by Dalton S. Spence
Part IX - Shadows of Pain
Can it really be four years? Four years since I last held her in my arms, since that hideous man with the name of an angel took her from me forever? Four years since my sweet Jacob was born? The pain, and the joy, make it seem as if it were yesterday. And yet I must be strong, for Jacob's sake. He must never associate his birth with my greatest sorrow, for he has, since that day, been my greatest joy. I could not have survived, had he not needed me so.
It is fortunate that, in our society Below, the naming day is of greater importance. The subdued celebration of his arrival in the world is very much in line with that of the other children here. If I had to host a party (such as is done on name day), I don't think I could do it. But a small dinner (just close friends and immediate family) to honor both Jacob and his mother seems a proper tribute to them both. This year, however, he has invited his own guest..."
He found at her at her favorite place, the Whispering Gallery, where conversations from all over the city could be heard. She had gone after breakfast, since the children she usually told stories to at this time of day had been invited by Diana Bennett to a Winter Fair being held Above in the park. She usually went there every day after supper, and stood for hours in the middle of the bridge listening to the sounds of the world Above. It was as if she was waiting to hear some special voice or clue that could lead her home.
In the weeks since Vincent introduced himself to Deanna, they had become the closest of friends. Indeed, in some ways, she was closer to him than even Catherine had been. The bond between Vincent and Catherine had always been rather one sided, with Catherine only sensing his emotions when they were very strong or he was very close. He, on the other hand, had been aware of Catherine's every emotion, except on the rare occassions when she would deliberately shield herself from him. This had caused several misunderstandings, when they had both overestimated Catherine's grasp of Vincent's true feelings.
The link between Vincent and Deanna was a different matter entirely. This was a link between equals, who shared not only the same kind of perception of each other, but of the world around them as well. The link had nowhere near the depth of the bond, but this actually made it more comfortable for Vincent, because it was less intrusive into his life. He wondered sometimes whether this could be the result of a formal training among other empaths for her emotions, while clear, often seemed muted for his benefit. Her strongest emotion was homesickness, which she was feeling right now.
As always, Deanna marvelled at the symphony of humanity that unfolded around her. The sounds of happiness and sadness, of comfort and of anger, of music and of discord, were there for her to hear, but not close enough to overwhelm her empathic senses. It seemed that the world Above (as even she was beginning to call it) was not so different than the world she had been so abruptly taken from. A world that was becoming less real to her than the one she lived in now. Although she still believed that rescue would come, she began to wonder if she would accept it when it did. Oh, she still missed her friends and the adventures they had, but here she had found a certain serenity that she had not even known that she needed. And of course, there was Vincent.
When she had begun to fall in love with him, she could not say. It could have been when he so gallantly agreed to escort her to Winterfest. Or maybe when she first woke up in the hospital chamber, and sensed his amazing mind. It might even have begun when she saw his pictures on the walls of Elizabeth's tunnels, back in her own time when it all started. Whenever it began, she now understood the look she had seen in the eyes of Catherine's picture. How could anyone not love him, once they knew him?
Unlike Catherine, she dared not let Vincent know of her love. It was very difficult to conceal it from him, to transmute her despair over what could never be into something resembling homesickness. For the barriers between them made the ones that had existed between Vincent and Catherine seem minor stumbling blocks. She was truly from another world, another time, a place she might return to with little or no warning. She had secrets that she could never share with anyone here. And finally, there was that impossible possibility that she had begun to sense in her dreams, and through Vincent's son. Perhaps Vincent would have sensed it too, if he had not closed himself off from such possibilities long ago. If Deanna was right, there might soon be no room in his life for her except as a friend.
Deanna turned to Vincent, whom she had sensed standing there for some time now. She felt his concern for her, as well as his puzzlement at the distance she chose to maintain even in the closeness of their developing friendship. She also sensed the pain he was so desperately trying to conceal. Then she remembered what day it was, and understood. "I know it may sound trite," she said, "and I'm sure you've been told this a thousand times before, but sometimes talking does help. And at least when I tell you I understand, you will know it's more than just words."
Vincent was startled, and also a little ashamed. If Deanna could so easily penetrate his shields to get at his true feelings, then Jacob was probably feeling them too, and that was the thing he had been he had been trying to prevent. Obviously his way of dealing with his problems wasn't working as well as he thought. Perhaps he should try it her way. Athough talking hadn't done much good before, neither Father nor any of the others had been trained professionals. And he suspected, from the way she had phrased her comment, that she might very well be just that.
"I suppose it is the sense of failure that hurts the most," he sighed, looking through Deanna into the mists of the past. "I was given something infinitely precious, and I let it be taken from me. It is said that the saddest words in the English language are 'if only' and it's true. I know I shouldn't dwell in the past, but how can I leave it behind? That is where SHE is. I keep wondering what I could have done different, what sign I missed that I should have seen, and understood. I see so many things that could have been better, opportunities I let slip by because of my fear of change, my lack of faith in our love. She should have had so much more!"
"From what little I know of her, I doubt she would have stayed with you if she had felt cheated it any way," Deanna mused. "And it seems a little arrogant to take all the blame for yourself. You're not God, you know. You can't think of and do everything."
"I should at least remember the conception of my child!" Vincent snapped at her. "It was the only time we ... we ..." He stopped, unable to continue the memory.
Deanna just looked at him, waiting. Her face offered no clue to her feelings, and Vincent's talent could only detect genuine concern for him, rigorously controlled to preserve her objectivity. There was no sense of curiosity, shock or pity, only a willingness to listen to him if he wanted to speak. He realized if he said no more, the topic would be forgotten, never to be mentioned again. She was leaving it entirely up to him.
"There is a part of me that isn't human, and never will be. Not just my body, but my soul as well, has the mark of the beast on it. It is a constant struggle every day to keep that part of me under control. It is a thing of darkness and violence, that has no mercy. And yet, if given a choice, I would not relinquish it, for it gives me the strength to do what I must to protect those I love. Deanna, these hands have killed. Not once, but many times.
There came a time when series of terrible events, orchestrated by an evil man, shattered the balance I need to control this terrible part of me. I was becoming a danger to everyone around me. Yes, even to Catherine. I took myself to a place far below these tunnels, where I could harm no one. I remember little of what happens when I loose myself to the darkness, and by that time there was little else left of me. Catherine came to me, in that dark place, risking her life to save mine. She managed to save me, to send the darkness back, but only at the cost of our bond. It was then that Jacob was conceived, and to this day I can't remember it.
Afterwards, I refused to talk about what happened. I was ashamed she had seen me like that, and afraid to know what I might have done to her during my madness. She let me avoid the subject, believing, as I did, we would have time later to discuss it. But that time never came. Before we spoke again, she was kidnapped by Gabriel, the man who would eventually kill her. Without our bond, I could not find her. I did not see her again until the night she died. It wasn't until then I even knew my child existed."
Vincent could not see Deanna's tears through the mist of his own, nor feel her grief for him through the pain of his memories. "It was a miracle beyond dreams that she loved me, ALL of me, not in spite of my differences, but because of them. And yet the moment that should have been the pinnacle of our love remains concealed from me, and I have to ask myself WHY this is so? Am I so afraid to remember what really happened? Why was our bond broken, at the very time we needed it most? Was it because it would reveal a truth that would threaten my very sanity? Although I tell myself again and again that I could never hurt her, still the doubts remain."
Striving to control her voice, Deanna gathered her courage to ask aloud the question that was between them. "What is it that you fear so much?" Vincent shuddered, as if he was using every ounce of his strength and will to dredge a terrible weight from the depths of his soul. The gallery itself went silent, as if it too were waiting for his answer.
When it came, it was in a whisper so laced with pain that Deanna feared that she might have gone too far. "That I forced, not my strength, but my will on her through our bond. That I made her believe that she came to me by choice, when in fact her desire for me was something I made her feel. That what should have been an act of love was made into one of selfishness. That this abuse of our bond was what broke it, and ultimately resulted in her death."
Deanna stared at Vincent, stunned by the implications of what he had said. She had thought his fear would be a straight forward one, the obvious fear that he might have raped Catherine. But this was far, far worse. If he actually believed that he could force Catherine to desire him him against her will through their bond, it would only be one more step before he considered that ALL of Catherine's feelings for him might have been influenced by it. And if that happened, the very cornerstone of his life, the memory of their love, might soon collapse. He might even go so far as to question any love directed at him from now on. Even his son's.
This could not be allowed. But what could she do? Deanna had her own ideas about the nature of the bond, and it's purpose, but they were based on her training and experience as a counsellor on a starship to many species from many worlds. If she simply told her ideas to Vincent, without explaining where they came from, they would sound like the purest speculation on her part. But if she revealed her origins to back up her theories, she would violate the prime directive, risking the existence of the history from which she came.
When she had asked the question, she had taken on the obligation of providing him an answer. And yet, did she have the right to risk everything she had known and loved? Could one man, even Vincent, be worth that? Could the memory of a love that would never be her's, be worth it? Deanna listened carefully as a whisper in her mind confirmed what she already knew. A stranger's voice, that was at the same time familiar, told her, "It's worth everything!"
Vincent was no longer oblivious to the myriad emotions that were playing across Deanna's face and mind. He had now returned to the real world from the abyss of his memories. It was as if bringing his fears to light had robbed them of much of their potency. While he had not intended to cause his companion distress, her silence reassured him as no conventional words of comfort would have. She was taking his fears seriously, understanding as no one else could that one's thoughts and desires can indeed affect the world. She had been right. This time talking HAD helped.
Abruptly Vincent remembered his original purpose in seeking her out. "Actually, I did not come here to lay my troubles at your feet. I am here, at my son's request, to formally invite you to the festivities commemorating the anniversary of his birth. It will be only a small gathering, just family and close friends. I am very sorry for the short notice, but his highness only informed me this morning that he had neglected to invite you himself. I hope this won't be too great an inconvenience."
Deanna almost sighed in relief. Apparently the immediate crisis was over. In her best diplomatic tones (learned at her mother's knee), she replied, "Fortunately, my social calendar shows that I am free for this evening. You may tell his highness I accept most gratefully his gracious invitation." Reverting to a more normal tone, she continued, "I heard about his birthday from other sources, so I wrote a little story as a present just for him. I was going to drop by later to tell it to him, but this will make it much easier. At what time should I arrive?"
"The first mate gave the genie back his powers, saying, 'Thank you very much, but I'd rather be a man with good friends, than a genie without any.' This made the genie very angry, but he couldn't do anything about it. He had promised to give the first mate anything he wanted, and a genie cannot break a promise, even if he wants to. If the first mate decided that, like his crew mates, he didn't want to have anything to do with magic, there was nothing a genie could do but go away. So he did, in a flash of light."
Deanna watched smiling, as the sleepy little boy struggled valiantly to remain awake until the end. "The captain smiled as he welcomed his friend and second-in-command back to his place at his side. Together with their shipmates, they sailed off to more adventures on the high seas. But that is another story." She wait for the expected protest, but Jacob, exhausted by the day's events, had finally drifted off.