(Revised chapter - meant to correct errors and tighten chapter up a bit based of your feedback, thanks)
Chapter 6
Later that night, Vincent again woke unable to go back to sleep and like the nights before got up and patrolled the Tunnels. Eventually though he went Above, but tonight his restlessness took him not into Central Park but to Catherine's grave.
Setting a single red rose on the frosted ground, Vincent knelt on both knees his cloak billowing about him in the cold damp air as he stared at the marker which bore Catherine's name. It still grieved him greatly that he'd been unable to even attend the funeral. To keep his identity a secret, he'd been forced to stay behind while Father, Pascal, Jamie, Mouse and many of the others from his world Below and her world Above attended the service. Vincent had come later, like a thief in the night, and had stared down at the fresh mound of earth and the flowers on top and the granite headstone and his heart wept in bitter sorrow.
For a long time he just knelt thinking about her and about the strange dreams brought on by his grief and he wondered if he would ever be able to make peace with himself in her death. He had known a great deal of love in his life, but he knew what he'd had with Catherine was unique, magical, and he believed in the deepest recesses of his heart that he had been meant to find her that night, that they had been meant to be together, to be connected, even if Fate had been cruel and unmerciful in the end.
But this night, as he stared at the letters etched in stone they seemed different, empty and cold as if containing no substance, no depth, no meaning and it perplexed him greatly.
He remained as long as he dared, but as the hour grew late, Vincent knew he needed to return to the Tunnels. He sighed deeply staring at the marker. "Know that I love you Catherine. That I will always love you."
With his thoughts still on her, Vincent returned Below and headed back to his own chamber when a powerful surge of distorted images like fast pounding heartbeats suddenly assaulted his mind making him stagger back as if he'd been physically struck: Catherine's laughing face in the rain, his smile at her joy; her as she turned to see him upon her balcony; Catherine's father Charles in the hospital; the slam of a van door – the flick of a knife; Catherine running towards him, to him through the park; her fingers touching his face with longing; Elliot Burch weeping; Laura signing "thank you"; Catherine cradling him in her apartment; Father, Mouse, Rolley, a woman beaten and crying, images of he and Catherine sharing so many special moments on the balcony, in the tunnels, dancing in the Great Hall, Gabriel's evil smile and cold eyes, Jamie, Eric, Tony Ramos, Ellie dying in Catherine's arms all mixed with sounds: laughter, crying, subway trains, the scrapping and closer of a metal door – "Hey, Carol - going alone home tonight?", voices desperate, pleading all calling her name, chamber music resonating loudly all swirling about him, then colliding together, making him dizzy, disoriented until he had to put his hands over his ears and close his eyes against their assault. Then he heard a terrified scream and the images were ripped violently from his mind. Vincent staggered backwards against the pain, holding his chest, as he fell against the wall of the tunnel, sliding down into blackness.
Vincent was again in that mysterious realm of darkness. He lay weakly, hardly able to draw a breath from the oppressive weight pressing upon his chest. And before him, in a pool of filtered light, he saw her weeping uncontrollably, her knees drawn up, her eyes tightly shut.
He called desperately out to her, but she did not respond, so caught up in her own tortuous agony. He tried reaching out to her, but could not move.
Then a softly lit figure appeared and knelt before her and gathered her up in a fold of arms, held her close and rocked her gently back and forth as the light faded and the darkness descended upon him once again.
His next awareness was of being shaken, rather rudely, and he became aware of his name being called repeatedly. When he did mange to open his eyes, it was to find Jamie's anxious face looming over him.
"Vincent? Vincent? Are you all right?"
And then her image was pushed aside and Mouse appeared.
Lying on his back, he could only stare up at them confused. "What happened?" he finally asked.
"Don't know. Found you here…out cold," Mouse replied.
"Are you hurt Vincent? Should I get Father?" Jaime asked her eyes darting over his face.
Vincent rolled slowly onto his side and eased himself up on one elbow. He shook his head. "No. I'm fine."
"Don't look fine to me," Mouse replied noticing the strain on Vincent's face.
A few moments later Vincent struggled into a standing position which was no easy feat considering his sizeable mass and much to his dismay he found he needed to lean on Mouse for support, his head still spinning.
Mouse grunted under the immense weight of Vincent's solid frame which nearly caused the younger boy's knees to buckle. "Not feel fine either," he grunted through gritting teeth.
"I'm going to get Father!" Jamie spun about and started to run off, but Vincent caught her by the wrist.
"No!"
Jamie stared up at Vincent alarmed.
He took a deep breath trying to clear his head. "I'll be all right Jamie. I just need a moment."
"But he should know," Jamie argued.
Vincent shook his head. "It's late. I don't wish to wake Father up and have him worry." He released Jamie's wrist and then placed his hand gently upon her shoulder. "I just need to go back to my chamber and rest," he reassured her.
Jamie bit her lip. "Are you sure?"
Vincent nodded. Slowly he straightened up until he was baring his full weight. He took several more deep breaths and the dizziness cleared. But as he started to walk down the tunnel which led back to his chamber, he swayed and had to grab the side of the tunnel with an outstretched arm to balance himself.
Mouse immediately was at his side again, sliding Vincent's arm about his shoulder. "Not fine at all," he replied and together he and Jamie assisted Vincent back to his chamber and into bed.
Father finished his exam of Vincent who lay propped up on pillows in bed. The old man's face was grim, his hair askew for Jamie, despite Vincent's assurances that he was okay, had woken Father up anyway.
Mouse and Jamie hovered in the background glancing at each other as Mary entered wrapping her robe tightly around her waist against the chill of the hour, her grey hair hanging loosely down and disheveled, her eyes silently inquiring.
"Any more chest pain or dizziness?" Father asked in a tone that expected an honest answer.
Vincent shook his head. "No. I'm sorry to have woken you, Father," he apologized.
"I would have been more furious with you and them if Jamie hadn't!" Father reprimanded. "What were you doing in the Tunnels so late anyway, as if I need to ask?"
Vincent sighed. "I couldn't sleep. So I decided to go Above for a walk."
The disapproval on Father's face was evident. "But those tunnels where Jamie and Mouse found you aren't anywhere near the Central Park exits."
"I didn't go into the park, Father." Vincent replied his eyes downcast. "I went to visit Catherine's grave."
"I see," was Father's slow reply as he wound his stethoscope up and returned it to the worn medical bag. Mary stepped closer and caught Father's concerned worried eye, but he again turned his attention back to his son.
"Vincent, I want you to tell me exactly what happened. You said you were experiencing some kind of vision when you passed out?"
"It felt more like an assault rather than a vision, Father. It felt like I had been caught in a flood gate of images and emotions pouring out and into me all at once until I could no longer breathe. Then as violently as they had appeared they vanished. I don't even remember half of them, there were so many."
Father's expression was full of concern as he gazed at his son. Finally he said, "Vincent, you cannot keep doing this, staying up all night, barely sleeping during the day. You must rest." He paused to rub his brow. "Perhaps we should re-consider the use of a mild sedative."
"No!" was Vincent's adamant reply for he hated to take any kind of medication, especially ones that would alter his mind and with just reason. Because of Vincent's unique biochemistry, it was always a risk how drugs reacted with his body. Even when injured, Vincent refused any types of pain medication and Father even had to be judicious in the use of antibiotics due to untoward reactions.
But there was also fear. Ever since Paracelsus had once exposed him to a mind altering drug that had left Vincent in such a hallucinogenic rage and he had injured Father, he'd refused anything that remotely would affect his mind, even something mild. On that particular day, as during the time of his mental illness, Catherine's voice had been the only one able to reach him.
"All right, Vincent," Father said, not pushing the subject. "Than we shall try some herbal remedies. I will talk to Dr. Wong and see what he can recommend." Dr. Wong was a Helper, an herbalist who lived in China Town who had a vast knowledge of ancient remedies whom they used often.
Vincent nodded in agreement then closed his eyes tiredly.
Father put his hand on his son's chest. "Rest now." He rose with some effort, leaning heavily on his cane as Mary reached out and took his medical bag from him.
"Is he going to be all right, Father?" Jamie finally asked as Mouse hovered close behind her.
Father nodded though his eyes seemed less convincing. "He just needs to stay put and sleep."
"I can stay with him," Mary offered.
"No, let me," Mouse stepped forward. "Please," the adolescent implored. "Vincent's my friend too."
Father saw the need on Mouse's face. "All right, Mouse. But I want you to come get me if Vincent needs anything, understand?" Father said firmly.
The adolescent nodded.
Father, Mary and eventually Jamie left the room and Mouse then went over and sat down in the old worn tapestry chair. He folded one leg up so he could rest his chin against his knee and kept a quiet vigil. And, as he watched Vincent drift off into sleep, his own memories brought him back to a time in another life, a time when his world was only about fear and about being alone before Vincent had reached out and befriended him.
Several years ago when Mouse had been caught stealing food from the Tunnel Dwellers, instead of being beaten and thrown in a metal box with iron bars as he'd expected or worse the massive creature who'd caught him had taken one looked at him and had set him free.
Mouse had instinctively fled, to the dark lower tunnels which he knew were his safe haven. But Vincent had easily followed him, the darkness no hindrance to his progress. But he'd been careful to keep his distance, as if he knew how frightened Mouse was of strangers, people.
For nearly two weeks Vincent had camped close by Mouse's secret retreat never pressuring him, never invading his secret place, but instead quietly offering his friendship in small ways until Mouse timidly ventured out, first keeping a respectful distance from "the monster". Eventually he had inched his way into Vincent's camp enticed by the aroma of food and a warm fire.
Mouse had awarded giant beast's generosity by grabbing the food and running, but Vincent had made no effort to chase him. Instead, of all things, he had opened a book and began to read aloud. Mouse recalled that he didn't understand the words at the time, but from the dark shadows he had listened for hours to the sound of Vincent's deep soothing voice and eventually, slowly, he had crept out of his hiding place and sat a little closer.
Over the next several days, Vincent had wandered deep into the mysterious world that existed Below to magical places Mouse thought only he knew about, to the underground waterfalls lit by strange glowing lights and caverns full of wild mushrooms. Mouse had followed, scurrying behind one rock and the next, curious about the massive creature that spoke softly and seemed to understand about loneliness and about the dark. And after four more days, Mouse did something he thought he'd never do in his entire life, he had reached out and touched another human being and Vincent had smiled back as if he too had needed a friend.
And now years later, Mouse looked upon his very special friend as Vincent slept, his heart heavy, for a world without Vincent, was a lonely one indeed.
"Be well," he said aloud. "We need you. Mouse needs you."
