Catherine was still lethargic the following day, turning her nose up at her usual morning coffee, Vincent once more touching her forehead to feel for signs of illness, but finding nothing to account for the sudden strange behaviour.
"I'm just tired," Catherine waved him away, making herself a weak tea instead. From what Vincent could see she barely waved the t-bag over the cup before discarding it, leaving her with a cup of hot water and little else.
"Do you feel sick? Nauseous? Dizzy?" Vincent asked, peering at her closely. "You look pale."
"Vincent!" Catherine rebuked him sharply. "Don't fuss, I'm fine, just a little weary. It's probably coming up to my time of the month, so don't play doctor on me, okay?"
Vincent held up his hands and backed off. Whatever was putting Catherine out of sorts, he would wait and see what developed.
A few days later J.T arrived at the flat looking like he was about to burst with news. Catherine had been watching the latest news bulletin but switched it off and sat up.
"What is it, J.T?"
"I managed to synthesize the drug Gabe was using to stop himself from beasting out, the same one that was starting to reverse Vincent's symptoms..."
"Before I injected him."Catherine interrupted. "So?"
"So, I found a way to keep it stable enough to load into a dart to use in the tranquiiser gun. If any beasty boys come after us we can use it on them and it will render them not only unconscious but take away their beasty powers as well." He held out his hands in a silent "Ta da".
Catherine looked unimpressed. "That's great, J.T. Now we just have to invent a gun fast enough to hit them. You didn't see how Gabe managed to literally dodge bullets when Vincent fired at him. It they are as fast as he was, then no gun is proof against them."
"Maybe not, but if they're focused on the gun being waved at them, they won't see the dart coming at them from the side, will they! It's like that scene from Jurassic Park, when the predator lures the hunter into the trees then attacks from the side. Wham!"
Catherine got up and brushed past him. "Fine, whatever."
"That's it? Fine, whatever?" J.T called after her. Catherine just lifted a hand and waved dismissively. Scowling, J.T stomped off to his rooms, his euphoria well and truly gone.
Catherine stood looking out of the kitchen window, staring at nothing, her attention all inwards.
She was feeling unsettled and restless, scratchy and irritated all the time. J.T hasn't really done anything wrong, in fact his news about the darts was great, a useful addition to their meager arsenal. She just couldn't seem to find her equilibrium any more. Part of her frustration stemmed from having not made love in a nearly a week, largely because when she went to bed she just slept so deeply nothing woke her. It was like she couldn't bear to be in her own skin any more, everything from smells and tastes to little habits and quirks that would normally never bother her were now magnified a thousand fold, enough to send her screaming up the walls. Her skin itched, her hair annoyed her, her body seemed to be raging a losing battle against something but she didn't feel sick, just damn tired all the time. Even Vincent's care and concern was starting to wear on her nerves to the point she had snapped at him and told him to fuck off after his aborted attempt to ask her how she was broke her tenuous control on her temper, which, of course, only made him worry all the more. Catherine ground her teeth and scowled at her reflection in the glass. She felt so out of control she was almost scared of herself, of what she would do next. It was like standing on a precipice with your mind telling you to draw back, but your body urging you to take that final step and leap into space. Sure it would be a long drop with a short stop, but the journey would be exhilarating. Something touched her arm and she spun around, teeth bared, her hand swinging up, nails curled to gouge a series of stripes across Vincent face. He reared back, not quick enough to avoid the swing, taken by surprise at her reaction.
Catherine stared at him equally shocked, her wide eyes tracking the blood welling in the scratch lines and dripping down his face.
"Vincent...I'm sorry, I don't know...your face!" She made to reach out but he stepped back to put some distance between them. Seeing his expression, a mixture of shock and wariness, she also stepped back, her hand coming up to cover her mouth even as tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me..." Darting around him she raced for the hallway, the door of their bedroom slamming shut seconds later.
Vincent stood there for a moment, then turned to find a paper towel to mop up the gore. J.T had heard the door slam and appeared, stopping in his tracks on seeing his friends bloody face.
"What the hell happened? Did Catherine do that?"
Vincent didn't reply but kept the towel to his face. J.T approached and hissed in sympathy when Vincent removed the towel to show the scoring marking his cheek. The blood was drying but it was smeared along his jaw and down his neck. "Help me get cleaned up. Something is seriously wrong, and we need to find out what."
Vincent entered their bedroom silently, closing the door behind him. Catherine was curled up on the covers, her shoulders hunched in misery, her back to him. Careful not to startle her he approached around the end of the bed, coming in to her view but still not too close.
"Hey."
Catherine looked up, her eyes red with crying. Seeing his face she started to cry again. "I'm so sorry, I didn't... know...what I was doing..."
Vincent gathered her in his arms and rocked her, Catherine clinging to him and sobbing. Vincent tried to calm her, kissing her hair and crooning to her.
"It's alright, I'm not really hurt, you know it will heal quickly, don't cry." His soft words finally penetrated Catherine's distress, the sobs lessening to hitches as she calmed down. At length she drew back a little to mop her face, keeping her eyes down, still unable to face him yet. Vincent let her go but sat beside her, giving her time. Eventually Catherine drew in a shuddering breath and turned to face him.
"I think I'm going mad. To do that..." She lifted her hand, then stopped just before touching his damaged cheek. "I-I feel so out of control, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do next."
Vincent laced his fingers with hers and drew her hand up to his mouth to kiss. "You're not crazy, its just been a bit..."
"Stressful? I used to be a New York city cop, for God's sake. Stressful was the default setting. Here, we're as close to normal as we've ever been, and I'm falling apart."
Vincent put his arm around her back and drew her head down to his shoulder. "You're being too hard on yourself, it's been quite a roller coaster getting here, the disguises...everything."
"Stop it, Vincent. I'm not some weak..."
"I never said you were weak, but you don't exactly go easy on yourself either. You're so strong, the strongest person I know, but even a superwoman has to have some downtime."
"I thought that was what we were doing here, having some downtime. I'm not working, just keeping house and shopping."
"And looking over your shoulder all the time, worrying if the next face you see will be an agent from Muirfield. Worrying that I'll be taken again. Carrying all that on these beautiful..." He kissed her head and gave her arm a squeeze. "...shoulders. It's little wonder if it all gets a bit much."
Catherine sat silent, leaning her head on his shoulder, letting him sooth her with his soft gravely voice, calm creeping over her and loosening the tension in her body.
Vincent could feel her slowly relax against him, the brittleness easing as she gave in to the comfort he offered. Whatever was wrong, he could at least give her some of his strength, let her lean on him for a change. Easing them both further down the bed, he stretched out beside her, drawing her against him to snuggle against his chest, his hand moving rhythmically up and down her back in lazy strokes, part comfort part back massage, his other hand laced with hers, his thumb painting small circles on the top of her hand. Eventually all the tension left Catherine's body, a warmth suffusing her and giving her a measure of peace, the steady thump of Vincent's heart under her ear a reminder of the thread of life between them, the unbreakable bond that bound them to each other.
For a little while the world was held at bay, all its troubles and woes, worries and dangers banished from their cocoon of love and comfort.
Beyond their room the world carried on its business, the machinations of secret organisations continued to grind inexorably towards their discovery but for a short time that worry was suspended and forgotten.
With slow and tender care, Vincent made love to her in the sanctuary of their bed, stripping them both of not only their clothes but also their inhibitions, casting aside caution and restraint until nothing was held back and nothing hidden.
Free of the need to be strong, to be fearless and contained, Catherine submitted to his will, giving up her need to control only to reap a much more fulfilling reward in doing so. The more she surrendered, the more she gained, their coming together a meeting of hearts and bones, flesh and feeling, melding them together in a glorious explosion of passion and love, the heavens themselves coming down to Earth for a brief moment as two souls joined as one.
Vincent gloried in her supple response to his lovemaking, her submission seen not as a weakness but a reflection of his own desire to bring her joy and pleasure. His own fulfillment was entirely dependent on her, his worship of her body as tender and complete as he could make it, the joining of their flesh the ultimate expression of his love for her. There was no barrier between them, no hint of unease or discomfort, only a fusing of two hearts as one, his desire bound up in her response to his touch, his tongue and his loving. If the act itself could have been expressed by light it would have shone as bright as the sun, eclipsing all else and banishing shadows forever.
In the aftermath they lay tangled together, exhausted and replete their bonds of love and strength welded tight and unbreakable.
A peace at last, Catherine slept, watched over with a fierce protectiveness by her beautiful beast.
After the emotional storm of the night, both lovers slept late the next morning, Catherine finally waking to find Vincent by the bed with a hot drink for her.
"Mornin' love." He leant down and kissed her, a soft brushing of lips. "How are you feeling?"
Catherine stretched and blinked up at him, a slow smile lighting her face. "Wonderful. Just wonderful."
Vincent smiled back at her, looking sinfully seductive wearing only a pair of jeans. Catherine reached for the mug and took a sip, her nose crinkling as the smell hit her. Even as Vincent looked on her face took on a greenish hue and her eyes widened. Understanding the signs, he acted swiftly, reaching for the small plastic rubbish bin beside the bed and holding it as Catherine retched, her stomach producing little but not letting go until it was empty.
Exhausted and mortified, Catherine flopped back on the bed panting, one hand covering her mouth.
Vincent quickly disposed of the waste bin, returning from the bathroom with a wet flannel and a glass of water for Catherine to wipe her face and rinse her mouth. He didn't speak, just tended to her needs until she was comfortable again.
Catherine stared up at him. "God, I'm sorry, I don't know why that happened..."
"I do." Vincent replied, crouching down beside the bed. He met her gaze, his expression neutral.
"What is it?" Catherine asked. "The flu? Is that why I've been so tired and irritable?"
Vincent shook his head. "Nope. Catherine, sweetheart...you're pregnant."
Catherine stared at him blankly, then she gave a short laugh. "No way. I can't be pregnant." She sat up, pushing the covers away. "I'm on the pill, you know that. After that last scare..." she snapped her mouth shut, belatedly realising that Vincent didn't remember the last time. Shaking her head in the negative she looked at Vincent with haunted eyes. "I can't be pregnant, it's not possible."
Vincent rose up and rubbed his hands down his jeans. "The symptoms are unmistakeable. I don't have to be a doctor to recognise them." He raked a hand over his head. "And I heard it."
Catherine shot him a look. "Heard it?"
"A heartbeat, one that wasn't yours or mine. Faint, I'll admit, but still a heartbeat."
Catherine looked down at her hands, in a state of shock and denial, her thoughts in turmoil.
"You couldn't have heard anything, I can't possibly be pregnant...I'm sorry, but you're wrong."
Vincent snagged a t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "I'm not wrong." Sitting on the side of the bed he pulled on socks and boots before standing up again. "Do a pregnancy test, or get J.T to do a blood test. Either way, the result will be the same." Then he was gone leaving her to sit in the bed alone, her thoughts chasing themselves round and around in her head.
Catherine emerged from the bedroom towards noon, her arms wrapped protectively about her chest, her hair tied back from her face in a style that did nothing to hide her wan features or red -rimmed eyes. She felt no sense of euphoria or elation, only a bleak despair that the child she carried would have to be terminated before it had a chance to exist.
Vincent sat at the table, tinkering with something electronic, looking up as she approached, his expression unreadable. He turned back to his project. "Feeling better?"
Catherine nodded but didn't speak. She sat opposite him, her arms still wrapped around her as if to ward off blows. They sat, not speaking, the ecstasy of the night a distant memory in face of the life altering news of the morning.
The silence stretched to become almost unbearable. The door of the apartment burst open and they both flinched, J.T entering and stopping dead as he took in both the tableau at the table and the atmosphere thick enough to choke him.
"What the hell has happened? Has Muirfield found us?" He walked towards them, taking off his bag and dropping it to the floor. "How did they find us?"
"They haven't found us, J.T. We're still okay..." Vincent trailed off, his eyes drawn to Catherine's closed expression. "We have some news. You'd better sit down."
J.T looked puzzled but did as he was asked. "So?"
Vincent dragged his eyes away from Catherine's face to meet J.T's worried frown. "Catherine is pregnant."
J.T looked perplexed, then his expression lightened and he smiled. "Congratulations." Belatedly he registered Catherine's tear stained face and Vincent grim concentration. "Not congratulations?"
Catherine finally spoke. "I will have to get rid of it."
"What?" J.T yelped, his response almost drowned out by Vincent's shout. "The hell you will!"
Catherine cringed back at Vincent's roar, her usual confidence knocked back by the force of his anger. Vincent pushed back from the table, the chair falling backwards to clatter on the floor as he rose to his full height, eyes blazing. The considerate, passionate lover of the night was gone, in his place stood an avenging angel.
Breathing slowly to calm himself down, Vincent picked up the chair and sat down again."Why are you set on denying our child?" he ground out, working hard to keep the anger out of his voice. "I don't understand."
Catherine pinned him with a hard look. "Why are you so set on keeping it?" She lifted her arm to indicate the room. "We're hiding from an organisation that want to wipe us out, and you expect me to be happy about bringing a child in to this? I've already had to deal with your apparent death and that almost sent me mad, now you want me to stand by and see my child in the cross-hairs, or worse left an orphan at the mercy of strangers?"
"Our child, Catherine...our child." Vincent interjected, holding on to his frustration with difficulty.
"Then you have it...you keep it safe...!" Catherine shot back.
J.T, the forgotten spectator to this battle of wills, coughed to make his presence known, his two friends both turning their heads to look at him. "Um...I'm not trying to make this any harder, but you should consider the effects of Vincent's cross-species dna on any offspring. In fact I've been wondering about the effect of that same dna on you, Catherine." J.T looked embarrassed, but ploughed on. "Um...well, I mean you've been having the equivalent of an injection of Vincent's corrupted dna every time you...er...well, have sex. It's possible that is why your birth control failed."
His audience looked frozen, Vincent the first to move, turning to face Catherine across the expanse of the table. "Christ. Catherine, I'm sorry, it never occurred to me..."
Catherine turned her head slowly to look at him, his agonised expression stirring her pity. "I'm as much at fault. We had already had a scare a year ago, just before you were taken. I thought I was pregnant, but it turned out to be a false alarm. You tried to tell me then it was a bad idea to even consider children in our future because of your situation. I should have remembered." She drew in a shuddering breath. "But it just gives me more reasons to terminate this pregnancy. While we're together...in that way...I can't run the risk of inflicting your condition on a child." She was looking down at her hands when she said this and didn't see Vincent flinch and draw back..
J.T did and winced in sympathy.
Catherine had been thinking of Gabe and his stories about his childhood, the horror of seeing her own child locked up because of an uncontrollable rage made her recoil in horror. Vincent knew none of this, not only because of his loss of memory, but also because Catherine never got the chance to tell him before he was taken away. Even now he knew very little about Gabe and his past history, leaving him floundering to understand Catherine's attitude. Even J.T was unaware of Catherine's well founded concerns, having even less information to work with than Vincent.
"If you don't mind, I think I want to be alone for a little bit." Getting to her feet, Catherine turned away and walked with dragging steps towards the hallway and their bedroom, her body language screaming despair and a fatalistic acceptance of what had to be done.
Vincent watched her go with tears starting to forge a path down his face, all his rage dissolved in the torrent of misery that engulfed him. J.T carefully wiped his nose, similarly affected.
"Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, big guy. I thought..."
"Yeah. I know." Vincent brushed at his face, surprised to find it wet. Getting to his feet he paced away from the table to where he'd found Catherine only the previous day, staring sightless out of the window. He now did the same, his expression blank while behind his eyes his mind turned over endless possibilities, proposing and discarding as many scenarios and improbable solutions as his brain could devise. All of them led to one inevitable conclusion. He could never run the risk of this happening again. It would be impossible to live in the same place with Catherine and not desire her, want to touch her which would lead to sex, the risk still there even if he used a condom. The only obvious solution was to remove himself from being near her, which led to him leaving and living elsewhere, so the temptation would be removed and the risk avoided.
He turned back to the room, J.T now sat at the table in the chair Catherine had occupied.
"I have to go." Vincent announced. J.T looked up.
"Go? Go where?"
"I can't stay here. While I'm here I can't promise this whole sick episode won't happen again. I can't live with her, and I don't want to live without her but this is all my fault. Look after her J.T. I'll let you know where I am when I have this figured out." He held up his hand when J.T made to get up. "Don't. There's really nothing to say. Keep safe."
Before J.T could do more than open his mouth Vincent had gone, the door swinging closed behind him as he flashed past his friend in a burst of beastly speed to leave the apartment.
J.T sat slowly down at the table once more, his brain having difficulty in keeping up with the events of the past few minutes. In less than an hour Catherine and Vincent had gone from devoted couple to broken and bleeding, Catherine facing possibly the hardest decision of her life, while Vincent had gone God-knows-where to lick his wounds and no idea when, or if he would return.
He stared around the empty room and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.