A/N: Thanks everyone for reading and for your encouragement and reviews.

Reunion

Chapter 7

Vincent and Tess jerked their heads toward the counter. Neither had heard Catherine walk up. She stood, staring about both of them, her eyes dark and her expression smoldering.

Catherine had heard Tess' angry accusation of Vincent as she'd approached, said almost in tandem with the same demanding question from Gabe. She knew why Vincent hadn't tried to find her.

"He thought I was dead," Catherine ground out in answer to both Gabe's and Tess' questioning accusations of Vincent.

Tess stood tall, unrepentant, head held high, her eyes flickering with righteous anger. Catherine felt Gabe's breath on her neck, standing only inches behind her, his own declaration of indignation ringing in her ears. Vincent's face was hard, his chest moved in and out, his breath ragged. She struggled to calm her own breath.

"He thought I died in the helicopter crash," Catherine said. This was a part of her war experience that she'd shared with Tess and Gabe and others. Tess' eyes widened in understanding and she felt Gabe take a step backwards.

"Catherine," Tess said, her low voice rumbling with tension, "that still doesn't mean this is right. Life isn't like a fairy tale."

"For once I agree with Vargus," Gabe said, stepping up into her peripheral vision. "You don't just rip the scab off an old wound without causing damage."

At her friends' comments Catherine felt doubt rise up, filling her chest, making each breath a chore. Tess was right. What had she been thinking? Life wasn't a fairy tale. She'd wished it was - just for a while. She'd wished more than anything that the miracle of Vincent being alive, of finding her after all these years, was the happily ever after she'd believed had died with him. A cold chill ran down her spine. Life wasn't that simple. She'd been naïve to believe it was. And still, she'd closed her eyes to her better judgement and allowed herself to be swept up into his arms and into the joy of finding him alive. But there had to be more to a relationship than a month of love and seven years of loss to make it work.

Gabe was right, too. She had issues, baggage from her past. Not just her grief about Vincent's supposed death, but the baggage of seven years of failed relationships and fighting her own personal demons. And what about Vincent? He couldn't have come through all of this without his own scars. She knew nothing about what had happened to him the past seven years. Maybe he'd been married. Maybe he was married. Was he as sane as he seemed or was he some type of nut-case stalking her? Just because she loved him and he loved her didn't mean that everything was right - that everything was safe.

Catherine watched Vincent step back from Tess, but his expectant eyes were on her. His beautiful green eyes. Full of love and, right now, questioning her - reflecting his own internal struggle. The doubt in her chest began to morph into the pin pricks of panic. Her already labored breathing turned shallow and fast. She needed to get away. She needed to think. She needed to get control of her feelings and stop her headlong rush into - exactly what, she didn't know. She felt her face grow tight and knew the panic had reached her eyes. The need to bolt surged through her.

"Excuse me," Catherine said with a ragged breath and turned, running down the hallway.

As she ran Catherine's vision tunneled down to a pinpoint. Her breath rushed so loudly in her ears she could hear nothing else. Panic surged through her, driving her blindly on. She needed to get away. She needed to think. She needed to be safe.

A few moments later she stopped in front of the hospital's chapel and synagogue, her body having brought her there without couscous thought. She pushed open the door and stepped into the large room. As the door closed behind her and she sat in one of the small pews her panic lessened and a warm calm began to slowly envelop her. Her panting subsided, her breaths growing deeper. Her shoulders began to relax and her sense of dread started disolve. She closed her eyes.

Catherine had never been very religious. But prayer seemed like the only option available to still the turmoil in her mind and curb the irrational urge to turn and run back into Vincent's arms. She needed to calm down and think. She bowed her head.

Hello, God. I know I don't visit often enough. Sorry.

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

I'm not sure what to do and I'm scared. I know I love Vincent. And he says he loves me. I want to believe him. But …, I'm not sure love is enough.

Catherine shook her head and felt the pitiful smile on her face.

I am such a train wreck. I don't want to hurt Vincent like I've hurt others. Just because it's him doesn't mean I'll be different. I might even be worse. We've been apart for so long. We were never together, really. Maybe we'd both be better off if we just parted as friends. Tess was right. Life isn't a fairy tale.

Catherine heaved out an involuntary sigh.

God, if could see your way clear to give me a little help right now, I'd appreciate it.

Catherine heard the door open and the soft sound of shoes on carpet. She felt the presence of someone as they sat down in the small pew across the aisle from her. She opened her eyes and recognized the man seated there. She had treated his wife in the ER the day before, the victim of a car crash. When the woman left the ER for the Critical Care Unit the prognosis hadn't been good. The man's eyes were bloodshot and his face was stained with dried tears.

Catherine's heart felt the man's agony and she instinctually turned to him. "Mr. Edwards," she said.

The man looked at her, confusion on his face for just a moment. Then a weak smile graced his lips. "Dr. Chandler," he said, giving his head a slight nod.

There was no easy way to broach the subject, so Catherine just asked, "How's your wife?"

The smile left his face and he looked down. "She died earlier this morning," he whispered.

Without thinking Catherine stepped across the narrow aisle and sat in the pew, sliding up next to him. She reached out and gently took one of his hands in hers. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Thirty years together," Edwards said, his eyes still turned down. "Every day a blessing."

Edwards lifted grateful eyes to hers. "Thank you, Dr. Chandler. If it hadn't been for you we wouldn't have had the chance to say our goodbyes to each other. I don't know how I'd have lived with that."

Catherine's breath caught in her throat. She knew what it was like not being able to say goodbye to the one you loved most in the world. It was a living hell and she never wanted to experience it again. But unlike the man whose hand she held, she had a second chance at a life with that person - with Vincent. What would it be like to face the pain at the end of thirty years of memories together? She swallowed hard. It would be better than thirty years of no memories together.

"Thank you, Mr. Edwards," Catherine said softly.

He looked at her, puzzled. "For what?" he said.

"For showing me what's important." She squeezed his hand as she let him go. "I've got to see someone."

He nodded and Catherine rose, walking toward the door. Exiting out into the corridor she saw Vincent sitting on the floor across the hall, his back against the wall. Leave it to Vincent to find her. After all, the hospital was nothing compared to the whole world. And even with the whole world to search, he had found her.

Vincent slowly rose to his feet and stood, unmoving. Catherine looked at him for a moment, taking in his physical beauty. Tall, muscled, thick hair, green eyes, long fingers, strong hands. She walked across the hall and stopped in front of him.

"I'm afraid I'll mess this up," she said, looking up into his eyes.

"Me too," Vincent said.

"We haven't seen each other for over seven years. How do we know this can work?" Catherine said.

Vincent reached out and tentatively placed his hands on Catherine's shoulders. They were warm and strong. Instantly Catherine felt the emptiness that had engulfed her earlier begin to subside once his hands were on her. Still, fear churned her stomach, making her queasy.

"I want to show you something," he said. "Will you trust me enough to come with me."

Catherine peered into his eyes and saw the same uncertainty that she knew was in hers. She nodded, knowing that thirty more years without him was at stake.

"Yes, I'll come with you," Catherine said. "Where are we going?"

Vincent wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. He bent and whispered into her ear. "Oregon."