The Same Last Name

A/N Hello hello! Two more flashback chappies and then on to the here and now. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Catherine splashed her face with cold water. It amazed her that after all this time, she was still affected by Vincent. It amazed her even more that she had yet to lay eyes on him! Why couldn't the past just stay buried? It was too painful for her. Between her father and then her precious baby girl...

Closing her eyes, she forced herself to remember the rest...

Dinner had been interesting. Vincent found her to be fresh and lively. Catherine had simply been fascinated by him. Four years older, he was most certainly a man. Tall and broad shouldered, he was comfortable with his height, his movements sure and confident. He had black hair that fringed at the bangs, and piercing brown eyes. Catherine felt light-headed and giddy just sitting next to him.

She asked him about the scar on his cheek. He told her about the drug addict that had come to the ER one night about a year ago. He had been volital and hostile. When Vincent had tried to help him, he had pulled a knife and slashed Vincent's cheek.

When Vincent took her home that night, he had surprised her by kissing her gently on the lips. "I really had a great time tonight. Would it be too forward of me if I asked if we could do this again sometime?" he had asked her. Catherine had simply blushed and nodded, before backing into her house. Once she was safely inside, she had slid down the door, her fingers unconsciously tracing her lips. Catherine didn't know it yet, but she was already falling in love with Vincent.

Against doctor's orders, Thomas checked himself out of the hospital the next day.

Catherine and Vincent had gone out every night that week. Thomas paid no attention, instead resuming his drinking with vigor. Sometimes Catherine thought that he had been trying to kill himself that night, after all.

Vincent began teaching Catherine things that she had missed out on. He was patient and generous, willing to go as slow as she wanted. Catherine always felt bashful and shy, but Vincent broke through her reservations, and Catherine began to learn what her body was truly capable of.

Three weeks after they met, Catherine came home to a sight that still haunted her. She had walked into a deathly quiet house. She had another date with Vincent, and she wanted to get ready. Walking upstairs, she passed her father's bedroom. The door was cracked slightly, but Catherine heard no movement inside. Walking to her room, she took a shower and changed her clothes.

She walked to her father's room and knocked on the door. Hearing no answer, she carefully pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her made her scream. Thomas Chandler had taken a gun and shot himself in the head. Catherine dropped to the carpet and vomited.

Grabbing her phone, she dialed the one person that she needed the most. When he answered, she said, "Vincent...my dad...shot...himself. I need...you."

"I'm on my way, Catherine. I'm coming. Just hold on. Just hold on..."

Catherine had no idea how long she laid on the floor. Suddenly, strong arms lifted her up and away from the floor. Catherine sobbed into Vincent's chest, and he carried her to her room. Setting her down gently on her bed, he told her, "Stay here. Don't move, okay?" Catherine could only nod. He took out his cellphone, presumably to call 911, and headed toward her father' s bedroom.

Catherine remained curled on her bed the whole time that the police were there. No one came to talk to her, so she assumed that Vincent was fielding any questions that they asked. A short while later, she heard her father's body being wheeled out of his room. She cried harder, and was not surprised when Vincent appeared in her door. He walked to the bed and drew her into his arms.

"He's gone...I can't believe it...Why?...Why did he leave me alone? Why?" she sobbed against Vincent. He hushed her and stroked her hair.

"Catherine, your father was sick. Alcoholism is a disease. There was nothing you could have done that would have fixed him. He didn't want to live anymore. He didn't want to live this life anymore."

"But, what about me? What will I do now? Where will I go?" she had asked, looking up at him with tear filled eyes, and tear streaked cheeks.

"I want you to come live with me," Vincent said, surprising her. Catherine had shook her head at first, not sure what his words meant. He continued, "I know we don't know each other well, but I can't see you living here all alone, when I have a very comfortable home that I'm willing to share with you. After you finish school, you can get an apartment, and I'll help you with expenses."

Catherine couldn't find a valid reason to say no, so she found herself telling him, "Alright."

That night, she packed her belongings and moved in with Vincent. He set her up in a guest bedroom, and left her to unpack.

Three days later, her father's funeral was held. Catherine sat beside the open grave, staring at the brown coffin that contained her father's body. Vincent stood behind her, his hands wrapped around her shoulders. She looked to the left of the grave, where her mother's headstone sat. In less than a year, she had lost both her parents.

Vincent shook her shoulder slightly, and Catherine realized that the service was over. She stood and walked to the casket, laying the red rose she clutched upon it. Vincent curled his arm around her waist, and led her to his car.

When they got back home, Vincent grabbed a bottle of vodka, and two shot glasses. Filling them, he handed one to Catherine. "This will help with the pain." She dumped it down her throat and wordlessly held the tumbler back out for a refill. Vincent continued to refill her glass, until most of the bottle was gone. Catherine was nodding off on the chair by this point.

Vincent picked her up and carried her to her room. His intent was to lay her down and let the alcohol help her sleep. However, as soon as his arms left her, Catherine clutched at his arms, begging him, "Don't leave me. Stay here...with me. Please."

"Catherine, that isn't a good idea. You aren't thinking clearly right now, and I don't want you to regret anything in the morning," he told her.

"Please, Vincent. Please..." Catherine begged. Vincent sighed and climbed onto the bed beside her. Catherine immediately curled into him, resting her head on his chest. With a small sigh, Catherine threaded her hands through his hair, and looked up at him.

Vincent groaned and lowered his mouth to hers. There was an almost desperate edge to that kiss, something that she had never felt from him before. His hands worked at the buttons on her blouse, and then she felt the cold air hit her chest. Seconds later, his hands molded themselves to her breasts, and the heat seared down to her soul.

Timidly, she reached between them, and her hands found the heated flesh of his back. Seconds later, his shirt was up and over his head. Her hand burned against his flesh.

Before long, there was nothing between them. Catherine stared up at Vincent, slightly dazed and mildly drunk. Vincent stared down at her, desire flashing in his eyes.

"Are you sure, Catherine?" he asked her one more time. Instead of answering , she pulled him closer. He fitted himself to her entrance and thrust inside. Catherine cringed, the pain stronger than she had assumed. Vincent soothed her, and began to move slowly inside her.

Catherine slowly acclimated to the feeling of Vincent thrusting inside of her. By that time, Vincent stiffened inside her and then finally relaxed. Pulling out carefully, Vincent gathered her against him and drifted to sleep.

Three weeks later, Catherine took a pregnancy test. It was positive.

A/N Review please!