Chapter 9

Vincent wasn't surprised to find Mouse awake. He was often nocturnal, just like his namesake. He was quite pleased to see Vincent.

"Vincent! Good to see you! Getting worried. Thought you might be sick again." Mouse fairly beamed as he hugged Vincent who returned it.

"No, Mouse. I'm fine. But, right now, I need a favor." He said.

"Anything. Need a new gizmo?" Mouse asked.

Vincent smiled widely. "No. I need you to take me to the cave where I went during my illness. I can't remember its exact location. Do you know where it is?"

"Sure. By why go? Long way off; Nothing there." Mouse replied.

"Please, Mouse. I need to go. I need to look for something." Vincent insisted.

"Okay, good. Okay, fine. Need lights, though." Mouse stated as they headed for the door.

Unhindered, Mouse and Vincent made the journey that might have taken someone else all day in mere hours. As soon as they arrived, Vincent began looking intently at the floor.

"And you're sure this is where Father found us?" Vincent asked.

"Yep. Catherine sitting; Vincent asleep. Father said so." Mouse replied.

Vincent dropped to his knees and began sifting his hands through the sand on the cave floor. He quickly felt something hard and lifted it into the light for a better look.

"Catherine's crystal!" Mouse exclaimed.

"Yes, Mouse. Catherine's crystal." Vincent whispered while his face lit with another smile as he stood. Carefully, he tucked the crystal into his hankerchief and then placed into the pouch around his neck.

"Good?" Mouse questioned.

"Better than Good, Mouse!" Vincent replied exuberantly. "The Best! Come on; let's head home!" He said as he slapped his small friend on the back.

"Missed breakfast, probably." Mouse sulked.

"Mouse, for doing this favor for me, I'll get William to cook you the best breakfast you've ever had." Vincent assured him.

"Pancakes?" Mouse asked, perking up.

"A dozen!" Vincent promised and Mouse got just that.

As soon as Vincent strode into his chamber Friday morning, Father could sense that something in his son had changed. If nothing else, Vincent's appearance conveyed the message wordlessly. Gone were his characteristic bulky top layers. In their place, Vincent merely wore one of his vests, leaving his throat, shoulders and arms completely bare save for his pouch around his neck. His hair had been brushed away from his face and pulled back into a neat ponytail that actually highlighted the strong outline of his jaw. His expression was quite confident as he boldly gazed around the room. He looked every bit the part of some ancient warrior surveying his domain. It was a bit of a shock for poor Father.

"Vincent, we missed you and Mouse at breakfast. I hope nothing is wrong." Father began.

"No, Father." Vincent replied, meeting his gaze. "Mouse was merely helping me with something I needed to take care of." If Father expected an explanation, he didn't get it.

"Hmm. I couldn't help noticing you're dressed a bit differently this morning. That's quite a contrast from what you normally wear." Father commented.

"Perhaps." Vincent responded as he took a seat. "But I like it. The other clothes were too binding; dressing this way is more comfortable to me."

"Yes, but you must admit it is quite a change." Father ventured.

'And that bothers you, doesn't it, Father?" Vincent challenged, refusing to look away or drop his gaze as he had so often before.

"Vincent, if you have something to say, perhaps it would be best if you just say it so we can discuss it." Father offered.

Vincent relaxed a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to deliberately provoke a confrontation. You know I love you, Father, but I'm not sure you understand the full extent of what's happened to me. Frankly, I'm only beginning to myself. I'm not the man I was before my illness."

"In what way?"

"As I read my journals over again, I found my memories returning. I was able to recall the events themselves and the way that I felt about them at that time. But, now looking back, it's almost as if my perspective has changed. I don't view them in the same light I once did and frankly, I now have trouble understanding those emotions." He explained.

"Such as?" Father asked.

"Catherine for one. I speak of my love for her it my journals as if she were some statue on a pedestal to be worshipped from afar, not a real woman of flesh and blood. What good was it to read her flowery verses of prose when I lacked the courage to give her what she truly needed; a man to love her and show her the love she deserves!"

"I see."

"Forgive me, Father; but no, you don't!" Vincent responded vehemently. "My whole life I have been filled with self loathing and guilt; as if being born different had somehow made me less of a man and therefore less human. Have you considered the fact that my madness might have been a hell of my own making? I've wasted so much time and so many years hating the very things that make me who I am that it's no wonder it drove me mad!"

Father's voice broke. "I'm sorry, Vincent! This is all my fault. Perhaps, if I'd been more understanding and not tried to come between you and Catherine..."

Seeing his distress, Vincent moved to crouch down in front of the man who raised him and took his hand. "No, Father. You mustn't blame yourself. I'm the one who allowed my fears to hold me back all this time and eventually overcome me. It was my inability to accept who I was that drove me mad."

"And now?"

"Now, I've come to accept myself and what I've done. I regret the violence and the deaths; I know they will always haunt me. But I don't regret that I did what I had to in order to protect my home and the people that I love. I am different but I have used my gifts to keep the tunnels and Catherine safe. No matter what else happens, I will never regret the person that I am ever again." Vincent pronounced.

Father stood and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "My boy, I have always wanted only the best for you and if you are happy, then so am I. If that happiness includes a life with Catherine, then I give you my word I will gladly do everything in my power to help you both achieve it."

"Thank you, Father! I was hoping for your blessing." Vincent replied eagerly.

"Now, enough of this maudlin soul searching!" Father said as he resumed his seat. "How about a game of chess?"

Catherine made it back to her apartment, showered and changed in record time. Brimming with happiness, she headed Below. She was determined to use all of her considerable powers of persuasion to convince Father to let her spend the next two weeks in the tunnels with Vincent. Mentally she began rehearsing her arguments as she reached the ladder in the sub-basement of her apartment building. Little did she know that Fate had chosen to decide the matter for them both.