Chapter Five
Vincent approached Elliot's chamber, but at the last minute his courage seemed to desert him, and he stopped, undecided about whether to proceed or not; then realised he had no reason to be so doubtful. Over the past few months, the two men had bared their souls to each other—there were few secrets left between them now. They understood one another and had forged some kind of empathic bond. Vincent needed to talk about the unrest he felt; about the strange sensations that overcame him, and he knew Elliot would understand more than anyone.
Mind made up, he called out softly, but confidently. "Elliot, are you there?"
"Come on in, Vincent," came the muffled reply and Vincent entered to find Elliot struggling into a black laced-up shirt. Somehow, he'd got the sleeves tangled and his head hadn't found the neck opening.
"You are worse than the children!" Vincent teased as he untangled the mess and helped Elliot out of his predicament, ignoring the grin on his friend's face. "Hmm..." He stood back, analysing Elliot's appearance. All in black, his hair ruffled by the recent struggle... "Black...? You look positively..."
"...medieval?" Elliot prompted, hopefully.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Are you starting a new fashion?"
"No... I guess you could say I'm giving in to a romantic whim."
Vincent smiled and shook his head. He knew that somewhere in that reply was a full explanation; but he'd save those questions until later.
"Is there something I can do for you? Something wrong?"
"I'm not sure."
"Sounds like this is going to be a long session; sit down and make yourself comfortable. Do you want some tea or something?" Elliot asked, flopping down onto his bed as Vincent made himself comfortable in the chair.
"No, thank you..." He paused as he steepled his hands together in thought, his intense blue eyes looking nowhere as he concentrated. Then he took a deep breath. "Elliot, something is happening."
Elliot didn't say anything, but simply raised his eyebrows, prompting Vincent to go on.
"Sometimes I feel... I am not myself..."
Elliot continued to wait.
"... It's almost as if I'm seeing someone else's thoughts and feelings. I know they are not yours; the images are wrong, and the feeling is... different, it's almost as if this person is..."
"...fighting to be free," Elliot finished quietly.
Vincent looked at him sharply.
"You're perfectly all right one minute and the next, you're somewhere else; in a stark white room, or a leafy glade, or..."
"Yes! But how... how did you know? Are you saying that you too are suffering this?"
"Kind of, though not as intensely as you. It threw me a few times at first—it's a bit like getting a cross connection on the telephone, but it's all in your mind. I thought I was just sickening for something at first, because I came over dizzy and disorientated, then the feelings became more intense, and I saw that you were affected too. I thought you were going through some kind of... adjustment. But if it's not you... then... who?"
Vincent shrugged his shoulders and got up, feeling restless. "I don't know, but I don't like it. I feel as if I'm not in control anymore." He turned to face Elliot. "We were lucky the other day in that tunnel, we recovered in time to stop the lot collapsing on us, but who's to say what we'll be doing on the next occasion. Someone could get hurt or... killed; Elliot and I don't know what to do about it. I've been turning it over and over in my mind, trying to fathom it out."
"Me too. On the other hand... maybe we're trying too hard. You know, sometimes if you really want something and you go for it, you go too hard, you put too much effort into it and as a result it always stays just out of reach."
"So, you're saying, the next time it happens, I shouldn't try to see; just take the images as they come and maybe I'll find my answer?"
"Yes. These images, they are becoming more intense, aren't they?"
Vincent nodded. "It will be very hard for me, I do not like being out of control. My strength, my power if unleashed..."
"I understand that, but it hasn't made you do anything violent yet, has it?"
"No... but... Elliot, you have to understand, when I lose control, it's as if the dark side of me is released. You know what I am capable of; you've seen it."
"I don't know what else to suggest, Vincent. Either way, you have a fight on your hands. Perhaps, if we can fathom out the answer, then it will stop, or we'll understand the reason and it'll be something that's acceptable to you."
"And if it isn't?"
Elliot opened his mouth and closed it again. What could he say to alleviate his friend's fears? The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, then finally, he spoke. "Then we cross that bridge when—or if—we come to it." He knew it wasn't much comfort, but it was the best he could do. "Remember, Vincent, I'm here if you need me. Together we can crack it."
Vincent turned away, as if to leave and Elliot got up from where he was sitting, upset that he had failed to reassure his friend.
"I'm sorry. I haven't done very well, have I?" he said quietly.
Vincent turned at this and walked back towards him. "You are helping, just by being here, my friend." He held out his hand and Elliot took it without hesitating. "Are you ready for breakfast?"
"I could eat a horse... I wonder where that saying came from?" Elliot half mumbled to himself, then frowned at the fact that such an odd thing should pop into his head.
Vincent did laugh at that, let go of his hand and turned to lead the way. As he did so, the full sleeves of his shirt caught the edge of the cabinet and Elliot's sketch pad fell onto the floor.
"My apologies," Vincent said, bending down to pick it up. As he did so, curiosity got the better of him and he opened it. A portrait of himself stared back. "Elliot... I didn't realise you were so gifted..." he said and quickly turned to the next one, which was of Father, then Mary, William, Mouse, some of the children and finally, one of a woman he didn't know. "This is JD, I assume?"
Elliot felt rather self-conscious. He hadn't expected anyone to ever look at his work. "Yes," he finally answered. "Yes, it is."
"She's very beautiful."
"I don't think I've really done her justice."
"You underestimate yourself. To produce work such as this, from memory is a talent indeed."
Elliot stood beside him and looked down at the portrait. "The year before I went to university was pretty rough at home. My father didn't want me to go; he'd got me a job lined up at the docks... the arguments we had... the fights... with mom caught in between. I dropped out of school deciding that I needed to make money, I didn't want to spend my entire life on the docks, so I volunteered for odd jobs and when the weather was good, I'd hang out where the tourists were and draw portraits and stuff like that... Mom found out what I was doing. My home room teacher sent her a letter about my conspicuous absence, and we had a real heart-to-heart. In the end, I only worked on the docks for the summer and started university in the fall... I quite enjoyed that period in a way, I was curious to see if I could turn my hand to other forms of art, rather than buildings and I could. It helped me earn money all the way through to my first proper job.
"Being down here, relaxed... I was curious to see if I could still do it. I guess I can... but it's been years..."
"I hope you will continue to draw, Elliot," Vincent said, carefully closing the sketch pad and putting it back down. "Now... breakfast. We have a lot to do today..."
Vincent noted, with growing concern that as the weeks passed, those disturbing events appeared to be increasing in intensity. So far, they had not caused him to have any serious accidents, but he took precautions by always ensuring someone was with him. He knew Elliot was feeling some kind of side effect, probably due to the development of the empathy between them. So far, neither had said anything about their feelings to anyone, not even Father.
Both knew the situation could not go on indefinitely, and Vincent had decided he would talk with Elliot that evening about what they should do next. For the moment though, they were attempting to sort out a route to take excess water away from the main chambers, but things did not seem to be going quite to plan.
Vincent, Elliot, Mouse and Cullen were studying the old, well-worn map, spread out on the floor.
"How old is this map?" Elliot asked no one in particular.
"It's hard to tell... it has seen better days," Vincent said.
"Map wrong," Mouse said helpfully.
"We've gathered that much," Cullen replied. "But how is it wrong?"
"Tunnel not run that way, it there," Mouse explained pointing to the map with a grubby finger. "Distance wrong too. I know."
The one thing Elliot had learned since his arrival, was that Mouse, although a rather strange individual in some ways, who had some crazy ideas that just would not work; when it came to locations of walls, tunnels and things like escape routes, usually turned out to be correct. "How do you know?" he asked the young man.
Mouse glanced at him a little nervously. Being the person responsible for attempting to sabotage the Tower site, Mouse had been very uncertain at meeting Elliot, but the developer had shrugged the incident off as past history. What was done was done, and nothing could change what had happened. Mouse had been grateful for his attitude and since then had confided all sorts of little secrets, tips and useful gadgets in Elliot's direction, thinking of him as a kindred spirit, as he too, liked to create things. In return, Elliot had given Mouse the sketch he had done of him, and this was now proudly displayed on the young man's chamber wall.
"Mouse know all this section. Explored lots. Just know. Angles all wrong, need lots of explosive to break through wall. Not good. Bad. Know a better way. Wall thinner here. Show you?"
"In a moment, Mouse," Vincent said. "It seems this map needs replacing. If this is wrong, how much more on here is incorrect?"
"Hell, I thought things were going too well," Cullen muttered. "We've spent most of the day following a suitable route and now this!"
Elliot stood up and stretched his aching back. How much rock have we got to blast through?" he asked Mouse.
"Forty feet, give or take."
"Forget it," Cullen said, "Let's go look at this other route."
"Not far," Mouse insisted. "Blast through, joins main waterway, no flooding."
"The water hasn't got to run uphill or anything, has it?" Vincent decided to ask, thinking back to a previous occasion.
"Mouse learnt lesson. All downhill! New route not on map. Need one from here."
Elliot groaned. "Okay, I'll get it," he said. "I'm sure the exercise will do me good! Just remind me next time to bring a larger surrounding area..." and with that he was gone.
It took him twenty minutes to reach the Map Chamber and just ten seconds to get the required chart. Why can't everything be this easy? he thought as he left the chamber.
He walked briskly along, then suddenly stopped. The tunnel was starting to move, and he had the most peculiar feeling in his head. It only took him a few seconds to realise that Vincent was having another vision. Only this one seemed very strong indeed and even Elliot found himself struggling to keep a perspective on his surroundings.
Father came round the corner. "Elliot, are you all right?" He placed a steadying hand on his arm.
"I... I've got to reach Vincent," he mumbled, lurching away from the support of the tunnel wall.
"Why, what's happened? Is he ill, hurt?" Father demanded, but Elliot was groping his way along, leaving Father struggling to keep up.
As he approached the rendezvous point, he heard growling, and Cullen and Mouse came to meet him.
"Elliot, don't go any closer, Vincent's gone crazy! He was fine one moment and then he clutched his head and started staggering around... You can't get close. We've tried talking to him, but he doesn't seem to hear us!" Cullen said.
"It's all right, I know what's happening," Elliot reassured him, having difficulty in distinguishing what he was saying exactly. "Where is he?"
"In that chamber over there."
"Right, I'm going in." He handed the map to Cullen.
"Elliot! Be careful!" This was Mouse.
Elliot straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked towards the chamber entrance. Inside he could see Vincent growling and pacing, clutching his head, as if in pain. Knowing he was taking his life in his hands, Elliot slipped inside and stood quietly for a few moments, trying to figure out a way of reaching his friend. If they could just fathom out where these visions were emanating from, they'd be halfway there, he was sure. He frowned in concentration, but got nowhere, then remembered his own words. Maybe we're trying too hard...
Forcing himself to ignore Vincent's growling, he attempted to relax and let his mind drift away, to float towards the source. Not really knowing what he was doing, or if he indeed he was going the right way about it, he floundered around, seemingly getting nowhere; until he latched on to fleeting images that flashed by too quickly for him to grasp.
"Vincent?" he whispered, "can you see them? Can you see these images?" He tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. "I can't quite get a fix on them, maybe you can... if you can just relax and let them wash over you... Can you try?"
Vincent whirled in his direction, eyes blazing, snarling.
"It really will be all right," Elliot continued, "Just relax, breathe deeply, let you mind wander, and you'll see them..."
Vincent advanced towards him still snarling. Elliot was vaguely aware of this and broke out in a cold sweat, but he didn't move, just continued to talk.
"I'm not your enemy, my friend, I'm trying to help you..."
His broad figure was mere feet away, the hands raised, the claws poised to strike.
Oh my God, this is it... Elliot thought, as Vincent's weapons of destruction began the downward descent. His eyes widened, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion; beyond the claws the visions slowed down, became clearer and then the total, unbelievable truth dawned on him. "Oh God... Vincent! Vincent! It's Catherine! Do you hear me, it's Cath - "
Elliot's cry was broken off by a grunt as at the last split second before impact, his words penetrated Vincent's mind and he instinctively balled his hands into fists to stop himself from ripping Elliot's chest wide open. Instead, they landed on his sternum and shoved him back hard against the cavern wall, knocking the breath out of him.
Vincent's own sapphire eyes widened in realisation as his mind registered the facts of what he was feeling... a bond of a different kind. "Cath... Catherine...?" he gasped. This seemed too much for him to bear and his legs collapsed under him. Somehow, Elliot managed to catch him and offer him support as Vincent attempted to get his breathing going again.
"Come on, Vincent, you can do it!" Elliot grunted, finding his weight a strain. "Vincent! Come on!" He shook him for good measure and was rewarded with a shuddering sigh from his shocked friend.
The bowed head came up, the deep blue eyes were filled with unshed tears. "It... it's Cath - Catherine," Vincent finally said.
Elliot nodded, his own eyes brimming. "Y-yes," he managed to say, before his voice broke.
They stood there, hugging one another for a number of minutes, trying to get themselves back under control, then Vincent stiffened.
"Elliot..." his eyes were full of wonder. "Elliot, she's coming home! She's coming home!" He straightened up, grabbed Elliot by an arm and literally dragged him out of the cavern, past a stunned Mouse and Cullen and through the tunnels, thundering along as if the devil himself was pursuing them.
Elliot had no time to think, but just did the best he could to keep up with Vincent's incredibly long strides, not sure what to think, except that really, it just couldn't be true, could it?
"Wait! Vincent, Elliot, what's happening?" Father demanded, just arriving on the scene.
Vaguely, though he couldn't be sure, he thought he heard Elliot shout the name, "Catherine!"
They arrived breathless at the tunnel entrance in time to see two figures approaching, slowly and cautiously. Instinctively they both drew back into the shadows and then gingerly peered out. In the twilight, Elliot found it difficult to identify who the strangers were, but he was aware of Vincent tensing; every muscle in his body going taut; stretched like piano wire.
"What's wrong?" he hissed, suddenly concerned.
Vincent swallowed convulsively. "It... it's Catherine!" came the breathless, almost agonised reply.
"W-what! A-are you sure?" Elliot suddenly found himself shaking. Was it with trepidation in case Vincent turned out to be wrong? Or was it that he was actually allowing himself to feel fear, instead of fighting it? He was cautious. If it was Catherine, then who was that with her? Was it Vincent's half-brother, Devin? He reached out and gripped Vincent's arm firmly, in an effort to instil calmness. His companion turned his head and gazed at him in hope, joy and then, in realisation. Vincent smiled slightly and nodded his head.
"Thank you, Elliot," was all he said, before returning his attention to the two figures who were now much closer.
Suddenly, they stopped and one of them straightened up.
"Vincent?"
Her voice was unmistakable. Vincent collapsed against the tunnel wall, his head back, legs weak, breathing great heavy sobs. The voice... the voice he thought never to hear again! He was overcome.
"Vincent? Are you there?"
His head jerked round to watch her approach the entrance alone. Elliot shook him in an effort to release him from his paralysis. It took a few moments, then Vincent pulled himself upright.
"Wait here for us, Elliot... please," he whispered before moving to make himself visible.
Time seemed to stand still, then in what seemed like slow motion, they moved towards each other; darkness and light; meeting, enveloping each other in an all-consuming love.
"Cath - Catherine, I - I never thought to—" He couldn't carry on.
"Just hold me... tight... tighter!" she gasped into his chest and he willingly obliged, before their lips met and everything else around them ceased to be.
Finally, he looked up and saw Devin smiling. "Devin, I thank you with all my heart for finding Catherine and bringing her home. Please come Below, Father would love to see you."
Devin shook his head. "This is a flying visit, Vincent. I've left Charles alone up at the cabin, I don't like leaving him too long. Tell Father I send my love and that I'll be back for a proper visit. I hope you'll be very happy together. Bye." He waved self-consciously before turning away and walking back up the grassy slope.
From his hiding place in the tunnel, Elliot watched the proceedings with interest; overjoyed for the couple and their newfound happiness, yet at the same time, feeling crushed and heart broken. He could see now, for himself, that everything Catherine had told him really had been true. There was no possibility; there was someone else and that was Vincent—of that there was no doubt. He had lost the battle for Catherine, and he had to accept the defeat with dignity; but with it came an overwhelming sense of loss. As their joy grew, his despair and grief intensified. He was surrounded by a family, but totally alone, as he had been before, only this time, it was worse, because the Elliot of the old days had only cared about himself. Now there were others. Choked, he turned away to flee...
"...There is someone staying with us who you'll know very well. Come..." Vincent led her towards the achingly familiar tunnels and, before Elliot could move, Catherine, beautiful, serene Cathy, stood before him.
"Elliot?"
Her voice seemed to caress his name. He was struck dumb by a gigantic lump in his throat that seemed intent on choking him.
Catherine watched the myriad of expressions travel across his face: the pleasure, the love; pain, sadness and grief; all visible in those pale blue eyes.
She held out her arms, but he couldn't move. He was scared that if he did, she would disappear, and he would wake up from some dream... or was it a nightmare?
Understanding his shock, she closed the gap between them and flung her arms around him.
"Elliot! I'm so glad you're safe! I was terrified they would come after you because of that book!"
He closed his eyes, and his arms automatically encircled her, crushing her body against his. He buried his head in her shoulder as the tears came.
Vincent stood back, waiting and watching. He let Elliot have this brief moment; it was a small price to pay, when he and Catherine had the rest of their lives together, with their son.
With an incredible effort, Elliot straightened up and drew back, swallowing convulsively in an effort to say something—anything! "W-welcome back," he finally managed to croak, then shifted his gaze to Vincent, thanking him for the moment, with his eyes.
Vincent came forward and wrapped a brotherly arm around his shoulders. This action did not go unnoticed by Catherine, and she made a mental note to find out all the details later.
"We all have a lot to talk about," she began. "But later. For now, I'd like to rest, please. I've had a long, tiring journey."
"Of course," Vincent said, wrapping his other arm around her. He glanced back towards the entrance one last time. "Father would have liked to have seen Devin."
"He couldn't stay; he just wanted to make sure I got back safely."
They made their way back down Below to a reception committee that had been alerted by the lookouts.
"Please, everyone, Catherine is exhausted from her journey. There will be plenty of time to meet and talk," Vincent said.
"Yes, of course," Father replied, straightening up from giving her a hug. "Come on everybody, leave them alone. I'm sure Catherine will answer all your questions later." He stood aside to be level with Elliot and watched as his son and 'daughter-in-law' disappeared into their chamber, before shifting his gaze to the man at his side, who stood tall and straight and heartbroken. Gently, he reached out and took his arm. "Would you join me for tea, Elliot?"
The pale blue eyes refocused on the older man. "Thank you, Father, but no, I ... I have some work to finish." He smiled gallantly and disappeared in the direction of his own chamber, leaving a concerned Father staring after him.
Vincent and Catherine had been alone for all of three seconds when Mary arrived, carrying an agitated and impatient bundle in her arms.
"I thought—" she began, then fell silent as Catherine uttered a cry and rushed forward to take him from her and hug him tight.
"Our son! Vincent, our son!"
"Yes. Jacob. Jacob Elliot Wells."
Catherine straightened abruptly. "Jacob Elliot?"
"Yes. When you are rested, I will tell you everything. So much has happened... to all of us."
"I know. I know."
"I'll bring some tea, then leave you in peace," Mary said.
"Thank you, thank you so much for looking after him..." It was all too much to take in and Catherine began to cry.
"Catherine!"
"It - it's all right. I-I'm just so happy!"
Mary was as good as her word and returned to deliver their tea. Vincent, Catherine and baby Jacob settled down on the bed to take refreshment and to be in one another's arms, remaining like so for a number of hours in blissful slumber.
In fact, it was the following day before they surfaced to a quiet breakfast. Placing Jacob in his cot, Catherine turned to Vincent.
"I want to tell you all I remember now; get it out of the way, once and for all."
"Then come; sit and tell me."
The story was long and painful as Catherine recountered her experiences—as she remembered—from the time of her kidnapping; what Gabriel had done to her; the lies he had told; his cold calculating inhumanity...
"The last thing I remember clearly was looking into your beautiful face then, I became detached, floating above two people. I was angry because you wouldn't look up. I was up above you so I couldn't understand how I could also be in your arms. I thought it was someone else.
"This feeling of being separate lasted for what seemed like eternity, then I was back inside, but I was trapped in a body that was incapable of doing anything. In my mind I could see, speak, hear, feel, touch; but my body couldn't. I know it sounds crazy, but that's what it was like. I thought I was still... still me... but—" she tossed her head in remembered frustration and anger; her voice shaking with emotion.
"I was in some kind of rest home, surrounded by trees; in the mountains and I kept thinking how beautiful it was and how much you would like it; yet to everyone outside and around me, I was a lifeless vegetable, incapable of doing even the most simple of things.
"I don't know how long it lasted, but eventually the paralysis was broken by... a squirrel. Because I sat so still, it got curious and came to investigate. It was so close I could almost reach out and touch it. Then, something frightened it; something hidden in the trees."
She paused to take a sip of her tea, her voice already going hoarse, but it had to be told; every grim and grisly detail, as well as the joy of her eventual rescue.
"It turned out to be Charles. I didn't know that at first; I was just aware of a presence—a kindly presence—but I couldn't see who it was. Then, when I finally did glimpse him, it was as if all my shackles had been broken and I was free. Only, because I had been immobile for so long, nothing would work. I still could not speak or move, but I could see, and I could use my mind and I silently cried out to him. He must have heard my plea; he must have understood, because the next day, Devin was with him.
"I didn't know if where I was, was a good place or not. All I knew was that I wanted to get out; but I was afraid if I started to recover, then something unpleasant would happen to me again, so I continued to play the role of the zombie, but tried to get myself mobile when I was alone.
"Again, I'm not sure how long passed before Devin got me out; kidnapped me. He nursed me, cared for me until I was fit enough to travel and then he brought me home to you... to Father and to our son!"
Vincent was stunned by the suffering she had undergone and by her strength of character.
"I want you to know that I don't think I would have made it without your teaching and support; how you made me find that inner strength I possessed, after the attack."
"Catherine..." They held one another close until little Jacob decided he wanted some affection too and began to wave his arms and legs about in an effort to attract their attention. It worked and they enclosed him in their circle of love too, before finally straightening up again and placing him back down on the bed between them.
"Now, tell me your story."
Vincent recountered everything: How he had nearly found her the first time; how he had failed the second and of the journey he had made, carrying her home and staying with her. He told her of his all-consuming grief at not being able to attend her funeral; of how he had been forced to turn to Elliot to help him in his search for their son.
"Not Joe?" Cathy interrupted.
"No. Although he loved you, Joe is a realist, Catherine. He sees things only in black and white; facts, not fantasy; good and evil. Without you there to guide and reassure him, I felt it would have taken Joe too long to accept me for what I am. Perhaps he never would have. Elliot, on the other hand, is an incurable romantic and we both know he loves you. His shades of grey allowed him to accept me, once he got over our initial meeting."
Cathy nodded in understanding. Yes, Joe dealt only in facts, the mind of a true lawyer. Elliot on the other hand, had his dreams and fantasies. It would have been easier for him, and the proof was there, for now it seemed they were like brothers.
"Gabriel tortured him too," Vincent continued, remembering the pain and agony he had seen in Elliot's eyes. "He took him apart, piece by piece; took everything he had built; all his dreams ... murdered innocent people, his friends; blackmailed others. But still Elliot kept searching, kept helping me. Gabriel kept on and on at him though, twisting the truth until Elliot began to believe that I was the cause of everything and if he joined forces with Gabriel and gave me to him, he would get everything back.
"But he couldn't do it. He loved you too much. He knew that in your memory he would be forever soiled and tarnished. He saw through Gabriel and almost died because of it. He took the bullet meant for me..." Vincent shuddered at the memory. "We were on a ship—one of our regular meeting places—and Gabriel blew it up. I got Elliot over my shoulder and jumped into the river to escape. We got separated and for weeks I thought I had lost my last ally in the fight to find my son; but he was washed up further down the shore and found by a woman who took him in and cared for him as best she could. He couldn't go to a hospital; the bullet wound would have resulted in a full report being passed to the police and he was a wanted man."
"But why?"
Vincent dropped his gaze. "Our third meeting took place at the carousel. Elliot was convinced there was one of Gabriel's men in the DA's office."
"Who, Vincent? Who?" Cathy urged, suddenly feeling cold and sick as the memory of her abduction came to the fore.
"Somehow they found out where Elliot was going. They didn't realise he was meeting me," he continued, seemingly ignoring he question. "To save Elliot, I had to kill..." He dared to look up at her. "I killed District Attorney Moreno."
"Yes... it was him!" Cathy whispered almost to herself.
"Elliot was not getting any better. He remembered that night at the docks when you led him through the tunnels and sent a message for me to come. Father operated and removed the bullet...
"Elliot and I have become very close, like brothers. He's a good man, Catherine, you'd like him now—"
"—I never disliked him, Vincent. He was just so... so..." She shrugged her shoulders in a helpless gesture.
"You'll like him even more now; perhaps as the brother you never had, because we've found the real Elliot Burch."
"I know... I can... sense it. I can... feel him..."
"Yes, our grief at your 'death' drew us together. We have developed a kind of bond and have a vague sense of what the other is feeling."
Catherine got up and began to pace the chamber. "Poor Elliot; he has lost everything! Not only his whole life's work, but... but he has lost me. All the while you were the unknown challenger, he felt he was in with a chance, but now..." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I - I can feel his joy for our happiness; for you and me and yet, I can sense an almost overwhelming grief and sorrow. Vincent, I never knew he felt... like that..." Tears began to flow down her cheeks. "We must do something to help him."
"Yes, I know, and we will..."
"How, Vincent? How?"
"I don't know, but we will need help... from someone Above. Perhaps between us, we will be able to think of something and clear Elliot's name..."
The subject of their conversation was sitting on his bed in his chamber, feeling numb with shock at the unexpected turn of events. Elliot had just about accepted the fact that Catherine Chandler was dead and now, suddenly, out of the blue, she was back! This time though, it was different: there was absolutely no possibility of a relationship between them because her love was clearly for Vincent. It always had been, he'd just been too stubborn and pig-headed to think that she could love anyone but him!
They could be good friends and nothing more. What worried him was the thought that being in such close proximity might prove too much of a strain on his control. Elliot decided the best thing he could do was keep as large a distance between them as possible...