dark2

Darkness Hide Not My Pain

Part II

by Vickey Brickle-Macky

He hadn't been able to find her in time. He would never forgive himself for that, not as long as lived. And that would
not be long he hoped. Life without her was already more than he could bear--the pain shot through him in unending waves of sorrow and such dark dispair that nothing could relieve it, not did he wanted the pain taken away. That was all he had left--that and the memories--as well as the now broken dreams of their life that could truely now--never be!

There was terrible carnage all around him. The stench of death and blood hung heavy in the dark, damp basement room of the ancient brownstone. He didn't notice, he didn't care. He had vent every ounce of his months'long pent-up anger and animal rage on her captors. There wasn't going to be much for the police to use to identify the bodies, he thought with grim satisfaction. Even if they connected him with all this and managed to hunt him down and in the end--kill him--he didn't care--didn't have any reason to care--his life--his love---shewas gone!!

Catherine was dead!

The words echoed in his head, over and over-- one part of his mind trying to accept it--believe it--not because he wanted
to but because he must! The other wanted to run hide from the reality--the truth of it. He wanted to see her laughing and
smiling face. Her green eyes lit up full of life and happiness. Feel her warm soft lips upon his own once again and her small and
delicate body next to his loving as they had at last on that long ago night after she had brought him back from the darkness of his own mind. That is what he wanted, what he needed so despartly but his aching soul would never again find any comfort in this life. That was the truth, the reality of this waking nightmare.

He looked down at her cradled in his arms, her eyes closed as if with sleep, but no sound of gentle breathing reached his
ears, nor did he feel the rhythm of her heart or warmth of her body. Only her shell remained, a shell that had been tortured,
beaten, and mistreated for long terrifying months. She had had to endure it alone. He hadn't been able to find her, no one had,
until the very end. By that time she had begged for death, begged for release, and her captors had finally granted her wish before Vincent could get to her, save her, take her home to the tunnels where she would have been safe--forever in his world.

He had saved her before, snatched her from death when she had drowned. There had been nothing he could do. He couldn't reach her soul, stop her from leaving him. In his great and noble heart--he died when she did. Except his body remained alive while hers did not. Death had claimed the only thing that mattered in his life. All Vincent wanted now was for the end to swiftly come.

"Vincent, you have to let her go. The police will be arriving here any minute. Come on man, you have to get out of
here now!" Joe Maxwell's voice urgently pleaded from somewhere on the edge of his conscious mind.

Then he felt the tugging. Someone was trying to take her away from him! Take her body from his arms that now protectively
encircled her! NO! He would not allow it! They would never be parted again! Never!! He growled a warning. But the tugging at his arms continued. He roared, making the intruder beat a hastly retreat.

"No, they won't take you away, Catherine. You're safe here. himself to believe it too. His tawny mass of hair fell over them
both as he continued to look at his beloved's face as he sat on the cold concrete floor rocking her lifeless body in his arms.

"Elliot, what the hell are we going to do? Vincent isn't going to let her go. The guy's gone nutzo with grief. I'm afraid
if we push him he'll turn on us, but if we don't do something quick the police, the FBI and who knows else will . . . ." Joe
left the rest unsaid as he looked over worriedly at where Vincent sat with Catherine.

"Joe, you don't have to tell me, I know. I'm just glad we found them. I know what he's feeling. I'm having a hard time
holding it together myself." Elliot Burch replied in a low tone of voice, trying to choke back his own tears and sorrow over
Catherine's death.

He loved Catherine as much as Vincent did. But over the long months he had grown to understand how deep and how special what Vincent and Catherine had shared was. He had grown to know the strange man-beast and they had become friends. He had also begun to realize that he could never offer Catherine what Vincent did. They belonged together. He and Cathy didn't, and finally he accepted that truth and at last found his own peace.

Joe had also learned to accept Vincent and Catherine's relationship. The hardest part had been getting over his inital
shock. Elliot had arranged the meeting at Burch's offices. Vincent had come to him in desparation. Elliot already knew part
of the story. He had pieced it together from the reporter's notes, his trip through the tunnels with Cathy and his accidental
meeting with Father in Paracelsus' penthouse. They pooled their knowledge and decide to work together for the common aim of finding Catherine. Bringing Joe in had also been necessary because he had missing pieces to the puzzle as well. No matter
what each felt about the other, finding Cathy was their main pergotory.

The two men had been six hours too late in locating where Catherine had been held. Vincent had just managed to get there
first. They wished that they could have prevented Vincent's killing of her kidnapers. Would their arriving any sooner changed
the outcome of this tragedy? Probably not, he doubted if anyone could have held Vincent in check, or could they have prevented Catherine's death.

Arriving on the scene, seeing the carnage, Joe regretted that there was no one left alive to question, to find out why this
nightmare had even began, and why Catherine had been the target. Paracelsus was dead. Vincent had told them that he had killed him with his own bare hands, and that he was buried in the catacombs beneath the tunnels. None of this made sense, if not Paracelsus then who? Who had it in for them? And why? It wasn't over for all of them--that much Joe could feel in his gut. The nightmare was only starting.

"I'd suggest getting Wells to talk to him, but dammit we're running out of time. Maybe you can reach him." Joe
suggested, his eyes red rimmed and blood-shot from both lack of sleep and his own pain as he tried to focus on Vincent.

He ran a hand through his dark, thick wavy hair. Joe knew he looked like hell, felt like hell, they all did. None of the
trio had had much sleep or rest for days since they had gotten the lead which led them to this place. When was last time they
had showered, changed clothes, little things like hadn't really seemed to matter.

"I'll give it a shot, Joe." Elliot agree, his voice doubtful.

He walked over cautiously to the grieving Vincent. The tawny hair was tangled, dirty. The great head was bowed, obsuring his features along with those of Catherine. He had taken off his cloak and wrapped it around her to keep her warm. She looked so tiny and fragile in his large arms, so at peace finally because there was no more pain for her, ever again.

Elliot cleared his throat nervously, "Vincent, the police are coming. You have to leave. You have to leave Catherine with
us. I promise it will be alright."

"No!" Came the soft reply, barely a whisper but firm in its intent.

"Vincent, she's gone. You have to let us have her." Elliot pleaded, "You have to leave her with us for your own safety. She
would have wanted to be safe." He added, trying to persuade him, trying to break through the wall of pain and grief that surrounded the man like a tangible barrier.

"NO! I will not let her go ever again. . . . She is my life!" He sobbed angrily. His pain cutting through them all in
the stillness of the dark room. And he held his beloved even tighter, his rocking her increasing. "No one will ever take you
away. We'll go home where its safe, I promise." Vincent whispered to Catherine, brushing back the hair that covered her face.
Elliot just shook his head and looked away for a moment debating what to do. Then he crouched down before Vincent,
sitting on his heels, his dark trench coat scrapping the dirty floor of basement. He reached out a hand and touched his
shoulder. Vincent flinched from the contact, but allowed the hand to to stay. He would not look at Elliot.

"Vincent, she's dead. It's over. You can't take her below with you. She has to stay here--Above. We have to know what
killed her, what happened to her, so we can find the person responsible for her death. Do you understand me?" Elliot asked
gently, trying to break throught to him.

The tawny head nodded, "Yes. But she belongs to my world. I want to bury her in the catacombs. That is where she belongs. . . where she needs to rest." Vincent replied, the head coming up to meet Elliot's eyes. The jeweled eyes were barely sane.

"I wish it could be so, but if her body is missing there will be more searches, more questions. You could threaten the
entire existance of the tunnels. Father wouldn't like that, nor would she. Catherine would want you to do what was right. What
you know must be done." He said firmly.

Elliot was hoping he could persuade him with logic, with truth, and somehow get him to use his own inner senses of justice
to come to the right decision.

"Yes, I know. Must she remain Above after the police have finished?" He asked.

"Yes, she must. She will be buried with her parents."

"She would like that." Vincent said simply, looking down at her again. His love for her showing clearly on his face as he
glazed down with great tenderness at her. A deep heartful sigh escaped his strange lips as he accepted the reality of their final
parting.

"You may have her, Elliot, and I will go. Please let me know if they find anything out." Vincent requested, as he rose
from the floor suddenly with her in his arms.

Vincent carried her over to the dirty cot where he had found her when he had burst into the room. He laid her gently upon it,
removing his cloak from her cold body as he did so. He straighted out her ragged clothes, and brushed her hair back from her face. He glazed at his beloved features one last time and planted a gentle kiss upon her forehead. His final act was to cover her
with a blanket and then he turned to meet the two men waiting and watching him.

"She's yours now, I will go now." Vincent stated, putting on his cloak again and pulling the hood forward to conceal his
features.

"I'm sorry, Vincent, we all tried." Joe said, trying not to look over at Catherine's body.

"Yes. We will find who's responsible for this." Elliot added.

Vincent just nodded, looking at them both, his features hidden in the shadows of his hood. The tears on his face gleamed
wetly in the light of the naked electric bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"I will go the way I came. I can hear the sirens coming. Goodbye Elliot, Joe, keep her safe now." Vincent requested, then
he turned on his heels, a blur of gold and ebony and vanished through the hole he had made in the basement wall. In seconds he
was gone, gone back into his world, to the safety of the tunnels.

The two men stood there in the silent room with its over powering strench of death to await the police arriving on the
scene. They had braced themselves for the questions to come. It wasn't going to get any easier, much remained to be investigated still. Catherine Chandler was dead, but her killer still roamed free. No one was going to rest until he was brought to justice.

Far below the city streets Vincent roared out his grief- ridden pain and rage and vowed vengence on his unknown enemies
Above!

* * *

At the Central Park threshold Father met with the two men waiting there. He had gotten to know them well over the long
months that Catherine had been missing. He was still uneasy in their presence as he was with anyone who lived Above and knew of his world. He trusted these men, there was nothing else he could do under the circumstances. He wondered what these men now wanted of him and his son.

Catherine was dead as still unbelieveable as it sound still to his own mind and heart. His worst fears had been realized for
the woman that had almost become a daughter to him. The terrible shock and loss was like a knife going through them all. The world Below was shrouded in mourning, there was no one that in someway haad not been touched by Catherine from the youngest to the oldest of them all. Vincent, . . . his son, what that boy must be going through. He just sits unmoving in his chamber wrapped in such utter misery and grief, that it is feared that his newly won sanity is now lost . . . lost with anguish of losing her, especially when he was so close in bringing her home to safety. That is what he finds so hard to live with, to forgive himself for and only time will ease that 'what-if-pain' he feels now.

Vincent has severed all ties to the world Above. Why must these men seek them out and stir up what needs to be laid to rest. Why can they not leave us in peace, let us mourn, and forget these terrible happenings, Father asked himself.

He looked Elliot anf Joe over, seeing their own tenseness and unease in the uncomportable situation, but Father could also
determine there was a sense of purpose here, and grim resolve to bring even more unpleasant news to his ears, even though they did not want to but must. Joe shifted uncomportably under Father's wary scrutiny, absent-mindly pulling on his collar, and dragging a toe through the loose dirt of tunnel floor.

Breaking the silence that was growing between them, Father spoke up asking Joe, "You wanted to see me?" His voice measured and calm, "Why not Vincent instead?"

"We both felt that you could handle the news of Catherine's autopsy more calmly than Vincent could at this time," Elliot
said, speaking for them both.

Father nodded understandingly, and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I see. You may be right, " he said agreeing with
them, "Vincent neither eats nor sleeps--just stares off into space, lost in his grief. His pain is so deep that I fear for his
sanity."

"We thought as much, that is why we wanted to see you so that you could break the news to him."

"News?" Father inquired, wondering what was up.

Elliot looked to Joe he caught his intense look and nodded to go ahead. Then Elliot turned his attention back to Father.
"Father--- there is no easy way to say this. Cathy delivered a baby before she died---possibily Vincent's child." The words came out in rush, but they had came. Elliot no longer had to hold the secret in.

Father staggered back at Elliot's pronouncement, shock and disbelief written on his features as the enormity of it sank in.
All he could mutter was, "Oh my God." He shook his head trying to clear it, then asked, "Are you sure?" As he searched the faces of the two men before him hoping for some indication that this was was a dream and not really happening.

"Yes. There's no doubt whatsoever. Cathy didn't say anything to Vincent, if she had he would have said something. But we don't think Cathy was alive when Vincent found her." Joe spoke sadly. His mind going back, remembering the scene in the basement when they had found Vincent cradling the lifeless Catherine in his arms, the loss of sanity in the depths of those clear blue eyes, and soft request to let him take her home where she could be safe forever. Joe shook his head trying to clear his mind as Father found his voice and began to speak.

"But a child? Alive?" Father asked, letting it sink in. His brow was furrowed in deep thought.

"We don't know that for sure, but no child was found in the warehouse. It is assumed that the same persons that abducted
Catherine now have her child. They probably kept her alive only because of her pregnancy, especially if they knew of Vincent's
existence. And if the child resembles him. . . ." Joe couldn't finish.

"There's no need to elaborate, Mr. Maxwell. I have had the same fears myself, and then some. I had always worried that this might be the outcome if Catherine and Vincent . . . well let's say, moved forward in their relationship, which evidently they
did before she disappeared."

"Father, you have to tell Vincent, let him know that he has a child, if he doesn't know already." Elliot requested.

"I will. It will be difficult, but this will give him hope. That is something he doesn't have now. A reason to go on." Father
said, still having trouble with the news himself. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"No. But we are trying to discourage the police from investigating the kidnappers deaths' too thoughly. Vincent did
tear them up very badly. We told them that was how we found them when we located the place. Luckly Vincent had enough presence of mind to call Mouse and have him seal the passage way to the basement where he had broken in. The police are curious about the caved in wall, but they can't get through. Father, we will not betray Vincent or your world, your secret is safe with us." Joe assured him.

"Thank you, I had hoped that it would be so. Gentlemen, I hope this news will help Vincent, so that he can find the stenght
to live again. As it is . . . my son is willing himself to die . admitted to them, seeing them understand.

"It has not been easy for us either, Father." Joe remarked seriously, then added, "Her funeral will tomorrow at three. Will
you be attending?"

"Yes, and so will others of our community who wish to pay their respects."

"We will see you then, give our repects to Vincent, please." Elliot said, turning to go.

"I will. Until tomorrow." Father said, watching them depart down the drainage tunnel.

After they had disappeared around the bend he went through the gate closing it behind him, locking it securely, then he
pressed the hidden mechanism that slid the heavy metal door into place, making the entrance to the outside world invisible to
prying eyes.

Elliot'snews echoed in his head. he was still stunned by it. A Child? --Vincent a father?? The impossible had come to be. he
had believed that his son and Catherine might possibly give into physical intimacy, but that their union would prove fruitful--
that had not be hoped for or desired in many ways. His son was not human. It should not have been possible. was the child still
alive. Yes, it had to be, but who would want it and for what purpose? His biggest concern was how to approacj vincent with
this news. How was he going to react? With joy, with sadness, or angry? He couldn't predict anything anymore, Vincent had changed so much over the last few years because of his relationship with Catherine. There were no certainties anymore--but something had to pull Vincent back from his grief--give him the will to live-- to go on. Perhaps the knowledge that he did have a child in the world Above would do it?

Father stopped abruptly in his walking and let the other thought hit him as well. Vincent would want to seek out the
child, which in doing so would expose himself to more danger and as always possibly expose their world to detection from Above. But he could not hold this knowledge back. it was not fair to either the child or to his son. And if this child were Vincent's, it belonged with him, here Below, not Above. In a world that could not possibly accept the child's differences. Being
Vincent's it would most likely have his physical imprint. There could be no other choice, Vincent must be told and the child
found before it was beyond anyone's reach.

He limped down the passageway which led to Vincent's chamber. The lighting was even more dimmed than usual, as if he
wanted darkness of the crypt,but gave in to some lumination for the sake of any chance vistor's.

"Vincent, are you in?" Father called worriedly before he reached the room's threshold. He peered in, making out the dark
outline of his son's siluotte as he sat hunched in his chair by the table.

The reply was soft, barely audible, but it came reluncantly. "I'm here, Father. You may enter."

"Thank you," Father replied as he stepped across the room to stand before him.

Vincent sat slouched in his chair dressed in his nightgown and robe. A book of poems lay opened on his lap but in a hand that cared not that they held them. In the other lay Catherine's rose. He looked up and Father could see the hollowness of his feaures, the red-rimmed eyes, and the torture behind the blue eyes that looked to him for easing of the pain. It tore Father apart to see him so, he started to reach out, to touch him, but held back. Instead Father gripped his cane more tightly, trying to find the words he must speak to him.

"Vincent, I need to talk to you. I have news from Above." Father said, stating the reason for his visit.

Vincent looked up, his eyes hard as he replied dispassionately, "The only news I want to hear is that they have
captured Catherine's killers, nothing else." Then he looked down at his handwhich held the rose and gripped it tighter as if that
were the only thing that mattered, that linked him with her still. His hair had fallen forward effectively screening his unique
features from further scrunity by Father.

Father nodded to himself, feeling the pain behind the words but he pressed on with his news. "Vincent, the killers have not
been found, but I bring word of something quite wonderful and expected."

Vincent looked up, questioning him, "Wonderful?"

"Yes, there is no easy way to tell you this. You have a child. Catherine left you a child before she died. The people who
kidnapped her have it." Father said in rush.

Vincent startled visibly, his eyes widening as he stared up at Father. His eyes narrowed to car-like slits and his mouth
curled into an angry snarl as he refused to accept the impossible news.

"A child? You jest--IT CANNOT BE!!" he protested.

"It is," Father argued back, "Elliot Burch and Joe Maxwell both swear that it's true. The autoposy said Catherine had given
birth before she died, before you found her. It is your child, isn't it?" Father inquired gently as he lightly touched Vincent's
shoulder as the news sunk in and Vincent calmed in the acceptance of it.

Vincent was still shaking his head, "No, it cannot be. Catherine and I. . . we made love only once. . . after she saved
me at the cave. It happened when I went Above that night . . . then she was taken. But I never dreamed . . . !" Vincent
stuttered, embarassed.

The news leaves him shaken as well as overwhelmed with both embarassment and awe. He had not planned on letting his father know that he and Catherine had become lovers, but now there was no hiding of that private truth. As to the concieving of a child, that is what he finds so unbelieveable, impossible almost. But, forever embedded in his heart and memory. . . . With that he remembers that it is indeed possible that he has fathered a child. Now there is hope, something--someone to live for, Catherine has left him a part of herself. What they had is not lost, just transformed into something that he had never dreamed of. He shook off his speculation as he heard Father speaking to him.

"Nor did I, Vincent. That you and Catherine would . . . well, Father said hesitantly, not wanting to intrude upon his son's
private life. "But that you could father a child-- your blood chemistry and physical makeup. It should not have been possible."

"But it is if Joe and Elliot are correct. I have sensed the presence of another since Catherine's death, but I thought I must
be mistaken--hallucating because of my grief."

"Why did you not say something to me?" Father asked. "Until I could be sure what it was that I was feeling, I
felt it best not to worry you. But this presence, it sprang into being suddenly after months of silence within the bond. I thought
it was Catherine, but somehow it was subtly different. It led me to her." Vincent told him seeing confusion in his eyes.

"I thought you found her from information that Elliot and Joe had uncovered."

"No, not really. They had the general location but not the specific point. The bond reopening brought me to where I needed
to be."

"And now that you know of this child's existance what do you plan to do?" Father inquired, cocking his head to study him.

"I will find the child and bring it home." Vincent stated, leaving no room for arguement from Father. "There is no choice.
Catherine left me a child, that is all that is left of her in this world, all that is left of our love. And it it my flesh too--
Father--MINE! You cannot know what that feels like--to know that I am not alone. This child needs me--needs the sactuary of this world. We both know that it could not help but be like me--look like me--and how the world Above will reject and hurt it because it is."

"You don't know that, for sure. For all we know it could resemble Catherine." Father argued, hoping that that may be the
case. "I know you must find your child, but how will you locate it? The police have no clues. The kidnappers could be anywhere by now, far out of your reach."

"No, Father, I don't believe so. I can still feel the barest thread of a connection to the child, I need only to focus on it
and it will led me to it like before."

"For both your sakes I hope so. Your empathic powers still amaze me. Your gifts are remarkable." Father remarked.

"But at times they are also a curse, and a source of pain for me. You know the great joy I felt knowing when Catherine was
near, when she was happy or sad."

"But there were times of great pain and fear as well as I recall," Father interjected.

"Yes, there was that too, but having it and then not having it. The terrible silence, the emptiness, and aloneness I felt
when it was broken. There has been no greater pain until now. But out of the blue there it was the--our bond, our connection, like a heartbeat, for a brief time I was again connected to Catherine and through her to the child. I felt it being born, felt its
life. Even now in the quiet moments I feel her near still. There is no peace." Vincent admitted, looking up to meet Father's
worried gaze.

"It will come in time, Vincent. That I can promise, until then you must try to find the strenght and the courage to get
through this terrible time. I will always be there for you my son. And everyone here is with you in your grief as well.
Catherine was loved by everone. It has been a terrible blow to us as well but we must recover and start our lives again." Father
counselled gently, trying to find words of comfort.

"I know your words are meant o help, Father, but at this moment they do not. All I keep asking is why--why did this have
to happen--just as our life together was just begining? We were going to be together always. Have a life here, Below. I had asked Catherine to marry me--we were just. . . . All that we had ever dreamed of was becoming reality, and to have it snatched from our grasp. . . ." Vincent whispered, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I know, my son. I don't have any answers. I've laid awake nights thinking the same things. Watched you become a pale shadow of yourself as you searched for her, barely eating or sleeping. Not knowing until now that your connection had been that severed. It may be that your bond was transferred from her to your child-- to protect this new life which has been created."

"But Catherine was my life--there is only emptiness without her."

"I do understand. I felt like you do, when Margaret died, that part of my soul had been stripped away. All the years that
we were separated I never stopped loving her, hoping that I would one day see her and we would be reunited." Father said, looking down at his hands, holding back his own remembered pain.

"And you were."

"Yes, for one short week. Then she was gone forever. The pain is still there but there is joy because of what we shared.
Vincent, you too, will learn to rise above what you feel now. That is what Catherine would want you to do. Find comfort in the
love you shared and in your memories. they will substain you and help you through these dark times."

"I will try, Father. there is nothing else I can do. For now, I wish to be left alone. There is much to think one,"
Vincent requested seriously, trying to keep his raging emotions under control.

"As you wish, but if you need me I will be near." Father said gently, coming over and kissing him lightly on the top his
head and squeezing his shoulder as made to go.

"Thank you, Father." Vincent acknowledged, smiling wanely up at him, letting him know that the gesture was appreciated.

The elder man then released his son and walked away. His footsteps finally faded leaving Vincent alone in his chamber. The
light was still dim, it didn't matter, there was nothing to see. The tears he had been holding back began to fall as the waves of
grief overcame him. The pain engulfed him and he let it, not resisting this time as he he been trying to do. In the midst of
this deep sorrow he heard her voice calling to him.

It shocked him to his very core, he called out,"Catherine?" His eyes searched the dark corners of the room. He felt her near,
like he had before. His heart cried out for her but his mind rejected this impossibility. "No, it cannot be!" He murmured,
glancing around still.

Then a movement by his wardrobe caught his attention. He knew she was there, her image becoming solid as it stepped
forward out of the shadows into the pale golden light of the lone candle on his table.

"Catherine?" He asked again. It was both a question and a statement as his eyes widened in disbelief at the apparation
before him. "Why are you here? You died in my arms--this cannot be?" His confusion was evident as he half rose out of the chair to go to her, to hold her again, but his mind said that she was not real only a figment called up out of his grief.

She smiled, then laughed as she walked closer, her laughter sounding like music on the night wind, and her eyes bright and
shining as he remembered them when she was truly happy. "Oh my sweet love, only my body died, not my spirit, or my love.
Vincent, I had to see you one last time. I know your pain. I feel it, hear it in my soul for I want to be with you as much as you
want to be with me. But it cannot be. It is not time for you to join me yet. Until it is time we must wait."

"Then I will come to you. Life means nothing without you." Vincent pleaded, rising to come to her.
"NO! It is not your time and you have a reason to live--for both of us. We loved--we have a son--HE NEEDS YOU!" Catherine stated emphantically, backing away from him slightly and becoming serious.

"You must find him, Vincent, and bring him home. He is your life now. Search inside yourself and you will find the bond. It
will lead you to him. Just as you and I were linked, so are you to our child. For him and for the love we shared, you must go
on." She requested, her grey-green eyes beseeching him to carry on for both of them.

"Catherine. . . ," he protested, wanting with every fiber of his being to be with her.

Reading his thoughts she held firm, "No, Vincent, you must go on alone. My time grows short, and I can not stay. Please
promise me that will find our son and bring him safely home. Love him for both of us. Will you do this?" Catherine asked.

"For you Catherine, I would do anything. I will find him. That I do swear." He promised, his eyes shining with unshed tears
as he looked at her, drinking in the sight of her beauty and warm presence. "Catherine, will I ever see you again?"

"I don't think so, but I will always be near--for you and for him. Our love holds me to this place, draws me to you. Our
love is for forever, never doubt that. Please be happy, my love, goodbye Vincent." She whispered radiating both sadness and her love to him as she stepped back into the shadows and began fading away into the darkness beyond.

"Catherine--NO! WAIT--don't go!" He pleaded as he rushed to the spot where she had stood to try and touch her--to hold her one last time.

But she was gone like the mist she had appeared to be. Even her warm presence was gone. He could no longer sense her near to him. He was alone, utterly alone in his cold dark chamber. He stood there numbly, his head downcast, his arms heavy and leaden, then he sagged to the floor as if all energy and will to remain standing had left him. He stayed there most of the night as if keeping vigil as his tears fell unchecked down his checks. After many hours his grief was truly spent. He rose and dropped his exhausted body into his bed. Weakly he pulled his covers over himself.Within minutes he was finally asleep.

He dreamed--dreams of Catherine, dreams of a life that could now never be. He was left only with his memories and the
fantasties he had built. He dreamed of what their life together Below could have been like. Scenes of everyday life they could
have shared, walks to the Whispering Gallery, the Chamber of the Winds, the Great Hall, and quiet moments in Waterfall Cavern. He missed most of all reading to her, feeling her head rest on his shoulder, her small hand in his, her luminous eyes as they looked up at him briming with the love she felt. He had even thought of inviting her to swim with him in the waters of the cave, after their physical barriers had been lifted.

Winterfest had not seemed the same this year without her beside him, nor with her gone had the festivities been quite as
gay for everyone else Below. She had truly been a part of them not so much because of their relationship, that was part of it,
but because of herself. She was one of them a full member of the community. She had always been there offerring help and
assistance to whomever needed it.

He remembered her reading to the children, encouraging them with their projects and ideas. Loving them all as if they were
her very own. Some of his happiest memories were of her sitting at one of the children's recitals holding a sleepy child in her
lap, brushing the top of their head with a gentle kiss, then looking over to him and smiling, her contentment and happiness
evident in every part of her being. Knowing full well that she wished that this could have been their child that she was holding
at that moment. It was sad that she would never be able to do that with their own child as she had wished so many times.

He dreamed of his child wondering whether it looked like him or hopefully like her so it would not be condemned like him to
exile Below. He remembered how hard it was growing up, being different, always being afraid to go outside, to be seen by
outsiders. How he had envied everyone who could pass unnoticed in the sunlit world. He could never feel the sunlight on his face, marvel at the colors of flowers or the sky. He hoped his child was not subject to his fate. That would be too cruel.

Catherine had told him he had a son. He marveled at that still. That one such as he could father anything. Just one night
of love could produce another living being. It was a miracle beyond imagining that this secret dream he had held could be
made into actual reality. A son, the words echoed in his dreaming mind, and with it the thoughts of Father being a grandfather,
holding the child upon his knee. In his sleep he smiled at the happy scene that played before his mind's eye.

Then he saw Catherine standing in the shadows watching them, being a part of their lives even though she could not but
nevertheless being there for all of them. He heard her sweet voice, "Know my love I will be with you always for our love can
never die--that is the truth beyond knowledge, beyond everything. Be happy Vincent, and know that I love you." She bent down and lightly kissed him on his lips, then her image faded.

He woke up with a start, sitting up abruptly in bed. He felt the tingle of her lips upon his, had it been dream or not? He
looked around, "Catherine?" he called, searching for her.

But she was not there though the faint traces of her scent remained, lingering on the air telling him she had been there. It
was no dream he told himself, and smiled to himself. She had reached out to him one last time, giving him proof of her love,
calming his fears and giving him the will to go on.

Then he felt it, felt the slender golden thread of the bond that now existed between him and his child. he began to focus on
it and felt an answering response to his probes. The thread there, tangible--real. There really was hope now. The child could
be found and brought home. That was what he had to believe in, to hang on to. His fatigue drifted away as he readed himself for the quest ahead and he began to make his plans.

Continued in Part III