Yet despite this peace he felt from this glorious sight, none could compare to what his heart felt as he drew his eyes back to the bed.
There, nestled safely beneath the blankets, Catherine lie sleeping with their son held close in her embrace. Their child. Such simple words, yet to Vincent, they held more meaning than the very breath he needed. How often he dreamed of waking with Catherine in the sunlight, yet never had he dared to think this future was possible for him.
Soon the baby began to stir. Not wanting to wake Catherine, Vincent eased their son from her and slipped into the living room. Peter had arrived an hour ago to drop off supplies for the baby. He had also taken a note from Vincent to Father. It explained he would need someone to cover his class as he would stay with Catherine all day. Peter then said he would call Catherine's office and inform them she would be absent for medical reasons, at least until they could devise a proper excuse. He also assured Vincent that it might be safer if Catherine remained Below during the ordeal. That way, either Peter and Father would be able to check on the baby's health. Vincent agreed and, after being told to tell Catherine she was to be expected in his office the following day—standard forty-eight hour testing—Peter left, congratulating Vincent about the baby.
Vincent smiled. He never felt as proud as he did holding his son. Noting the child was still fussing, Vincent began rummaging through the supplies Peter had brought. He found diapers, clothes, bottles, and an odd assortment of other contraptions. Finally, he spotted what he was after: a container of formal for newborns. He read the instructions and while he waited for the water to heat, he took one of the fresh diapers and a onesie from the bag. Vincent then walked into the living room and laid his son on the couch. He changed his diaper, and placed a white bodysuit and a blue stripped coverall on him, followed by a matching striped hat. By the time he was done, it was time to make the formula. He moved his son to a shoulder hold and went back into the kitchen to fix a bottle.
He was just about to test the temperature when he heard Catherine awaken. Smiling, Vincent set the bottle aside and entered the bedroom. The sunlight reflected off Catherine's hair and made her green eyes sparkle, giving her a beautiful, glowing effect. She smiled at him and it made his heart flutter.
"Morning," she whispered. She stretched her arms and let out a contented sigh. "I guess someone was hungry, huh?" She laughed and held out her arms for the baby.
Vincent gave him to her along with a burp cloth he had grabbed, turning back to the window as Catherine opened her nightshirt to breastfeed. He waited until she burped the baby before turning around. Catherine just smiled and shook her head. Then, reality set in.
"Catherine… What will you do now?" he asked.
She sighed. "I don't know… I don't even know how I'll tell Joe, but Vincent, what do you think?" she asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes. "I want you to be apart of his life, but I don't want you to feel obligated to stay with me."
"Catherine." Vincent sat on the edge of the bed. He drew her left hand into his own. "You've given me more than I could hope for," he said. "You gave me your kindness where others would turn in fear. You gave me warmth and your friendship. You had courage when I could not face my own demons, and turned you away. And you, my love, brought me back from death's door with your love. And now you've given me something I never dreamed possible. You've given me a family of my own. How can you give me so much, when I can offer you nothing in return?"
"That's not true," she denied. "Vincent, I told you once, what we have is worth everything. You're my guardian angel. And you give me more than anyone's ever given me. I love you so much."
"And I you, Catherine. I have from the moment I met you." His confession was bold, and filled with more love than when he had told her that day before he had retreated into the cavern. In one swift motion, Vincent sat behind her on the bed and pulled Catherine into his arms. He kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek on her soft hair. Catherine snuggled into his embrace, his strong arms creating a protective shelter around her and their son.
"It almost feels like a dream," she whispered.
"This is no dream, Catherine," Vincent said, turning so they were face-to-face. "Though the reality of it still amazes me. I spent so long in the dark. For me, life could never be like that of any other man. Before you, my life would remained one of loneliness."
Catherine leaned forward and kissed his bristled cheek. "Never again, Love," she promised. "I'll stay with you, and stand by your side for as long as you'll let me."
He chuckled, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. He cupped her cheek in his right hand. She smiled, nuzzling his palm, while his thumb brushed over the scar above her left ear. Her eyes closed and she sighed, her breath warming his hand.
Something stirred within him then. He leaned forward, close; until his lips just barely brushed hers. For a moment, he was drawn back to when Catherine had kissed him. It had been brief, but he could still feel the softness of her lush lips.
Then, as if relieving the moment gave him the courage he needed, Vincent pressed his mouth fully to her lips. They were so soft and warm. Catherine tensed, having been surprised by the action, but then she melted into the kiss. Vincent was overjoyed! His confidence grew, and he moved his hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer as his fingers tangled into her hair. He felt Catherine press her hand to his chest. She must have been able to feel his heartbeat, for it was pounding erratically inside his chest. This sensation was like a river, energy rushing through his veins as their passions intensified. Catherine parted her lips, tempting him with open invitation to take what was always his. He would not shy away this time.
However, a muffled coo stopped them. Looking down, Catherine and Vincent had forgotten a third member had been present. Laughing, they pulled back to give their son some attention.
"Sorry sweetie. Guess Mommy and Daddy got a little carried away," Catherine joked as she brushed her finger over his nose. Then she noticed the clothes. "Vincent, when did you…?"
"Peter came by about eight o'clock," Vincent replied. "He brought over many items for you. He also recommended that you stay Below so that he and Father can look over you and the baby."
"That sounds like him." Catherine chuckled. "Vincent… Do you-Do you think everyone will be okay with this? Me-Us and the baby?"
Vincent tightened his arms around her and nuzzled her ear. "They may be surprised at first," he admitted. "But Catherine, we were unaware of your pregnancy as well. Besides, I know my family. They will except our child with open arms, just as they have you. Only, I fear Father, Mary and many others will demand I make an honest woman of you. They're very old-fashioned I'm afraid."
"Well, let's settle into being parents first," Catherine suggested, hoping to ease him a little. "There's plenty of time to talk about that later."
"Indeed." They talked a bit more. It was planned they would spend the whole day in her apartment, and at twilight, Vincent would help Catherine into the hall towards the elevator. Assuming they were not met with anyone, they would enter the Tunnels through the subbasement in Catherine's apartment. Then Vincent would call for someone to bring a stretcher to help bring Catherine to Vincent's-their chamber. From there, they would take everything one day at a time. For now, the new parents were happy getting to properly know their unexpected little miracle.
They spent a few more minutes in silence, merely enjoying watching their son. He was very alert for a child only a few hours old. At one point, his tiny hand grasped onto one of Vincent's fingers. The grip was strong, making Vincent smile.
"You know, Catherine, we'll need to give him a name," Vincent noted.
"Hmm…" Catherine thought for a moment, and Vincent spotted a mischievous glint in her eye. "How about… Vincent Junior?" It was the closest thing to a smirk Catherine had ever seen expressed on Vincent's face. She laughed. "I'm only kidding. Why don't you think of a name?"
"I think we should decide together."
"Vincent, it only seems fair," she insisted. "He's your son, and I would love it if you chose his name."
Knowing Catherine would not let him talk her out of it, Vincent quietly pondered numerous names. There were many he liked, but one in particular stuck out to him. He only hoped Catherine would agree. He whispered his choice into her ear, and waited for her reaction.
Catherine stayed silent. She would admit, it had not been the first name that came to mind, but the moment Vincent had spoken it, she knew nothing else could compare.
"Very well." She repositioned her arms so that she held their son up to where they could see him clearly. "Welcome to the world… Jacob."
"Jacob…" Vincent smiled. He reached out and placed his hand on Jacob's back. For the first time in his life, Vincent felt truly happy.
"Welcome, my son."
Unlikely angel
Standing there in front of me
As if you were my destiny
Like we were always meant to be together
Unlikely angel
Oh, you never know where one might be
In sacred halls or crowded streets
But God has sent one straight down to me from heaven
Unlikely angel
Unlikely angel
Unlikely angel
Unlikely angel, Hmmmm
Unlikely angel