Vincent watched silently as Jacob and Mary Catherine played in the park under Jamie's protection. Through his connection to them, he could feel their exuberance as they enjoyed the last remaining rays of the summer day. How he longed to run to them and share that.

"Mommy!" Jacob shouted suddenly.

Their extraordinary connection allowed him, as well as the children, to sense her presence before she was in sight. Vincent strained to catch sight of her.

The sight of her two young children enjoying the freedom of the park lifted her spirits beyond measure. She dropped her purse and briefcase as the two youngsters charged toward her.

From the opening of the drainage pipe, Vincent watched his children enfolded in their mother's loving and possessive embrace. He longed to be a part of that scene but knew the risks all too well. Painfully, he stood in the shadows and awaited his turn.

Catherine, Jacob, and Mary Catherine played a short-lived game of tag that erupted into a bad case of the giggles. Vincent leaned against the pipe wall and laughed at the unbounded joy he felt through their bond. Catherine was such a good mother because she had not forgotten what it was like to be a child.

The children continued to play as Catherine slipped discreetly into the drainage pipe. There, she found Vincent waiting with open arms and she practically threw herself into them. "I'm so glad to see you," she murmured into the cushion of his chest.

"And I... you. How is the trial going?" he asked.

She pulled back and looked up into his loving blue eyes. "Pretty good. We'll talk about it later. Right now, I want a kiss."

No further coaxing was necessary for Vincent. But what started out as a simple hello kiss quickly became an arousing, passionate one. "Catherine..." he stammered.

"I know," she sighed. "It has been a long time."

She was right. He couldn't remember exactly how many days had passed since the last time they had made love. He did know, however, that it was some time before her pre-trial work on this murder case. Since their marriage, their sex life seemed to ebb and flow in direct relationship to her court workload. 'Oh well,' he mused. 'It was the price he paid for falling for a lawyer.'

"I am truly looking forward to a quiet evening with my family."

"Quiet? This family?"

"Maybe I should rephrase that," Catherine amended.

After an evening filled with stories, messy baths, and scattered toys, Catherine retreated to her desk to finish up her notes. A couple of hours later, Vincent moved behind her and began rubbing her shoulders.

"You need to rest, Catherine," he said softly as he leaned down to nuzzle her soft hair.

"I don't think rest is what you have in mind."

"I admit my intentions are not entirely honorable--but I'm concerned about you. You can't do your best job if you don't get any sleep."

He knelt down by her side and took her hand. "This case really bothers you doesn't it?"

Turning to look into those expressive blue eyes, she couldn't resist the distraction. "When a seemingly normal eighteen year old brutally murders his own brother, yeah it bothers me. What really escapes me is why? And he shows no remorse or grief. I don't understand it."

"I have seen great cruelty in your world, but this..."

"Sometimes I wonder if the violence kids see on TV and in the movies today isn't part of the problem. Where do you draw the line between free speech and censorship? If gratuitous violence influences kids then when do film makers take responsibility for their actions? Or does the guilt lie solely within the weak minds of a few?"

"There are no easy answers, Catherine. I believe that violence, if glamorized, desensitizes people. They do not realistically deal with the consequences of their violent acts. In the pursuit of a bigger explosion or a greater body count, these film makers treat humanity as a--weakness- -as something to be denied."

He could feel how much this dilemma was troubling her. "Why don't you come to bed and get some rest."

"I think that's a good idea. I've done about all I can do right now anyway," she admitted then began stuffing papers into her briefcase. "There!"

He smiled then led her to the bedroom. But instead of the wildly passionate love-making he hoped for, Vincent had to settle for a little cuddling and a good night's sleep. Even that satisfied him, though. To be lying in their warm bed with Catherine safe by his side was more than enough to fulfill him--for a while anyway.

Two days later, Catherine sat in the courtroom staring into the jurors' faces trying to guess their verdict. No matter what their decision was, at least it would be over. She waited. On the outside, she looked calm and in control. On the inside, her stomach was churning.

Vincent was with Pascal in the pipe chamber discussing the recent revisions in their codes when he felt a sudden burst of joy and relief. "Catherine?" he questioned softly as he focused inward to the bond.

"What is it, Vincent? Is Catherine in trouble?"

"No," he responded. "I must go!" he stated quickly then turned and began running.

As soon as the decision was read, Catherine's heart almost leaped from her chest. It was all she could do to remain focused as the judge set a sentencing date and dismissed the jury. And the press... The corridor was packed with cameras and reporters as she and Joe exited the courtroom. Although she answered their questions politely, all she wanted to do was go to Vincent and have their own private celebration.

Through their miraculous connection, Vincent felt her wish to meet him in their special place. That small, out of the way alcove was the scene of many tender moments between them. It was located in a section of pipe that branched off from the Central Park threshold and was known only to a select few. There, he waited patiently.

After managing to get away from Joe and her fellow workers, Catherine made her way to Central Park. For the first time in weeks, she felt like singing. The uplifting sense of victory after one of these cases made all the sacrifices worth it. She began humming.

Meanwhile, Vincent was fighting the urge to meet her at the entrance way and engulf her in one of his most fierce embraces. No--she wanted to share her news with him in the privacy of their special place. He began pacing again.

Catherine entered the tunnel system and was greeted by the usual tapping sounds on the pipes. Smiling to herself as she walked, she hurried her steps.

Just when Vincent didn't think he could stand it much longer, Catherine entered the alcove. For a moment, they just stood there with their eyes locked in a silent gaze. Vincent's was hopeful. Catherine's was joyful.

Suddenly a smile virtually exploded on her face. "We won!" she exclaimed then ran into his arms.

The full force of her weight caught him off guard and he stumbled backward. "Catherine..." he laughed as he fought to balance them both.

She grabbed his vest and held on as he steadied them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You can knock me down any time. Tell me."

"It paid off, Vincent. All the hard work, long hours, and sacrifices put a murderer behind bars. It's over."

"You should be very proud, Catherine. You worked hard."

"Yes--it's moments like these that make me feel like I'm making a difference."

"You make a difference simply by being. What you mean to me and our children cannot be measured. Your love is the center of our universe."

"Gee--I must be pretty damn good!" Catherine responded playfully.

"You are," he laughed. "You definitely are."

"You're not so bad yourself. I mean not that many husbands would put up with my work the way you do. I'm not the only one making sacrifices. You sacrifice your own needs so that I CAN do my job. You look after the kids, you cook, clean, and give up sex. I don't think there's another man on earth who would go that far."

Vincent tilted his head in that endearing way of his as he sought to understand Catherine's statement. "If you love someone then you gladly do whatever is necessary to make that person happy. Catherine--your work is important and it is important to you. To see you so fulfilled, so exhilarated satisfies me in so many ways. Yes, I must often deny my physical desire for you but what we share is so much more than that."

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Catherine asked as she looked lovingly into his blue eyes and pulled him even closer.

"Not in ten days, fourteen hours, and forty-six minutes."

Catherine's jaw dropped in shock. "What did you do, write it down?"

"No. I just have this incredible sense of time."

"You don't have to tell me how good your timing is," she added.

Vincent blushed despite himself.

"Ten days, huh?"

"And fourteen hours and forty-seven minutes to be exact." He really had no idea, but was having a great deal of fun trying to convince her.

She smiled warmly then raised her face up to kiss him. The sudden feel of her soft lips and insistent tongue pressing against his mouth sent shock waves through him. His knees felt suddenly weak and his heart quickened its rhythm. Without hesitation, his arms tightened around her as he leaned into her passionate kiss.

As she pressed her body tightly against his, he could feel her breasts pushing into his chest and her stomach firmly nestled against his groin area. A white-hot flame of desire coursed through him. "Catherine..." he moaned.

"I know," she whispered as their lips once again sought each other. That kiss was only the prelude to what they both longed for so desperately.

Catherine's hands moved from his waist down to his buttocks where she squeezed playfully. The tension was building quickly. It was a tide neither wanted to stop.

His hands began to explore. They moved swiftly from Catherine's back to her breasts. There, they squeezed and caressed with a strength barely contained. His thumbs moved in tight circles around her nipples and he felt them hardened beneath her blouse.

Those hands were doing incredible things to her and she wanted to return the favor. She slid her hands down to the bulge in the front of his pants. With a firm but gentle touch, she cupped him in her small hand and squeezed.

Her touch caused him to shudder and then forget to breathe. Reality swirled violently around him then vanished in a puff of hot, moist steam. All he could think of, all that existed, was her touch, her smell, and her kiss.

Unable to control himself any longer, Vincent fumbled frantically with the buttons of her blouse in an effort to touch her soft skin. To help him, she removed her jacket and pulled her blouse from her skirt. He opened her blouse and feasted his eyes and hands on the flesh just above her bra. All restraint was lost and he pressed his face into the hollow between her breasts. In response, she arched her shoulders back to allow him to burrow further into that pleasure spot.

His tongue felt like ice on flame as he plundered whatever flesh he could reach within the constriction of her bra. Her trembling hands sought and found the bra clasp and unhooked it quickly.

The second she was free of that restraint, Vincent's hands and mouth worked feverishly to explore the newly exposed flesh. His head was pounding and breathing was a chore. His entire world constricted into one of purely sensual awareness. He had to have her!

Her hands fumbled with his belt until she managed to unfastened it. Then she yanked the zipper down quickly and shoved her hands into the back of the pants. She gripped his buttocks tightly and revelled in the groan that escaped him.

When she moved her hands around to the front to free him from his pants, he shivered then quickly hardened in her hand. The tension was almost unbearable.

It was then Vincent instinctively began lowering himself to his knees. His hands slid sensually down her body until they encountered the hem of her skirt. As his knees made contact with the floor, he lifted her skirt up and pulled at her panties until they were out of his way. The fact that she now wore a garter belt instead of panty hose helped tremendously. Perhaps that was her intention all along, he thought.

His seductive stroking brought Catherine to the edge so she stepped away from his touch and slowly lowered herself down to his awaiting erection. She settled onto him with a mutual groan of satisfaction and they began rocking in a timeless rhythm.

Their climax was fast and hard and indescribably satisfying. Vincent's breath came in gasps and he rested his head against her chest to listen to her pounding heart until reality began to return. It was then he looked up and caught sight of something behind Catherine in the entrance to the alcove.

Every instinct in him sprang to life and he felt a compelling sense of protectiveness and violation. He wanted to shield her from this intruder as well as defend his possession of her. He was the male lion claiming his mate and any intruders would have to face his wrath.

"Vincent..." Catherine whispered in a barely audible voice.

Her voice helped reason overcome instinct and the blurred image of an intruder cleared. "Devin?"

Catherine's first instinct was to turn around and see for herself what had startled Vincent so abruptly, but she thought better of it. She was astride his thighs and they were still joined. Any movement in the wrong direction could prove painful as well as embarrassing.

Devin had indeed stumbled upon another awkward moment. From the time he entered the tunnels, his mind had been consumed with dread of the impending visit with Father and joy at seeing his brother again. And this time, if he was lucky, he'd get to spend some time with that niece and nephew of his.

The concept of Vincent as a husband and father still mystified him. Although he knew Vincent's gentle, nurturing nature was the stuff good fathers were made of, the simple fact that he had biologically fathered a child was difficult for him to accept. But accept he did, because he had almost caught them in the act once before. That memory caused him to laugh out loud. Little brother was definitely a man in every respect. A man who was apparently enjoying a very active sex life. Yeah, old fur face was getting his alright.

That train of thought distracted him enough to take a wrong turn and, for a moment, he wasn't sure just where he was until he saw that familiar alcove. As children, that place was their hideaway. They often hid from the others in their secret place. Seeking sanctuary in it today, he never dreamed he'd stumble upon an erotic encounter straight out of a triple X movie.

He was so stunned when he saw the couple that it took several seconds for him to recognize them. The scene so mesmerized him, he couldn't move. He just stood there with his eyes transfixed and his mouth hanging open.

He knew he shouldn't be standing there watching his brother and his wife have sex but some part of him was fascinated. When it was obvious it was all over, it was move or get caught.

Awareness returned to Vincent's eyes all too quickly and he caught sight of him in the shadows. "Damn!" Devin cursed then fled the alcove.

Catherine could feel Vincent's anger and tried to diffuse it. "Uh-- oh, caught again," she remarked.

"Catherine..."

His tone of voice and the look in his eyes told her he was in no mood to laugh this off. "Don't be angry, Vincent. It wasn't intentional," she said as she carefully lifted herself from him and began to straighten her clothes.

Vincent leaped to his feet and quickly shoved his shirt into his pants. He zipped them up with such force, Catherine gasped. "I'll be back in a minute. I need to speak to my brother."

Fearing Vincent's anger, Catherine grabbed his arm. "It's not that big a deal, Vincent. There's no point going off the deep end."

He looked into her eyes with resolve. "He was watching, Catherine."

What that meant to Vincent silenced her. He was a private man and saw their intimate moments together as sacred. To have a third party intrude upon that was a sacrilege that could not go unanswered. Before, it was simply someone stumbling into their chamber before things became intense. This time, someone had watched their most private, shared moment. She understood and stepped aside.

Devin had made his way back to where the tunnels branched off before Vincent called to him.

"Devin!"

He stopped in his tracks knowing full well Vincent could outrun him. To continue would be foolish and useless. He decided charm was his best bet. "Little brother--how the hell are you?"

Vincent didn't respond. He just stood there threateningly in the shadows. Finally, he stepped forward and glared at Devin in much the same way Father often did when they were children.

After several seconds of that intense glare, Devin's confidence weakened. "I guess my boyish charm is getting a little old."

"It will take more than charm to right this."

Devin noted Vincent's disheveled hair and his hastily arranged clothes. The flush of both anger and lingering passion was still evident on his face. "I guess you're right. Let's face it. I just have had timing when it comes to you two. How would I know you and Catherine would be--f--fooling around in the middle of the day here? I apologize for my interruption."

"Your bad timing is not what I'm talking about. I could understand you innocently walking into that alcove. What I am angry about is the fact that you were watching. You didn't turn away and allow us our privacy. You stood there and watched!"

Devin could no longer meet his eyes. "I'm sorry--I can't explain why, but I just couldn't help it."

Vincent sighed and looked heavenward. "Devin, we are no longer children who play games of hide and seek. This was no innocent prank. You intruded upon a very private moment between Catherine and me."

"Look brother, I apologized. What else do you want?"

"I want you to realize, for once in your life, that some things can't be dismissed by your charm and quick wit. What Catherine and I share is sacred to us and I will not have anyone, not even my brother, treat it as anything less. Our privacy is to be respected. Do I make myself clear?"

The thought occurred to Devin as he stared into Vincent's intense blue eyes, that other men would have bragged or even invited others to know of their physical prowess. It was just like Vincent to consider it sacred. "You're right."

Catherine had been listening to their conversation at a distance. In her relationship with Vincent, she had learned that no matter how liberated she was, there were just times she had to let him have his say. Confident that he had done just that, she stepped to his side and slipped her arm around his. "Hello, Devin," she said with a smile.

"Hello, Catherine." Nervously, he cleared his throat. "I want to apologize for my intrusion."

"Apology accepted. I suggest, however, that you be a little more careful in the future. I know Vincent and I will."

Devin couldn't help but smile at the mischievous glint in Catherine's eyes. Vincent might be bent out of shape but Catherine seemed almost pleased. It was as if she had just proven her point about Vincent's manhood. "I'll knock next time."

She turned to Vincent. "I have to get back to the office for a little while, Vincent. I'll see you tonight at dinner." She cupped his chin in her free hand and turned his face toward her for a passionate kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, Catherine. Be well."

She nodded at Devin then began making her way down the tunnel. Devin watched in appreciation then turned to Vincent. "She's a beautiful lady. You're a lucky son of a--gun."

"Yes I am and I DO appreciate how fortunate I am. Would you like to see your niece and nephew?"

"Yeah! I bet they've grown a foot by now."

"At least."

The tension eased as they neared the main hub of the community and Devin couldn't resist one last shot. "I am truly sorry about intruding but really, don't you two ever give it a rest? You remind me of two Energizer Bunnies going at it."

Before Devin could duck, Vincent grabbed his shirt and shoved him against the rock wall. Angry eyes glared at him.

"Did you hear anything I said before?"

"Yes. Look, little brother, I know and envy what you have with Cathy. She's one hell of a woman. It's just that it's normal for brothers to kid around about their sex lives. I don't mean any harm in it. I'm really glad you're--enjoying the charms of such a beautiful woman. Lighten up a little--Catherine has."

Vincent released his brother but his anger was not totally abated. It was the fact that Devin had been watching that still annoyed him. "I'll try," was all he said before he turned and began walking away.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Devin called before he began running to catch up with his brother.

Catherine had just settled down under the covers when Vincent walked in. He had been reading Jacob a story and she had just settled Katie in. The rest of the evening was theirs and she had plans. "Is Jake asleep?"

"Finally," Vincent answered as he sat down on the edge of the bed and began undressing. "I think Devin's presence excited him."

"Did you notice that our daughter simply fell in love with him?" Catherine asked.

"How could I not notice. Uncle Devin is quite the hero with our children it seems."

Catherine caught something in his voice that puzzled her. "But not to you?" she prompted.

"As a child, there was nothing like Devin. The problem is I grew up--he didn't. In a lot of ways, Devin is still the adolescent who ran away from here years ago."

"That's his charm I'm afraid," Catherine observed.

"Charm--yes, Devin's CHARM has gotten him out of a lot of trouble in his life."

She studied the man she loved. "You still haven't forgiven him, have you?"

Vincent had finished preparing for bed and was silent until he stretched out beside her and pulled the covers up around them both. "Not completely."

She turned and curled her body around him as much as possible. He responded by placing his arm around her and pulling her close.

"Catherine--you're not wearing anything," he commented with surprise.

"I thought we could take our time in the privacy of our chamber."

He chuckled softly. "For almost two weeks--nothing. Now--twice in one day. Catherine you amaze me."

"I can remember times we did it three or four times a night. I guess that's what happens to old married folks. I do like to keep you off stride, though. It makes you appreciate me more."

"I already appreciate you more than I can say."

She patted his chest then pulled herself up to look into his delighted blue eyes. "Let's get back to Devin. Why can't you let it go? It was just an accident of timing," she argued.

"I know that. It's the fact he was watching us make love that bothers me."

"Why? Vincent, you're a wonderful lover. You should not be intimidated by anyone."

"Catherine, you have to understand. For most of my life, I've been laughed at, made fun of, and tortured by the older boys because of my physical differences. Boys that age know little about sex but they use what they do know to judge each other."

"Boys talk--so do girls."

"Not like this."

"What happened?" Catherine finally asked.

Vincent was silent as painful memories flooded his mind. "A few years after Devin left, some of the older boys got their hands on a dirty movie. Mitch stole a projector and the film from an adult bookstore Above. They--forced me to watch it and taunted me." Tears filled his eyes. "They laughed at me and said no woman would ever let me do that. They called me an animal."

"Oh--I get the picture," Catherine replied.

"After the incident with Lisa, all of that came back to haunt me. Those two things forced me to deny those needs in my life. When I met you, I had to battle it all over again."

"Yes, and you won--we won. Our sex life is wonderful. Vincent, I've been with other men and no one ever pleased me the way you do. You are the most exciting man I've ever known." She found herself clutching his chest hair. "I'm sorry," she laughed.

Vincent smiled.

"I do understand why you have an aversion to being watched. Why haven't you told me about this before?"

"I thought I had defeated the memory."

"Until you caught Devin watching us," Catherine finished.

"I guess. Those movies had a horrifying affect on me. I wasn't prepared. This is very difficult to explain," he stammered.

"Don't worry about it. I understand. My first adult film was a shock too."

"Catherine, you have the most amazing ability to turn my darkest despair into only a bad memory."

She leaned down and began tracing the line of his collarbone with kisses. "Give me a minute and I'll get rid of those too," she quipped.

"Catherine--after this afternoon, I'm not sure..."

"Now Vincent, twice in a day is no big deal."

"That's not it. If it were possible, I would make love to you every hour, on the hour. I guess Devin's presence has--cooled me off."

"Well," she admitted, "it hasn't cooled me off. The best way to banish this ghost from your past is to confront it face to face."

"Was that a pun I heard?"

"I don't know," she laughed. "Was it?"

Catherine lifted herself up and began removing Vincent's undershirt. He sat up and allowed her to pull it over his head then toss it away. With that mischievous smile he loved, she pushed him back down and helped him wiggle out of his lightweight pants.

When he reached up and tried to roll her over onto her back, she refused. "No. I think tonight you need a dose of self-gratification as in letting me adore your body in that special way of mine."

"I don't know. Maybe we should be more conventional," he suggested.

"Oh, you mean hide in the dark and do it the way society approves of--right? Wrong! That would be the worst thing we could do right now." Slowly, she lifted herself up and straddled him then slid her hands sensually up his chest. "I won't let you retreat. I won't!" she slowly whispered as she leaned forward to kiss his throat then chin.

Catherine's reasons for insisting on being on top and that he watch her were not to feed her own ego but to build his. Every time his confidence suffered some sort of setback, this particular form of intimacy proved to reassure him of her unconditional love. The simple act of showing him how much she enjoyed his body bolstered his own self image. From the beginning of their physical relationship, she realized his need for reassurance about his body and her attraction to it. And frankly, she enjoyed giving him what no other had.

As she moved erotically with him, she made sure he was watching her reactions to his every move. Usually, he became so intent on giving her pleasure, he would forget whatever was bothering him. That was the case tonight. His initial uncertainty was slowly replaced by unrestrained pursuit of pleasure.

When Catherine's climax came, she closed her eyes and arched backward to accommodate Vincent's final thrust. A strange tingling sensation began in her womb as she felt the warm fluid fill her. It was such a pleasing, tickling feeling, she almost laughed as she lay down across Vincent's chest.

As his own senses returned, Vincent became aware of his partner's amusement. The feeling washed over his own emotions like a gentle rain. He smiled and stroked her back tenderly. "What's so amusing, Catherine?"

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I just felt the strangest-- tickle."

"Tickle? I didn't do anything different."

"Ssh. Don't question it. Just enjoy it," she commanded.

He obeyed her and just allowed the feeling to soothe him into a restful slumber.

Hours later, Vincent was deep in the land of dreams. In the beginning, there were images of Catherine and the children. They were laughing, loving, and generally enjoying life until the scene suddenly changed. He stumbled into a dark forbidding chamber that held only one piece of furniture. Cautiously, he approached. A cold draft made him shiver as he neared the edge of the crib.

Just as he was about to peer into the familiar crib, Vincent awoke violently. He sat up in bed gasping for breath and feeling as if his heart was going to pound out of his chest.

"Vincent? What's wrong?" Catherine asked as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

Her touch startled him.

"Sweetheart--what's wrong?" she continued to plead as she sat up beside him and stroked his back.

Finally, he regained his breath and pulled her into his arms. "It's all right, Catherine. It was only a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked with concern.

He lowered them both back down into the pillows and tightened his hold on her. "No. I don't remember that much about it now. Go back to sleep, Catherine."

She kissed his chest then lay her head on the soft mat of hair she found there. She listened to his heart as it calmed beneath her touch.

Catherine stood outside the office door of a very respected law firm. In her hand, she held the cryptic letter she had received requesting her presence. The letter gave no clue as to the purpose of the meeting.

The receptionist greeted her with a friendly smile. "May I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Catherine Chandler. I have an appointment with a Mr. Arthur Zimmerman."

"Oh, yes. Just a moment please," she replied then picked up the phone and pressed the intercom button. "Miss Chandler is here." She waited for a response. "Yes, sir. Right away." After hanging up the phone, she rose from her chair and guided Catherine into a plush office where a distinguished looking gentleman met her.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Chandler. My name is Arthur Zimmerman."

"How do you do?" she responded.

"I'm so glad you could spare us some of your time. Would you like to have a seat?" he kindly offered.

Catherine was still very confused as to why she was here in the first place but she had to admit she liked his manners. "I suppose so," she answered then allowed the attorney to seat her across from him.

After he settled in behind his desk, she asked, "I have no idea why I'm here. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

The older man smiled. "I've heard you were a rather--direct woman."

"I don't believe in wasting time, yours or mine. As an attorney, I'm sure you can appreciate that."

"Yes, I do and I won't keep you any longer than necessary."

Catherine settled back to lend a professional ear to her fellow attorney.

"I've called you here to introduce you to a young man and to-- execute the wishes of his deceased mother."

Her curiosity was peaked. Her eyebrow arched as she studied the man. She could not, for the life of her, make any sense of this.

"Last year, Barbara Hamilton died of cancer. Her son, Charles Hamilton is the young man I mentioned earlier."

Patience was fading fast. "I sympathize with him but what does all this have to do with me?"

"I think it would be best to hear the rest of this from Mr. Hamilton." The attorney stood up and walked over to the other door in his office. "Mr. Hamilton--would you come in here please?"

A decidedly young and very nervous man walked into the office. From the first moment he saw Catherine, he seemed to be totally captivated. His stare made her a little nervous.

"Ms. Chandler," the attorney began. "I'd like to present Charles Andrew Hamilton. Charles, may I present Catherine Chandler."

Catherine stood as the striking young man approached and timidly shook her hand. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into his familiar looking blue eyes. There was also something about his smile that seemed familiar as well. She silently dismissed it.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Chandler."

His easy smile and soft voice once again struck a familiar chord. "There's no need to be so formal. May I call you, Charles?" she inquired.

The young man beamed. "Actually, most people call me Charlie."

This kid was definitely charming her and she knew it. "Most people call me Cathy."

"I'm glad to meet you, Cathy," he said proudly.

"And I'm pleased to meet you, Charlie," she responded.

Mr. Zimmerman had been watching their interaction with interest. "I'm glad to see the two of you getting on so well. Perhaps it will make it easier for you, Charlie."

The young man visibly tensed. "I hope so." He cleared his throat. "Cathy--my mother died recently."

"Yes, Mr. Zimmerman told me. I'm sorry. My parents are--gone too."

"Yes, I know," he answered as he glanced nervously at the attorney.

Catherine was a bit unsettled by his apparent knowledge of the details of her life.

"After her death," Charlie continued, "Mr. Zimmerman contacted me about her will. That, in itself, was pretty routine. The reason we're all here is the letter--this letter." He fumbled for an envelope in his inside jacket pocket. When he found it, he continued. "Most of it is mother/son stuff. But this part--this part really blew me away."

He unfolded the letter reverently and searched for the passage he wanted to read. As he did, Catherine studied him. He was tall and slender and looked to be in his early twenties. His eyes were a warm blue and his hair was blond. In other words, he seemed like your average good-looking college student.

"Oh--here it is," the young man interrupted her observations.

"It is finally time you knew the truth I could never tell you in life. I always told you that your father died before you were born. I made up this pretty lie about him and what we had. I guess it was easier that way."

"I never meant to hurt you. I thought if you believed he loved you and wanted you, you could deal with his absence better. What I didn't realize was your right to know the truth about me and about your father. I chose this letter because I could not bear to see your disappointment in me."

"You were conceived in February of 1969 in New York not Rhode Island. I was working for the law firm of Chandler and Prasker. It was my first real job since college and I was a starry-eyed innocent."

"I learned a lot in that year I worked there; not only about myself, but about the realities of life. A few weeks before I began, Charles Chandler lost his wife to cancer. I heard about it from his secretary. He seemed like such a nice man and so lonely--I tried to befriend him. I tried to find some way to cheer him up whenever I could."

Catherine twisted uncomfortably in her chair as her mind leaped to certain conclusions she didn't like.

"We became friends. He wasn't a snob like some of the other attorneys in the firm. He was a gentle man in a lot of pain. Sometimes, when he stayed late, we'd share a cup of coffee and talk about his little girl, Cathy. He felt as if he was failing her in some way and that was tearing him apart."

"One night in February, I found him alone in his office drinking himself into oblivion. He told me he and his daughter had argued and he felt the world crashing down on him. He missed his wife, his situation with his child was tenuous and his heart was breaking. He needed comfort."

Catherine cringed.

"We talked, he cried, and somehow the walls came crumbling down. I won't lie and say what we shared that night was love. What we shared was simply a need to be comforted. Charles never even remembered what happened and I never told him."

Catherine was aghast.

"About six weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant. Yes, I was pregnant with you. Charlie--Charles Chandler was your father."

Catherine had heard all she could endure. "That's ludicrous!" she declared. "What is this--some scheme to get money?"

"NO!" Charlie replied emphatically. "It has never been about money. My mother opened her own business and was successful. She left me a sizable estate."

"That's true," Mr. Zimmerman affirmed.

"This is still ridiculous. I don't have to listen to this."

"No, you don't. But for your own piece of mind, and to satisfy your curiosity, you should. Please--at least listen to the rest of the letter," pleaded the attorney.

Debating the subject for a moment, she finally relented and leaned back in the chair. "To satisfy my curiosity, I will hear the rest of this letter. After that, however, I'm out of here."

"Thanks," Charlie answered. "Okay, where was I... Oh yeah." He began reading. "I should have told him then but I couldn't. I didn't want him to think I had taken advantage of him for monetary gain. It wasn't true then and it is not true now."

"If I had told him, I know he would have done the PROPER thing. He would have taken responsibility for his actions. Charlie, I didn't want you growing up as someone's obligation. I wanted you to be your own person. In retrospect, I know I shouldn't have lied. You had a right to know who your father was and he should have known about you."

"I leave it up to you now to decide what you should do. I know that Charles' daughter is a Deputy District Attorney in New York and that Charles died in 1989. Son, Catherine Chandler is your half-sister. She is the only family you have left and you are hers."

"My son, you are very much like your father. You are kind, considerate, determined, intelligent, compassionate, and sensitive. I have faith that you will do the right thing for you and for your sister."

The young man carefully folded the letter and replaced it in his pocket. There were tears in his eyes. "That's all."

Catherine sat there for a moment trying to figure out the young man's angle. She could not and would not accept this obvious attempt at extortion. "Look Mr. Hamilton, I don't know what your game is, but you're wasting your time. I've seen better scams by ten year olds."

Charlie was insulted by her mistrust and shocked at her cynicism. His fantasy of a brother and sister reunion died painfully. "You're a D.A., if you're so damn sure this is a scam, check me out. Check out my story. Talk to people who knew them. Do whatever you please!"

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute, please," Mr. Zimmerman pleaded. "This is too important to allow such intense emotions to cloud our thinking. Ms. Chandler, I do understand your reluctance to believe what has been thrown at you today. Quite frankly, I would have been greatly disappointed in you if you had. May I make a suggestion?"

Charlie nodded but Catherine only glared in silence. "DNA testing could solve all of this rather quickly."

"I won't dignify this travesty with a response to that," Catherine responded angrily.

"You say you don't believe me," Charlie challenged. "Then call my bluff. Have the tests done. If this letter is a lie, then I'm out of your life. If it isn't..."

Catherine studied his intense blue eyes. "And..."

"I want to get to know you. I understand you have two kids. I'd like to meet my niece and nephew and have a chance to be a brother to you."

The sudden change of tactic threw her off stride. "Leave my children out of this."

Her tone of voice hurt. He rubbed his hands together in anguish. "I'm sorry, Cathy. I guess I expected too much."

"You're right." She got up and, for a second, felt compassion for the young man. It was only for a second.

"Ms. Chandler, we can petition the court for an exhumation order," the attorney reminded her.

"Yes, you could. But remember, Mr. Zimmerman, I'm an attorney too and I'll be ready for you."

"You leave us no choice?"

"None. I will not give my permission to desecrate my father's grave. Now, I have things to do," she coldly stated.

The attorney and his young client watched Catherine politely, yet coldly, walk out of the office. "I expected as much," the attorney stated.

"It wasn't what I expected," Charlie answered.

"I know, but I did warn you."

"I don't think anything could have prepared me for--that."

"We'll have to take her to court unless she changes her mind about the exhumation."

"I don't look for that to happen," Charlie observed.

"Who knows, miracles can happen."

Catherine managed to control her anger until she left the office and then all hell broke loose. Anger, denial, shock, and disbelief threw her emotions into a tizzy. She stormed down the hall then beat her fist angrily against the wall.

From the moment she arrived to pick up the children, Vincent knew that Catherine was gravely shaken by something. She wouldn't discuss it in front of the children so he waited until they retired into their bedroom to question her about what was troubling her so.

He guided her out onto the balcony hoping the setting would encourage her to unburden her troubled mind. "What troubles you so?" he asked quietly.

She smiled. "I sometimes forget you can feel my emotions so clearly."

"Painfully so at times," he added. "What is it?"

Her grip on the concrete balcony wall tightened. "Today, I sat in an attorney's office and heard a man claim to be my--half brother."

Vincent's eyes grew wide in astonishment. "Catherine--is it true?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"Vincent, how can you ask that? My father could never have betrayed my mother's memory."

"Memory? Did this happen AFTER her death?"

"According to some letter supposedly written by his mother."

"I don't understand, Catherine. Perhaps you should tell me what this letter claims."

After a detailed account of the day's events, to which Vincent listened intently, Catherine leaned against the wall and stared angrily out into the night.

"What do you plan to do?" Vincent finally asked.

The look she gave him as she turned expressed her anger. "I don't intend to DO anything."

He turned, leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. "That's not like you, Catherine. You have always sought the truth despite the cost."

"I know the truth," she declared.

"Do you? You were eleven years old. Your certainties are colored by your childlike belief your father was--bigger than life."

"I knew my father."

"As I thought I knew mine. When Father told me Devin was his natural son, I too was shocked. Father had always been so honorable, so just that I couldn't believe he had lied for so many years to me and Devin. I saw him as being strong and incapable of weakness. I finally realized, however, that my father is human and; therefore, capable of mistakes."

"This is a different situation."

"Really? Father had lost the woman he loved and everything that meant anything to him. He lost hope. Your father had just lost your mother. Perhaps there was a moment the loneliness and despair overwhelmed him and he sought comfort."

Catherine looked intently into his eyes. "Could you, Vincent? If I had not survived, would you have sought comfort with someone else?"

Blue eyes turned dark with pain as memories of another reality, or perhaps a nightmare, surfaced. "The pain and grief would have destroyed every certainty I had. In that state of mind, I probably would have ended my own life if not for Jacob. Your father had you to think of as well. He had to put his pain on hold, day in and day out, in order to keep some kind of stability in your life. I can understand his pain."

"What are you saying?"

"Only that you need to know the truth and so does this man. If it is not true, then he can accept it and go on with his life. If it is true, then you both need to deal with just what that will mean."

"I don't believe this. You're suggesting I have my father's body exhumed, aren't you?"

"If that is the only way you can resolve this, then perhaps it is best. Catherine, put your own feelings aside and ask yourself what your father would have wanted. He was an honorable man who would want to know the truth. I know I would."

There was a moment of hesitancy as his sound reasoning shattered her wall of denial. "No," she suddenly exploded. "I will not desecrate my father's grave!" She gave Vincent a very determined look and retreated into their bedroom.

He stood there for a while thinking. There was no point in discussing it any further right now. When his wife put up that wall, no one could penetrate it. She needed time to sort everything through and come to a decision that was right for everyone.

When he finally entered their bedroom, he found her in bed staring intently at her crystal. He said nothing as he undressed and slipped under the covers. Patiently, he waited until she placed the necklace on the nightstand and turned out the light. "Catherine, whatever you decide to do, I will honor your wishes. I just want you to be at peace with yourself."

"I know," she admitted in a tortured voice.

"Catherine--I have not regretted my relationship with Devin. He is my brother in every way that counts. If this man is your half-brother, then you would have some part of your father still with you. Think about this carefully. The decision you make affects not only you and this man, but our children as well."

Thoughtfully, Catherine stared into the darkness of, not only the room, but her heart. An overwhelming need to be held forced her to seek Vincent's arms. The comfort she found there strengthened her and made her feel whole again. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For being you and for not trying to control me. You don't know how much that kind of love means to me."

"It is the only true love, Catherine. Just because you love someone, it does not give you the right to control them. I will love you whether I agree with you or not."

"Vincent, do you want to make love?"

"I'm not the Energizer Bunny, Catherine."

She sat up quickly and began to laugh. "What?"

"That's what Devin called us," Vincent calmly answered.

His innocent face and inherent charm made her lose her dignity completely. She laughed so hard she almost lost control of her bladder as well.

He got caught up in her amusement and began laughing with her. He couldn't help it. She looked so childlike in her joy, he had to share it.

Catherine leaned over and began to tickle his stomach. Early in their physical relationship, she learned he was particularly sensitive there. In defense, he pulled her down on top of him.

After pulling back a little, she playfully straddled him then reached for her pillow.

"No, you don't!" Vincent warned.

Not one to be TOLD anything, Catherine aimed carefully and pounded her husband soundly.

A harmless warning growl was issued by Vincent as he gathered her in his arms and rolled her over onto her back. He then pinned her to the mattress with his body.

Their laughter slowly ebbed as they looked into each other's eyes and their bodies found that familiar comfort zone. Catherine sighed as she studied her lover's mouth and Vincent's adoring gaze traveled her expressive face.

It was moments like these Vincent cherished the most. Their bodies were beginning to warm to each other and the ritual of initiate and reciprocate began. The change in her breathing, the darkening of her eyes, the way her body yielded to his all expressed her awakening desire for him. Before he met her, those simple delights were fantasies he never thought he would ever experience.

Lowering his face to the side of her neck, he inhaled deeply the scent of her. That warm, musky smell never failed to arouse him. Slowly, he nuzzled into her hair and around her ear then moved his hands up to cup her head between them. Taking another deep breath, he raised his head and looked longingly into her eyes.

That look was Vincent's way of asking permission to continue. It was either that look or a tentative touch that always began their lovemaking. If she looked away, she was saying she wasn't interested but by accepting his touch and looking into his eyes, she was expressing her receptiveness. She looked up into his pleading eyes and found she could not refuse him. The feel of his breath on her skin and the contours of his body pressing against her overcame any objection she might have had. She lifted her arms and embraced his shoulders. "Yes," she sighed.

Her sigh, filled with longing, was all the encouragement Vincent needed. He lowered his nose to hers and gently rubbed the length of it. She shivered slightly and reached up to capture his lips in a tender kiss.

Slowly, tenderly, he moved his body over hers--the hills of his body seeking the valleys of hers. They flowed together much like water as it seeks its own level. How he loved this slow, gentle worship of each other.

Catherine simply closed her eyes and tuned into her body's responses. Her rising passion warmed her as she sought the pleasure of his soft, moist lips. Her own hands served to heighten her own pleasure as much as his. They stroked his shoulders, smoothed his hair, and tugged at the material of his nightshirt. Her legs entraped him in a lover's embrace as they separated to accommodate him.

Her hands and the movement of her legs signalled her complete acceptance of him and he continued. He needed to savor her slowly, EVER so slowly. With great care, his lips moved down her throat, over her collarbone, and between her breasts. There, he took an inordinate amount of time and care.

A soft moan escaped Catherine as she relished the feel of his mouth so close to where she wanted it to be. "Let's get rid of the clothes," she whispered.

Immediately, Vincent moved to obey her request by pulling back to rest on his knees. He waited until they made eye contact then removed his nightshirt. Hesitating only for a minute, he gently worked Catherine's gown up until she had to lift her upper body to remove it. After tossing the silk garment aside, Vincent lowered his own light pants to his knees.

Allowing her eyes to linger on him hungrily for a moment, Catherine then sat up and guided him to his back beside her. It was her turn to undress him. She gathered his pants and firmly pulled them free of his muscular legs.

Both lovers allowed that wonderful feeling of anticipation to wash over them. Their bodies were aching for more contact while their hearts longed for complete union. Catherine rolled herself over and gently pulled him on top of her and simply allowed their bodies to find and give pleasure.

It wasn't difficult for Vincent to read his lover's needs. Through their bond, he sensed what position she wanted and when to move into it. Some nights, she revelled in being on top but tonight, she wanted him on top in the more conventional way. Once in position, he began to rediscover the delights her body offered.

Vividly aware of him now, Catherine entered a world of pure sensation. Whenever she desired to be stroked, petted, kissed, or fondled, she felt him there giving her what she needed almost as soon as the desire was felt. Surely, no two lovers were ever more attuned to each other's needs.

Passion ignited and burned fiercely. Their pace quickened and soon Catherine felt his erection pressing insistently against her thigh as his mouth coveted her breasts. She could no longer lie back and simply enjoy, she wanted him inside her. He must have sensed that need as well because he penetrated her gently before she finished the thought.

She gave herself up to his gentle stroking and tender possession. Slowly, yet strongly, he moved in and out of her in long, deep strokes. She knew that when he began like this, he could go on for some time. All those years of denial and self discipline made him a master of control. It was during times like this, she found herself grateful for his powerful control.

It did go on until their damp, sweaty bodies grew tense with the strain of seeking climax. It became an almost painful experience as their need drove them onward. When their climaxes came, they were powerful and overwhelming in their intensity. Catherine dug her fingers into his shoulders as her body arched violently against his. In the darkness behind her closed eyes, fireworks exploded.

Vincent's climax was just as strong. His whole body tensed painfully as he sought to find release. Every muscle and nerve strained to deliver that last thrust. When he ejaculated, he felt as if every ounce of strength was being drained and he nearly collapsed when it ended.

The lay there, unable to move or utter a single sound, for several minutes. They were lost in a world of heartbeats and deep, gasping breaths. The world could have ended at that moment and neither would have made a move.

Soon the sweet afterglow began. They were floating on a cloud of heavenly bliss and they were in no hurry to return to earth. But--all things must end in order to begin again so Vincent lifted himself up then rolled over onto his back. Catherine followed him and stretched her leg out over his.

They were silent for some time as they caressed and stroked each other. Finally, Catherine spoke. "I think I'll pay Marilyn a visit. If any of Charlie Hamilton's story is true, she would know."

Vincent simply smiled a smile of victory. If there was one thing he knew about the woman he loved, it was that you could not order her to do anything. You had to just simply LOVE her into making the right decision.

Catherine arrived at the restaurant near her father's old law offices a few minutes later than she planned. A deposition she was taking took a little longer than she thought. Looking around anxiously, she spotted Marilyn and made her way over to her table.

The older woman stood up and happily embraced Catherine. "How are you dear?" she asked.

"I'm just fine," Catherine responded. "How have you been?"

"Retirement suits me I think even though I do miss being active."

"You--not active--I can't believe that."

"Well, I am doing some volunteer work. That keeps me busy."

"Great."

After they had given their order to the waitress, Marilyn studied Catherine for a while. "You look so happy."

"That's because I am," Catherine confessed.

"How are those adorable children of yours?"

"Growing like weeds and getting into everything!"

Marilyn looked at her sadly. "Your father would have been so proud."

"You really think so?"

"Oh, yes. He once told me he wished you'd settle down and give him some grandchildren. It's too bad he never saw them."

"He's with us in spirit. Sometimes when I look at Jacob, there's just the tiniest hint of Dad's smile," Catherine commented in a wistful voice.

Marilyn smiled warmly. "All he wanted was your happiness."

"I know and I have found it."

The waitress returned with their drinks and Catherine decided to wait until after their meal to delve into a difficult subject.

They chatted about the kids, Catherine's work, and Marilyn's volunteer work as they ate. After the table was cleared, however, Catherine decided it was now or never. "Marilyn, I asked you here, first of all, because I missed you and secondly, because I need to ask you some questions about Dad."

"You can ask me anything. I'll tell you what I can. You know that."

Catherine smiled. "Yes, I do. Thank you."

"Now--what do you need to know?"

Nervously, Catherine cleared her throat. "What can you tell me about Barbara Hamilton?"

Marilyn's face turned a ghostly white. "Where did you hear that name?"

"From her son--Charles."

The older woman nearly choked. "Her son?"

"Yes, young Charlie Hamilton thinks--that Dad was his father."

"Oh, My God," moaned Marilyn.

"Are you all right, Marilyn? You look pale."

"I'll be all right," she said as she managed to regain her composure. "You just surprised me that's all."

"Are you sure?" Catherine asked with concern.

"Yes--yes!"

After seeing that the color had returned to her face, Catherine decided to continue her questioning. "What can you tell me about Barbara Hamilton?"

Marilyn sighed and wished this particular issue had never come up but it had and she thought Charles would want Cathy to know. "She came to work at the firm just after your mother died. She was paralegal as I remember."

"Did she and Dad become close?"

"I suppose."

Catherine had known Marilyn for years and, during that time, she learned how to recognize the look she wore now. She was hiding something. "What are you NOT telling me?"

"Why bring up the past, Cathy? There's no point."

"There is a point. Charlie Hamilton thinks Dad was his father. I have to know the truth. Charlie has to know the truth. Marilyn, could it be true? You must tell me," Catherine pleaded.

Marilyn shook her head in anguish. "I made promises."

Promises were things Catherine knew a great deal about. "My father is dead. Barbara Hamilton is dead. Your obligation to them has ended. This young man needs to know the truth and so do I. If there's anything you can tell me..."

The older woman's eyes filled with pain. "Cathy, please understand that when your mother died, your father was devastated. He had you and his law practice, as well as other demands, weighing on him and he had no one to turn to for comfort. Barbara was bright, energetic, and she made him laugh. She was a great deal like your mother. It was heaven to hear him laugh back then."

Images of her father with someone else made Catherine very uncomfortable.

"Charles was having a difficult time. He was so lonely and depressed we all worried he might--do something foolish."

"I'm beginning to think he did," Catherine observed.

"Cathy, your father was a man--not an icon of integrity. He was hurting."

"What happened, Marilyn?"

"I don't know when or how, but Barbara turned in her resignation. She later told me she was pregnant with Charles' baby."

"Oh, my God! Was she sure?"

"Yes. I begged her to tell him but she refused. She said she didn't want to do that to him."

Catherine's shaking hands combed through her hair. "I can't believe this. Why didn't YOU tell him?"

"It wasn't my place. I couldn't betray her confidence."

Trying to come to terms with this information was one of the hardest things she had ever done. Her heart was in her throat and her emotions ranged from denial to hurt, to anger. "This Charlie Hamilton could very well be my brother."

"It's very possible," Marilyn admitted.

"There's only one way to be sure. Charlie wanted me to have Dad's body exhumed. I don't want to do that--it would be..."

"Cathy, your dad would want to know. You know that."

"Yes, deep down inside I guess I do. It's just so hard to imagine him betraying Mom like that."

"He didn't betray anyone Cathy--not you and not your mother. He loved her and he loved you. Remember that."

"I do."

"What are you going to do, dear?"

"I think I need to have a little talk with Charlie Hamilton."

After returning to the office, Catherine stared at her phone trying to master the courage to make the call that could possibly change her life. What if this man WAS her brother? That thought aroused a lot of confusing emotions.

As a child, she wanted a sibling, but now? At this point in her life, it would definitely complicate an already complicated life. Should she tell him about Vincent? How would he react? Oh well, if the tests came back negative then she would be worrying needlessly.

Finally, she dialed. When Mr. Zimmerman got on the line, she asked him how to contact Charlie. After scribbling down a number, she thanked him and hit the button. She had to do this before her courage abandoned her. Again, she dialed.

"Charlie Hamilton," he answered after two rings.

"Uh--Charlie, this is Cathy Chandler."

"Oh--hello, Cathy. How are you?"

"I could be better. Look Charlie, I'd like to talk with you in more friendly surroundings. Would you come to my apartment tonight for dinner? We can talk and you can meet my children."

"I'd like that," he answered cheerfully. "What time?"

"Seven?"

"Sounds great! Thanks, Cathy. I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I. I'll see you then."

"Yeah, great."

"Bye, Charlie."

"Good-bye, Cathy."

After hanging up the phone, she sat there in a thoughtful silence. What in the world was she going to say?

"Don't be nervous, Catherine. You're doing the right thing," Vincent said as he leaned against the cold concrete surface of the drainage pipe. Catherine had come for the children and to tell him of her plans.

"I'm a little scared," she admitted.

"It will be all right. From what you told me about this--Charles, he seems more interested in a relationship with you than claiming his birthright."

"You know, Vincent, if I decide to give my permission for the exhumation, the tests may prove he is not my brother."

"Either way, you both can put it behind you and get on with your lives. This--uncertainty must be resolved for both of you."

"I guess you're right. But then again, you usually are!" Catherine responded in a mocking tone of voice.

Vincent laughed then pulled Catherine into a warm embrace. "Of course!"

As seven o'clock neared, Catherine nervously put the final touches on her hair. Katie was playing happily on the floor and Jake was fidgeting in his dress-up clothes when the doorbell rang.

"Okay, kids. Be good," Catherine instructed them just before opening the door. Charlie was standing there with a bright smile on his face and flowers in his hand. "Hello, Charlie."

The young man may have been smiling but she could see how nervous he was. He looked very handsome in his jeans and dark blue dress shirt.

"I hope I'm not late," he stammered.

"You're not. Please--come in," she invited.

"Oh--these are for you." The flowers had been a last minute idea but apparently a good one. He looked closely at the woman he fully believed was his sister. She wore a green silk blouse with a pair of white linen pants. Her hair was pulled back and gathered at the back of her neck. The thought occurred to him that if she wasn't his sister...

When the flowers were thrust into her face, Catherine felt quite touched by the gesture. "Oh--how sweet. Thank you."

He nodded then noticed the two small children playing on the floor. "Is that..."

"Excuse me," Catherine apologized. "Charlie, this is Jacob and Mary Catherine, otherwise known as Jake and Katie. Kids, this is Charlie."

Until that moment, she had not thought about how she would introduce Charlie to the kids. She decided that, until they were sure, it was best just to say Charlie. There was no point in confusing them now. There would be time later to sort things out.

Charlie walked over to the kids and knelt down to their level. "Hello, there," he said timidly then reached out to stroke Jake's hair. The little boy responded by smiling at him.

"Hello," Jake answered.

The boy's resemblance to his mother was obvious. "Who's this?" he asked as he looked over at Katie."

"That's my sister," Jake explained.

"Oh--having a sister must be great." He glanced over at Catherine.

"She's okay I guess."

Leaning over, Charlie gently touched Katie's hair. The little girl was a miniature image of her mother. "She's beautiful. How are you, gorgeous?"

Katie simply looked up at him and said, "Hello."

Watching Charlie with the kids gave Catherine a warm, comfortable feeling. Even if it turned out that he wasn't her brother, she wouldn't mind having him in her life as a friend. He seemed to have an instant rapport with the children.

She decided to wait until after dinner to discuss the exhumation so most of the dinner conversation centered on getting to know each other. She told him what she could about herself and found out a great deal about him. It seems he was considered quite a genius in school. He graduated from high school a year early then went to college. After graduating from pre-med he enrolled in a medical school in New York and would soon be graduating from there. He hoped to do his internship and residency in New York as well.

Throughout the evening, Catherine couldn't help but notice how much he reminded her of her father. The way he smiled, the way he would look at her and wink, and the way his blue eyes sparkled touched off memories of her father. Several times, she caught herself simply staring at him.

The moment of truth arrived after the kids had been put to bed. "Charlie, I've decided to have the tests done," she stated simply.

The words took a minute to register. "Really--I mean..."

Catherine laughed. "That's exactly what I mean. I think it's best we know the truth--whatever it is."

He smiled. "That's great. That's... Thank you. Thank you for everything," he managed to say despite his raging emotions.

"Don't thank me. We both need to put this to rest. Once we know the facts, we can get on with our lives."

That hint of dismissal hurt him unexpectedly. "Yes, I guess so."

It was the look more than anything else that clued Catherine into the affect her words had on him. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right. I didn't mean it like that. Look Charlie, if it turns out you are not my brother, I'd like you to be my friend. If you are, then we've got a lot to work out. That's all I meant."

He looked over at her expressive eyes and warm smile and could not help being caught up in her charm. "I'd like that too."

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. They discussed the exhumation and the tests and Charlie expressed his desire to be there for support when the grave was opened. For some reason, she was hesitant about that but she wasn't looking forward to facing it alone.

They said good-bye around ten and Catherine retreated to her bedroom. she found Vincent waiting for her.

"Vincent? How long have you been here?"

"I've been--around for quite a while," he responded as he embraced her tenderly. "It went well?"

"Yes, actually."

"He seems very nice, Catherine."

"I know. Vincent, there is so much about him that reminds me of Dad. It's uncanny. Oh--I meant to ask. Did Devin leave?"

"Yes, he's gone."

"I know you hated to see him go."

"I always do, but for him, it's best. Someday, he may come home to stay but for now, he needs the freedom." He was silent for a moment as he contemplated the way her silk blouse clung invitingly to those inviting bulges. "That blouse looks lovely on you."

Catherine knew that look. "You think so?"

"Oh--yes," he commented in his deepest, sexiest voice.

"Perhaps, I should wear it for a while then."

"Actually, I was hoping you'd remove it."

"Oh really! Why, Vincent, are you propositioning me?"

"I'm trying."

"Then why don't you undress me?"

"Your wish is my command," he responded as his deceptively nimble hands began to unbutton and peel away her blouse. After removing her clothes and allowing her to remove his, Catherine began running her hands over his body.

"Vincent, you feel hot."

"I am," he moaned.

"I don't mean that. You feel as if you have a temperature. Are you ill?"

"I feel a little tired, but I'm all right."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should see Father?"

"If I don't feel any better tomorrow, I'll talk to him. Right now, I know something that will make me feel MUCH better."

"Oh yeah. What's that?"

"Making love to you."

She smiled sarcastically. "Are you sure you're UP to it?"

Vincent laughed heartily then pulled her tightly against him. "You tell me."

Catherine awoke a few hours later feeling very satisfied and extremely sated. She rolled over to snuggle against her lover but discovered he wasn't there. "Vincent?" she called out.

"I'm over here," he answered weakly.

Sitting up, she could see him half dressed sitting in the chair by the French doors. "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel very well. I couldn't sleep."

Immediately, she got out of bed and slipped on her robe. She walked over to the chair and knelt down then placed her hand on his forehead. "You're burning up. Vincent, if you were sick, why did you make love to me? You don't have to just because I'm in the mood. I'm not THAT insatiable. I would understand."

"No, Catherine, I wanted--I needed to be with you."

"Do you feel nauseated or what?"

"A little. Mostly, it's--I don't know... I just feel weak and shaky."

"Why don't you lie down. I'll bring you some juice."

"That would be nice. The colder, the better. Thank you."

Catherine helped him up and put him to bed. "There," she said as she pulled the covers up around him. "You just relax, sweetheart. I'll be back in a minute." She kissed him lightly on the forehead and left the room.

As she poured the juice, her thoughts turned to that dark time years ago when he became so ill. It frightened her just thinking about it. Could it be happening again? She shook her head angrily. No! She wouldn't let it.

The rest of the night, she lay beside him listening to every breath he took and praying this illness would pass. A tear slid down her cheek as she remembered the anguish they both endured back then. It couldn't be happening again.

As dawn neared, he awakened and began to dress.

"Do you think you're strong enough to go back?"

"Yes," he replied weakly. "Besides, I should consult with Father."

"What about the kids?"

"Mary or Rebecca will be more than glad to care for them if needed. Don't worry, Catherine. I'll be all right. This is just the flu or something."

"Maybe I should stay with you."

"No--no, you go to work. If I need you, I'll send for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Catherine, I insist you go to work," he firmly stated.

"But..."

"No buts, please. I'm going Below. You go back to bed." He stood up shakily and put on his cloak. After one quick kiss on her cheek, he headed for the balcony.

Catherine watched him leave in concerned silence. He was hardly ever sick and to see him so weak was difficult for her. After emotionally tearing herself apart for awhile about whether to stay with him or not, she reluctantly decided to do as he asked. She would make it a SHORT day, however.

The morning dragged on as Catherine attended to paperwork and arranged for the exhumation. The work was scheduled for the following morning and she was definitely not looking forward to it.

During lunch, she managed to pay a quick visit to the tunnels to check on her husband. After convincing her that he was feeling much better, he insisted she return to work. She did--reluctantly but somewhere, deep inside of her, that nagging little voice would not be stilled. Something was wrong--very wrong.

That night, she stayed Below to make sure Vincent didn't overexert himself by climbing to their balcony. Just after midnight, however, she was once again awakened by Vincent's restlessness.

"What is it, Vincent? Are you ill again?" she asked as she felt his fevered brow.

"Just a little. It's not so bad. Go back to sleep."

"You have a fever."

"I'm just a little warm that's all."

"Vincent--there's more to this."

"Catherine--I am all right, really. I'll just take it easy for a few days."

Fearfully, she voiced her deepest horror. "You don't think..."

He knew what she was thinking. "No. It's not like that. It's just the flu or something. Don't be concerned." He was desperately trying to reassure her as well as himself.

"I can't help it. You're hardly ever sick."

Vincent managed a weak smile. "Loving you has made me more human than I realized."

"Great! Now accuse me of contaminating you!" she laughed uneasily.

"You have to admit exchanging body fluids with you leaves me open to all kinds of human conditions."

His wry sense of humor sometimes surprised her. "If you feel that way about it, I'll keep my body fluids to myself."

"Please don't. I like your--body fluids--I like your body--I LOVE your body."

Catherine could see the fatigue in his eyes. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Just you," he replied as he opened his arms to her.

She fell into them and snuggled close. "Perhaps I should stay here tomorrow."

"No. I'm feeling better already. If I feel worse, I'll send for you."

"Vincent..."

"Please, Catherine. I'd feel better knowing that I haven't taken you from your work. Isn't the exhumation tomorrow?"

She nodded against his chest.

"You should be there."

A very tired sigh escaped her. "Yes, I suppose you're right. It's not something I'm looking forward to, though."

"Just think of it as something your father would want you to do. Think of it as something HE would do."

He was right. Charles Chandler was not a man to hide from the truth. To honor his memory, she would do no less.

The cloudy, overcast day held that first chill of the coming fall. Catherine shivered slightly as she stood in the cemetery watching the workmen open her father's grave. Pulling her coat more tightly around her, she tried to shield herself from the cold from without and within.

Suddenly, she felt a presence and turned to find Charlie standing next to her. They shared a brief, compassionate look then turned to watch the workmen. It was then she felt her hand being enfolded in his. It was an awkward moment that passed quickly when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

After the casket was taken away, they walked hand-in-hand through the cemetery back to Catherine's car. They stood in silence for a moment trying to come to terms with their emotions.

"Thanks for coming," she finally said.

"I was afraid you'd think I was intruding but I felt you might need some support."

"I did. Thank you."

"Look Cathy, however this turns out, I would like to be there for you."

"I appreciate that more than you know." Tears were burning her eyes and she turned away to fight them. "Can I give you a lift somewhere?"

"You could drop me off at the library."

"I'd be glad to."

He opened her car door for her then climbed in beside her. The car soon disappeared into the foggy mist.

Over the next few days, Vincent's mysterious illness continued to plaque him. During the day, he felt reasonably well but at night, he would again feel feverish, nauseated and would awaken with a bad case of the sweats. Father had no idea what was causing the symptoms and he was getting terribly worried. He expressed his concern to Catherine.

"I don't understand this. He's had some strange illnesses in his life but this... I don't have any idea what it could be. His system is just so different."

Catherine thought about the possibilities and it made her shutter. "You don't think--it's what happened to him before?"

"No. The symptoms are not the same. Catherine, until we know just what we're dealing with, I suggest you and the children--limit your contact with him."

"He is already keeping his distance from the kids. But I assume you mean intimate contact don't you?"

"Exactly."

"Don't worry. He hasn't felt like having sex for several days. Not since the night he first got sick at the apartment, to be exact."

Father scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That was enough exposure to pass this--whatever on to you. Since you've shown no symptoms, it means either what he has is not contagious or that this is not a--human illness." The words were difficult to say.

"Father!" Catherine exclaimed angrily.

"Cathy, I love Vincent no matter who or what he is but I must put my feelings aside when it concerns his health. The medical fact is that he is not completely human. No one like him has ever existed. What that means in medical terms has yet to be discovered."

Biting down on her anger, Catherine had to admit he was right. "What do we do?"

"We continue testing. We continue watching him. And--we pray."

The look they shared was one of mutual anguish.

Vincent lay in bed with his eyes closed. His body was aching, he felt hot and thirsty, his head was pounding so much that even the soft muted light of the tunnels felt like daggers in his eyes. Every sound echoed through his head mercilessly.

"Vincent," Catherine whispered softly.

The sound of her gentle voice thundered through his head and he winced in pain.

"The results of the tests should be back today. Charlie and I are suppose to meet in the pathologist office at ten. I think I should stay with you though."

The words were oddly difficult to form. "No. You need to go. I will just stay here and rest. You go."

He was obviously in pain and that tore at her. She wanted to do something to ease his suffering but didn't know what. "Vincent, I don't want to leave you alone."

"I--won't be alone. Father is in and out--constantly. Please--go."

"All right," she agreed reluctantly. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No, Catherine. You take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere," he said as he tried to laugh.

"Okay, honey." Gently, she kissed his forehead and noted how hot he felt. "Take care. I love you."

Vincent smiled weakly, nodded, then watched Catherine leave their chamber. Closing his eyes again, he quickly drifted off to sleep. There, in that world of wild imagings, he found himself walking in the darkness. In the distance, he heard a child crying and he moved in that direction.

As the cries grew louder, he found himself in a chamber that faintly resembled his own. In the middle of the room was a strangely familiar crib. The cries were coming from that crib so he stepped closer and peered into it.

"NO!" he roared loudly then sat upright in bed. He was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. He had to get out of here. He couldn't breathe!

Catherine met Charlie in the waiting room of Dr. David Thorenson. As always, he greeted her with a smile.

"Hi!"

"Hello, Charlie. Are you ready?"

When he nodded, she took a deep breath and put on her best smile. "About as ready as I'll ever be."

"Whatever happens, Cathy, you mean a lot to me and I want to keep you in my life."

One look into those sincere blue eyes told her he meant it. "I feel the same way. Despite the circumstances, I've enjoyed having you around."

With those sentiments expressed, they walked into the office to face the results together.

"You must be Ms. Chandler," the doctor commented as he ushered Catherine to a chair. "And you are Mr. Hamilton.?"

"Yes, sir," Charlie answered quickly.

"Please, have a seat."

After they both sat down, the doctor walked around the desk and took his seat. "I have the results right here," he explained then patted the folder in front of him.

Both Catherine and Charlie held their breaths.

"The results of the DNA testing on the body of Charles Chandler and Mr. Hamilton prove conclusively that, within a ninety-nine percent certainty, he was Mr. Hamilton's biological father."

No one moved, no one breathed until the words hit home. It was then a gasp was heard from Charlie and a sigh from Catherine.

"Finally," Charlie muttered.

Catherine was more than a bit shaken. Although she had strongly suspected Charlie's claim of paternity was legitimate, to hear the actual words was still a blow to her image of her father. She felt a mix of relief, sadness, and just a touch of happiness. She wasn't an orphan anymore. She had a brother.

When Charlie heard the news, his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't that he needed validation of his mother's story but to hear it made it official and put a lot to rest for him. He finally belonged.

It then occurred to him how this might be affecting Cathy. He turned to her and studied her face. She looked so stunned. "Cathy?"

Slowly, she turned to face him and looked into the eyes of her brother. Her brother! The reality of it settled suddenly around her. "I'm all right--brother."

Charlie smiled warmly then reached over and took her hand tenderly in his.

"Well--I wish all the test results I announce would go over as well as these did," the doctor interjected.

Finally able to regain some semblance of composure, Catherine stood up and reached over to shake the doctor's hand. "Thank you, Doctor. Will you see to it that Charlie and I both get a copy of the results?"

"I certainly will. I assume you'll want to make arrangements for the reburial of Mr. Chandler?"

"Yes, I--we will make the necessary arrangements," Catherine answered.

Once outside the office, Charlie stopped Catherine in the hallway. "Thanks, Cathy. I would like to pay my respects to--my father."

"I thought you had a right to be there."

"Cathy--I...

" Catherine impulsively hugged him. "Don't worry about it, little brother. I understand."

Vincent was lost in a world of fevered imagings. He didn't know where he was going or why. He just knew he had to keep moving.

"Vincent?" Pascal called out.

The voice thundered through his brain. In defense, he covered his ears and tried to shield his head.

"What's wrong?"

The voice he heard was not that of a friend but one that tortured his mind. The pain became too much to bear. He had to have silence! Frantically, he ran away from the source of his anguish.

The look on Vincent's face frightened Pascal. He'd seen that look before and he knew what it meant. Quickly, he signalled on the pipes for help then ran after his fleeing friend.

Above, Catherine and Charlie were quietly making arrangements to have their father's body reburied. At one point, Catherine found herself just sitting there watching this man she now knew as her half-brother. As a child she longed for someone to share her childhood dreams with but instead, she had retreated into a fantasy life. Being an only child with one parent was often a lonely experience. But now? She wondered just what complications the future held, but then again, it might be fun.

Suddenly, she felt this horrific pounding in her head and a nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly breath.

"Cathy, what's wrong? You look sick," Charlie asked after noticing the ghastly shade of white she was turning.

"Vincent," she muttered in a barely audible voice.

"What?"

"I have to go," she suddenly stated then clumsily got to her feet.

"You're in no condition to go anywhere. You need to lie down," Charlie insisted.

Catherine could see the concern in his eyes and fought to get a grip on her feelings. "I'm really all right. I guess the strain of the day's events has gotten to me. If you'll finish this up for me, I'd like to go home."

"I'll take you." Charlie was truly concerned.

"No!" The intensity of her response surprised even her. "I'm sorry. I just want to go home and lie down. I'll call you later about the rest of the arrangements."

"Cathy..."

"Please."

Charlie was discovering something that every man in Catherine's life had. When she used that tone of voice and looked at him that way, no man could refuse her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'll call you later."

"Great. Bye, Charlie." She gave him a quick hug and got out of there as fast as she could. Once out of Charlie's sight, she bolted for the nearest exit.

Pascal was standing some distance from Vincent waiting for help to arrive. Not knowing exactly what was wrong with his friend, he feared approaching. The memories of those horrible rages were ever present as he watched Vincent huddled in a dark corner of the cavern.

Soon Father, Mouse, Kanin, and Matthew arrived.

"Where is he?" Father asked.

"Over there by the ledge," Pascal indicated.

Father studied him for a moment. "Is he... has he?"

"No," Pascal responded. "It doesn't seem to be like that. He looks like he's in some kind of pain."

Carefully, Father approached him. "Vincent?" he called out softly. "It's Father. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Once again, Vincent covered his ears. "It hurts."

"What hurts? Can you tell me?"

"My head."

"Let's go back to your chamber. I need to have a look at you."

"Go back? Where am I?"

His confusion shocked Father. "Don't you know where you are?"

The pain was beginning to ease a bit and the fog that enveloped him seemed to be lifting. He looked around at his surroundings. "How did I get here?"

"Don't you remember?"

"No. I only remember the pain," he replied.

It was then he felt Catherine coming to him. "Catherine is coming. I must put her fear to rest." He rose slowly.

Father reached over and supported his son as best he could. That's when he noticed that Vincent's clothes were drenched in perspiration. "I think your temperature has broken. Let's go home."

Obediently, Vincent followed.

Catherine entered the tunnels hurriedly. She hesitated only to get a sense of Vincent's location. Once she realized he was moving toward their chamber, she ran in that direction.

She entered their chamber just after Father and the others had arrived with Vincent. She ran to his side and helped support him.

"What's wrong, Vincent?" As soon as she touched his shirt, she felt the dampness.

"Don't be afraid, Catherine. I'm just not feeling very well, that's all." He lowered himself onto their bed.

"We have to get him out of these damp clothes," Father stated.

"I'll take care of him," Catherine replied. "If we can have some privacy, I'll get him changed."

Most of the citizens of the tunnel community knew better to question Catherine's protectiveness of Vincent. Her strength and determination to care for him as legendary as his for her. So, without a word of argument, everyone left the chamber.

Once they were alone, Catherine began tugging at his shirt. "I can do it," he insisted.

With an exasperated sigh, she gave up. "I'll get some dry things for you and then you're going to bed."

He nodded slowly. Although he was feeling better, he was too weak to argue. "Whatever you say, Catherine."

After she brought him the clothes and helped him change, she leaned over and hugged him. She felt so cool against him, he hated to break the contact but he needed to lie down.

Father came in and quickly examined his son. "Vincent, can you tell me how you're feeling now?"

"Much better--but still weak," he replied.

"What about earlier--was it like--before?"

Vincent knew exactly what he meant. "No, Father, it was not like that. There was no rage--no madness. I just couldn't stand sounds and I felt like I couldn't breathe."

"You have been running a very high temperature. That can often confuse and disorient."

"Father, what's causing this?" Catherine asked.

"I wish I knew. Everything we've tried so far has not told us anything. We'll use antibiotics and lots of cool fluids and, hopefully, that will help. If this is a virus of some kind, it will have to wear itself out."

"That's not very comforting. Is that the best we can do?"

"It is ALL we can do," Father explained.

"Catherine--he's right. I'm going to be fine. After all we've been through, a little virus will not beat us. Now--I'm thirsty and very tired. Father, if you'll get me some water and, Catherine, if you'll sit by me for a while, I'll be fine." He was trying his best to sound as optimistic as possible.

His no nonsense assessment of the situation put things into prospective for them. "You're right, Vincent," Catherine agreed. "No little bug is going to destroy us."

Father laughed despite his concern. Inwardly, he prayed they were right.

After Father left, Catherine sat down on the bed beside him. Tenderly, she stroked his forehead and cheek. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, somewhat," he answered.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep now?"

"Catherine--I just remembered. The test results, what did they show?"

"In all the excitement, I almost forgot to tell you. It seems I now have a brother."

Vincent tried very hard to read her emotions. "Are they certain?"

"These things are about ninety-nine percent accurate. There was no doubt."

"How do you feel about it?"

"I really haven't had time to think about it, but I guess I'll like it once I get used to it. Right now we're at that point where we stop and say, okay, where do we go from here? I don't think either of us has a clue."

"You don't HAVE to go anywhere. Just let your relationship with Charlie develop naturally. If you try to force it..."

"Wait a minute!" she protested. "You're suppose to be resting."

"But..." he argued weakly.

"Nothing!" she finished. "We'll talk about this later when you're feeling better. Now--go to sleep!"

That evening passed quietly enough in the tunnels. Vincent slept intermittently and Catherine did much the same. Only once did he show any symptoms of his distress that night and that was after the return of his haunting nightmare. Again, he refused to talk about it.

The next day found Catherine and Charlie once again standing in the cemetery. This time, however, they were jointly sharing their loss.

They had agreed on a small memorial consisting of the two of them and her father's friend and pastor. Catherine just couldn't bear her father being reburied without some sort of spiritual blessing. Charlie agreed. They stood together in the warmth of the autumn sun saying good- bye to their father.

In the darkness of the tunnel world, Vincent could feel her sadness. He could also feel her fear for him. Her emotions were beginning to weigh heavily on his fevered mind.

All morning long, the fever rose slowly, menacingly. He fought it with Father's medications and Mary's herbs but could feel it taking control. Soon the pain and growing paranoia loosened his grip on reality and all he could think of was seeking the peace and solace of the park. It mattered not that is was still daylight. He had to go to the park!

The small, intimate service ended and Catherine and Charlie stood in silence as the grave was once again closed. Catherine felt as if a part of her life had finally been put to rest and another chapter had begun.

As they walked back to the car, her thoughts were of Vincent. He may have insisted that morning that he was feeling much better, but she had her doubts. That little voice was nagging at her again.

Vincent felt as if his body was on fire. He couldn't breathe--he couldn't think. All he wanted to do was get out of the stifling atmosphere of the tunnels.

While Catherine chatted with Charlie, she was overcome by a wave of panic. Immediately she knew it was Vincent. "I've got to go," she told Charlie suddenly.

Charlie, who was in mid-sentence when he noticed her panic-stricken expression, was stunned. "Cathy--what's wrong?"

She was fumbling for her keys as she walked around to the driver's side of her car. "I have to go. I'll see you later."

"Something has suddenly scared the hell out of you and I'm going to find out what it is," he declared with determination.

"I don't have time to argue."

"Exactly why you had better start driving."

"This is personal, Charlie."

"I'm your brother. Whatever gets this kind of response from you becomes my business. You might need my help."

"I need you to get out of my car!"

"No. I'm in this for the duration."

"Damn!" Vincent needed her and she had no time for Charlie's games. Not wanting to argue the point any longer, she started the car and turned quickly into traffic.

Vincent was running. He didn't know where or why. All he knew was that he had to get away as fast as he could.

Catherine followed her instincts and found herself driving into Central Park. This was crazy! Vincent would never go into the park in broad, open daylight. What was going on?

Sitting next to her, Charlie was just as perplexed. Brotherhood was new to him and perhaps he was insinuating himself into her life too quickly. Or, just maybe, he was being too protective of her; after all, she had a life of her own long before their paths had ever crossed. There was also the big mystery about the man in her life. No one had seen her with anyone in years but yet she had given birth to two children. He concluded, therefore, that either she was visiting a sperm bank or she was protecting an elusive lover. The elusive lover theory made more sense. It might also explain her current, erratic behavior.

The car came to a screeching halt and Catherine turned off the engine. Charlie looked around nervously. "What are you doing? Why are we here?"

"You stay here," she ordered as she got out of the car.

Feeling a little angry and hurt at her sudden dismissal, Charlie got out of the car as well. "What is going on?"

That old instinct to protect her secret life surfaced. "Trust me, Charlie. There are just some things in my life I cannot share with anyone."

"We're family. Whatever it is, I'm on your side."

"Then trust me. I don't have time to get into this right now. I've got to go."

Charlie stood there for a moment watching his secretive sister run off into the wooded area of the park. He debated the pros and cons of following his gut instinct for about twenty seconds then took off after her.

Catherine, meanwhile, was so intent on finding Vincent, she didn't notice she was being followed. She couldn't understand why she sensed him in the park during the day until she thought about his bizarre behavior of the last few days. Silently, she prayed this madness would not bring about a tragedy.

Stumbling through the brush, she at last saw him. He was sitting in the open, holding his head in his hands. "Vincent!" she screamed as she began running toward him.

From behind a tree, Charlie watched Catherine approach a stranger sitting on the grass. It looked like a man with long reddish blond hair dressed in some very odd clothes. A connection was made then. Jacob's reddish blond hair and blue eyes. "My God," he whispered as he continued to watch.

"Vincent, what's wrong? What are you doing out here?"

The voice penetrated his pain and the haze that engulfed his mind. He struggled to find his way through it.

"We have to get you home. It's not safe here."

"Catherine?" he asked weakly.

"Yes, love, it's me. Can you stand up?"

He tried desperately to get to his feet but pulled them both down in a heap.

No longer being able to restrain himself, Charlie bolted out of the shadows toward his sister and the strange man.

"Please, Vincent," Catherine pleaded. "Try again. We have to..."

"Holy sh--!" exclaimed Charlie when he caught sight of the man's face.

"Charlie! What are you doing here?" The shock of seeing Charlie there paralyzed her momentarily.

"I thought you might need some help. What the--"

"THIS," she almost shouted, "is my husband. He's sick and needs help. I have to get him home." She then realized Charlie would be the miracle she needed to pull that off. "You've got to help me. He can't walk by himself and I can't carry him. Please, don't just stand there, come over here and help me get him to his feet."

Again, he found himself debating an issue that involved his sister. What had he gotten into? Anyone in their right mind would simply walk away, but he couldn't. Maybe he was just as insane as she was. Reluctantly, he approached the stricken man and, together, they helped him to his feet.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Just follow my lead," she instructed as she began guiding them toward the drainage pipe.

After Charlie noticed their direction, he questioned her. "Why are we heading for a pipe? Shouldn't we be going to your car?"

"Just trust me, Charlie. I know what I'm doing."

"I've heard that one before," he stated sarcastically.

When they finally managed to get inside the drainage pipe and arrived at the iron door leading into the tunnels, Catherine lowered Vincent into a sitting position on the floor. She and Charlie were both gasping for breath from the exertion. Charlie studied Vincent intently. "Cathy, what the hell's going on?"

"Charlie, I don't have time right now to answer your questions. Please try to understand. He's sick."

"WHO, or WHAT, is he?" he asked without thinking.

When Vincent moaned and nearly fell over, Catherine rushed to his side and took his hand in hers. "His name is Vincent."

That defensive, proud look in her eyes told Charlie that no further comments or argument would be tolerated. This was the man she loved and she was making no excuses. But he was--wasn't human! "Cathy..."

"Please, Charlie, I'll explain all of this to you later. Take my car and go home. I'll contact you later. And please, I beg you, don't say a word about--what you've seen."

"I can't leave you like this."

"You have to. Charlie, don't betray my trust. If we have any chance of making this work, I have to know I can trust you completely."

Charlie was stunned. She wanted him to leave her in a drainage pipe with a man who looked like an animal with no explanation other than her confession of love for him.

"I'll be all right. I just need to get him home where I can take care of him."

"I don't feel right about this."

"I realize that," she sympathized. "I don't blame you. Believe me, Charlie, I'm in no danger but he may be. For heaven's sake, he's the father of my children. I trust him. Please--trust me."

Her plea finally got through to him. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she said with no trace of doubt in her eyes.

"Call me later."

"I will. Now go!"

With great uncertainty, he turned and quietly left the drainage pipe.

Catherine quickly turned her attention to Vincent. She placed her hand on his forehead and felt the heat. He was burning up! Frantically, she opened the door and managed to get him inside. After closing the door she signalled for help then sat down on the dirt floor and held him in her arms.

Over the next two days, Vincent swayed from deep, coma-like sleep to delirium. He would sleep for hours then suddenly awaken and become almost uncontrollable. All the while, his fever climbed to alarming heights. Alcohol rubs and ice baths would bring it down only to have it begin all over again. Father was totally at a loss as to what the illness was and Catherine was perilously close to a breakdown.

Finally, in the early morning hours of the third day, Vincent opened his eyes and searched the room for Catherine. He found her sleeping in the big chair beside his bed. As much as he hated to disturb her, he needed her help. His clothes were damp and uncomfortable and his throat was parched. "Catherine," he managed to say in a rasping voice.

Her eyes opened slowly and took a few seconds to focus. "Vincent?" she asked wearily. When his eyes focused on her, she realized the worst was over. Painfully, she got up and went to his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak. Would you get me some water?"

"Of course." She poured a glass of water then surveyed his condition. "You need to change clothes. I'll get you something then get Father. He'll want to check you."

The cool water felt wonderful in his parched throat. "How long have I been--ill?"

"Almost three days."

"Three days!"

She nodded slowly.

"Where are the children?"

"They've been in and out but mostly they've been with Rebecca and Mary."

"Are they all right? They didn't catch this did they?" he asked with concern.

"They're fine."

He gave her a lingering look. "How are you? Have you been ill?"

"No. Whatever you had apparently wasn't contagious."

When he started to get up, she stopped him. "What are you doing?"

"I need to change and--I need to go to the bathroom," he stated frankly.

"You shouldn't be getting up."

"If I don't, I'll be even damper than I am now."

She laughed. His sense of humor had recovered as well.

After she settled him back into bed, Father arrived and examined his son. "Everything seems normal. There's no sign of an illness. It's incredible."

"I recover quickly. You should know that by now."

"Yes I do but I want you to take it easy for a few days. Bed rest and hearty meals are my prescription," Father declared. "Make sure he sticks to it, Catherine."

"Oh--I will. You can count on it."

She kept her promise and Vincent grew stronger as the day went on. He was walking around after lunch and reading to the children by dinner time. As Catherine dressed for bed that night, he was looking at her in THAT way.

"I can't believe you. Last night you were so sick you were delirious. Twenty-four hours later you're in the mood to fool around."

"I never fool around, Catherine. I am serious about everything I do," he quipped.

"Your recuperative powers are astounding," she commented as she snuggled up close to him. "Do you remember anything about the day we found you in the park?"

"You found me in the park?"

"Yes. Charlie and I..."

"Charlie! He saw me?"

Catherine propped herself up and looked into his fearful eyes. "Yes."

"How did he react?"

"He was shocked at first, but he helped me get you into the drainage pipe."

Vincent studied Catherine's eyes carefully. "What happened, Catherine? Can he be trusted?"

"I believe so. I think he's sincere in his desire to build a relationship with me. I think he understands that relationship has to be based on trust."

A thoughtful sigh escaped him. "But you're not sure?"

She shook her head sadly.

"Tomorrow, you should talk to him--make him understand what's at stake. If he truly cares for you, he will understand." His statement was more a plea than a declaration of fact.

"I was hoping I could choose the time and place when I told him about you. I wanted to be sure of him. I wanted to be sure of his place in my life. I guess the test will come a little early for us."

"It seems we are always being tested," Vincent commented casually.

"Well, I'll go see him tomorrow and we'll get it worked out. Try not to worry. We've weathered worse storms than this." She rested her head on his warm, dry chest.

"Perhaps. But someday, Catherine, someone or something will come along and we won't be so fortunate."

"I'd rather not think of it like that. I just want to concentrate on one obstacle at a time," she sighed.

Vincent smiled just before placing a kiss in her soft, fragrant hair. "Yes, Catherine, one at a time."

The next day, Catherine went into the office and played a game of catch up. By explaining her absence as a family emergency, she managed to get Joe off her back temporarily. It wasn't until she saw the stack of paperwork on her desk did the impact of a few days away from the office hit her. That was quickly followed by a wave of nausea. "Damn," she swore. "I hope I didn't catch what Vincent had."

Several times that day, she tried to call Charlie to assess his feelings about what he had seen but got no answer. She decided just to stop by his apartment after work.

Catherine got out of the taxi and noticed her own car parked in the residents' garage. She spotted Charlie walking toward the door.

"Charlie!" she called out then began jogging toward him. He stopped and turned in her direction.

When she caught up with him, she smiled warmly. "Have you got a minute?"

He stared at her with a mix of relief and anger. "Where have you been? I've been going nuts trying to find you."

His concern touched her. His expression and tone of voice reminded her so much of her father's. "I've been taking care of Vincent."

"Oh, yeah. How is--he?"

She noticed his strained expression. "He's recovering nicely. In fact, he's almost back to normal."

Without thinking about the consequences of his words, Charlie said, "Normal! You have a strange definition of normal."

The meaning was clear. "Charlie, we need to talk."

"I agree. Tell me, Cathy. What the hell is going on with you?"

"It's very simple, Charlie. I'm a woman in love and I'll do whatever I have to in order to protect the man I love," she declared simply.

Charlie stared at her in disbelief. "I can understand love. I've been there, myself. But this?"

"Look Charlie, you've only been a part of my life for a short time, don't make a judgment on something you don't know anything about. Vincent IS my life. I could not live without him. It's as simple as that."

His look of distain almost made her decide to give it up and simply walk away, but she couldn't. "Vincent--is the most intelligent, generous, caring, sensitive, and gentle man I've ever known. He has suffered so much at the hands of so called human beings who don't understand and yet he has such compassion for everyone."

In her eyes, he could see the depth of her feelings for the strange man he had seen that day. "I realize that I have no right to just walk into your life and start acting like an over-protective brother, but I can't help it. You're the only family I have left. I don't want to do anything to push you away, but--I'm having a hard time dealing with what I saw. How did you get involved with him?"

"He saved my life. He found me after I'd been attacked. His gentleness healed my soul as well as my body. It's so hard to explain in mere words, but we're--connected somehow. We can feel each other's emotions as if we were one. He taught me HOW to love--truly love. He is my heart, my reason for living, my husband, my lover, and my children's father. Without him, there is nothing. If you want to be a part of my life then you will have to accept my relationship with Vincent because I will not give him up for anybody or anything," she stated firmly.

Charlie winced a little. "How can I accept the fact that my sister is sleeping with a freak of nature?" The words were regretted as soon as they were uttered.

White-hot anger raged through Catherine. How many times had she been assaulted by someone's ignorance. Without thinking, she slapped him hard. Immediately, she regretted it but the damage had been done. She turned quickly and got into her car. Any further conversation right now would be pointless.

"I'm sorry," Charlie pleaded as she started the car. She didn't hear him because she had gunned the engine to back out of the parking space. He stood there with mixed emotions as he watched her speed out of the parking garage. Just as he was about to walk away, he heard a horrendous crash.

At that same moment, Vincent roared loudly and began running toward the source of his agony.

Two hours later, Charlie anxiously paced the hospital corridor while images of the accident haunted his mind. Catherine had been so upset about their conversation, she pulled out into the street blindly. A delivery truck could not stop in time and hit her car broadside. The horrible vision of her lying limp and bleeding in the mangled remains of her car struck terror in his heart. He couldn't lose her.

Once Catherine lost conciousness, Vincent could not focus in on her whereabouts. He had felt her fear and pain and then nothing but her heartbeat. She was alive, he knew, but where? Finally, he stopped and gave into his frustration. It was still daylight and he was trapped Below. His only option was to send out volunteers and contact helpers to aid in the search.

Just as Charlie turned to pace in the other direction, the doctor walked out.

"Are you Ms. Chandler's husband?" the doctor asked.

"No, I'm her brother. How is she?"

"Very lucky. She has a concussion so I want to keep her overnight for observation. Other than a few cuts from the glass and nasty looking bruises she seems to be fine."

"But she was unconscious for quite a while?"

"She received a hard blow to the head. The trauma and accompanying shock caused that. Our x-rays show no permanent damage. She will be as good as new in a few days."

Finally, Charlie allowed himself to breathe. "May I see her?"

"I don't see why not. It will be a while before we can get her checked in. I'm sure she would appreciate the company."

Vincent was standing by Pascal in the pipe chamber awaiting some word when he felt her again. She was confused at first and there was some pain, but she wasn't in danger. He leaned heavily against the wall.

"What is it, Vincent?"

"She's all right," he stated in a soft reassured voice.

"Are you sure? What happened?" Pascal asked.

"I don't know yet--but she's all right. That's all that matters."

Pascal rejoiced at the relief he saw in his friend's eyes. He was happy for him and for Catherine's safety. The loss of her would be a painful tragedy for all of them. "Good!" he responded as he patted Vincent's shoulder.

Catherine was lying on the examination table rubbing her aching neck. They had her propped up at an angle and all she could see was the many monitors to which she was attached. Their steady beeping reassured her despite the pounding in her head.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she thought about Vincent. He must be worried sick. "Concentrate," she whispered softly to herself. Then, by pushing all other thoughts aside, she focused on her connection to him. "I'm all right," she repeated several times. "Don't worry."

"Cathy?"

The sound of Charlie's voice briefly startled her. "Oh--hi, Charlie."

"How are you feeling, sis?"

She smiled. The look of concern on his face would have melted anyone's heart. "I've got a major hangover, but I've survived worse."

"I'm glad I wasn't around then. You scared the hell out of me," he admitted.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever done. I wasn't thinking. Thank God, the other guy wasn't hurt."

"It wasn't all your fault. If I hadn't acted like such a jerk, you wouldn't have been that upset. I'm sorry, Cathy."

Again, she smiled at him. "You WERE a jerk--but I forgive you," she said in a teasing voice.

"I'll try not to be such a pain from now on. I have no right to intrude in your life."

"I don't mind the occasional intrusion but there are a couple of ground rules I must insist upon. The first one is that you never betray Vincent to anyone. The second one is that you not judge what Vincent and I have by normal standards. If you can agree to that, we can make a fresh start."

"I agree," he vowed.

"Do I get a kiss to seal the deal?" she asked.

A blush crept up Charlie's face. This was his sister for heaven's sake. "I think I can handle that." He then leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

Catherine studied him for a moment then decided to make her request. If Charlie and Vincent were to ever share a place in her life, it had to begin now. "Charlie, I want you to do something for me."

"Anything. Do you want me to bring you something? Just remember, I refuse to rummage through your nighties."

"No," she laughed. "It's nothing like that. I want you to go to Vincent and tell him what happened. He's worried and frustrated because he can't come to me. I want you to help him through this."

Stunned wasn't an appropriate description of what he felt at her request. "Are you sure he'll talk to me?"

"Don't underestimate him, Charlie. He loves people. It's just that people aren't always kind to him. He's been hurt a great deal by people whose fear made them respond cruelly to him."

"I guess so," Charlie agreed. He really hadn't thought about it from his point of view. Catherine was right--people could be horribly cruel to those who were different. He owed it to her, he owed it to his brother-in-law and he owed it to himself to confront his fears. "How do I find him?"

"Do you remember where you helped me take him the day we found him in the park?"

He remembered it well. "You mean that drainage pipe?"

"Yes. I prefer to think of it as the entrance to paradise, however. You just go there. He'll be waiting."

"How will he...."

Catherine just smiled and said, "He'll know."

"Well, Ms. Chandler, your room is ready but I have something else I need to talk to you about. Perhaps you would like some privacy," he said as he looked over at Charlie.

"It's all right, doctor. Charlie's my brother. I want him here."

"All right then. Here goes. According to our tests, which we ran several times, you have some very strange things going on with your blood chemistry."

It took Catherine a minute but she remembered something she had read once. It concerned the fact that a woman's biochemistry could sometimes change after pregnancy because she and the fetus shared the same blood supply and the fetus bore some of its father's blood chemistry. With Vincent's strange makeup it was only natural unusual things would start to happen with hers.

The doctor continued. "But more important than that, we discovered something else."

"What?" she asked fearfully.

"Did you know that you're pregnant?"

Catherine's mouth fell open and the blood seemed to rush from her brain into her feet. "That's impossible! You've got to be mistaken."

"I'm afraid not. We ran several tests. It was positive every time," the doctor explained.

"I can't be pregnant!"

Charlie had been watching the scene with shock. He could understand why the unexpected news would shock her but her reaction went way beyond that. She was in denial. "Cathy--why are you so sure?"

She turned to him, "Vincent had a vasectomy several months ago."

"Is that your husband?" the doctor inquired.

"Yes. Doctor--I haven't been with anyone else. There's just no way," she argued.

"I can understand your shock, but I have personally known of cases in which vasectomies either weren't done correctly or where the tubes actually grew back together. It's possible."

She still couldn't accept it. "I think we need to run the tests again. You said my blood chemistry was little strange. Maybe it's causing a false reading."

"I don't think that's the case, but to ease your mind, we will run a full battery of tests this afternoon."

"I would appreciate that."

After the doctor left, Catherine turned to Charlie. "I don't want you to tell him about this."

"Don't worry, I won't breathe of word of it," he tried to reassure her.

She lay back down and tried to wade through her feelings. "No," she reproached herself. "It just wasn't possible."

After she was moved into a private room, Catherine stretched out on the bed and rubbed her hand gently over her stomach. She tried to remember when she had her last period and was shocked when she realized it had been almost six weeks ago. Where had the time gone?

She sighed deeply. Since Vincent's vasectomy, she hadn't given birth control any thought. She THOUGHT it was taken care of. What she didn't understand was why it had taken so long for her to get pregnant? Unless, of course, the doctor's theory of the tubes growing back together was correct and it had taken a while for that to happen. Another possibility was Vincent's unique physique. Maybe, she chuckled, he was more well-endowed than she thought.

Arguing the point with herself was useless. No matter what the scientific explanation may be, some things were just meant to be. What was it Kristopher said about questioning the mysteries in life? Oh well, it looked like this baby was destined to be despite it's parents best laid plans. That was assuming that there was really a baby.

Speaking of plans, Catherine began to think about the added responsibilities of a third child. When this child arrived, Jake would be four and Katie would barely be two. She remembered the conversation she and Vincent had when they were first considering the vasectomy. The surgery was the logical, and they thought, permanent solution. Permanent--what a laugh.

Then the reality of the situation hit her. She was carrying Vincent's child again. The sheer magic of that fact warmed every corner of her heart. In the face of that, all the added responsibilities, pain, discomfort, and total chaos of three small children seemed like a small price to pay.

Once again, she closed her eyes and felt her body's soreness began to ease.

Charlie stood at the entrance of the drainage pipe and peered into the darkness. After retracing his steps, he found himself trying to find the courage to re-enter that dark place. Remembering Catherine's plea, he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Cautiously, he walked into the pipe until he came to the juncture.

"I'm here," a deep, resonating voice echoed throughout the tight confines of the metal and concrete.

"Vincent?" Charlie asked as he strained to see the figure hiding in the darkness.

"Yes. You are Charles--Catherine's brother?"

"Yes."

The massive figure stepped into the dim light anxiously. "How is Catherine?"

For a moment, Charlie couldn't speak. He could only stare at the imposing leonine face of his sister's lover. "Uh--she's all right. She'll be a little sore for a few days but that's all."

"Why is she still in the hospital?" he asked fearfully.

Charlie was still in shock. How did he know all of this? "Observation. It's a common practice when head injuries are involved."

"Head injuries?"

"She has a concussion. Actually, she was very lucky. It could have been much worse," Charlie tried to explain. The fear in the man's eyes was clearly visible.

"Lucky!" Vincent turned and leaned his forehead against the cool concrete. "She leads such a dangerous existence. I never thought about such things as car accidents."

It was then Charlie began to realize what Catherine's life Above meant for Vincent. It was obvious that the man had lived in fear for her ever since they met. Her job, her very life in such a violent world put her in danger constantly. His fear of losing her seemed to overwhelm him and leave him as vulnerable as a child. "I don't think any of us think about it until something happens," he responded.

Relief flooded Vincent's mind and he sighed deeply to further ease his tension. It was then he came face to face with another issue-- Catherine's brother. "Catherine told me you helped her get me out of the park to safety when I was so ill. Thank you."

Charlie studied Vincent carefully. The man was trying very hard to offer a hand in friendship but he still had reservations. "I couldn't turn my back on Cathy."

"Neither could I. She is so easy to love and loves so easily."

"Yes. At a time in my life when I thought I was completely alone, she came along and filled that void with a smile. I can't tell you what that meant to me," Charlie confessed. For some reason, he seemed to feel a bond with the other man in Cathy's life. Just like her, he was easy to talk to and confide in.

"You don't have to tell me. She did the same for me."

The look in Vincent's eyes and the sincerity in his voice convinced Charlie they shared a common link. Their love for the same woman made them brothers in a sense. With his fear almost completely abated, his natural curiosity forced him to find out more about the man his sister loved. "You live alone--in these pipes?" he asked tentatively.

Vincent was a little surprised by the sudden change of subject but decided it was best to follow it. "No. There is a whole community of people living Below. There are chambers and tunnels that run for miles beneath the subways."

"You're kidding!" Charlie exclaimed in childlike wonder.

"No. It is true."

Charlie almost laughed at Vincent's deadpan expression. "That's incredible. I'd love to see it. How do you keep from being discovered?"

"Only residents and helpers from Above know of our existence and they are sworn to secrecy. Our lives depend on those who know our secret and honor it. People like Catherine who come to us for help and solace realize the importance of such a place and they want to protect it. We all struggle to protect our way of life."

"I knew she had secrets, but I never imagined anything like this."

"Charles..."

"Call me, Charlie."

"As you wish. Charlie, Catherine has entrusted you with our secret. It is the most precious gift she can give you. If you truly love her, you will keep that secret."

"In the short time I've known Cathy, I have come to love her. She is the only family I have and I want her to be safe and happy. If you're what makes her happy, then I'll do whatever it takes to protect you both. But Vincent, I need to know the whole story. I don't want to get involved in something illegal."

"I appreciate your integrity," Vincent replied thoughtfully. "Charlie, are you sure Catherine is all right for now?"

"Yes, I am. In fact, she's scheduled to be released tomorrow."

"Good. You will bring her here?"

"If that's what she wants."

"She will want to be with her family."

"Speaking of family, where are the kids?"

"They're with me and my family. Don't be concerned, Charlie. They are well cared for."

"I hope so."

"To ease your fears, I'm about to do something that is strictly forbidden by our community. Under normal circumstances, it takes a great deal of time to introduce someone into our society. That person's trustworthiness must be determined by helpers and other members of our world. In this case, however, Catherine's trust will have to be enough. I think you need to see the world your sister valiantly defends and meet the people who have become her family."

Charlie was more than a little stunned.

"You must swear to me that what you are about to see will remain a secret--for Catherine."

Hesitantly, Charlie responded, "I swear."

"Good. Follow me then."

That night, Charlie walked for miles talking with his brother-in-law and seeing the incredible world he shared with Catherine. He discussed medicine with the man known as Father, he saw the beauty of the waterfall, and heard the voices of the whispering gallery. He watched his niece and nephew play happily with other children of all ages and ethnic backgrounds. He marveled at the fact there were no differences in this world. There were no color or religion barriers here. The joy of childhood existed in its most innocent form. He couldn't help thinking this was the family of man as God intended.

When it came time to leave, he had a much more profound understanding of Vincent, Catherine, and what they shared. The man his sister had chosen was intelligent, compassionate, gentle, caring, and very much in love with her. That was all he could ever want for his sister. Although his appearance was--unusual, to say the least, he made her happy. Their love was something he dreamed of experiencing someday and, in some, small way, he envied them.

They stood at the Central Park threshold to bid farewell. Vincent extended his hand in friendship and in hope. Charlie accepted it. "I'll tell Cathy of our visit and then I'll bring her to you tomorrow."

"Thank you. You are welcome to visit whenever you wish. If you will tap on the pipes as Pascal instructed, someone will come to escort you to our world, but you must be careful not to be seen."

"Thanks, I'll take you up on your invitation."

There was so much Vincent waited to convey to Catherine. "When you see her, tell her...."

Charlie smiled. The very mention of her name softened Vincent's beastly appearance. "You can tell her yourself. I'll have her here bright and early."

He understood--finally. "I look forward to it."

With their good-byes spoken, Vincent watched Charlie turn and walk out of the drainage pipe. As he did, his thoughts turned to Catherine. She was sleeping peacefully now but soon she would awaken and come to him. How he longed to hold her protectively in his arms and kiss away her pain. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind and sent his love and strength to her.

"Well, Ms. Chandler, you seem to be recovering nicely. I can imagine you're awfully sore, though."

"I don't think there's a muscle in my body that doesn't ache. I feel like I've been run over by a truck," she responded.

"You almost were," the doctor laughed. "The soreness will subside in a few days. It's your blood work I'm concerned about. I'd like to keep you here a few days and do more tests."

"No," Catherine answered adamantly.

"Ms. Chandler..."

"I won't argue the point, doctor. If I have no injuries that require further attention, I want to check out this morning."

"Considering the fact that you're pregnant, I wouldn't advise letting this go. It could affect the fetus."

"I appreciate your concern. I really do. I promise to see my personal physician right away." The personal physician she had in mind, of course, was Father.

"Of course, this is your decision, but I advise you to have this looked into," he reluctantly advised.

"I will."

"We ran that pregnancy test again. It is still positive. There was no mistake."

Catherine took a deep breath then smiled. "No room for error?"

"None."

"Thank you."

"All right then, I'll sign your release papers and you can leave as soon as you get dressed."

"Great!" she replied with a broad smile. In the back of her mind, she was planning her reunion with Vincent and trying to imagine his reaction to her news.

"May I come in?"

Catherine turned to see Charlie poking his head through the crack of the door.

"I guess so. Doc?"

"I'm through here. Good luck Ms. Chandler and please get to your doctor as soon as you can. I wish you the best." He shook her hand and left.

After he left the room, Catherine examined Charlie's face closely. "You look like you've been out all night. What happened? Did you get lucky with one of the nurses?"

Charlie turned a bright crimson down to his toes. "Cathy!"

A hearty laugh escaped her and served to remind her of some sore, aching muscles. "As you get to know your big sister, you'll discover my scatalogical since of humor."

"I can't imagine anyone as sweet looking as you having a dirty mind," Charlie quipped.

"You'll find out, believe me."

"If you really MUST know, I spent the night with Vincent."

"You're not Vincent's type," she remarked with a wry smile.

Charlie smirked at her then pulled the chair a little closer to the bed and sat down. "I talked to my brother-in-law and ended up getting the grand tour."

Catherine was surprised. "He took you Below?"

"Yeah!" he answered excitedly. "I met Father, Mary--uh Mouse, Jamie and all the others."

"Really? That is usually forbidden," Catherine observed.

"Anything is possible when you have the right connections."

Catherine couldn't help but notice his boyish expression of delight. "Tell me. What do think?"

"About the tunnels? Fantastic!"

"No, you jerk, Vincent."

She really cared what he thought! Carefully, he chose his words. "Vincent, and his world, are beyond anything I've ever imagined. Cathy, I may have questioned your relationship with him when I first saw him, but after talking to him, it's obvious that what the two of you have is the real thing. He loves you--hell, he worships the ground you walk on. We should all be so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one. I can't begin to tell you how much I love him. AND--how great it is to be able to talk to someone about it."

Her smile was warm and joyous as she stretched out her arms to him. He responded by reaching out and enveloping her in tender hug.

When she pulled back, Catherine wiped the tears from her eyes. "Now, if you'll wait outside while I get dressed, you can give me a ride home."

"You're all right then?" Charlie asked. The doctor's warning about some strange things going on with her blood tests worried him.

"Yes. Charlie, you know about Vincent. You know how--unique he is. Bearing his children has altered my blood chemistry a little, that's all. I don't want them poking around too much if you know what I mean."

She was right. That medical fact had been part of his training. "Yeah--you've got a point. Get dressed and we'll blow this joint."

Vincent was standing at the opening in the basement wall of Catherine's apartment building. She was coming to him, he could feel it in his heart like a warmth spreading throughout him. Her happiness filtered through as well. He peered into the light streaming down the ladder whenever he heard a sound in the hope it was her.

Finally, he heard her voice instructing Charlie to clear away the boxes protecting the door. His heart began to race as he stepped into the opening and watched her descend. He couldn't wait another second. Without giving her time to completely turn around, he pulled her into a desperate embrace. "Catherine," he moaned in both agony and ecstasy. To have her safe in his arms again was the answer to his prayers.

Charlie came down the ladder and jumped off to the side to avoid the couple locked in a tight embrace. Without shame, he watched them and became enthralled by the rightness of their being together. He continued to watch as they pulled back only far enough to share a passionate kiss.

When the kiss ended, Vincent asked, "Are you well, Catherine?"

"I'm sore, but I'll survive."

"I wanted to come to you. I couldn't stand not being able to help you," Vincent painfully admitted.

"I know. I could feel your anguish," she replied. "How are Jake and Katie? Were they upset?"

"They sensed something was wrong but I reassured them. When they felt you were safe, they were better. They're anxious to see you."

"I've missed them terribly."

Finally, someone remembered Charlie. Vincent looked over at him then extended his hand. "Welcome back, Charlie and thank you for bringing Catherine home."

"It was my pleasure."

"Charlie told me about your meeting. It means a lot to me to have the two of you become friends."

"We're family," Vincent corrected.

"Yeah, Cathy. We're in-laws--remember?" Charlie responded with a laugh.

"How COULD I forget," she laughed with him. "Look guys, as nice as this is, I want to go give my kids a hug."

"Certainly," Vincent responded. "Shall we?"

That evening, Charlie watched his sister and her children with interest. He paid close attention to the closeness she shared with them and the love you could see on their faces. In particular, he watched Catherine because she reminded him so much of his own mother. The way she laughed, the constant hugs and kisses, and the way she made you feel like the most important person on earth was so much like her.

But more than anything else, Charlie noticed one thing--Cathy was happy here. That happiness raidated and filled this cold world with warmth and light.

"Charlie?"

He turned to find Vincent standing beside him. "Yes."

"Would you like to stay over tonight? We have guest chambers and you are welcome to use one."

"Uh-I guess so. I don't want to inconvenience anybody, though."

"No inconvenience, we would be honored to have you stay."

"Great. I'd like to, then."

Vincent's attention turned back to Catherine and their children. "She's a wonderful mother."

Charlie knew Catherine had not given him the news yet so he remained mum. "So it seems. I don't see how she does it."

"I know. She amazes me as well." He turned to Charlie. "It is comforting to know that she now has someone from her world to confide in. To know there is someone Above who can watch over her, comfort her, and be there for her in her world brings me great--assurance."

"To know she has someone to love her and protect her as you do, gives me comfort. I've only just found her. I want to spend the rest of our lives making up for lost time."

As the children's bedtime neared, Catherine insisted Vincent remain in Father's study while she tucked them in. "There's something I need to talk to all of you about," she informed them.

'Was she actually going to tell them all together like this?' Charlie wondered. It was a little strange but he had learned quickly when to argue with her and when to simply trust her. He sat down and waited.

Meanwhile, Vincent was thinking that a more private reunion would be more to his liking because he wanted a chance to spoil her a little. But apparently, something was on her mind and he wanted to give her the chance to share it. As patiently as he could, he waited.

When Catherine did return, she took a seat across from Vincent. For the news she had to deliver, she wanted to see his face. She braced herself. "Charlie already knows what this is about because he was at the hospital with me when I heard."

Fear ripped through Vincent's heart. "Are you ill, Catherine?" His memory of her possible exposure to the AIDS virus terrified him. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing like that, Vincent. Although the doctor did say something about some strange blood test results."

"Catherine, please, what is it?"

"The doctor explained a theory about a woman's blood chemistry changing a bit after she carries more than one child with the same father. Something about the child having its father's blood chemistry and then sharing it with the mother--it's rather involved."

Father laughed softly. "I know what Catherine's talking about, son. And it's not that unusual. Most of the time it's undetectable, but I would think, in your case, the changes would be more significant."

The explanation didn't quite ease Vincent's fears. "Will this hurt Catherine in any way?"

"There's no reason to believe it will," Father explained. "If she couldn't tolerate it, I think we would have seen some evidence of that by now."

Catherine decided to move on to the more important news. "Vincent, that's not what I wanted to tell you." She took a deep breath. "While I was in the hospital, the doctor discovered--the doctor discovered that I'm--pregnant again." She waited as a stunned silence filled the room and Vincent's mouth dropped open. The color drained from his face.

"That's impossible!" Father almost shouted. "I did the vasectomy on Vincent myself! He cannot have fathered another child!" His implication hung heavily in the air but most heavily on Catherine.

"It is Vincent's child," she calmly but adamantly stated.

"Enough," Vincent interjected. "Father do not question Catherine's fidelity. I do not." Slowly, Vincent stood up and walked toward her. "Are they sure?"

Catherine smiled at the look of wonder and concern in his eyes. "Yes, they ran the test several times."

They shared a loving look then Vincent pulled her up into his arms. "I love you, Catherine."

"I know," she whispered tearfully.

When they separated, Vincent turned to Father. His heart was full and the shock had not yet worn off. "How is this possible, Father?"

The old physician scratched his chin. "I've done a lot of vasectomies and not one of them resulted in a pregnancy. Either the tubes grew back together and the sperm found a way through the scar tissue or Vincent had another duct I didn't see during surgery. It is more likely the tissue regenerated itself."

Vincent shook his head and stroked Catherine's back tenderly. "This child is a miracle. It's very existence must have been destined despite our efforts."

A soft laugh escaped Catherine at Vincent's comment. Other men would have been furious or have accused her of sleeping with someone else--not Vincent. His faith in her was complete and unshaken. "After this, I'll have my tubes tied. Maybe your super sperm won't be able to get through that."

A bright crimson crept up Vincent's neck and colored his cheeks. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, "It won't be for lack of trying."

It was Catherine's turn to blush.

After watching the scene, Charlie got some idea of what the two of them had endured in the name of love. He walked over to them and extended his hand to Vincent. "Congratulations."

Taking his hand, Vincent proudly shook it. "Thank you. And thanks for taking care of her and not betraying us."

"I won't do that--ever." He turned to his sister. "Congrats, sis. I'll be around if you need me. But right now, I'm turning in if someone will show me to my--room."

"I will," Father offered. He had been trying to think of an excuse to leave the couple alone and thankfully, Charlie had provided it. "I think these two need some time alone."

Charlie said goodnight then Father walked over to them. "I look forward to having another grandchild around, but please, make this the last one." They all laughed and hugged then Father and Charlie left them to their own devices.

"I'm glad you're home," Vincent whispered in her ear. She had turned to watch Father and Charlie leave and he took the opportunity to put his arms around her soft body. This gave him access to her neck and he took advantage of it.

"You don't know how glad I am to be here."

"Yes, I do," he answered.

"I guess you do. You know for one split second, I didn't think I'd ever see you or the kids again," she confessed.

"For one split second, I felt that fear."

They stood there for a while savoring each other until Catherine turned to face him. Her arms slid smoothly around his waist as she pressed herself against his strong body. "You haven't really told me how you feel about becoming a father again."

"Honestly--I was shocked at first. I thought that time of our lives had passed. I have to admit the thought of having another child makes me feel young again."

Playfully, Catherine pinched his sides. "Speak for yourself old man!"

"To me, Catherine, you are eternally young. I am the one who is aging. Tonight, though, I feel like a teenager. Having you here safe, warm, and pregnant reminds me of all life's possibilities and rewards. Life renewing itself despite the obstacles is truly miraculous."

Catherine studied his emotions carefully. "You're not angry about having a decision we made over-ridden or going through all that discomfort for nothing?"

"Angry? You are carrying my child. To be angry with you would be foolish. You did not get pregnant all by yourself. I take responsibility for my part in this. I don't know why, but I actually feel quite pleased. There is something about this unexpected gift that has sparked something inside me. I can't explain it."

"Strange--I've felt pretty much the same way since I found out."

"Catherine--having this--added responsibility will put a great strain upon you. Mary Catherine will only be two when this child comes. You will have three children under the age of five. That is a great deal of work for a woman who has a job as demanding as yours. Are you not angry?"

"If I didn't have you and our extended family here Below, I don't know that I could handle it all. When I'm at work, I know that they are being well cared for and loved so I don't worry. When I am here, I can concentrate on you and them. No, I'm not angry. I'm curious about this child who is so determined to be born. Vincent, this will be my last chance to experience pregnancy and the miracle of giving birth. I want to savor it with you. Having your children has never been something to be angry about. I see it as the most precious gift I can give you."

"Your love is my most precious treasure," he explained.

"As yours is to me. Our children are our way of continuing long after we're gone. They're our legacy of love for the future. Although I am not looking forward to what another pregnancy is going to do to this old body, I am kind of pleased myself."

"I love that OLD body. Just one look at it excites me to the point of losing control. If you think about it, that's what got us into this situation to start with."

Tilting her head and raising an amused eyebrow, Catherine expressed her shock. "Why Vincent--how very astute of you." It was a sign of just how far they had come since that spring night in 1987.

Vincent sensed her nostalgic train of thought. "Any regrets?"

"Um--no, absolutely no regrets. The only thing I would change would be the time we wasted at the beginning. I wanted to jump your bones that first year."

"The feeling was mutual. Over the years, I read a lot of love stories and a lot about human sexuality. After I met you, I found myself dreaming of doing it all with you," he shyly admitted.

"And now that you have," she prompted. "Do YOU have any regrets?"

"Like you, I only regret the time lost. You turned my hopeless, empty life into one filled with joy and daily miracles."

"That's exactly what you've done for me," she replied as she cuddled closer. "Let's go to bed," she suddenly suggested. "All this talk about jumping bones has given me ideas."

"Have you recovered enough from the accident?"

"Didn't you know that making love is good for sore muscles?"

"I don't think I've ever heard that theory, Catherine."

After they strolled hand in hand to the privacy of their chamber, they began undressing for bed.

"What do you think of Charlie?" Catherine asked.

Vincent sat down on the bed to remove his boots. "He's a good man, Catherine. I think the loss of his mother devastated him terribly. When he found out about you, he had a chance to be part of a family again. He needs that. He handled--me and our world in a compassionate, understanding way. Much like father would have, I think. Your father would have been proud of both of you."

She sat down beside him. "I hope so. I think I'm going to enjoy being a part of his life."

Gently, Vincent leaned over and began to nuzzle her neck. "You smell wonderful. Are we finished talking?"

That wonderfully innocent question made her giggle. "I guess so. I suppose you want to get to the physical stuff--right?"

He nodded shyly.

"Okay. I promise the only sounds I'll make will be a lot of moaning and groaning. All I want to hear from you is some of that grunting and growling that turns me on."

Vincent laughed then lowered her down to the mattress. The sounds that followed where indeed those of intense pleasure followed by complete fulfillment. Beauty and her beast had once again overcome their differences and become one. What the future held for them, they could only guess. All they knew was that whatever came, whatever happened, they would endure--with love.