A/N: We are nearing the end of this part of the story. I anticipate one more short chapter before beginning part 3. Feedback, as always, is appreciated.
Catherine would have left him then, would have returned inside to her apartment to allow Vincent to flee from the poisonous aura of her presence. But after her confession, she barely had the strength to move.
And even as she sat very still and quiet, he did not move away from her. When he finally did speak, his voice contained a quiet reverence which seemed out of place for their conversation.
"I knew that it had to have happened when we were in that chamber," he murmured quietly. "When you saved my life. But I have no memory of the moments themselves. I always thought perhaps that was for the best. I always wondered if I had done something unthinkable…"
She immediately understood his fear.
"No," Catherine assured him. "You have never done the slightest thing to hurt me."
Her heart ached with the weight of what she had told him, of them portent of the memories themselves. But then Vincent looked up at her. His blue eyes, so effortlessly clear and beautiful, seemed to reach down into her very soul. And when he spoke, his words wrapped around her as surely as a physical embrace.
"I'm sorry you carry this burden, Catherine. But you must banish all feelings of guilt from your heart. What happened that night… whatever you did… you saved my life. You did what was necessary to bring me back from the precipice of madness."
His rationalization made her mouth taste like ashes, and Catherine balled her hands into fists.
"Please do not justify it," she implored. "Whatever the reason, whatever my motivation, it does not matter. I am still guilty. I committed a crime, Vincent. A sin. A violation. And it doesn't matter why I did it, only that I hurt you in the process."
Even though she spoke resolutely, every ounce of recrimination and self-hatred she could muster pouring from her lips, he shook his head in disbelief and looked away from her. As he did so, a deep, rumbling sigh began in his chest and did not end until every bit of breath had been expelled. She felt the sound as much as she heard it, and his pained expression tortured her afresh.
"We loved. That is what you told me," he said, relaying the statement as if it were gospel.
Catherine could not remember having said those words, but she also trusted his memory more than hers.
"Perhaps I meant-"
He shook his head, interrupting her.
"It does not matter. I absolve you of any guilt," Vincent stated firmly, piercing her with his gaze once more. "If you have done me wrong, then I forgive you. But this burden you have taken on yourself from these forgotten memories and half-truths… It is unfair to you, Catherine."
"That isn't true-"
"Because you loved me? To save my life, you used your body…" He stopped them and looked down, closing his eyes. She saw a flash of something cross his face, and he went on. "You sacrificed your body for me. You did that to save my life."
The fact that he could not even bear to say the word aloud left her sick to her stomach, but whether it was because she knew she deemed it a violation and he deemed it a sacrifice on her part, she was not certain. That he would even think in such terms pricked at her conscience, that he automatically deemed any sexual act between them as something repugnant to her dignity rather than his. But before she could say anything to contradict him, she sensed his emotions grow in intensity.
"Catherine, whatever crime you feel you committed was necessary - in that moment. You risked your life when you walked into that cavern. You did so to save me even though I could have killed you. And more - I know you. I know you would never do anything to cause me harm."
The certainty in his voice drew trails of fire up her spine, and she felt her own ire rise in response.
"Then why do I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and regret whenever I look at you?" she demanded. "Why do I feel as though I wronged you in some deep, irrevocable way? If not this, this, this horrible violation, then why do I feel this way?"
He seemed shaken by her questions even as he tried to refute them, "I cannot imagine why you should feel-"
But Catherine was already shaking her head, hating that he so readily defended her behavior, explained away actions which had caused him needless pain. She knew she was in a unique position to view their past relationship outside the confines of her memory. She could actually see Vincent as the unwitting victim of a horrible woman, one who had abused the man who loved her for so long that he could not even recognize it with the hindsight of twelve years.
Taking a deep breath, Catherine decided to set forth what she did know, the irrefutable facts.
"I let you believe I was dead for all these years," she reminded him. Gesturing at the narrow fire escape on which they both sat, Catherine said, "I could have gone looking for my former life long ago. It wasn't far. I knew it wasn't far. And yet I stayed here. Why?"
But before she could add more, he moved even closer to her. While he made no move to reach for her, his closeness caught her off guard, and she trembled slightly as she met his eyes.
"Catherine…" he implored, his voice low but the syllables of her name raised enough to catch her attention. In the crystalline depths of his eyes, she saw nothing but love.
Longing.
Need and want. Pain and pleasure.
A man denied ten thousand sunsets.
And yet, he looked at her as though she were the beginning and the end of every good and beautiful thing in the world.
Vincent murmured quietly, "Before we met, I did not know what it truly meant to live. You opened the world for me with your kindness… and your acceptance. Catherine, I do not know why you should feel any guilt because of me. You gave me more than I could have ever hoped to receive. More than I deserved. And certainly more than I was ever able to give you in return."
Taking a deep breath, he went on, "If anyone should feel guilty, it should be me - because I failed you, Catherine. I found you too late, and then I… I left you for dead. Had I realized - had I made certain - we would not have been separated all this time. You would not have been alone."
The agony in his voice tore at her, and Catherine could not arrest the tears which made twin trails down her cheeks.
"Vincent, you could not have known…"
"Had I not lost the bond, I would have known."
"But you didn't lose it," she stated in confusion. "It was suppressed when I got pregnant."
"We don't know that-"
Forcefully, she shook her head.
"I do know. After that night when Jake was conceived, you had no more sense of the bond. It had nothing to do with your illness, Vincent. Somehow, my pregnancy severed the bond."
With a sigh, Vincent breathed aloud, "Substituting one gift for another…"
He spoke with a tone of thoughtfulness, as though remembering some long-ago conversation. In truth, Catherine could still only recall bits and pieces of her life before, so he likely recalled a conversation of which she still had no memory.
"I didn't think I had a chance to tell you about the baby, before…" she began, feeling confused by the strange jumble of her patchwork memories.
Vincent shook his head.
"No," he acknowledged. "But you tried. You came to me… the last time I saw you before you were taken. I was so absorbed with the loss of the bond, I did not realize you had something important to share. I was drowning in recriminations, but you were there for me. You gave a lifeline. In hindsight, I realized that you had intended to tell me about the baby, but you decided to wait. I'm sure you thought you'd have another chance, but that opportunity was stolen from us. It has weighed on me ever since."
For a very long time, Catherine simply regarded him. He seemed not to have aged a day in the twelve years they had been apart. But as she studied his face, his body, the set of his shoulders, she could make out subtle differences. His hair and fur, once the color of sunlight, had begun to grow darker. Worry lines appeared on his face. And even his voice seemed different - rougher, somehow. But the soul within still shone as brightly as any she had ever known.
"I'm glad you had Jake all these years," she said quietly, allowing a moment of pride for that small accomplishment. For all the other pain she had visited upon this man, she had at least given him a son.
Vincent agreed, "He has been my salvation."
Silence descended upon them, uncomfortable and oppressive.
While Catherine could not think of more to say, Vincent seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear.
"When I believed you were gone, I did not think I could go on. I only… existed in name only. And then I remembered what you had told me in your final moments. You told me that we had a child. A combination of your legacy and mine. A… miracle. I knew I had to carry on, for the child's sake. You would have done the same."
Even with the certainty in his voice, Catherine was not sure if she could agree so whole-heartedly. Had she been left alone, without that necessary tether to life she had come to depend upon, she was not sure she could have gone on…
In a flash, Catherine did not just see and remember, but she experienced a memory. She stood alone in a white prison tower, staring out a window overlooking the city. Sadness hung over her like a shroud, oppressive and all-encompassing. The longing within her seemed almost palpable, a physical sensation set into every square inch of her skin and occupying every corner of her mind.
Her only will to go on was the child growing in her belly. And a desperate hope of escape. But even that hope seemed far away, and it dimmed with each passing day. He had not come for her – still. Months had passed and he had not found her. Was he still searching? Had he given up? Had his tenuous memory of her been too little to rekindle his love?
Or had she done something to keep him from searching?
Catherine shivered at the possibility, thinking about the reasons why Vincent might abandon her. He had nearly gone bad from the killings done to save her life. Perhaps he had gained greater peace in her absence?
Perhaps he had given up on her...
Vincent's voice startled her out of the flashback.
"The others helped me raise Jacob," he said, not having noticed the memory which had just overtaken her.
"The others?"
Before he could speak, Catherine once again felt a memory. But rather this time, the remembrance did not bring pain and recriminations. Rather, a wave of love and acceptance flowed over her as she remembered the others who lived below. She saw an array of faces in her mind's eye, each familiar and yet completely foreign to her. An older man with gray hair. A young girl with long, brown hair. A young man of great passion, balding before his time. Another young man whose passion briefly focused upon her. A shawl-clad woman, her kind face perpetually drawn into a smile. A young man with the mind of a child. Another, a child with the maturity of an adult. They all coalesced confusingly into her memory in a jumble.
Touching her head as the ache there increased, she heard Vincent very close to her, his voice both calming and reassuring.
"Everyone has missed you terribly. I was not the only one who mourned when we thought you lost forever."
Catherine closed her eyes as she considered his words. She imagined all the faces which had entered her mind earlier, except now they were averted in pain and remembrance. The thought of others missing her had always been interesting from a purely hypothetical point of view, but when the idea truly hit her full force, she staggered at its intensity. If she was as awful as she had assumed herself to be, how could she have fooled so many? How could she, of all people, cause so many people such a tremendous sense of loss by her absence?
Something Jenny had said struck her suddenly, about how she and Joe had been the ones to plan her funeral.
Catherine asked, "I had no surviving family members?"
"None of your blood, save Jake," he affirmed. "You had no brothers or sisters. Your mother died when you were a child, and your father died less than a year before you… before you were lost."
Nodding slowly, she took in that information. While it did not surprise her, she once again felt very alone in the world.
"But they were not your only family. When you joined my community, you became part of a much larger family. Men and women and children who depended upon you for love and support."
"Jenny said she saw many people at my funeral she didn't recognize," Catherine observed.
"Yes. Many from my world who knew you were anxious to attend. Not only did they know that I could not be there but they wished to pay their respects as well. You were loved by many, Catherine."
She could almost picture the funeral. Having bought a funeral plot near her parents "just in case," she was familiar with the cemetery grounds. But she had never anticipated being laid to rest there. Somehow, she had always assumed she would be buried underground in the tunnels.
Tunnels.
The word lit up her memory like a winning slot machine in Las Vegas, and Catherine flinched at the onslaught of memories.
"There is a whole world of tunnels and chambers…"
She remembered so much in such a short time that it was difficult to take it all in, like trying to drink from a firehouse as her father used to say. But this time, the memories did not hurt as they came flooding back to her. And gradually, Catherine was able to collect herself and assign importance to the shattered images of her recollection.
"I remember…" she said softly, even as the sound of tapping on pipes filled her ears.
"What do you remember?"
"I remember Pascal," Catherine stated, grasping at the nearest image she could find. "He tapped on the pipes, relaying messages. A role he inherited from his father."
Vincent inclined his head. "Yes."
In a flash, she once again saw the young man, full of child-like exuberance and both ingenious and impossible inventions.
"I remember Mouse," Catherine murmured softly.
Vincent's eyes twinkled with a sheen of tears.
"As do I," he observed sadly. She noticed the hitch in his voice and looked at him closely.
"Mouse… died?" she asked in shock.
With a short nod, Vincent explained, "He died… last September. We believe he was in a tunnel which collapsed. But we were never able to find..."
He sighed painfully, unable to continue.
The sudden pain in Catherine's chest had no outlet, so she simply took it in and suffered through the worst of it as she fought against a tide of tears. Vincent did not need to explain more. The events of that day in September would be indelibly imprinted on every single New Yorker - perhaps every single American - until their dying day. The diner had closed early and Catherine had spent the afternoon and evening at the nursing home with the residents, all of their eyes glued to the news on the community television set. Of course, with a catastrophe that large, there would have been effects in the tunnels beneath the city...
"Was anyone else… lost?" she asked.
"Thankfully, no one else below. One of our helpers - her husband was a firefighter…"
His voice trailed off and Catherine nodded in pained understanding. While it seemed a miracle that no one else below had been harmed in that cataclysmic event, she still felt the enormity of it press down upon her. Mouse, with his childlike simplicity, had always held a special place in her heart. To think of the tunnels without him…
"What else do you remember?" Vincent prompted, pulling her past the pain.
She took a deep breath, willing herself to focus on other memories. "I remember Mary. And Olivia. Rebecca and Brook. Father…"
She paused suddenly, remembering how important the last had been to him.
"Is Father-?" she began.
Vincent smiled. "He is well. In need of new reading glasses, perhaps."
She hesitated before asking, "Does he know… about me?"
He did not need to answer. By the way he looked down, unable to meet her gaze, she knew that news had not yet been shared.
"I have told no one else," Vincent intoned quietly. "It felt wrong to share this miracle until…"
Until she could remember.
Until she could pick up the pieces of her pitiful life and accompany him below.
The very thought of it filled her with both longing and dread. She thought of the anger and recriminations in Jenny's voice as she had confronted her earlier in the diner.
"I'm not sure they would be excited to have me back. Not knowing I've been living so close by all of these years."
Looking away from him, Catherine felt that familiar desire for a cigarette. Absently, she touched the patch on her skin under her sleeve. Shame flooded through her as she thought about trying to sneak a cigarette in the tunnels. Down there, the acrid scent would carry far, making it impossible to keep such a thing a secret. If she ever fell off the wagon, she would have to go topside…
The thought of keeping secrets from Vincent's family in the tunnels unnerved her, and she scratched at her skin around the patch. She had lied to so many people in her life. First, she had lied through omission about Vincent and the tunnels. Then, waking up with no memory of her former life, she lied about wanting to know who she was.
She had wanted to know, she realized, even if she had denied it to herself all these many years.
She would have to lie about what she had done to Vincent all those years ago. Even if he believed her assault was justified, surely the others would condemn her. She would have to pretend that she was still that good and kind person they thought she had been.
"I'm not sure…" Catherine said pensively.
"You don't have to do anything you do not wish to," he assured her quickly. "And I will not say anything to the others, not until you are ready."
"What about Jake?"
He grew silent at her question and she knew he did not have an answer.
"He hasn't told anyone so far," Vincent stated. "Not me, and not even Father, to the best of my knowledge."
"And if he does?"
He breathed out a heavy sigh before looking at her. The way his blue eyes gazed into hers left her momentarily stunned, as though she were a deer frozen in headlights. She saw so much pain reflected back at her. But at the same time, she glimpsed an overwhelming sense of hope, reignited from long forgotten embers thought dead but merely, as it so happened, only dormant.
"I cannot imagine a single soul below who would not rejoice to learn that you still draw breath, Catherine."
He spoke so solemnly that she did not know how to respond. For long seconds, she simply gaped at him.
Looking away, he stated softly, "I will have to break the news gently so that Father does not have a heart attack. But he will be… beside himself with joy, I know." Vincent paused for bare moments before adding, "And Mary, of course. She will be overcome. And next will be Pascal… You may not have realized it, but he had a particular fondness for you. Jamie and Lena and Brook… They will all be so happy to learn that you are still with us."
For a long moment, Vincent said nothing. She watched him with curiosity as he gathered his thoughts, uncertain what to say given the unusual situation in which they had found themselves.
"And me most of all," he stated finally.
His eyes glimmered with unshed tears.
"Catherine, I have lived these past dozen years as a broken man. I almost did not survive your death. I did not intend to. Had you not left me Jacob to raise, I doubt I would be standing here today. But now you have given me an even greater gift." He flashed a grin, something she rarely remembered seeing from him as he hated so to bear his sharp canines. "Yourself."
Before she could respond, he did something utterly surprising. Only a few bare inches remained between them as he had slowly moved closer to her. But now, he sat up and leaned into her. Time seemed to stop as he put his hands on the windowsill on either side of her and very gently pressed his lips to hers.
Catherine's eyes closed automatically, and she focused entirely on the kiss. His lips were soft and pliant, but he kept the kiss entirely chaste. Still, the electricity which flowed between them could not be ignored.
She realized belatedly that it was the first time they had actually touched since he had found her again.
Vincent started suddenly, breaking the kiss. He pulled away from her just enough to look intently at her face. Catherine watched him, a confused mixture of pleasure and longing swirling across his features as he studied her carefully.
"Catherine," he said in awe, reaching up his hand to touch the side of her face.
The warmth of his palm so intimately caressing her bare skin made her shiver. Having lived alone for the last decade, she had often gone days, if not weeks, without being touched by another human being. But his touch was so much more than simple human interaction.
She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, marveling at the sensation. But Catherine opened her eyes a few seconds later, and he still stared at her with surprise. Moisture had filled his eyes and his lips were parted just a hint.
The kiss was good but not that-
"I can feel you again," he said, his tears finally escaping. But he took no notice of them as he kept his eyes locked with hers. He put his other hand on her other cheek and gazed at her with pure reverence.
"The bond," Vincent explained. "I can feel it again. When I kissed you, it suddenly came back to me."
He stared at her for a long moment, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. But before he could say more, they heard a window slide open on the fire escape just above them. A man's voice rang out loudly, causing both of them to flinch.
"Go!" she told Vincent, instantly worried for his safety. Reluctantly, he took a step back from her.
But above them, they both heard her neighbor stepping out onto his own fire escape, his voice calling back to someone in his apartment. He sounded angry – or drunk, and Catherine knew that Vincent hesitated to leave her alone.
"Please, go!" she insisted again, looking up at the man above her as she feared Vincent's discovery.
Only then did he finally leave, melting down the fire escape stairs like a shadow into the night.
TBC
