A/N: Thank you all for your reviews and encouragement. This story is taking shape in my mind and I'm looking forward to telling it.

Reunion

Chapter 2

I couldn't have worn these shoes in Afghanistan, they'd be full of sand by now, Vincent thought nervously as he trudged down the downtown Chicago sidewalk, trying to keep his mind off of his destination and who - he hoped - waited for him there. God, he hoped she was there.

Vincent pulled his coat collar tighter around his neck as he glanced down at his oxford loafers crunching - one foot in front of the other - on the hard crusted snow. He remembered his tan combat boots crunching on the Afghan village's sand covered street.

He jumped out of the Humvee with the rest of his patrol to secure the village's single story community center for it's once weekly use as a Red Cross health clinic. It was already scorchingly hot at ten in the morning as the sun beat down mercilessly. Sweat trickled down his spine under the 70 pounds of combat gear covering his body.

Vincent pulled the sling of his M4 rifle so it hung to his side and brought up his tablet computer. As communications officer he was responsible for monitoring satellite video surveillance feeds of the area, checking for signs of enemy presence on the ground. His fellow soldiers secured the permitter and interior of the building and finally his captain gave the signal for the volunteer Red Cross staff to exit their Humvees and enter the building to start their work.

Vincent walked over and opened the back door to one of the two Red Cross vehicles to assist the doctors and nurses as they climbed down. He held out his hand to help the person seated by the door but his gaze was elsewhere, scanning his surroundings for threats. Only his fingertips were exposed through the open ends of this combat gloves, but that was enough. Enough to change his life forever.

His proffered hand was gripped by the Humvee's occupant, his finger tips brushing across bare skin. An electric jolt shot up his arm and through his body. He sucked in a quick breath and jerked his head around and down, staring at the hand held in his.

The hand was small and soft as silk. His eyes took in the rest of the woman it belonged to. She was petite, but even the desert pattern CAMO fatigues and flack jacket she wore didn't completely hide her soft, feminine curves. Dark, auburn, shoulder length hair shimmered as the Afghan sun played across it. Her lips were pert and drawn together under a slightly upturned nose. But it was her eyes that drew him in, captivated him. Almond shaped and dark forest green. There was emotion swirling behind her eyes, feelings he couldn't decipher.

As he looked at her she didn't move to exit the Humvee. She was frozen. Then Vincent realized he was as immobile as she, caught in a moment of time he wished could go on forever. Pulling his attention back from her eyes he saw the stunned look on her face as she stared back at him, a look he knew mirrored his own. Had she felt it too? Had the same delicious charge of electricity awakened her body as it had his? Was that the emotion that stirred behind her eyes?

He blinked and the spell between them was broken. He continued to hold onto her hand as he glanced at her name patch. Chandler. "Doctor Chandler?" he asked, not sure if she was a doctor or a nurse.

She nodded. "Corporal Keller," she said, acknowledging his name as she eyed his own name patch.

Vincent continued to stare at her, not sure what to do next.

After the awkward silence stretched out a few more beats Dr. Chandler pulled against his hand, levering herself out of the Humvee. "Thank you," she said, a shy smile on her face as she ducked her head. She gathered her feet beneath her and let go of his hand.

The loss of her touch sent a chill down Vincent's spin even in the oppressive heat, an empty feeling rising up in his chest. At that same instant he saw her smile dip down into a frown. Could she have experienced the same feeling? No, that was just wishful thinking.

Vincent watched her as she walked inside the building. He and his fellow soldiers would stand guard over Dr. Chandler and her colleagues. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. He vowed to himself that no harm would befall her, not while he could still draw breath.

Two weeks later Vincent pulled Catherine to him and before he could initiate the kiss she had grabbed the back of his neck and drew his head down bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was passionate and warm - and inexplicably familiar. It wasn't like the other first kisses he'd experienced. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation. He dropped every emotional wall, opening himself up to her completely. It felt right and he knew deep inside he could trust her with his very soul.

Not long after that kiss Vincent found himself hidden away with Catherine in the secret spot she'd found in the storage shed behind the medical building on the base. Their first time was fast and hard and passionate. Both needing to immerse themselves in the other. To revel in the sensual joy of hard muscle against soft curves. To claim refuge from the horrors of war in the sanctuary of each other's heart. It wasn't long before their love making grew softer, more tender, stirring feelings in Vincent beyond the need for flesh and relief.

Vincent's breath came hard after his release. Sweat dripped from his forehead mingling with Catherine's already sweat soaked hair. Hovering over her his hands pushed up on their precarious perch against the edges of the old cot to support his weight. He shifted to move off her but she would have none of that as she tightened her legs already wrapped around his waist and clasped the back of his neck with her hands, pulling him down so that he covered her, his full weight on her.

Vincent collapsed against her, surrendering to her desire to remove any space between them. He melted into her and she pulled him closer. Waves of emotion swelled up from his depths, filling his gut, tightening his chest. He felt protected by her. He felt loved by her. He felt safe. He surrendered to the feelings overwhelming him, his body racked with sobs of relief and joy and love as he buried his head into Catherine's shoulder.

After a few moments Catherine's worried voice whispered into his ear, "Vincent, what's wrong?"

He sucked in a breath and tried to calm himself. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing's wrong."

"Then what is it?" Catherine asked.

"Everything is right," Vincent said. "Everything about you …, about us …, everything is right." He paused, struggling for another breath. "I know it's only been a few weeks, but after everything we've shared I feel like I've known you my whole life." He buried his head further into Catherine's shoulder. "When we're together it's more than your body I crave. And when we're apart …, I feel empty. I count the hours until I can see you again."

Vincent felt Catherine nudge his head up from her shoulder, guiding it with her hands until his eyes met hers. "I love you," she said. "I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life."

He nodded and stared down at Catherine's face, so soft, so loving.

But Catherine's face wasn't soft or full of love right now as she sat across the coffee shop, staring at him. He thought he'd never see her beautiful face again. But now, with his greatest desire come true, her face wasn't soft and loving, but panicked and fearful. She looked like a deer in the headlights, ready to bolt.

His own anxiety welled up inside. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe she didn't feel the same way he did, the same way they felt seven years ago. Perhaps it was the scar on his face, the ever present reminder of the bomb that took the lives of half of his unit and almost took his own as well.

Panic surged through him as he stared across the bistro at Catherine. His body being to shudder and he realized he had made a horrible mistake contacting her, asking her to see him. Vincent spun on his heel and bolted through the coffee shop door back out into the frozen Chicago afternoon.