A/N: This week has been tough - for all of us. Sorry to be so slow in posting. Been dealing with a lot of feels and a pinched nerve besides. But I still believe...

Vincent's Journal, Thanksgiving Day

Catherine,

As I lie here watching you sleep, I think I finally understand the true meaning of thankfulness. Here we are, at Daddy Bob's house, in an upstairs bedroom. After the long drive and initial introductions, we got some time to ourselves. And, despite everything we've been through, you let me love you again. After what happened at your house earlier, in your bedroom, I was not only surprised but delighted and humbled by your steadfast faith in me. I know I don't deserve it. When you told me you couldn't get the image of what I had done to Windsor out of your head, I felt my world cave in just a little bit more. I can't express how much that hurt, not only that you felt that way, but that I had done such a thing. Because I want so badly to be whole for you, to be in control.

Strangely, I thought I was. Actually, I still do. What is happening to me lately feels like something different. I wish I could explain it. I can't. All I can do is fervently pray that your faith in me, in who I was at one time, will last until we find the answer. I don't FEEL like I'm losing my humanity. In fact, with you in my life now, I feel more alive and –human- than I can ever remember feeling. YOU are my humanity.

After everything I've done to you, you have every right to feel afraid and uneasy with me; yet just now you let me touch you, kiss you, love you . . . intimately. I'm twice your size, I have the strength of three men, and I have a dark side. And yet you trusted me with your sweet body knowing I could lose control and hurt you immeasurably. And that's why I won't. Your faith in me is amazing. And I am madly in love with you.

When we are together and you allow me that tiniest moment of release, of total freedom, I can hardly comprehend it. You keep your eyes on mine. And when mine go yellow, instead of turning away in fear or disgust, your pupils widen just a fraction as though you enjoy seeing and knowing what you do to me. How incredible you make me feel. And oh, I do. I do. I wish I could explain to you just how much.

You are the woman of my dreams. Literally. I know that is because you were there in the past with me, but right now is the only reality I have. And as fractured and twisted as my life has become, I feel blessed. I mean, how many people get to experience their dreams coming true? While at first you were just this blurry image, now you are flesh and blood, warm and willing, and as real as life will ever get.

I love watching you sleep. Maybe I did that before; I'm not sure. Right now you have this soft smile on your lips—a satisfied smile. It makes me hope that I caused that—that I DID satisfy you in every way, as you satisfy me—as you fill me with hope and longing for a future with you, our very own happily ever after. Weeks ago I could not have imagined this. But you've brought me to life. I only hope I can be enough to you . . . because you deserve so much.

I know how much you want this new father-daughter relationship to work. I want it for you, too. You deserve some happiness after everything that has happened. Perhaps that's why I'm so nervous. I want him to accept me as good enough for his daughter. More than anything. The possibility of that is slim, I know, but so very important to me—because YOU are important to me, Catherine. I'm going to do my best. I just pray it is enough.

Later in the day—

As I write this now, I know that 'happily ever after' is just a dream. It isn't going to happen for us. You'll never read this letter because it's better if things end here. I lost control again and this time it can't be fixed or covered up. I can't explain why I attacked your father or what affect Tori has on me. I'm as confused as I'm sure you feel. Bewildered. Heartbroken. Sick to death at what I've done. When you said, 'maybe you belong together,' meaning Tori and I, the bottom fell out of my world.

You can't keep making excuses for me; I know that. There is no excuse. Your father's words just confirmed what I always suspected but didn't want to face – that I will NEVER be good enough for you. I'm not fine. I'm not all right. And if we truly love someone, we sacrifice our needs for theirs. And oh, how I love you, Catherine. So I need to walk away. Those words sound familiar to me—have I said them before? Have I tried to do it in the past and failed? Because I can only wonder why I didn't do it sooner.

I can only tell you I'll carry the memory of being with you wherever I go. How you remember me, though, I hope, will be very different. I want you to hate me. Despise me. Loathe the idea of ever seeing me again. And live your life. Please do this for me because the thought of you crying over me, over what we've lost, would literally kill me. If it comes to that, I will push you away. I'll make you abhor me. I'll do what I have to do to set you free. Maybe in some alternate universe we will find each other again and it will be different. That will be my new dream...