Chapter Three

It was a cold night. Elliot drew the collar of his coat up around his neck and stood at the top of the stairs to get his bearings.

He kept to the shadows as he made his slow and painful way to the docks. It was doubtful that there would be anyone following him, but he played it safe.

Eventually he found what he was looking for and as he stood staring at the manhole cover, the memories came flooding back of the night his father had died and of Catherine. All his dreams, hopes and desires had been shattered that night, when Cathy had told him there was someone else in her life, and what a someone! No way could he have ever envisaged it being someone like Vincent!

A lump formed in his throat, and he felt a prickle behind his eyes. Catherine. He took a long slow breath in an effort to get a hold of himself before he fell apart. Elliot Burch was stronger than this!

Self-consciously he glanced around, then bent down to move the manhole cover aside. In his weakened condition, with his wound protesting, it took him a long time and then, to his horror, he felt the tell-tale prickle of pins and needles beginning in the fingers of his left hand, that gradually began to spread up his arm, heralding another attack.

He tried not to panic and quickly sat down by the hole, before his leg gave way. He took as deep a breath as he could and forced himself to relax, closing his eyes to focus his concentration.

Gradually the feeling faded, and he realised he had escaped an attack... this time. Recovered, he lowered himself through and using just his good arm, managed to drag the cover back across, sealing him Below. The effort still sapped what little strength he had and left him feeling sick and worried. He knew he was far from well but hadn't realised it was this bad.

Determined, he straightened up and began to walk. Instinct, or some deeply hidden memory made him move in what he was sure was the right direction. He kept going until he came to an intersection with a large pipe, where he stopped, picked up a lump of stone and slowly and methodically began to tap out just one letter, over and over again, convinced that Vincent was still alive.

It had been a long day and Pascal was tired; activity on the pipes was higher than usual, but as was long ingrained in him, he made another inspection, listening and tapping, testing connections. It was as he was doing this that he heard it. A set sequence... dot-dot-dot-dash, over and over again. He frowned. It was not familiar and then it sunk in. Morse Code! Dot-dot-dot-dash: the letter 'V'! Someone was calling Vincent. Pascal decided he'd better let the man hear it for himself. A messenger was sent and Vincent arrived a little while later.

"What is it, Pascal?"

"I've got just one letter, being repeated over and over again, in full Morse code. It took me a little while to realise what it was! Listen, here."

Pascal handed over the stethoscope and Vincent bent down to hear it for himself. He straightened abruptly.

"The letter 'V'."

"Yes, someone's calling you."

"Where does this pipe originate?"

"Downtown; the dock area."

"The docks? We have no one there at this time. I must go and investigate."

"Would you like me to come with you?"

"No, Pascal, but thank you for the offer. Keep monitoring it. I'll give you a signal when I get there."

Vincent turned and went to his chamber to retrieve his cloak. Father was waiting for him.

"You're not going, surely?" he asked. "It could be a trap and you're still not fully recovered."

"I must go. Someone obviously wants to talk to me... It could be Diana with some information on my child." He swung the cloak about his shoulders.

"Vincent." Father briefly laid a hand on his arm. "Be careful."

Elliot wasn't sure exactly how long he'd stood and tapped out that code. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps Vincent was dead after all... but... they'd been together. He just couldn't believe he hadn't made it.

Suddenly, he became aware of a figure looming out of the semi-darkness. He straightened somewhat nervously, wincing slightly as he did so.

"Vincent?" he questioned. "Is that you?"

The figure stopped and cocked its head to one side.

"Elliot?" The soft voice was unmistakable.

"Yes," came the whispered reply.

The figure surged forward almost at a run and threw his arms around the bearded, dishevelled man, who bore the fierce embrace without uttering a sound of pain.

"We…I thought you were dead!" The relief in the velvet voice brought a lump to Elliot's throat.

"I-I wasn't quite sure if I would be welcome... after all, I nearly betrayed you," he finally mumbled.

"But you didn't and nearly died in my place." Vincent held him at arm's length then hugged him again like a long lost brother. "What happened to you? After we jumped into the water you were wrenched out of my grasp, and I couldn't find you."

"I'm not sure. I surfaced somewhere; got washed up further down... It's a daze... Someone found me—JD was her name—she looked after me, got me back on my feet, but I thought it best to leave as soon as possible, just in case and I came here. I've... nowhere else to go, Vincent. Everything's gone; all my dreams, all that I was, destroyed."

"No! Don't say that, Elliot! You're alive! Dreams can be lived again. You haven't been destroyed. Everything you are, the fighter, the survivor, the helper; your essence is all intact within you. Elliot Burch is alive and that's where you start again, with the help of your friends."

"I-I have no friends, Vincent." He realised what he had said and thought of JD. No, JD was not his friend, she was something else entirely...

"You're wrong, Elliot. You have many friends here, Below."

Elliot swallowed convulsively, overcome by these words.

"Come with me, Elliot. You have a home here with us, within our family for as long as you need one; until you are ready to return to the world Above." Vincent quickly tapped out a brief message on the pipes, then placed an arm around Elliot's shoulders to show him the way they were going. Quickly he noted he had to slacken his pace, for Elliot limped quite badly and appeared to be in some discomfort. He made no comment, but decided to take the appropriate action when they reached the chambers.

It took quite a while for them to reach their destination and Elliot's reserves were almost exhausted. Vincent ushered him into Father's main chamber, but the sights and sounds that surrounded him blurred into the distance as he concentrated on staying on his feet.

"Father, we have a guest."

"Elliot Burch!" Father stood up sharply. "We thought you were dead! Welcome!" He came forward and shook his hand warmly, frowning as he felt it tremble within his grasp.

Vincent strategically blocked the exit and then spoke. "Father, I think Elliot is in need of your ministrations."

"No, I-I'm all right."

"I think I'll be the judge of that," Father said, running a critical eye over him. He noted the fading scar over his eyebrow and another on his cheek.

"Elliot was shot in the back, Father," Vincent added softly.

Elliot whirled at this and a gasp was wrenched from his lips at the sudden movement. Father noticed the colour drain from his strained features and a trickle of perspiration run down the side of his face and reached out to steady him as he swayed.

"Who removed the bullet? A doctor?" he asked keeping a firm grip on his arm.

"No... I couldn't risk it, the bullet's still in there."

"We'll go to the hospital chamber. Come."

Too weak to protest, they guided him there. Vincent helped him ease out of his coat and jacket, then stood back out of the way.

"Sit here please, Elliot," Father instructed. "And remove your shirt."

Self-consciously, Elliot undid the buttons and with some difficulty slipped his shirt off.

Father stuck a thermometer in his mouth then moved to stand behind him, removing the dressing to gently probe his back, taking note of his reactions. He paused to check the reading on the thermometer.

"You have a temperature... Have you had any medication?"

"JD, the person who looked after me, managed to get hold of some antibiotics," Elliot replied.

Vincent, standing in the background, found himself observing Elliot because Catherine had once loved this man; enough to share his bed—and he was curious. He was obviously an extremely good looking man who had been rich and very powerful. Perhaps the one shadow over him had been in respect of his soul—or lack of it—but when it was too late, the real Elliot Burch had surfaced, and he had indeed turned out to be one of the good guys. Vincent noted the slim, lightly tanned, yet firmly muscled body. Elliot kept himself fit, that much was clear. He was also an attractive man mentally. Any woman would be proud to be by his side, yet since he had lost Catherine to Vincent, he had not formed any other relationship, casual or otherwise and Vincent felt rather sad. Now they had both loved and lost the same woman.

"Have you suffered any affects at all?" Father's question snapped Vincent out of his reverie, and he concentrated on the examination of Elliot.

"Y-yes. A numbing sensation, like pins and needles in my left arm."

Father looked him straight in the eye. "Are you sure that's all, Elliot?"

His patient averted his eyes, seemingly unwilling to confess to the full affects.

"How bad, Elliot? I must know."

Elliot took a deep breath before finally meeting his gaze and whispered, "It's laid me out."

"Muscle spasms, convulsions, paralysis?"

"Yes."

"I thought as much. Often, people can walk around quite safely all their lives with pieces of metal in them, but not in your case. This bullet must come out, it's resting near a main nerve and it's moving closer. The longer it's left, the more dangerous it becomes." Father looked over at his son. "Vincent, would you go and get Mary, please. Let's get this over and done with." He returned his attention to Elliot. "You'll feel a lot better soon, I promise." He stared at him long and hard, knowing full well how much discomfort he was suffering.

Preparations were quickly made and they were soon ready to start.

"You'll feel a slight prick in your arm and then nothing until you come round. When I say go, Elliot, I want you to start counting backwards from ten. Let's begin." Father administered a general anaesthetic. "Right, go."

"Ten... nine... eight ...sev - ven... s - sssiixxx..." Elliot's voice trailed off. Mary checked on him and nodded.

"He's out cold, Father."

The operation was relatively straightforward, although Father had to take care, for the bullet was indeed close to the nerve. One false move and Elliot could have been left with little or no feeling on his left side and perhaps, partial paralysis.

Father heaved a sigh of relief as the bullet was dropped into a tray along with the forceps and turned to close the wound.

"Father?" Vincent asked, when he finally emerged from surgery.

"He'll be all right eventually, Vincent, but he is rather ill. There's a great deal of infection, he's lost a lot of blood, but he's young and strong, he's a fighter; he should pull through."

"May I see him?"

"No, not for some time. We've brought him round from the anaesthetic and now he's sleeping. He's exhausted, Vincent. He must have been in pain all the time and the attacks would have been crippling. I've got Mary sitting with him at present; we'll keep him quiet for a few days."

The news travelled fast through the tunnels that Elliot was alive and here, Below, although his presence was kept secret from Diana Bennett. All knew of what he had done in saving Vincent's life on numerous occasions-Father's as well—and they wanted to meet him. Father of course, told them to be patient as he was not well enough to receive visitors and wouldn't be for several days.

Jamie offered to sit with Elliot to give Mary a break. It was on one of these occasions on Jamie's shift that Elliot decided to return to the land of the living. She became aware of a slight movement from him and immediately moved to stand by his bedside, ready to offer any assistance.

Elliot sighed. Faintly he could hear the steady sound of the tapping on the pipes. It was an unfamiliar noise and it made him fidget slightly. Then he became aware of a presence close by. Gradually he fought his way back to consciousness and slowly opened his eyes.

It took them a little while to focus on his strange surroundings. "J... JD?"

He turned his head and his heart dropped, for he found himself staring not at JD but at a very young woman with long hair, pulled back into a pony tail. Confused and disorientated, he panicked.

"JD!" He struggled, attempting to get out of bed but he found the movement hurt and also that he did not have the strength to do so. "JD!"

Jamie tried to calm him. "It's okay, everything's fine, you're all right." Her soothing words went unheeded, and he became more agitated. Jamie now wasn't quite sure what to do but was saved from further worry by the arrival of Vincent; Father on his heels.

Vincent went immediately to Elliot's bedside, placed his hands on his shoulders and held him still. "Elliot, it's all right, you're safe!"

At first, Elliot seemed neither to hear or even see him and continued to struggle.

"Elliot!" It was almost a shout, but it worked. The pale eyes focused on those of sapphire; the wild look faded.

"Vin... Vin-cent..." He made a desperate grab for his hand and held onto it tightly to gain reassurance; strength. Gradually the heaving of his chest eased, and he relaxed slightly.

Father came up on the other side of the bed and placed a hand on his forehead, frowning at the heat he felt there.

"Elliot," Vincent tried to attract his attention. "You're safe, you're amongst friends. Rest and get well."

"I'm going to give him a shot of antibiotics. His temperature is way up," Father said quietly. "Jamie, please go and get Mary, tell her to set up another I.V."

"Yes, Father."

Vincent frowned at him. "Father?" he questioned.

"He'll be all right; post-operative shock, that's all," the older man replied.

Mary arrived with Jamie and set up the drip as requested, then Father administered the injection.

Elliot gradually drifted off to sleep again, but Vincent stayed with him until he was sure everything was all right.

He was more lucid the next time he awoke, again to find the same young woman as before, beside his bed. She smiled nervously at him.

"Hi, welcome back," she said softly.

He smiled weakly at her.

"I'm Jamie. Can I get you anything?"

"S-some water?" His voice was but a whisper.

"I'll have to check with Father, but I'm sure that'll be fine. Don't go away!" Eagerly she ran off to give Father the good news.

Elliot used the time to survey his surroundings. Now he understood why Cathy had fought tooth and nail to stop the tower project; it would have left Vincent, Father and all the others, homeless. He still hoped in his heart, to build it one day, but he'd make sure it didn't interfere with those Below. His observations were interrupted when Jamie returned with Father.

"Elliot; how are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you."

Father checked his temperature again and turned to Jamie.

"Jamie, would you be so kind as to get Elliot some of William's excellent vegetable soup and some water, thank you."

"I'm not really hungry," Elliot whispered.

"Nonsense! You've got to regain your strength. Now, I want to make sure you get plenty of rest; so that means no visitors."

Jamie returned at this moment with a steaming bowl of soup, some bread and the water. Father took the latter and handed it to Elliot along with a couple of pills.

You're to have two of these, every eight hours for the next seven days. I'll leave you in Jamie's capable hands." He turned to the young woman. "I expect him to clear that bowl," he ordered and then left.

"Don't worry Father, I'll make sure he does!" she called out after him.

Elliot spent his first week in the tunnels mainly sleeping and resting. During this time, Vincent took himself off after Gabriel, after receiving an urgent message from Diana that his son was ill and dying. Both knew it was a trap, but the part about his son was true. Vincent had felt it and had to go, if he wanted to save his life. Thus Elliot missed all the excitement of Vincent's triumphant return with Catherine's child and the naming ceremony which Father decided he was not well enough to attend.

The wound at last began to heal properly with the aid of the correct medication and he was moved into his own small chamber, furnished with gifts from the other tunnel dwellers. The pain that had been his constant companion began to fade and then, one morning, he woke to find that it had gone altogether and it felt wonderful.

However, with the loss of that thudding ache which had dulled his thinking, his mind began to churn over the events of the last few months and Elliot shuddered as the memories flashed through his mind. He inwardly cringed and began to withdraw into himself as the full realisation of what had happened finally hit him. He had lost everything; his career, his business, his reputation, his power, his wealth. Associates had been threatened, bought out, blackmailed or disappeared and the one man he dared to call friend, had been murdered as a dire warning. Even then he had still refused to believe and stubbornly (or was it foolishly?) carried on until...

Elliot turned over onto his side and curled up, pulling the bedclothes closer around him, creating a cocoon in which to hide. No more... he couldn't take any more... Strain... responsibility... relationships... deals... The mere thought of these words made his mind recoil with horror. All he wanted was to be left alone.

He succumbed to a restless sleep, only to be haunted by nightmares in which he got the blame for everything. Injunctions and warrants enveloped him; Gabriel harassed and cajoled him and, once again he gave in... anything to save his empire.

On the Compass Rose, Vincent stood waiting... He relived the scenario all over again. Once more, he felt his body convulse as the bullet pierced through the flak jacket into his back, but this time, Vincent didn't catch him and he hit the deck with a nerve jarring thud.

Somehow he managed to get onto his back and through a red mist, saw Vincent standing over him, fists clenched, fangs bared, growling softly.

"Vin-cent?"

"You vile degenerate," he hissed, his eyes blazing wildly. "So now we see your true colours. Your word means nothing! Catherine trusted you and you have betrayed her name... Now you will pay for your sins..." He began to advance, arm slowly rising, claws at the ready to administer the killing blow.

Elliot began to edge away from him, scrabbling weakly on the deck. "Vincent, no... you don't understand..." He was aware of his voice rising; of panic setting in as Vincent came closer and a deep snarl issued from his lips. "Vincent! Listen to me... Vincent...!" The clawed hand began its descent. "Vincent! NOOO!"

Elliot jerked awake as something landed on his chest. His eyes shot open, and he went rigid as Vincent's concerned face filled his vision. The weight resting on his sternum he discovered was the big man's clawed hand. Perspiration stood out on Elliot's brow, and he fought to get every single breath he took into his lungs.

"Elliot, you were having a nightmare. Relax." The voice was soft, soothing. "Relax, everything is all right; believe me." He could feel the taut, trembling body beneath his hand and his compassion went out to his friend. He knew he was feeling very lost and alone in this strange place. It would take getting used to, but he also had to be made to understand that he really was amongst friends; people who would help him.

"Vin-cent... I—" His voice was almost hoarse with fear and he couldn't continue.

"It's all right, Elliot. You're safe and amongst friends. Now try to get some rest. Tomorrow, if you feel up to it, I'll show you around the main tunnels so you can begin to orientate yourself."

Elliot settled down again; Vincent's soft voice having a soothing, calming effect on him and gradually he succumbed to sleep once again. Vincent studied him for a while then satisfied, quietly got up and left, deep in thought.

The following morning, after breakfast, they embarked on a brief tour of the surrounding area which included the Pipe Chamber, the Mirror Pool, the Chamber of the Winds and the Great Falls. Vincent told him about the various places they visited, plus useful information and also warnings about getting lost. Elliot nodded now and again but said very little. He seemed rather subdued and when the tour finished, briefly thanked Vincent for taking the time to show him around and promptly excused himself, disappearing along the tunnels leaving Vincent frowning after him.

Perhaps Elliot was going through a period of adjustment; yet he could sense—feel—something amiss, but he wasn't sure what it was, and it bothered him.

Vincent was not the only one to notice Elliot's behaviour. Although physically improving—albeit slowly—Father was becoming increasingly concerned about his mental attitude. The man Father saw—when he managed to get a glimpse of him—was not the same as the one Vincent had described to him. There was none of the vitality and charismatic aura that usually surrounded him. His strikingly pale eyes were haunted and devoid of any sparkle. He spoke very little, picked at his food and generally kept himself to himself.

As each day passed, he grew more gaunt and haggard and finally Vincent become so worried he approached Father early one morning after William had grumbled that he thought Elliot didn't like his cooking as he hardly ever touched his food.

"Father, may I speak with you?" Vincent stood on the threshold of his study.

"Of course, Vincent. Come in and sit down." He paused whilst his son made himself comfortable in a chair opposite him before continuing. "Now, what's the problem?"

"I'm very worried about Elliot; he looks... terrible. His soul is in torment—it's such a tangible thing, I can feel it... Such pain and anguish, closing in around him, choking him. How can I help to ease it? If I don't do something, I'm sure he'll... he'll die."

Father removed his spectacles and put them down on the table; formulating his thoughts before speaking.

"Elliot Burch is a very complex man. He has created himself; created everything around himself and it was something he enjoyed doing—like a work of art. Now all that is gone; destroyed in the most brutal manner. On top of that he was almost killed. The best way to describe it is, traumatic shock. Police officers often suffer the same thing after being wounded, but with Elliot it's worse because he thought he was indestructible. He thought his empire was strong enough to withstand any obstacle or threat—and he was wrong."

"Then he is feeling the same as I did when I lost Catherine?" Vincent whispered.

Father nodded. "After a fashion. The love of his life was what he created around him; now he has nothing. What Elliot needs is something to spark his interest in life; he needs a reason for... being. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it gives him the incentive to start living again. And yes, you're right, if we don't find something, he will die."

Vincent nodded in understanding. To spark Elliot's interest in life again he would first need to attract his attention. They had left him alone long enough—perhaps too long. It was time for some serious heart searching; man-to-man conversations and, if necessary, Vincent was prepared to lay his soul completely open...

"Thank you for your time, Father." He got up and walked thoughtfully towards the stairs.

"Vincent!" Father called out to him. "Be careful! Push too hard and he may go over the edge."

"I'll be careful."

He made his way to Elliot's chamber, only to find it empty. Obviously, his quarry had gone walkabout again. Vincent knew he could be anywhere and was just about to leave and send a message down the pipes to see if anyone knew of his whereabouts when he had an idea, borne out of the strange feelings he was picking up. He knew they did not emanate from him; but he had a growing suspicion about their origins.

He stood still, closed his eyes and focused his concentration into a tight halo around himself. The everyday tappings on the pipes and other noises faded into the distance, then, like a fine silken thread, indicating the way, Elliot's anguish reached out to him and urged him to follow it to its source, which he did.

Vincent finally found Elliot down by the Mirror Pool. He stood in the shadows for a while, watching the dejected figure throwing stones into the water, then observing and analysing the ripples as they flowed outwards from the epicentre.

He could literally feel Elliot's anguish and pain as a physical, tangible thing, eating away at his soul and Vincent's heart ached. Even though this once great man had been welcomed into their family Below, he knew Elliot was feeling isolated and alone; guilty and remorseful, but he couldn't understand why. What really amazed him though was the fact he was picking this up so clearly, almost as if they shared... dare he say it... a bond, of some kind.

Vincent could stand it no longer. He retreated slightly then re-emerged, making some noise as if to warn Elliot of his approach. He needn't have bothered; it seemed his friend still had not heard him.

"Elliot?" Vincent spoke in a soothing tone.

"Vincent." The voice was flat, almost lifeless.

"I've been looking for you. Do you mind if I join you?"

He took the shrug of the shoulders as an invitation and sat down beside him.

For a while neither spoke, but simply threw stones into the pool, listening to the 'plopping' sounds as they hit the water and watching the intricate patterns that were formed.

Vincent glanced at him, noting the haggard appearance and the unkempt beard. "Tell me what's wrong, Elliot. Let me help you," he said very quietly.

Elliot returned the glance self-consciously before quickly looking away. He shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture, looked up; blinked several times, then looked down again. Finally, he dared to look back at Vincent, seeing only concern in the blue eyes.

"How can you bear to have me here, or have me near you?" The voice was choked.

Vincent cocked his head to one side. "Why should I not?" he queried.

"Vincent, my greed, my ambition made me succumb to Gabriel! I listened to him; believed him, until I hated you. I was going to betray you! How can you even think of trusting me... with all this? With your friendship?"

"Because I think I understand you now. Once I thought I never would, you are such a complex character; but you're a human being, just like everyone else. You have your good points and your not so good ones... and..." he paused, searching for the right words. "...you didn't understand, but now you do. I saw the realisation in your eyes, Elliot."

"I used to think I was a pretty reasonable member of the human race, but now I'm not so sure. I hate myself, Vincent, because of what I was; what I've done."

"Don't."

"I can't help it. Do you know, the way I'm feeling right now, I wish I were dead! May be it would be better for everybody, then—"

Vincent gripped his arm tightly. "Don't - ever - say - that," he said forcefully, stressing every word.

"But anyone I care about always gets hurt or—"

"That's no excuse for wishing your own death! Life is the most sacred of all things, Elliot... no matter how harsh or wretched it seems... it's not always as black as you think! I can name several people who would not want you to do anything as final as that."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Me, Father and what about this JD you mentioned, who looked after you? Do you think she would want to read a paper and find out about your death?"

That remark, Vincent noted, had the desired effect. Elliot suddenly looked up; his eyes wide with the realisation that he never ever wanted her to read something like that about him—anywhere. He fixed Vincent with a stare and their eyes bored into each other, as they searched one another's souls; their inner most thoughts.

"God, listen to me!" Elliot laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. "What the hell's wrong with me? I'm supposed to be a fighter; a survivor and here I am, feeling sorry for myself!"

"Father says you're traumatised—a delayed reaction to the shooting—and it's perfectly normal. Wounded police officers go through the same thing. You'll recover, it just takes time."

"I can feel it, in here—" Elliot indicated his chest, "—getting tighter and tighter; trying to choke me and... I feel I want to scream."

"Then do it; it will release the pressure and you'll feel better."

"At other times, I... I want to bawl my eyes out."

"Then do that too. It's nothing to be ashamed of. A man who is not afraid to show his emotions is a brave one... not a weakling. I see nothing 'manly' in conforming to how we've been brought up; what's been instilled and lectured to us as we grow, telling us how a man should behave emotionally, denying the true self within..." Vincent paused, then admitted, "If it will help to make you feel better... I've cried."

"You, Vincent? I can't believe it, you're so... strong."

"It's true."

Elliot looked carefully at him. "Yes," he said after a while. "I can see it is... by your eyes."

"Stop living a façade, Elliot. It's not natural and it's not you! Let go and be yourself! Show me the real Elliot Burch, not this veiled figure you hold out like a shield before you!"

Elliot wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged them tightly as he stared out across the pool, every muscle in his body taut as a wire, ready to snap.

Vincent could see the battle going on within him; fighting the morals and values instilled in him since birth, against what he felt and needed. He gently moved a clawed hand to his shoulder and squeezed it briefly in a reassuring manner.

Almost, as if it were a signal, Elliot began to tremble violently. He bowed his head to rest it on his knees and Vincent sighed in relief as the emotions that had been bottled up for so long were finally released.

Feeling quite choked himself, Vincent shifted slightly and, with tears rolling down his own cheeks, pulled Elliot against him and hugged him as a brother.

"It's all right, Elliot, really it is," he whispered, his own voice hoarse with emotion.

They stayed as they were for what seemed like hours. Even Vincent, with his usually accurate internal clock wasn't quite sure how long it had been. All he knew was Elliot was quiet now, resting against him and he was gently stroking the hair on the bowed head.

Then, the moment was broken as Elliot tensed and straightened up, back in control of himself and his emotions. Vincent didn't say anything, he had the impression his friend was a little ashamed and embarrassed about the emotional outburst, regardless of the fact it had been necessary, to preserve his state of mind.

"If you feel up to it, I have someone I would like you to meet," the gravelly voice stated hesitantly.

Elliot cleared his throat, he wasn't quite sure his voice would be steady, or even work at all. "W-who?" he finally asked.

"Ah, that's a surprise." Vincent became very mysterious as he got to his feet and reached out a hand to offer assistance to his friend.

"Okay."

Vincent smiled secretly to himself. Elliot's inborn curiosity had obviously got the better of him, that was a start at least. Now all Vincent had to do was get that incredible vitality and drive back and they would be almost there.

He led his friend back towards the main body of chambers then branched off and led the way to the nursery. "Wait here, I won't be long."

Elliot did as he asked, and watched as Vincent went to a cradle and lifted a small bundle, staring in wonder at how gently he handled the infant.

"You got the baby from Gabriel! How...?"

"With help from Diana Bennett. She killed Gabriel... with Catherine's gun."

"That seems a bit like fair justice..." Though not nearly enough for that bastard, Elliot finished to himself.

"Elliot, I'd like you to meet Jacob. Jacob Elliot Wells." Vincent gave the baby to Elliot, who fumbled a little uncertainly. He had never held a baby before!

"Jacob Elliot?" he queried, looking a little awkward and uncomfortable, holding something so precious as this in his arms. "Vincent... I - I don't know what to say. I'm... honoured, thank you."

"Jacob, I'd like you to meet your Godfather, Elliot Burch."

The baby responded by waving a tiny fist about.

"Godfather, but Vincent, I have nothing to offer him..."

"You have your friendship, your support. You are someone he can turn to for advice, guidance; be there for him, that is all I ask."

Elliot swallowed convulsively, aware that his vision was blurring with unshed tears: tears of joy for the complete trust Vincent was giving him. "I won't let either of you down, know that," he replied quietly, gazing intently at the infant.

In reply, Jacob made a grab for his beard, but missed.

"I see I shall have to watch you, young man!"

"He loves hair as well," Vincent remarked, remembering how Jacob had grabbed his that morning and given it a good tug.

Elliot grinned. "I'll remember that, thank you for the warning!" Carefully, he handed Jacob back so Vincent could put him back in the cradle. "Oh Vincent, why did it take me so long? I have such a lot of lost time to make up for."

"You have much to look forward to now, as well," the big man replied putting an arm around his shoulders to give him a brief, brotherly hug. "You can do a lot for us and yourself down here and, when you are ready to return Above, we will help you."

"Knowing I have friends that will support me, means more than you can imagine. I think though, it's time I started to earn my keep, what can I do to help?"

Vincent smiled; his ploy had worked. "Well, let's see... you had better take things easy for a while, your wound has only just healed and you've suffered restricted mobility... Why don't I show you the plans of the tunnels that we have, and our intended repair and expansion schedule. Your expertise will be of great value."

"Okay, lead on, you have my undivided attention."

Vincent spent what was left of the morning showing Elliot the maps and plans of the tunnels. They had taken over Father's study and maps and plans were strewn all over the table and floor. Elliot looked at them critically and decided some needed replacing and that they should be stored differently, so they would last longer.

Spotting a small chamber on the plan, he dragged Vincent off to take a look and decided he wanted to transform it into a Map and Plan Chamber, complete with a large design table to work on and a proper storage facility. Also, on one wall, he wanted to paint a rough plan of the tunnels for quick reference.

Vincent took him to see Cullen, so Elliot could explain exactly what he wanted and then they went in search of Mouse, deciding that if anyone could find an architects design table, he could! If not, Cullen was sure he could make one.

It took a few weeks to get everything organised. The small chamber that had been utilised for storage had to be cleared and somewhere else found for the things that had been removed. Tunnel repairs came first, so Cullen worked on the special hanging cabinet for the maps and plans in his spare time, with Elliot giving him a hand. And yes, somehow—though no one dared ask—Mouse found a table. It needed repairing, but to Mouse, it was child's play.

A helper provided suitable paper, architects linen and the necessary pens, pencils and ink. Elliot hid himself away in the new chamber, replacing torn maps and plans, cataloguing, cross referencing and labelling everything clearly so that he was able, within seconds, to put his hands on any map or plan requested.

Many a time, people would wander past late at night, or early in the morning and see a candle burning and they began to wonder... did the man never sleep?

Everyone was delighted that Elliot was out of his depression, but then they began to worry that maybe he was working too many long hours. Vincent reassured them that Elliot was fine. He had the bit between his teeth again and was enjoying every moment. The sparkle in the pale eyes clearly confirmed this and people were caught up in his enthusiasm—even though it was exhausting!

Weeks turned into months, the sketches appeared on the wall, a few chairs, a book case with relevant books on maps, chart making and designing were added along with some rag carpets, a few ornaments and the room was completed.

Yes, things had certainly stepped up a pace since Elliot had recovered...