A Little Faith Can Make Miracles Happen

Chapter 1

Father sighed heavily as he handed Peter his tea. 'I'm glad you came Below to talk today, Peter. I am simply at my wits end. I'm so worried for Vincent, but I simply don't know how to help him."

"Is it really that bad, Jacob?"

Father sighed again. "I'm afraid so. Since Catherine's death, Vincent has slowly but surely withdrawn from the community as a whole. I fear his grief for Catherine is finally overtaking him."

'But he seemed to overcome it so well right after she …." Peter looked down at his cup, unable to finish the statement. "Look at what all he accomplished. He rescued Jacob and destroyed Gabriel."

'True." Father agreed, "But that was only a respite. Rescuing Jacob took all his time and attention. Over the past few months since then, he's been spending more and more time alone. He has stopped taking meals in the dining chamber and only joins a work crew when absolutely necessary. He's even given up his classes and Vincent has always loved teaching. But it's the last week that has me worried the most, Peter. Suddenly, he just up and disappeared. Vincent has been seen wandering the tunnels at all hours but his chamber hasn't been slept in for days. Jacob has been in Mary's care for almost a week. I would have believed he hadn't even been to see his own son if Mary hadn't awoken a few nights ago and found Vincent standing over Jacob's crib just staring at him. The moment she noticed Vincent, he left without a word."

"What does Diana think of all this?" Peter asked.

"Diana has left New York. She won't be coming back. She has gone to Virginia to join an organized crime task force." Father informed him softly.

"I see." Peter frowned. "Do you think that has anything to do with Vincent's behavior?"

"No, I don't think so. Vincent made it quite clear to Diana before she left that there could never be room for anyone in his life except Catherine. I think that was part of her reason for leaving."

The two men continued to talk until Peter departed, leaving Father alone with his thoughts. The tunnel patriarch sat down heavily as he pondered the events that had left them all forever changed. Catherine's death had hit everyone in the tunnels quite hard, not just Vincent. The community as a whole had felt the impact.

Even Jacob's rescue couldn't lift the shadow Catherine's death cast over the tunnels. Their world seemed a bit darker and colder somehow; as if in losing Catherine they had also lost a little bit of hope and warmth from the Tunnels as well. Nothing had filled the empty place that Catherine left in all their lives.

No one knew this better that Father. Many times since that terrible night, he had cursed his own arrogance in trying to deter Catherine and Vincent from being together. Though he thought he was doing what was best for Vincent at the time, Father now knew he had been horribly wrong. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd been more supportive that things might have turned out differently for everyone. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Father knew some in the tunnels held him at least partially responsible for the events that lead to Catherine's demise, even though they never voiced their sentiments publically. They didn't have to. Devin had done it for them.

"This is as much your fault as it was Gabriel's, old man!" Devin had shouted angrily as he confronted Father not long after Catherine's funeral. "I don't care what Vincent says! Of course he forgives you; what else can he do? But you are still equally to blame! If it hadn't been for your constant interference, Catherine would have been safe Below long before now living with Vincent where she belonged!

But you wouldn't allow it, would you? It might have threatened your precious status quo! You may not have put the needle into her, Father, but you are just as responsible for her death!" Father's chamber had echoed that day with Devin's harsh condemnation. Though Devin remained in New York after their argument, he hadn't been back to the Tunnels since. Frankly, Father couldn't blame him.

Father picked up a nearby tome and opened it to gaze sorrowfully at the lovely handwriting inside. It said simply "To Father, With love, Catherine". It was a valuable first edition Milton that Catherine insisted on presenting to him on his last birthday.

"Forgive me, dearest Catherine." He choked, overcome with emotion. "If I had another chance…. I swear to heaven I would do everything I could to restore you to Vincent. If there was only some hope… "

'There is always hope, Father."

Father looked up in surprise to see Narcissa standing in the alcove above him. Embarrassed at being caught so unawares, he quickly cleared his throat and sat up.

"Narcissa, I didn't hear you come in. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, Father. It is I who have come to do something for you."

"For me?" The tunnel patriarch asked in bewilderment. The old blind woman nodded.

"To remind you of what you have forgotten. With faith, all things are possible."

Father smiled wistfully at Narcissa.

"I wish it were that simple." He muttered quietly.

Recovering himself, he turned to offer his guest some refreshment. "Can I offer you a cup of tea, Narcissa?" When he turned back, the alcove was empty. Father frowned again in bewilderment.

But at that moment, Vincent entered. "Vincent, did you pass Narcissa in the tunnel?" Father asked.

"No, Father, I saw no one. Was she just here?" his son asked curiously.

Father shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Come in, son." There were more important matters at hand.

"The message on the pipes said you wanted to see me." Vincent said, not leaving the doorway.

"Yes, Vincent, I do. Please, come in and sit down." Father urged. He couldn't help but notice his son's reluctance as Vincent visibly hesitated. Finally, he made his way slowly down the stairs and took a seat nearby, perching just on the edge. Now closer to Vincent, Father couldn't miss the disheveled appearance of his beloved son or the dark smudges of fatigue under his eyes. It only made Father worry more.

'I'm glad you came, Vincent." Father began hesitantly. "I've been worried for you. We all have."

'There's nothing anyone can do for me, Father." Vincent replied softly, his head held down as he stared at the floor. His dejected demeanor told Father something was definitely wrong.

"Mary tells me you've left Jacob with her for several days."

"He's better off with her right now. She can take care of him."

Realizing he was not getting any answers, Father tried a different approach. "Vincent, Catherine's death has been a blow to all of us. We have all suffered. I know it's been difficult for you…"

Vincent instantly shot to his feet and rounded on Father, anger glittering in his eyes.

"DIFFICULT!" He snarled. "Is that what you think it's been? Catherine wasn't just the woman I loved and the mother of my child, Father! She was the other half of my SOUL! You cannot possibly understand how I've suffered! I…"

The shock on Father's face finally penetrated Vincent's anger and he instantly stopped speaking. His hand shook badly as he raised it to his face and rubbed across his eyes wearily.

"Forgive me, Father. I'm not myself." Vincent whispered brokenly as he hung his head and began to weep.

Father came to his feet and went to embrace his son. "Vincent, you are not alone. I'm here for you, son. Whatever it is, we can face this together. Let me help you. Tell me what troubles you so."

Vincent sighed heavily and allowed Father to lead him back to a chair. Haltingly, he began to speak. "Ever since Jacob's return, Father, I've been plagued by… dreams."

Father frowned. "What sort of dreams?"

"I dream of …Catherine."

"That's only natural." Father tried to console his distraught son. "You miss her terribly. It stands to reason that your memories might return in your dreams.

"No, Father. It isn't like that." Vincent protested vehemently. "My dreams are different. In them, Catherine is different. When I dream of her, she's always Below almost as if… she were living here."

'Well, perhaps it's your subconscious dreaming of what you wish could have been." Father offered gently.

But Vincent shook his head firmly. "No, it's more than that. At times, it almost seemed as if I could feel her. At first, it only happened occasionally. But this last week, I see her every time I close my eyes, Father and it's always the same dream. She's in the infirmary chamber and she's weeping. My sense of her is so strong I feel as if I can almost reach out and touch her. There's something else as well; something I sense. I can feel it right at the edge of my senses, but I can't quite grasp it." Vincent drew in a ragged breath. "But then I awaken; she's gone again and I'm alone."

Father paused, trying to make sense of what his son had just told him. "I'm sorry, Vincent. I wish I could offer you some sort of explanation for what these dreams mean. But, I'm afraid even I am at a loss this time, son."

Vincent tried hard to smile to reassure Father. "It's all right. I feel better just having shared this with you."

"I'm glad you have. Why don't you stay and have a cup of tea. It's been ages since we did. Perhaps I could even interest you in a game of chess." Father said lightly, hoping to distract his son from the troubles plaguing him.

'I'd like that, Father." He replied. Smiling, the tunnel patriarch started setting up the board.