Explosions were throwing up gouts of rock and sand, blinding and deafening him. He dodged behind the ruins of a wall, chunks of debris raining down around him. He could hear shouting but couldn't see anyone, only burnt out building and twisted wreckage of burning cars. The beat of a helicopter sounded over head and he looked up, the black shape swooping low and raking the dirt with bullets. He was too exposed, too vulnerable he needed to find cover. He took off running the helicopter turning to chase after him, strafing his heels with fire as he dodged and weaved to avoid being hit. Voices called to him, one of them a woman and he swerved to run towards the voice, his feet pounding on the hot ground, his lungs burning and all the time the helicopter stayed on his six, the noise rattling in his brain making it difficult to think. He heard his name called and he tried to find the woman, his ears muffled, his feet becoming mired by the dust, the taste thick on his tongue.
"Come out where I can see you!" he screamed, staggering and almost falling, the black monster behind him relentless in its pursuit. A ragged doorway appeared in front of him and he fell into it, the total blackness blinding him. Even here he wasn't free of the devil behind him the helicopter sitting in the doorway and still firing, the noise deafening him, the rotor blades kicking up so much grit he was blinded. "Go away!"
Catherine heard the shout and raised her head from the pillows, groggy and disoriented. She heard a thump from next door and suddenly realised it was Vincent. Fumbling for a light she swung her legs out of bed and padded barefoot to the door. The apartment was in darkness, but she knew her way and opened Vincent's door,the room beyond as black as pitch. Vincent was moaning and twisting on the bed covers, obviously in the throws of a nightmare. Approaching the bed she reached to turn on the bedside lamp but a hand clamped onto her arm and yanked her backwards. She landed flat on her back, pinned in an instant by Vincent, his grip surprisingly strong for a man only recently risen from his hospital bed. She expected to break it easily as she had that first time, but something was giving Vincent extra strength and with a shock she realised she couldn't move.
"Vincent, get off me!" She tried to kick but his legs held her down, his face only inches from hers in the darkness, his breath hot against her cheek and neck. "Vincent, you were having a nightmare, you can let me go now."
He didn't answer, just held her down with his hands and body, the feeling at once familiar but also strange. In all the time he's been gone she hadn't once looked at another man, or slept with anyone. She hadn't purposely denied herself, it had just worked out that way.
Now she was lying under him again, her body reacting as it always did in the past, melting and softening in readiness to accept him. Her lover, her man. She stopped trying to released herself and relaxed into the covers, his body following, fitting itself to her contours, his hot breath coming closer until she could feel his lips on her skin. She turned her head away but that just gave him access to her neck, his mouth opening to brush against the hammering pulse just under the skin. His tongue came out and tasted her, Catherine drawing in a sharp breath, struggling to remember that this man that smelt like her lover, felt like her lover, was not that man but instead a stranger with no memory of her or their brief time together. Despite her mind understanding this fact, her body reacted as if he had never left, arching against him to better make contact, her nipples hardening in memory of his mouth on them, her thighs relaxing to cradle him better between them.
Vincent shifted and she felt the hard length of him through his jeans, the memory of their lovemaking so sweet she heard herself moan at the contact.
He growled, low in his throat, the sound pure animal and so familiar she gasped, the parting of her lips an invitation for him to cover her mouth with his own, the kiss at once old and new again, his tongue mimicking their intimate joining while his hips slowly ground against her, sparking fires all over her body.
The grip of his hand on her arms pinning her to the bed loosened but she didn't try to free herself. Instead she raised her arms and enclosed them around his neck, holding him to her, their kiss deepening, lips and teeth clashing as passion rose and obliterated any doubts that what they were doing was wrong or inadvisable. It was right on so many levels it would be a crime not to take it to its logical conclusion.
His hand on her breast made her arch into it, his fingers playing with the hard nipple while his mouth continued to plunder and devastate her. Clothes seemed to melt away and they were suddenly skin to skin, hot and velvety, raw and beautiful, hands mapping out familiar territory, finding well loved curves and hollows. She opened to him and welcomed him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. He plunged and she held on, fingers grasping his arms feeling the play of muscle under the skin, his movements sure and forceful, his grunts and growls sending shivers down her spine, blending with her moans and gasps as they moved together in harmony. In the pitch black all she had was sensation to guide her, her fingers, her legs, her mouth all aided in her quest to build the moment to its summit, her cries urging Vincent to strive harder, move faster until Catherine keened, sparks bursting behind her eyelids, her body pulsating with heat and surges of bliss, Vincent surging once, then twice then shuddering against her, pulsating inside her, his breath searing her breast. In the darkness she opened her eyes to see twin golden suns staring back at her, the brightness fading as she stared, shocked and strangely relieved, an emotion she couldn't begin to explain. Vincent wasn't a stranger after all. God, she'd missed this.
All too soon he pulled out and rolled onto his back, Catherine laying there incapable of movement, her limbs lax and unwilling to perform their function. Only her neck appeared capable of movement, Catherine turning her head to look at Vincent. Faint light from the window etched his profile, his arm flung over his face in a gesture of what, she didn't know. Shame? Embarrassment? Exhaustion?
"Vincent?" She only breathed his name but he reacted as if she'd shouted it. Rolling onto his side he sat up, long expanse of bare back towards her, his shoulders hunched, head down.
Catherine sat up too, pulling the throw over her torso and tucking it under her arms. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched.
"Vincent, what's wrong?"
The light outside the window was getting brighter, his body revealing itself to her out of the darkness, the wide shoulders, long black hair, rounded arms with their bulge of muscle, the indentation of his spine down to slim hips and narrow waist. Dark patches showed where he'd been injured, some of them starting to fade with fresher bruising still a dark and painful purple. Still he didn't say anything, just sat there while she let her hand smooth over his skin, dancing over the hot velvet expanse, avoiding the worst of the contusions but stroking anywhere that was undamaged. She loved touching him, loved feeling the life beneath the flesh. Sitting up she let the soft throw fall back onto the bed and drew herself up to kneel behind him, her strong fingers finding the tense muscle of his neck and collar and massaging slowly, deeply, easing the tension and soothing the knotted muscles. Vincent dropped his head lower, his elbows resting on his knees. The light outside was bright enough to expose the marks and scars marring the silky skin of his back, Catherine feeling compassion well up with the knowledge of what he must have endured. Tenderly she leant down, her hair brushing his skin, to kiss each ridge and bruise, working her way up to his neck and shoulders, her hands worming around to the front and embracing him, her breasts flattening against his back with her head resting on his shoulder.
One of his hands came up and covered hers.
"How can you bear to touch me?" he whispered. "After what I just did to you."
"You didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to, Vincent?" she replied, her voice almost a purr.
"I was having a nightmare..." he tried to explain.
"I know, that was why I came in, you were shouting and I came to see if you were okay."
Vincent turned his head to look at her. "I thought you were the enemy, in my dream I was trying to find someone and this...this...something was shooting at me and I thought I was under attack..."
"Shhh...I know. You thought I was going to hurt you, so you stopped me." Catherine finished for him.
"I raped you," Vincent said bluntly, anguish lacing his words. "I'm so sorry."
Catherine sat back ,slid off the bed, quite naked, and came to stand in front of him.
"Vincent." She addressed him sharply, making him look up at her, the rising sun rimming her with a golden halo. " Look at me."
She stood there, hands on hips, like a goddess, her eyes unflinching as she stared into his. She could see flecks of gold and green, copper and brown in the colour of his eyes, the sun painting its own transient art work on the far wall in shades of gold and orange.
"You didn't rape me, or attack me or hurt me." She told him. "I haven't told you everything about your life before, but one thing you need to know right now. We were lovers, not for very long but long enough for me to know that I can trust you with my life, my body and my heart. You will never hurt me."
He still looked stricken, as if what she'd just told him was spoken in a foreign language without subtitles. It didn't appear to have made an impression on his assumed guilt. Obviously some other tactic would have to be employed.
Deciding that action is better than words she moved to stand between his legs, forcing him to lift his head and rear back, her breasts now directly in front of his face. His arms automatically wrapped around her, his hands resting on her lower back and behind her thighs.
"Vincent? Do you want me?" She rested her own hands lightly on his chest, not moving other than to breath in and out. She saw him swallow, his eyes unable to stay fixed on hers but wandering lower to take in the feast before his eyes. He swallowed again. Already his body was responding to her allure and the open invitation she offered.
"I want you to make love to me...now." she ordered.
He hesitated only a fraction before leaning forward and engulfing one of her breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipple and tugging. While he feasted on her body she dragged her fingers through his hair, raking his scalp with her nails. He growled against her skin, sending pleasurable shivers up her spine and raising goosebumps up her arms. Suddenly she was on her back again, Vincent looming over her, his eyes glowing gold and his teeth bared, but he hadn't transformed, he was still himself. Like a panther he moved up her body until his hands were on either side of her head, then he lowered himself and she raised her legs to wrap around his hips, inviting him to sink himself inside her body, to encase himself to the hilt before starting to move. Previously his eyes had only glowed at the moment of climax. Now he stared down at her with his beautiful golden eyes and seemed to grow bigger and more leonine as she watched, his body moving with hers, rocking back and forth to create a delicious friction.
"Love me, Vincent...make me yours." she begged, letting her hands lay lax beside her head, only her lower body working with him, anchoring him to her. Vincent locked his elbows and pushed forward to bury himself deeper inside her, his head thrown back, eyes glowing and mouth open. He was magnificent and feral and wild, and he was hers again.
As the pace quickened he lowered his head and took her mouth, drinking deeply as they came together again and again, their bodies slick with sweat, the scent of them together like the sweetest musk, intoxicating and heady. Vincent suddenly stiffened and shuddered against her, his body rippling in the throws of his climax. Catherine lay still beneath him her own journey incomplete. Vincent pulled back and looked down at her, panting, his eyes back to normal. Without a word he slipped out of her and moved down her body, his mouth delving where his cock had been and sucking hard on her clitoris bringing her to a shattering orgasm that left her breathless and shaking.
When she came back to earth she opened her eyes to see Vincent licking his lips like a contented cat. He met her slumberous gaze and smiled.
"Sweet." was all he offered in way of explanation for that piece of cleverness. He lay beside her and drew her against his chest, dragging the covers over them both to cocoon them securely.
Then they slept.
Catherine's last thought was to wonder where they were supposed to go after this. Then she slept, the slumber of the truly satisfied, her body tingling with after shocks and well used.
Vincent stayed awake a bit longer, his own body relaxed and curiously energized, as if making love to the extraordinary woman in his arms had fired up parts of his body and brain that hadn't been switched on before, or at least not for a very long time. He felt truly alive and despite not having all his memories to guide him, he knew that this incredible woman would do her best to find all the missing pieces and put him back together again. With that thought to comfort him he slept too.
This time he had no nightmares, in fact no dreams at all because they were all wrapped up in the covers, sleeping beside him, touching him.
.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.
Vincent awoke to an empty bed, the sheets cold and his lover of the night long gone. He stretched and winced, his body protesting the unexpected activity of the previous hours. The sun of the early morning was gone and the sky was overcast and grey, exactly matching his conflicting emotions. He groaned softly to himself, his mind playing back parts of the events, still not sure that he hadn't done something terrible to the woman who was giving him his life back. Almost immediately his conscience reminded him that the second time was no accident or product of a nightmare infused dream. She had offered, no demanded that he make love to her, making it nigh impossible for him to refuse. And who would refuse such a strong, yet outwardly fragile woman her right to demand whatever she wanted of him. She was fiery and soft, generous and enthusiastic, a dream lover that excited him beyond measure. If he hadn't already been half in love with her, he certainly would be now. The only question now was where did they go from here? Part of his life, in fact most of his life was a huge blank. Like a newborn he had no point of reference to fall back on, no memories of family or friends, childhood or adulthood. It was unsettling and frightening, his only anchor the woman who had appeared out of nowhere and claimed him for her own. She was his lodestone to keep the terrors of not knowing at bay, if not entirely vanquished. If she cast him adrift...he shuddered at the thought, his whole being rebelling at letting go of Catherine and the hope she offered him.
He pushed himself upright, muscle protesting the movement and his injuries reminding him of their presence. Last night he'd felt none of it, his body infused with strength and power, the pain and weakness banished in the fire created by Catherine. He had experienced some strange flickering in his eyes, like he'd been staring at the sun too long, the effect seeming to magnify his ability to see in the dark, but it didn't last and most of the time he kept his eyes shut, but when the light in the room was sufficient to see his lover, he didn't shut them again, drinking in her expressions, the sounds she made, the sight of her body moving under his, all combining for an unforgettable experience.
And if Catherine was to be believed, they had been lovers before, had been in love before. An obvious conclusion suddenly blind-sided him. Catherine was still in love with him.
He sat on the side of the bed and listened. Outside the world was going about its business, cars and trucks creating a muted roar. Birds fought valiantly to be heard above the human world, while the occasional voice could be heard in a quiet moment. The drone of an aeroplane overlapped the distance hoot of train combined with a familiar rattle of wheels on tracks. If he closed his eyes the sounds seemed to magnify, becoming sharper and less muffled. He tilted his head and he could pick out actual words of someone working in a business nearby. His eyes popped open in surprise when the sound of a bird chirping sounded like it was in the room with him. It wasn't. Shaking his head he slowly pushed himself onto his feet, the covers falling away. He felt like an old man, barely able to shuffle, the sexual demi-god of the night before long forgotten. Whatever had given him the ability to make love last night, had completely drained away and he felt as weak as a kitten. Slowly he made his way to the door of his bedroom and opened it. The building was silent, himself the only occupant. Using the wall to support him he shuffled naked to the bathroom next door. Inside he turned on the shower and stepped in, the hot water sluicing down and pummeling his aching body. He stayed in there for a long time, steam filling the room and fogging the mirror tiles. At length he shut the water off and stepped out, some of his former energy returned. An efficient extractor got rid of the steam and he wiped off the mirrors to get a better look at himself all over. Dropping the towel he examined his back, frowning at the pattern of marks from his shoulders down to his buttocks. They continued down the back of his thighs as if someone had given him a thorough and systematic beating. Turning around he critically appraised his front, the scarring not so bad except for the large surgical scar on his left hip which looked old and the unmissable one on his face. There was some bruising but only in places, not like his back which almost resembled a pattern as if he'd been laying on chunks of stone, maybe a metal grill or something. He flipped his wet hair out of his face before examining his arms, the insides of his elbows bearing marks that even he recognised as track lines from frequent needle use, but his charts had exonerated him from recreational drug use, there being none in his system, nor alcohol, in fact nothing to explain either his condition or the needle marks. He wrapped the towel back around his hips and turned to the sink, a brand new toothbrush still in its packaging waiting for him to use.
Clean again he shuffled back to his bedroom, once more exhausted. Towel and all he flopped on to the mattress and just managed to pull the covers over himself before sleep dragged him under, the sound of rain drumming on the window as good as a lullaby.
.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.
Catherine sat in the café sipping her skinny flat white and wondering if she should ever go home. She clasped her cup with both hands, not because she was cold more because her hands wouldn't stop trembling.
"Cat!" Tess waved to her and she half-hearted raised a hand in reply. She was back in her blacks again, hair tightly pulled back, once more untouchable and unapproachable.
"Hey." Tess sat down and gave her a shrewd appraisal. "Oh. My. God, you've got your glow on. I haven't seen that since..." Tess stopped and let her mouth fall open. "Oh no, you didn't. Tell me you didn't.." Tess waved her hand in a loose circle in front of Catherine's face. "...do that."
Catherine closed her eyes for a moment then nodded.
Tess sat back in her chair and frowned. Catherine didn't raise her head. She just stared down at her coffee and wondered how she could explain it. Tess didn't wait for an explanation.
"Well. You won't be able to let him go now. Whatever weird shit they did to him you're going to have to deal with it now. So much for moving on. I told you it was a bad idea to have him at your place, but you wouldn't listen to me, oh no, you just had to have this romantic notion that he was the old Vincent, back from shit knows where..."
Catherine looked up, her expression so anguished it stopped Tess in her tracks.
"Hell, Cat, what are you doing?" She reached across the table and took on of Catherine's hand in her own.
"I still love him, Tess. I never really stopped. I know I talked about moving on, I even tried, really, I did. It was an accident, he had a nightmare and..."
Tell held up her hand. "Please, you don't have to say any more."
"Oh, Tess, you should see him, he's covered in bruises and marks, as if he's been systematically beaten over a long period of time. And something else..." Catherine paused and bit her lip.
Tess shrugged. "What?"
"He's still not free of the chimera effect. It may not be showing up in his blood-work, but it's still there."
"How do you know?" Tess asked, without thinking. Catherine blushed and looked down again.
"His eyes, and his strength returned...um...when...well...anyway, his eyes glowed gold just like before."
Tess looked grim. "Did he change, you know, into...?" she made a grimace, baring her teeth.
Catherine smiled. "No. Apart from the eyes thing, he remained entirely...normal."
Tess sat back in her chair and took Catherine's coffee, taking a mouthful before passing it back.
"So what now?" Tess asked.
Catherine shook her head. "I have no idea. I was thinking of maybe just not going home ever again."
Tess laughed. "I don't suppose it happened to bring his memories back, did it?"
Catherine smiled. "I don't now, I left before he woke up."
"Coward," Tess murmured, but without malice. "You want me to come with you when you tell him?"
"No. And tell him what?"
"That you and he were more than just friends. That you were in love with him. All that stuff."
Catherine shrugged and looked away. "I'll have to see how he is, then play it by ear, I suppose."
Tess leant forward again and reached for her hand. "You know, this could be a blessing in disguise."
Catherine stared at her friend. "How?"
Tess lifted one shoulder. "He doesn't have all the baggage he had before, all that guilt, you could have a fresh start together. You could have a future that you really didn't have before."
"Have you listened to a word I said? He's still the beast, inside, the difference being he's not aware of it...yet. I told him all about it, but he didn't believe me."
"You told him?"
"Of course, he needed to know." Catherine retorted. "I didn't know then that he still had the chimera abilities. I thought maybe Muirfield had abandoned him because they had tinkered with him and taken those away. His blood-work was entirely normal with no hint of any anomalies"
"Maybe they didn't do the right tests?" Tess suggested. "I mean we know that Evan did those tests, but really would a hospital bother with DNA testing for a vagrant John Doe?"
Catherine shook her head. "Maybe I misread the test results. Maybe..."
Tess interrupted her. "Have you been in contact with J.T yet?"
Catherine shook her head gain. "I haven't been in touch since I moved out of my old apartment and he moved away."
"Do you want me to find him? Maybe he can help?" Tess offered.
"He was devastated when Vincent was taken, I don't know..."
Tess nodded. "Leave it with me, I'll find him but I won't contact him until you say so. Okay?"
"Thanks. Look, I'd better go home." she drew in a breath and drew on her mantle of indifference and untouchability. It didn't fool Tess.
"This really could be a good thing, Cat, a second chance for you both."
"Until Muirfield decide they want him back again and we're back to square one. I don't know if I can take that again, Tess. You know how it's been this past year, I don't know if I can do this again."
Tess snorted. "Well you knew enough to do what you did last night. I don't think Vincent is going to forget that in a hurry!"
Catherine blushed again and bit her lip, fighting the smile trying to curve her lips. "It was rather good. But Tess..."
Tess held up on finger. "No but, there is no but. This is an opportunity handed to you on a plate. He can't be any more messed up than he was before, or you for that matter." She arched an eyebrow. "So go be messed up together, but be careful. He may not know what he's capable of, but you don't have that excuse."
Catherine sighed gustily. "Don't I know it. I'll give you a call, okay?"
"You'd better or I'll be around there and you know I won't be shy."
The two women hugged and parted outside the coffee shop, each wishing the best for the other.
.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.
The apartment was silent when Catherine entered, with no evidence of her new house mate. The day was winding down so she decided to cook to relax herself. For the next hour or so she put together a meal that reminded her of the dinner she created for Vincent and that he couldn't attend because he fugued out. She laid the table as if for a special dinner, using accessories that hadn't seen the light of day in over a year. Once everything was set she went upstairs and had a shower, still not checking on her housemate, the hot water soothing her further, washing away all her doubts and insecurities and inducing a calm she held onto as she got dressed, as if for a date night, wearing perfume, a pair of her favourite earrings and a well loved, but beautiful sweater and comfortable jeans. When she looked in the mirror she felt confident, calm and ready for whatever happened between her and Vincent. Now she just had to face him and take it from there.
"This is Vincent," she told her reflection. "the man you loved then, and still love now." She ignored the imp of mischief that reminded her that he was not quite the man she knew before, and he certainly didn't know her with him memory gone. She shook herself to dispel the negative and focused exclusively on the positive.
Stepping out of her room she approached his door and softly knocked. When there was no response she opened the door and walked in. Vincent was laying on his front, head buried in the pillows. The later afternoon sun was painting the roof tops beyond, the window leaving the room is an early gloom, all sign of the earlier rain swept away. Catherine approached the bed slowly, almost holding her breath so as not to wake the sleeper. Most of Vincent's shoulders and back were exposed, a light sheen of perspiration giving his skin a silky gleam, Catherine pausing a step away from the head of the bed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she stared in fascination at the process going on before her very eyes. Vincent's skin was healing itself, the deep purple bruises fading even as she watched, the lines and ridges almost invisible, a direct contrast to a few hours ago. His frame was still too lean, but the terrible contusions were almost gone from the surface. It would seem that his golden eyes were not the only hang over from his Beastly enhancements. As if her very presence called to him, Vincent stirred, turning his head to face her, blinking up at her.
"Hey."
"You ready for something to eat?" Catherine asked, deciding to play is safe.
"Ravenous."
"Get dressed, I'll see you down stairs." She quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her. Making her way back to the kitchen she wondered how she was going to introduce the subject of his signs of transformations, the eyes, the healing power and all the other known and as yet unknown side effects of Muirfield's experiments. Which also raised the worrying question of why Muirfield dumped Vincent back into the real world, unless they thought he was incapable of being the beast again and decided he was of no further use to them. So why let him live at all? And why return him to New York? Had someone helped him escape, in the process robbing him of his memories? Talk about complicated. She struck a match and lit the candles, hearing Vincent coming down the stairs. He was barefoot and wearing just jeans and a t-shirt, that garment hanging loosely on him.
"You look rested." She observed, indicating the chair opposite her. Vincent seated himself, looking a little awkward and unsure.
"Catherine, about last night..."
"Early this morning, actually." Catherine corrected, handing him a plate with a serving of the meal she's prepared earlier. Vincent looked at her, ignoring the food.
"Catherine, we need to talk..." he tried again, but she indicated her plate.
"Eat, then talk."
Vincent gave up, the smell of the food reminding him how long it had been since his last meal yesterday. He scooped up a forkful and chewed, his expression turning from troubled to wondering.
"This is delicious, what is it?"
Catherine smiled, pleased he liked it. "Just your basic beef stew, with herbs and red wine."
Vincent smiled back and returned to demolishing the food, even handing it over for a second helping when Catherine offered. She had decided to lay off the wine and just drank sparkling water, giving Vincent the same. She needed a clear head to deal with the conversation to come.
The meal over, they adjourned to the sofa, Catherine sittings sideways with a leg tucked up to face Vincent, while he sat with his hands loosely clasped, between his knees, looking tense and a little apprehensive.
"Catherine..." he started but she interrupted immediately.
"Vincent, let me start. I know you have a lot of questions, but I think...I know that I need to get this out before you bring them up. Catherine drew in a deep breath to steady herself.
You and I used to be more than just friends, even more than lovers. You were my protector for many, many years. You had rescued me when I was barely out of my teens, when you first escaped from the people that made you the way you are."
"Muirfield."
"Yes. Muirfield You spent nearly ten years watching over me, but I didn't know that at the time. All I knew was that a...something...had saved me when my mother was shot in front of me. They were going to shoot me too, but you killed them, then you disappeared. We didn't meet up again until nine years later, when I was a police detective, and you had been hiding out of sight, only ever emerging at night. You hadn't even been in touch with your family. Everyone thought you had died in Afghanistan, at least the official record said you had. Instead you were going out at night and helping people all around New York. You were rescuing them from muggings, murder, robbery, trying to help where you could. You were also keeping tabs on me, keeping me safe when you were able to."
"How did we meet up again?"
"Your fingerprints were found at a crime scene. You had tried to save this woman who was poisoned, but she died. When we ran your fingerprints you came up as a deceased veteran who died in two thousand and two. All we had to go on was your previous intern-ship at the hospital, and a the name of a room-mate you had at the time, J. T . Forbes."
"J.T?" Vincent queried.
"You and he went way back, you had grown up together. He was...is...a biochemistry professor currently lecturing at the University of California, last I heard. He used his field to help you research a cure for your condition. He was a true friend to you, he helped you hide by taking over an old factory as his accommodation so you could share it together, he did whatever he could to keep you off Muirfield's radar for the best part of ten years. He gave up everything to keep you free and out of their hands." Catherine paused, thinking of those first few days after Vincent was taken.
J.T had taken is hard, blaming himself, blaming Catherine, his grief palpable, his anger at Muirfield and frustration that all those years trying to stay hidden were wasted and blown to hell. He had packed up after three months of fruitless searching and taken himself as far as he could get without leaving the country. He even left behind his budding romance with Sara Holland, a fellow lecturer he'd taking a shine to. He'd sent Tess a postcard from California but that was six months ago and since then nothing. It was like Vincent was the glue that kept them together and without him they just fell apart.
"Have you told him I'm back?" Vincent asked.
Catherine shook her head. "J.T made it very plain that he wanted nothing further to do with me, in fact he partially blamed me for Muirfield being able to snatch you. I don't blame him, it was my fault. If I hadn't trusted Gabe so blindly, if you hadn't come looking for me, if..."
"Hey, it wasn't your fault. I don't remember what happened, but if this Muirfield is a powerful as you make out, it sounds like they could have taken me at any time, whatever effort you went to on my behalf."
Catherine nodded. "I always wondered if somehow they knew that you were evolving, that they were keeping tabs on you to see if exactly that happened. Maybe that wasn't it, then they had a chance to capture you and Gabe but they didn't, they shot Gabe and took you. I'd give a lot to know why they did that."
"Did what? Made a choice between me and this Gabe guy?"
Catherine sighed. "Gabe Lowen, he was our assistant district attorney at the precinct. He just showed up one day, we didn't know then that he was already looking for you, and had a great deal of information on Muirfield. He had been a very young test subject for their early experiments, my mother helped him escape, but he wasn't like you and he needed drugs to remain in his human form for any length of time. Over the years he became resistant to the drugs and they started to work less and less, plus they were proving lethal. He decided to see if he could find my mother, but she was already dead, so he went for the next best thing, another beast like himself, but you and he were too different. He was like a first generation chimera, and you were a second or third attempt to meld human and animal DNA You don't need drugs to appear human, and you remember what you do when you're in Beast mode."
Catherine paused, noting Vincent's rather glazed expression. He was frowning as if in some confusions. It was a lot for anyone to take in, but given the handicap of his amnesia it was made a hundred times worst and she was sure she sounded like some bad science fiction author talking about her latest mad cap plot ideas.
"And you're wrong about it not being my fault. Not only had my mother been involved in the whole Chimera project from the start, the man I thought was my father, it turns out, isn't even my father. And I have a horrible suspicion that my biological father was, or is involved in Muirfield, the same as my mother was. I thought I knew my parents, but I never suspected that she anything more than a doctor, and not once was any mention made of me having a different father to my sister, Heather." Despite her best effort, her confession prompted a tearing open of old wounds. "So you see, my family were entirely responsible for what was done to you, and I compounded it by seeking you out and then...it's because of me that Muirfield took you and did whatever they did to you so you have no memory of your life." She stopped at last, her emotions perilously close to the surface.
Vincent was trying to absorb it all, as well as fit it around what he knew now, how this woman lived, her apparent solitude, her reasons why she had taken him in, all of it. And still they hadn't spoken about the one elephant left in the room – last night.
Catherine felt drained, as if she'd been to a confessional and laid out all her sins and short comings, her faults and her guilt. It might have helped if she hadn't poured it all out to the one person ill-equipped to deal with all of it, the man sitting beside her suffering from complete memory loss. To him she must sound like some raving lunatic who thinks the world revolves entirely around her family and its dysfunctional past. God, she was selfish.
"I'm sorry, Vincent. I shouldn't have told you like that. In all honesty I know little about your family, or your background prior to you joining the special forces unit. You tended to play those cards pretty close to your chest, only telling me bits and pieces of your past. All of what I know is from when I found you again with that woman's murder, so we only knew each other for a little under a year. I can't tell you what to do now, or where you should go, or even what to do with all this information. I will warn you that trying do find out more about Muirfield will only get you dead. They are very efficient at eliminating loose ends and use quite extreme measures to shut down any attempt to investigate them or the people associated with them." And image of Thomas Chandlers smashed and broken on the road, of Evan Marks shot down in front of her, of the body of Tyler, Gabe's girlfriend shot multiple times on a side-walk
Vincent didn't stop Catherine when she got up from the sofa and walked away, his brain reeling with everything he'd heard. One question nagged at him and he got up to follow her into the kitchen.
"Why did they dump me back in New York? Why there? They must have known that you were here still, that if I surfaced, given our past...relationship...that you would been looking for me. Even causing the amnesia has now been rendered pointless because of you. So why here? Surely dumping me anywhere but New York would have made more sense."
Catherine turned from where she was loading the dishwasher. "I don't know. You were in a pretty bad way, Vincent. Maybe they thought that you would be killed in a mugging, or die of starvation as a vagrant. I don't know how long you've been living on the streets, maybe you found a way to escape and lost your memory in the process. I just don't have any answers."
Vincent stood with his arms crossed. "Then answer me this. If I did escape then why haven't they snatched me again? I can't be that hard to find," He touched his scarred cheek. "This is as good as a tattoo for identification, and simply monitoring your movements would lead them to me."
Catherine shrugged. "Maybe they think whatever they did to wipe your memory would also wipe your ability to transform."
"From a human to this beast?"
"Yeah." Catherine turned away to finish loading the machine. "I checked your blood-work at the hospital and there was no sign of the corrupted DNA that used to set your blood apart from anyone else's"
"So I'm cured?" Vincent asked.
Catherine turned around to face him. "No."
Vincent stared at her. "How do you know? If it's not in my blood any more...?"
Catherine licked her lips and crossed her arms. "Because of last night."
"Ah." Vincent breathed. "At last we finally get around to last night."
Catherine tried to move past him. "Look, maybe we can talk about that tomorrow, you have so much to think about..."
Vincent stopped her by grabbing her upper arms in his hands and swinging her around to face him.
"No, you look. Last night was wonderful and surprising and quite possibly the best fuck I can remember, but given my situation I don't have a lot to compare it with. We've only known each other for a few days and unless you have some compulsion to have sex with complete strangers, there is more to this than you're telling me. What were we, to each other? I need to know."
Catherine didn't try to release herself. She stared up into Vincent's features, her eyes caressing him and remembering all his different expressions, from joy to frustration, from anxiety to laughter.
"We would have died for each other." she told him simply, those few word encompassing the whole of what they were, their passion, their unavoidable attractions, their silent empathy and almost uncanny connection.
Vincent stared down at her, his emotions swirling and dangerous, all mixed up and but also clearly focused on the woman in his arms, her bones so fragile under his fingers.
"Why did you love me?" he asked. "I was a beast, no even human, I'm still not sure what I am."
Catherine smiled. "I loved you despite all that or maybe because of all that." she decided to lay her cards on the table. "I still love you, Vincent. I never stopped. That is what happened last night. I loved you and you made love to me. You needed me because of the nightmare, and I needed you because I will always need you. I don't expect you to want to, or be able to love me again given all that I've told you, but I will always love you."
Vincent let go of her arms but she didn't move. Slowly, as if dealing with a wary animal, she raised her hand to stroked a feather light trail down his face over his scar.
"I have missed you these long months, but I never stopped loving you. I tried. But I could never let go of my memories, they tormented me, pricked me whenever I tried to move on."
Vincent sighed and closed his eyes as her hand continued to explore his face, soft as a feather, easing the tension in his neck and shoulders.
"Why can't I remember you? I want to remember so badly..." His anger and frustration welled up again and he felt something heaving and pushing to be released inside him. Opening his eyes he stared down at Catherine, her expression one of surprise which she quickly covered up.
"What? What is it?" he asked, seeing something flicker at the edge of his vision.
"Vincent, you need to calm down, you're working yourself up for nothing. No one is going to hurt you but you need to..." she got no further. Vincent was going in to a full transformation, his eyes glowing bright gold, his veins pulsating up his neck and along his arms. She took a step back. In the past seeing Vincent transform had never frightened her, but she'd trusted him then to be able to control himself. This Vincent was untried and untested, unsure of his own abilities.
As she watched he looked down at himself, feeling his body become something else, his muscles swell and his hands curl into talons. It was both horrifying and exhilarating, her own heart starting to beat a mile a minutes, her body responding to his animal side as his lips peeled back from his teeth and he snarled at her. It was primal and scary and she'd never felt more alive.
Vincent advanced and she retreated, step by slow step, slowly backing her way towards the couch, and the only way she knew to bring him down from his animal state. He followed her, not acting aggressively but still maintaining his beastly appearance, his hands flexing. When she felt the sofa hit the back of her legs she stopped, Vincent still advancing until he was right in front of her. He leant down and sniffed her, his nostrils flaring, drawing in her scent, the perfume she'd put on. Then he licked her, tasted her, growling against her skin,his hot breath making her tremble.
They had never made out when he was transformed fully before and it excited her. Slowly she pulled off her sweater and tossed it aside, Vincent following the movement with a quick turn of his head before he flicked back to watch her again. She tugged off her tank top and tossed that in the direction of the sweater. Now she wore only her jeans and bra. Vincent got rid of his t-shirt by simply ripping it from neck to hem, the pieces falling to the floor. He tilted his head to the side and bared his teeth, growling at her and glancing down at her waistline. Catherine looked down too, then up against, an eyebrow arched. Taking her time she stepped back and kicked off her shoes then undid her zipper and peeled the jeans down her hips, Vincent watching every movement with his glowing gold eyes. Stripped down to her underwear she kicked the jeans away and moved forward, placing her hands on his chest.
"What are you thinking, Vincent? Do you like what you see?" She scraped her nails over his skin and around his nipples. He growled deep in his throat and suddenly picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Catherine yelped but didn't fight him as he carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Thrown on her bed, she lay there looking up at him, magnificent in his transformation, his jeans suffering the same fate as his t-shirt until he stood before her in full Beast mode, unleashed but not violent, untamed but not untouchable. She held out her hands to him and he got on the bed, making is way up her body on all fours, licking and biting, teasing and mouthing her limbs, his movements forceful but not ungraceful, taking what he wanted, Catherine aiding his efforts by removing her underwear before he tore it off with his teeth.
There was nothing slow about their joining, bodies coming together in a torrent of pure animal sex, Vincent growling and nipping, his breathing heavy as he plunged himself repeatedly into her body, both of them riding a wild storm, Catherine hanging on to him as he tore the covers with his claws, but never her skin.
Vincent roared when he reached his peak, head thrown back and tendons taught before slumping forward, his transformation abruptly ended and his human form exhausted to the point of passing out. Catherine cradled him, stroking his hair and any part of him she could reach, still joined to him, his weight a welcome blanket, his heart beating erratically against her own.
Sometime later he lifted his head and looked down at her.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"No." Catherine told him. "You didn't hurt me at all. You never could and I know you never will."
Vincent continued to stare down at her, his eyes in shadow, no longer glowing gold. "You have such absolute faith in me, and yet I don't even know what I am."
Catherine smiled, her hand coming up to stroke his face. "You're mine, Vincent, I am yours. What else is there to know. We're destined and the fates have been kind, for once."
"Kind?"
Catherine sighed. "I thought I'd lost you. I didn't have a clue how to go on, or move forward from losing you. Now we can find a way together. I'd say that's the fates being kind."
"And where do we go from here? I have no past, or memory of one. I was not supposed to have a future, except a brutally short one. Is this enough to build a something on for us?"
"I think so. This thing between us has managed to survive the worst they can throw at us. I say we take this second chance and make something of it."
Vincent shook his head ruefully. "How did I get so lucky to have found you?"
"Luck had nothing to do with it, Vincent. It was meant to be." Reaching up, she pulled him down to kiss her, their lips moving together while tongues tangled and breath mingled. This time was slow and loving, with tender touches and gentle hands, Catherine rolling them both so she was straddling him and doing most of the work. She gazed down at her new-old lover and rotated her pelvis, seating him intimately inside her. Vincent kept his hands on her hips, feeling the satin warmth of her skin and marveling anew at her beauty, her slumberous gaze scorching him and setting him afire once more. This was for her, his worship of her body but also his growing love for this incredible, strong woman who was prepared to take whatever he could give and still lavish him with her love. When she arched and trembled in the throws of her climax he caught her and gently lay her down, cradling her in his turn, the blankets once more employed to cover and cocoon and keep them both warm.