Tired from the evening's events, Catherine left the elevator and turned the corner towards her apartment, but she stopped abruptly at the sight of someone sitting outside her door.

"Justin!" she said in surprise.

The bearded man smiled and stood up from the chair where he had obviously been waiting for her.

"Cathy," he said. "You left so abruptly earlier, I just wanted to wait and make sure you're okay."

With a tender smile, she assured him, "I'm fine, thank you."

But Justin's eyes narrowed as he noticed the take-out box still in her hand.

"I take it you weren't able to catch up with your friend?" he guessed.

"Something like that," she responded with a non-committal tone, unlocking the door.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

While Justin would have followed her into her apartment, she subtly stood in the doorway rather than invite him in. Trying to hide the deep sadness in her heart, she told him, "Thanks, but it's already late and we both have to work tomorrow. I should probably get some sleep."

Nodding in acceptance, Justin simply stood outside the doorway for a moment.

"Cathy," he said carefully, "you would tell me… if you didn't feel safe? I'm worried about you."

His expression of concern caused her to freeze, and Catherine averted her eyes as she thought over her strange behavior earlier in the evening.

"Then what stops you?" Justin asked her, ruthless in pursuit of a truthful response. "If you have his permission, and you know what you want, why don't you just… take it?"

Catherine shrugged, the barest smile gracing her lips.

"I want him," she said. "Only him."

But even as she spoke, she felt a deep well of sadness open within her. The emotion overwhelmed her so quickly that she knew instinctively it did not come from herself but from-

Looking up, Catherine's eyes were drawn to the balcony. Of course, Vincent would be waiting for her "date" with Justin to end. He might even have arrived a little early and hidden himself in the shadows, only to overhear pieces of their conversation with his excellent hearing…

Without bothering to explain herself to her companion, Catherine strode across the apartment and burst out onto the balcony. While she searched the dark corners where he sometimes tried to blend into the darkness of the night, she knew immediately he had fled.

Justin approached behind her. As she turned back towards him, he put a hand against the side of her face, gazing into her eyes. The intimate touch startled her and she briefly searched his face for some hidden meaning she did not otherwise understand. But even as he looked at her, Catherine felt both his simultaneous concern, purely as a friend, and the overwhelming compulsion to leave and race after Vincent.

"I'm sorry, Justin, but I'm going to have to cut tonight short. I just remembered I'm late for a…"

She paused, unable to come up with an appropriate word. For a date? Dinner and ballet with Justin - that had been a date. Her interludes with Vincent were simultaneously less and also so much more than she could ever describe.

"I need to meet someone," she said quickly, flashing a smile. "I know you understand."

Not even bothering to secure her balcony doors, Catherine quickly strode back through her living room. Grabbing up the box of escargot from the table, she barely waited for her friend to follow her. Hurriedly, she ushered him out the door and locked it behind her so quickly, Justin barely had time to register a protest. And then she left him there waiting for the elevator as she took the stairs as swiftly as her heeled feet could carry her.

Nodding her head, Catherine allowed her friend the barest of smiles. "I understand why you might suspect something is amiss. But it isn't like that. Truly."

Justin's hesitation lasted for far too long, and she found herself trying to explain further.

"He would deny himself… everything... to keep me safe," she assured him. "He values my safety and comfort far more than his own."

Sighing, she looked away, hating how much Vincent sacrificed of himself for her sake. If only he would accept the physical love she would so gladly give him-

But Justin interrupted again, a friend, but also a fellow district attorney.

"Cathy," he said, stressing both syllables equally, "Are you sure this isn't one of those situations, the ones you see every day? Where he promises to love and protect you, but he provides neither of those? I care about you, Cathy, and I don't want to see you hurt…"

She shook her head calmly, trying her best to reassure him. "That's the one thing I am absolutely certain of - he would never, ever hurt me. The mere possibility tears him apart."

"He may not hurt you physically," Justin said knowingly, "but you and I both know there are many other ways to cause someone harm."

With that, he leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek before heading for the elevator.

With a sigh, Catherine closed and locked the door behind her, still formulating a response in her mind to Justin's gentle rejoinder. But instead of considering the possibility of Vincent causing her harm, she turned that introspection inward.

No, if anyone was at fault for causing hurt, it was her. Vincent had trusted her to be patient and understanding, but she had let her own bodily desires push him past his comfort level. Up until then, they had been doing so well. He had even mustered the courage to not only touch her but to make love to her - with his mouth if not the rest of his body. Catherine pushed away the memory of the physical sensation she had awakened within her, not wanting him to feel her longing for him anew through the bond.

But it had felt amazing. Just as she always knew, Vincent had been a thoughtful and giving partner, even despite his own fears.

But I insisted on trying to do the same for him, and I pushed him past his limits, she lamented. And now...

Now, having ruined everything, she had followed up on that horrific blunder by deliberately stirring Vincent's jealous by going out with Justin. While she had not necessarily intended that result, Catherine had been unnaturally pleased when Vincent came to see her after each 'date.' Both Justin's company and Vincent's resulting visits had made her feel wanted again.

"But at what price?"

Realizing she had spoken aloud, Catherine sighed. After a quick trip to the kitchen to place the take-out box in her refrigerator, she retired to the bedroom to prepare for another cold night alone.

Vincent sat at his desk, deep in thought with the pen in his left hand poised a mere centimeter above a blank page of his journal. Four days had passed since he had seen Catherine, and while her presence always accompanied him deep within his heart, he longed to see her.

But hesitation kept him away, a queer sort of feeling which ran rampant through the field of doubts which had sprung up in his mind, taking root in every nook and cranny. As they bloomed, the flowers turned to ash, mocking him and all notions he ever had of sharing a dream with someone else.

Trust Catherine.

Father's voice still sang through him, the words both wise and potent. But Vincent found it impossible to take the actions those words required. While he might acquiesce to her, might let her guide him through whatever ways their love might take them, he could not bring himself to be the one who actually reached out for her.

A noise from the doorway heralded Father's entrance, and Vincent quickly closed his journal.

But Father showed no hesitation as he entered his son's room. Instead, he paused only long enough to take in the younger man's melancholy disposition.

With a sigh, he announced, "This was sent for you."

Father relinquished a hefty envelope but not without a measure of concern.

He waited with as baited a breath as his son opened the large manila envelope with a sharp claw. Neither of them felt any surprise as he emptied the contents onto the table before them.

Pictures.

Like the ones Paracelsus had sent to Father to lure him above, the images were entirely black and white. But these pictures all featured Catherine - her and another man.

Vincent had never seen the man before, but through logic and circumstance he recognized the bearded figure. The photographs featured the two of them in a variety of close circumstances. In one, they sat in a box, probably at the ballet. In another, they were dancing among a small crowd. In still another they sat close together enjoying a meal at a public restaurant.

But the last photograph in the stack demonstrated the greatest intimacy. Obviously taken at a great distance with a magnifying feature, the picture showed their features less clearly. However, Vincent could easily make out the background of Catherine's terrace. The photographer had taken great pains to get this particular shot and Vincent could see why. In the captured moment, the man leaned forward with his hand cradling the side of Catherine's face. To any discerning eye, it would seem a prelude to an intimate embrace, one step away from a kiss. But Vincent knew better.

"Who is this with Catherine?" Father asked, looking through the pictures with growing alarm.

"His name is Justin," Vincent said quietly. "He is an old school friend of Catherine's. They have been enjoying each other's company of late."

Father breathed in sharply, finally seeing the last picture, the one where Justin so intimately caressed Catherine's cheek.

"I can see that," he murmured quietly.

"Do you know who sent these?" Vincent asked, pushing the pictures away.

"They came unmarked," Father answered. "But if I had to venture a guess…"

"Paracelsus."

Father had already informed him of the means by which the villain had lured Father away from the tunnels. With a huff of anger and indignation, Vincent stood up from his desk and took several measured steps around his chamber.

"He seeks to sow doubt into my relationship with Catherine," he said aloud. Growling annoyance, Vincent added, "But he cannot know that she has already told me the full extent of her relationship with this man. Nothing more can ever exist between them."

Holding up the last photo, the one of Catherine and Justin on her terrace, Father asked carefully, "Are you certain?"

Not unkindly, Vincent said, "You yourself told me just a few days ago that I must trust Catherine."

Father nodded thoughtfully. "I remember," he acknowledged, the words apologetic.

With great restraint, Vincent took the picture from his hand. As though explaining a lesson to the children or pointing out a mistake in one of Mouse's diagrams, he pointed one careful claw at the photograph.

"She does not love him," he told his father. "You can see it in her eyes, in the set of her features."

The older man turned his attention to the still image, curious. There he saw what Vincent pointed out - an obvious agitation on Catherine's part as well as a decided lack of relaxation.

"He must have surprised her," Vincent went on. "She closes her eyes when she enjoys a touch like… like that."

His voice nearly failed him as gave up the duty of orator, but Father simply nodded in understanding.

"I'm sure you're correct," he agreed.

But Father did not have the final piece of the puzzle, the one Vincent felt certain Paracelsus also lacked. He had sent these pictures hoping to fracture his love and trust of Catherine. Never could he have realized that she would have already shared the truth with him.

"Catherine spent much time with this man, long ago. They were close. She knows him better than most, better than this photographer could understand."

Reaching out his hand again, Vincent pointed to one of the earlier photographs, one in which Catherine and Justin were dancing. He pointed very specifically to the gentlemanly placement of the man's hand, to the considerable distance between them.

"Paracelsus could not know that Catherine's friend never desired a female companion but that circumstances made it such that seeking one out was required for their social circle."

He sorted through the photographs, finding another. This one showed Catherine and Justin sitting close together, watching a show of some sort. But they did not hold hands, nor did either's gaze stray to the other. Rather, they were both perfect statues, each independent of the other.

Suddenly understanding, Father nodded. "I think… now, I understand."

Sorting through the remaining photos, it suddenly seemed quite clear. To an undiscerning eye, it would appear that Catherine had found another to claim her evening hours when out of her apartment, to fill her life with engagement and art and theater. But Vincent could easily see past all the artifice and deception.

"Perhaps before, I would have allowed these pictures to feed my inner doubts. But no longer."

Pushing them away decidedly, Vincent stood up from the table and grabbed his cloak. Without another word to Father, he was gone, although the older man had no need for a statement as to his son's intentions. Smiling to himself, he gathered up the pictures and returned them to the envelope before placing the entire parcel away in a drawer.

Throughout the week, Catherine had immersed herself in work. She rose before dawn to go into the office, treated herself to something from the vending machine for lunch, and did not bother to return home until late. While the long hours should have made her far more productive, she found that exhaustion and weariness caused her to lose track of her thoughts, forcing her to re-read motions and depositions several times before she could absorb their meaning enough to formulate a thoughtful response.

Joe noticed, of course, but for once he said nothing. She caught him watching her sometimes, through the window of his office, an expression of concern on his face.

At the same time, he likely also noticed the attention Justin paid to her. Her old law school friend stopped by her desk at least once a day, usually just to chat for a few moments on his way to court or to conduct trial prep with a witness.

On Friday afternoon, when most of the rest of the office had packed away their files, Catherine found herself still at work. A witness in a drug store shooting had suddenly disappeared, and despite a number of phone calls, Catherine had been unable to locate him. It frustrated her because even though she did not necessarily fear for the man's safety, without a corroborating witness, the prosecution's case was bound to fall apart.

"Hey, Cathy."

She looked up as Justin perched on the edge of her desk.

"Hey," she answered with a smile.

"Don't tell me you're working late on a Friday night?" he asked, feigning outrage.

With a shy smile, she answered, "Just tying up a few loose ends before the weekend."

"Any plans?" he asked, raising his eyebrows knowingly, as if asking if she intended to see the man she had told him about.

"Not especially."

From across the room, Catherine heard her boss call her. "Hey, Radcliffe!"

As she looked his way, Joe motioned for her to come into his office.

"Someone's in trouble…" Justin teased quietly. "I'll see you next week. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Justin."

Entering Joe's office, Catherine had the feeling she was in store for a more personal meeting, so she closed the door automatically behind her. Taking a seat on his couch, she waited for the inevitable grilling over her extra-long hours of late. She even had an answer partially rehearsed.

But instead, Joe asked, "So what's going on with Justin Curtis? I see him out there at your desk every day. And you haven't exactly been overwhelmed with positivity lately. What gives? Is this guy harassing you?"

The question surprised her, but she knew her boss to be well intentioned. With a kind smile, she stated unequivocally, "No, he's not. He's just an old friend from Columbia. We've been taking the opportunity to catch up."

Joe looked at her heart, assessing, and Catherine felt a moment of discomfort as she realized that she was holding something back. As much as she trusted and respected Joe, she had to keep Justin's secret - even from him.

"If you're sure," her boss said finally. "Sometimes even friends can push too hard."

Pressing her lips together tightly, she nodded an acknowledgment but did not speak. Joe's words closely mirrored her own recriminations in how she had behaved towards Vincent, and she did not trust her voice not to crack with emotion.

Joe went on, "I had wondered if Justin was the reason you've been working so many late nights. But from what you've said, that's not the case. So what's up, Radcliffe?"

Whatever answer she had begun to put together when first entering his office, Catherine instantly forgot. His concern was genuine, but Joe always had a way of cutting right to the thick of things. It made him a good lawyer and an even better Assistant District Attorney.

"Just… throwing myself into my work," she said evenly.

"Any particular reason?"

With a half-hearted shrug, she joked, "Not much else going on in my life right now."

Another hard stare from Joe turned into a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"You've seemed pretty down for a while," he suggested finally. "I've barely seen you crack a real smile in weeks."

In defiance of his observation, Catherine pulled the corners of her mouth into the sad semblance of a smile, if only to reward his concern.

"There?" she asked. "Happy?"

"Not especially." Glancing out the window, Joe nodded to the nearly empty office. "How about I buy you a drink?"

"Thanks, but… I'm pretty tired. I just want to finish up a few things before I head home."

Joe frowned with obvious unhappiness at the refusal, but he let it go without more argument. With a thoughtful nod of the head he said, "Hey, why don't you take Monday off? Take some time to get some extra rest. Come in refreshed on Tuesday."

In truth, Catherine welcomed the idea of an extra day to herself. Perhaps she could event rent a car and get out of the city…

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Her boss shrugged before he added, "Yeah, why not? But you better head home before I change my mind."

Favoring him with a genuine smile, she said, "Thanks, Joe."

Conscious of him watching her through his office window, Catherine quickly wrapped up the last of her work before gathering her things to leave. With a deliberate wave at her boss through the window, she headed home.

She barely noticed the time pass in the cab. Thoughts of Justin and Vincent crowded her mind, for entirely different reasons, and the notion of facing an empty apartment simply did not appeal to her.

Oh, how she longed to go below. Nothing would lift her spirits more than to attend one of the children's concerts or to simply walk with Vincent to the Chamber of the Falls. Just the thought of spending time with Vincent made her heart ache with longing. She knew he would not be reaching out to her any time soon and pushing him again would do more harm than good. But staying cooped up in her apartment would be such a waste of her newly acquired three-day weekend.

Idly, she wondered if she should call Justin to see if he wanted to get together. But just as quickly, she dismissed the idea. Fresh guilt overwhelmed her as she thought about how she had used that friendship so untowardly. No, her evenings out with the other attorney were at an end. Instead, Catherine knew she needed to bide her time and hope for a chance to repair some of the damage she had wrought on her relationship with Vincent.

Perhaps she would look into getting a car and getting away from the city for a a few days instead.

Her apartment greeted her with its usual dark emptiness, and with a sigh, Catherine realized she had forgotten to pick up any groceries. She shrugged off her coat and left her purse on the table before checking the fridge for any forgotten treasures. But she found only a few slices of cheese, half a carton of milk two days past its expiration date, and that same take-out container from earlier in the week.

With a sigh, Catherine opened it and looked at the poor snail shells inside.

"Well, better they not go to waste," she murmured to herself, and quickly went about reheating them on the stove. While she rarely cooked, Catherine suspected that the shells would not do well in the microwave.

While her dinner heated, Catherine quickly changed out of her work clothes directly into a nightgown, too tired to shower even after so long a day. By the time she was done, the snails were ready and she transferred them to a plate before sitting at her dining table. Sighing, she looked down at the meal, suddenly struck by the opulence of eating escargot at her kitchen table in her night clothes. The sadness made her think of her own loneliness, and she wished had been able to share the delicate morsels with Vincent.

As if she could summon him with her thoughts alone, a tap from the balcony door startled her. Confused, she looked up. But as she realized the source of the sound, she nearly flew to the door in sudden excitement. Only when she unlocked the bolt and turned the handle did she remember the circumstances of their last parting. Sharply, she reined in her emotions before stepping outside.

Vincent stood on the far side of the balcony, his back to her as he looked out over the city. Shyly, Catherine joined him, letting her gaze sweep over the maelstrom of lights rather than try to catch a glimpse of his face. For a long time, they simply stood there in silence. While she appreciated his presence, his quiet manner left her nervous and with a sense of foreboding.

Eventually, Vincent turned toward her, and Catherine finally allowed herself to examine his expression. Just the sight of his unusual features, so beautiful and familiar to her, filled her heart with love and longing. But she could also tell that something was upsetting him.

"What is it?" she asked. Her hand automatically began to reach out to him, but she pulled it back, determined not to make him uncomfortable.

"You, Catherine," he answered gruffly. "I have felt your sadness for days."

The pain in his voice stabbed through her and she looked away, embarrassed.

"I'm fine," she tried to assure him. "Just tired. Work has been busy and-"

"No, it has been since the last time I saw you, when you met me at the threshold below," he interrupted.

The force of his assertion stunned her, and for a moment, Catherine said nothing. Unbidden, tears began to fill her eyes, and she turned away again, looking back over the city.

"I'm trying not to hurt you," she said quietly.

"Catherine…" He sighed in resignation. "You could never hurt me."

"That isn't true," she asserted forcefully, feeling tears stream down her face. "You have endured too much pain because of me."

She thought back through their relationship, especially of late. While Catherine had tried consciously attempted to avoid unsafe situations, danger seemed to follow her. And more than that, Vincent was always there to protect her, no matter the circumstances. He had been cut, shot, even hit by a car - all in her defense.

But worse than all of that, he had attempted to harm himself, to kill himself, in order to protect her.

Never again, she thought, closing her eyes tightly.

For a long time, she said nothing. A flurry of emotions raged within her, and she fought to contain them - mostly unsuccessfully. Vincent said nothing. For a time, she wondered if he had left her balcony entirely, fleeing her feelings in order to preserve himself. But when she finally risked a look in his direction, she found Vincent still standing beside her.

He must have sensed a pause in her thoughts, an eye in the storm, as he said quietly, "I never expected… I never even hoped, for someone to love me as you do."

Vincent trailed off, and she felt a shadow of something through the bond. Rarely could she feel him, and never as strongly as he felt her, but sometimes… In this instance, she knew the feeling had to be especially overwhelming in order for it to translate so clearly between them.

Gratitude. Longing. And deeper - far deeper - she felt from him a clear and unadulterated wave of disgust. Not of her - she shone in his mind like an angel, pure and unblemished. Rather, he directed his disgust inward.

Vincent went on, speaking aloud, "For as long as I can remember, I have known I am different. And for as long as I have known what it means for a man to love a woman, I knew such love could never be intended for me."

Her breath hitched in her chest as she felt his pain clearly, so clearly through the bond. It had to hit him especially hard in order to reach her through the bond, Catherine knew.

"But when I met you… I allowed myself to dream," he admitted with shame. "Perhaps it was wrong."

"It wasn't wrong," she assured him.

Vincent could not look at her, and she noticed that tears grazed his own cheeks.

"Your love has been the most amazing, intense, and… beautiful experience I have ever known."

His head dipped low, and she could sense fresh shame washing through him. The need to reach out nearly overwhelmed her, but Catherine stayed her hands.

"By the time I realized the extent of your love, of your dedication…" He stopped to take a deep and steadying breath. "I knew I could never give you what you deserve. I could never even hope to…"

Emotion overwhelmed him, and his voice died on his lips. But Catherine could feel his need to say more, to confess some inner need for more. She wished she could comfort him and offer some glimmer of hope. But her own fears kept her silent.

"Having felt what it was to make love to you," he continued, pushing past all his hesitations, "I understand now - truly understand - what you have sacrificed… to love me."

She could feel his pain still, more clearly than ever before. And Catherine could not disregard her own anger and resentment at his having accepted such pain rather than fighting for more.

"You speak of sacrifice," she observed bitterly, "but in loving you, I have given up nothing."

"Catherine…"

"No, you must hear this," she scolded him. Turning, she grabbed the edges of his cloak rather than his hands, using them as reins to turn him to face her. Once she had his full attention, Catherine continued. "Your love is everything - everything to me. You see me, all of me, through all lies and artifice. Through the bond, you have glimpsed my heart, my soul, every part of me, and yet… You still love me."

She stared at him in wonder.

"What have I ever done to deserve such devotion?" she breathed aloud in awe.

Vincent stared at her openly, and she registered the confusion in his eyes.

"How can you not recognize your own worth?" he asked, appalled that he should even need to voice the question.

Starkly, Catherine said, "I wonder the same thing, Vincent, every time I feel your self doubts."

The need to touch him nearly overwhelmed her, but she kept her hands on his cloak. Whatever self actualization he was attempting to find, she could not interfere.

"I love you," she said simply, the truth too much to contain. "Even if I wanted it to be otherwise, that's the reality. I love you. I want to be with you, in whatever ways we can. When you come to this balcony, I will always be pleased to see you. When you invite me below, I will always accept. Every moment we share is precious, and I won't pretend to ever want anything else."

Once she had said her peace, she released his cloak and let her hands fall back to her sides. In the past, he had not been shy in pulling her into his arms, nor had she ever hesitated to initiate such contact. Sadly, she wondered if even those gentle embraces would now be denied to them-

Before her mind could complete the thought, before she could imagine a future in which she might never again experience this man's warmth, the solid masculine planes of his body, he stepped closer to her. Catherine shivered as she imagined what might come next - his arms wrapped around her so carefully and lovingly.

But instead of reaching out so he could hold her close, Vincent leaned down until his lips nearly met hers. He paused just centimeters away, and Catherine's breath hitched in her chest as she realized he intended to kiss her. Automatically, her eyes closed and she waited anxiously for the feel of his lips on hers.

Slowly, Vincent brought his hand up to her shoulder, gently caressing the bare skin there as his palm moved up to the back of her neck. Moving carefully, he allowed his furred fingers to thread through the hairs at the nape of her neck before bring his lips to hers to complete the kiss.

Catherine melted into him, yielding completely to the feel of his lips on hers.

TBC