The scream made Vincent's blood run cold ... a woman's scream of pain and terror. Emerging cautiously from the doorway into which he had darted when he heard the screech of tyres, he glanced swiftly around him, and seeing no one, ran to the crumpled form which lay on the wet, Manhattan back street.

She was sobbing quietly now, whimpering like an injured animal as she clutched her torn clothes about her and struggled to stand. Vincent lifted her gently from behind, shielding his face in the hood of his cloak.

"Don't be afraid. I'll help you. Can you walk?"

The girl jumped, and tried to twist round to face him, but the movement obviously hurt her and she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle a cry of pain.

"They r-raped m-me," she gasped, "and then they j-just drove here and threw me out of the car!"

"I know, I heard the door slam and then your scream. Please let me help you. I'll take you somewhere safe where you can rest. Will you trust me?" The girl nodded, then suddenly stiffened in Vincent's arms.

"I know you ... I know your voice."

"No, I do not think so. I live ... some distance from here." Again she tried to face him but her strength was fading and Vincent feared she may be badly hurt.

"No," she whispered, "I do know you... I'd know that voice anywhere." Then she fainted. Vincent caught her easily with one arm, and as he turned her bruised face towards him he realised she had spoken the truth ... she did know him.

"Lucy!" he breathed.

"Not again, Vincent." sighed Father as he met his son striding through the tunnels towards the hospital chamber, the unconscious girl in his arms. Gently, he laid Lucy on the bed and covered her with his cloak.

"This Is different Father, " he replied, turning to the old man.

"Where have I heard that before," was the muttered reply, but when he reached the hospital chamber he nevertheless reached for his instruments and ushered Vincent from the room.

"Go now. I have to examine her. This is no place for you. I'll talk to you later."

Back in his own chamber, the anger that Vincent had kept submerged until Lucy was in safe hands, threatened to erupt, and he paced around for several minutes until he had regained control of his emotions. Eventually, taking a deep breath he sat down in his favourite chair and leaned back, closing his eyes as he recalled the meeting that Lucy obviously remembered with equal clarity.

After being blinded in an explosion whilst protecting Catherine, Vincent had been captured and tortured by a vicious street gang known as "The Silks". He had managed to escape, killing one of them in the process, and Chris, brother of the dead man and leader of the gang, had gone on a sadistic revenge mission, determined to kill Vincent. Hampered as he was by not being able to see, Vincent had been run down by Chris' car and badly injured. When Lucy had found him slumped outside her basement apartment she'd taken pity on him and tried to help. Despite her initial reaction when she saw his face for the first time, Vincent remembered with affection, how remorse and compassion had eventually triumphed, and Lucy, at considerable risk to herself, had taken him as close to home as she'd dared.

"May I come in?" It was over an hour later, and Father stood in the doorway. Vincent turned and extended his hand in invitation.

"Of course Father, please." The old man sat down opposite him and rested his hands on his cane.

"The young lady will be fully recovered in a few days. At least, physically. But who knows how long the emotional scars will take to heal? You know she was raped?" Vincent bowed his head.

"Yes. She told me."

"Is she a friend?" Vincent nodded.

"She helped me the night I was injured in the Lower East Side of the city; in the explosion which blinded me and then by the car." Father sighed.

"I see. Then we have much to thank her for. It took all my skills patching you up that time. What's her name?"

"Lucy."

"Well, I think Lucy is going to require your help this time Vincent. She's putting on a brave face but I think deep down she's frightened. She wants to see you." Vincent started to rise but Father put out his hand.

"Not tonight. I've given her something to help her sleep. Go to her in the morning."

In her apartment, Catherine had the strangest feeling steal over her while she was preparing a nightcap. Somehow she knew it had to do with Vincent.

The next morning Vincent made his way to the hospital chamber with a gown Mary had selected for Lucy to wear while she attempted to repair and launder the girl's own clothes. He found her propped up on pillows, the laughing eyes he remembered, lifeless and almost lost in the paleness of her bruised face, and his heart contracted painfully as he remembered another young woman he'd found in similar circumstances and brought here over two years previously; an event which had changed his entire life. She looked up as he entered, and smiled at him.

"You remembered me," he said.

"Sure. I figure most people would remember you, Vincent." He made a small sound of amusement.

"I didn't tell you my name."

"No, but that nice old guy who looked after me did. I'm glad you came. I wanted to thank you for bringing me here. it's kinda weird this place where you live but ... I like it." Vincent sat down on the edge of the bed and handed her the gown.

"How are you feeling?" She shrugged.

"Okay I guess. I'd feel a whole lot better if I thought the bastards who did this," she touched her swollen lip, "were going to get what they deserve."

"Perhaps they will," he murmured. "Do you know who they were?"

"I knew two of them. The Mittorini brothers. They own a take-out food dive on the Lower East Side. Guess the others just came along for the ride. Had to happen some time."

"What do you mean?" Lucy leaned forward.

"I'm a hooker ... you mean you hadn't guessed?" his head sadly.

"No." She sat back and covered his hand with her own.

"Well don't let it worry you honey. I been taking real good care of myself for a long time now and nothing like this has ever happened to me before. An' I'll make damn sure it doesn't happen again either," she added. "You see if I don' t!"

"There are classes you can go to; to learn how to defend yourself I mean. A friend of mine went and she is less afraid now whenever it is necessary for her to go out alone at night." Lucy's mouth twitched mischievously.

"I bet she's not a hooker, right?" He shook his head.

~ No .

"Figures. Does she live down here too?"

"No. She has an apartment in the City."

"But she comes here to see you, right?"

"Right. And now you must put this on. I'll bring you some tea in a few moments."

Vincent didn't see Lucy again that day but he heard from Samantha that she'd been moved to one of the guest chambers for a little while until she felt ready to go back and face the world Above.

As Catherine leaned into his embrace that night he remembered how even one night without seeing her now was too long.

"I missed you Vincent," she whispered against his neck, and he felt the uncomfortably rapid increase in his heartbeat at the feel of her against him. "Was something wrong? I felt something strange." He held her away from him and leaned against the railing.

"I met Lucy again last night."

"The girl who helped you the night of the explosion?" He nodded.

"She had been attacked."

"Oh no... what happened? Is she alright?" Vincent told her everything he knew, including the name of the two men involved.

"The Mittorini Brothers," repeated Catherine. "What can I do? Do you want me to see if there's a file on them at the DA's office? Vincent nodded.

"It would mean a great deal to me Catherine. Those men should be punished for what they did to Lucy. She does not have an easy life but in spite of everything, she has a brave heart. She placed herself in danger to help me that night."

"I'd like to thank her myself." He smiled.

"Perhaps you will meet her while she is with us. You know you are welcome Below at any time, Catherine."

The following day Vincent went to find Lucy and take her for a walk to see the Mirror Pool. She was dressed in the borrowed Tunnel gown and her hair was freshly washed and brushed. With no make up on her swollen face, she looked younger and as innocent as he would have preferred her to be.

"You are looking much better today, Lucy," he said, taking the hand she held out to welcome him.

"I feel great," she replied. "Well, maybe not great exactly, but better, yes."

"Good. Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

"Sure. Where shall we go?"

"To a very special place I'd like to show you."

"Okay, let's go. Say, Vincent, you don't mind if I hold your arm, do you? My legs are still a little shaky." Vincent crooked his arm in an exaggerated gesture of gallantry and Lucy took it gratefully.

As they walked Lucy asked questions nonstop. She seemed fascinated by the idea of a whole community of people living their lives below the city streets, and whilst he was amused at her interest and glad that her experience had not caused her to withdraw from conversation, he was wary, as always of divulging too much information. Indeed, he was careful to impress on her the need for secrecy.

"Please understand Lucy, that the existence of our world depends on complete confidentiality, both between ourselves and our friends in the world Above. I am trusting you now as I trusted you the night you helped me. The future of us all is in your hands now... in my own case it is probably my life." They had reached the Mirror Pool and Lucy was quiet for a moment. When she looked up at Vincent he was concerned to see her eyes were bright with tears.

"What is it Lucy? Have I upset you in some way?" She shook her head vigorously.

"No Vincent. I just suddenly realised how dangerous your life is and what a risk you took bringing me here." He inclined his head slightly.

"We have to trust some people. For although any contact we make in your world threatens our existence to some degree, we could not survive without our Helpers and friends. They are very generous to us."

"Do you know how long it is since someone, I mean some decent person, trusted me with the kind of responsibility you just did?" He patted the small hand which held his arm.

"I have good instincts about people Lucy. I know our secret will remain in your heart."

"Oh Vincent!" Suddenly the tears fell and she clung to him, her fingers clenching and unclenching the front of his padded vest.

"Lucy, Lucy, please do not upset yourself like this. What is it?"

He pulled a large, hand-sewn white handkerchief from his pocket and pushed it between her fingers.

"I'm sorry Vincent," she sobbed. "B-but you're wrong about me ... I let you down that night!"

"No... you showed me kindness and compassion."

"But after you'd gone "The Silks" came and Chris threatened me... Vincent, I was so scared of what he might do to me, I told him you'd gone inside the old Beaumont building. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Vincent held the sobbing girl against his chest, murmuring words of reassurance and comfort.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Lucy. Anyone would have done the same thing. I know how from first hand experience how vicious Chris was. Apart from what he did to me, he killed Howie in cold blood right in front of me. Poor Howie sacrificed his own life for me and I can never thank him. We all have things we regret in our lives Lucy, but submitting to pressure from a sadistic man like Chris should not be one of yours. Now dry your eyes and come and look at the Mirror Pool."

Obediently she dabbed the tears away and reached up one hand to touch his face, studying it intently.

"You know, you're a very special person Vincent," she said softly. "I don't know how I could have been afraid of you that night. There's nothing scary about your face." He started to say something but she placed a finger against his lips.

"I mean it. Only people who are too dumb to know any better could possibly be afraid of you. I can be pretty dumb sometimes but not with you... not any more."

Vincent decided against telling her that there were other differences in his character that people found terrifying. For the moment he was grateful that she seemed to want to be his friend, that she was recovering from her ordeal and that she would not betray the secret of the world Below.

Later, as he sat reading in his chamber, Vincent felt Catherine approaching the Tunnels. Laying down his book he rose and went to meet her, his heart lighter, as always, at the prospect of seeing her. He met her at the iron gate, and depressed the lever to allow her to come through but she shook her head.

"I'm sorry Vincent, I can't stop long. I'm going to the ballet this evening. But I had to come; I have some news for you.

"What is it Catherine?" She delved into her pocket and pulled out a paper.

"Vincenzo and Alberto Mittorini took over their father's business when he died a year ago, but they've no interest in it. It's really just a useful cover for their more shady operations. They're only little fish but they've dabbled in drugs and robbery for years." The sheet of paper Vincent held in his hand incorporated photographs of the brothers which had obviously come from police files.

"Thank you Catherine," said Vincent, shoving the paper into the folds of his cloak. "Enjoy yourself at the ballet. I wish I could be there with you." He bent to kiss her forehead and felt her arms go around his waist before he could pull back.

"I wish you could too." She looked up at him. "You will be careful won't you, Vincent?" He smiled.

"As always Catherine. Do not fear for me. I will come to you soon."

"I always fear for you." He held her to him for a moment, then quickly released her, turned and disappeared back into the tunnels, leaving Catherine staring at a solid piece of metal with a feeling emptiness and a vague sense of unease inside her.

Vincent returned to his chamber to make plans, and once he had decided on a course of action he began to thumb through his books for something to read. A copy of 'Little Women' fell to the floor, and as he bent to retrieve it, he wondered if Lucy might appreciate something to pass the time.

She was pacing around the chamber agitatedly when he reached the doorway.

"Excuse me for disturbing you Lucy... may I come in?" She turned and her face lit up with a smile when she saw him.

"Oh yes, Vincent, please." He walked towards her and held out the book.

"I thought perhaps you might like something to read before you sleep." Lucy took the book and smiled.

"'Little Women'... I haven't read that since I was a kid. Haven't read anything much. Just magazines really. Do you read a lot, Vincent?" He nodded.

"Voraciously. I have so many books. Some of them I've read many times; favourite stories. I have come to regard them as friends." Lucy put the book on the table and took a step closer to him.

"That's nice. Do you have a lot of friends ... people I mean?"

"Of course. Everyone who lives here is my friend."

"What about up there?" She raised her eyes to the ceiling and then gazed into his own, studying him again, a sensation he found a little disconcerting.

"Yes, up there too. Only not as many of course. It is difficult for me. I cannot go there in daylight, and the people I see at night are often not the kind one would wish to become lifelong friends with."

"You told me about a friend who took lessons in self-defense." He smiled.

"Ah yes. Catherine."

"Have you known her long?"

"A little over two years."

"How did you meet her, Vincent?"

"I found her in the park. She had been attacked too."

"And you brought her down here, like me?"

"Yes." He thought he saw something in her eyes then. Something that hadn't been there before. "Why all these questions Lucy?" She lifted his right hand, stared at its palm, then turned it over and ran her fingers gently over the light fur covering.

"I've often thought about you since that night; wondered what happened to you... if you got home safely. I've never met anyone like you before Vincent." He gave a faint laugh.

"I would be surprised if you had, Lucy. I think I am one of a kind. Father tells me it is something to be proud of... to be unique... but then he has not had to stand in my shoes.

"I think Father's right. You should be proud Vincent. You're a wonderful person." He withdrew his hand gently.

"Well if you want to look wonderful in the morning I think I should go now and let you get some rest. I just wanted to tell you that Catherine has found the Mittorini brothers' address for me and I intend to pay them a visit tonight. She works in the District Attorney's Office," he added in explanation. Lucy's eyes filled with fear.

"Please be careful, Vincent. They don't have your morals and scruples. I don't want you to get hurt." Vincent smiled and touched her cheek gently.

"Do not worry about me, Lucy. I have certain ... ways, of dealing with men like that."

Father was in his nightgown and writing in his journal when Vincent came in.

"I apologise for disturbing you Father but I came to tell you I am going Above if you should need me." Father turned and looked at his much loved adopted son.

"And what, may I ask, is the purpose of your journey?" Vincent held out the paper Catherine had given him. Father adjusted his glasses on his nose and peered at the print.

"What have these men to do with you Vincent?" he asked, a worried expression forming on his face.

"They are the ones responsible for the attack on Lucy," Vincent replied. "They must be punished."

"I see. So you are now setting yourself up as a vigilante are you? What makes you think these men will strike again?" Vincent snatched the paper away and tucked it inside his shirt.

"Because men like that always do. I cannot believe you would wish them to go unpunished." The old man rose from his seat and walked towards Vincent.

"No, but I think it would be better to leave it to the authorities Above. You should not put yourself in danger every time an injustice presents itself to you."

"Lucy is my friend ..., they hurt her; violated her!"

"What about you! Isn't it enough that you risk your life every time you go to visit Catherine, or rush to her assistance whenever she is in trouble - without something like this! Are you now going to take on the whole world, Vincent! Call yourself 'The Cloaked Crusader' perhaps?"

"Sarcasm does not become you, Father," Vincent growled in response. He turned and marched away, but as he mounted the steps out of the chamber he turned.

"I understand it is only my safety that concerns you Father, and I am grateful. But I have to do this. Men like the Mittorrini brothers, who can do what they did to Lucy, have no place in the world."

As he strode away, Father stared after him, his heart heavy.

"But what about you my son... what place have you in that world you're going to? My greatest fear is that one day you will not return."

At I.30 am Vincent made his way stealthily to the address quoted in the police entry and flattened himself against the wall of an alley as some rowdy kids passed, kicking Coke cans and hurling abuse at anything that moved. After their voices faded from earshot the whole area seemed to be quiet, and Vincent tried the door of the take-out food shop. As expected it was locked, but gave way on the third try under Vincent's weight.

Someone moved on the floor above, obviously disturbed by the noise, and Vincent moved quickly through the shop and out into the back passageway where a flight of stairs rose up in front of him. He heard a muttered curse when the person above tripped over something and a shaft of light fell over the top of the staircase as a door opened on the landing.

"What is it Al?" called a voice from another room.

"How the hell do I know? And keep your voice down. Sounded like the street door... someone breaking in maybe. Get your ass out here."

A man appeared at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the light. He shaded his eyes to try and see better, muttered another oath and began to descend the stairs. Vincent saw he had a gun in his hand, and as soon as he was close enough, reached out and snatched it away from him. It dropped to the floor, and before the man Al could utter a sound, Vincent clamped a hand around his mouth and held him fast.

"Where are you, Al? You down there?" Another man appeared at the top of the stairs and peered around him. "God dammit answer me!" Al struggled furiously in Vincent's grasp but although well built, he was no match for Vincent. Slowly the other man made his way down the stairs. He was young, with a bodybuilder's physique and in his left hand he carried a baseball bat. At exactly the right moment, Vincent thrust Al away from him so that he fell to the floor several feet away, at the same time grabbing the second man's arm and yanking him hard so he fell down the last few stairs.

"What the hell...!" he began, but Vincent dragged him up on his feet and hurled him against a wall.

"Remember Lucy?" he enquired menacingly.

"Who the hell are you? Al are you OK?"

"Sure Vin. I'm here. Who is this guy ... I can't see his face."

"I asked you a question," snapped Vincent. "Lucy: do you remember her? You should, because you raped her and beat her up two nights ago."

"What's she to you?" asked Al, scrabbling around to try and locate his gun.

"A friend," replied Vincent, "but that is not the point. "The point is you attacked an innocent girl... inflicted your evil brand of sadism on another human being. I cannot allow that to happen again.

"So what're you gonna do, kill us?" jeered Vincenzo, getting warily to his feet.

"If I have to. I hope that won't be necessary."

"Oh it will be necessary," replied Vincenzo. "We can't afford to have you going around telling everyone we're rapists. I mean, it's not good for our image is it Al?"

"No, it ain't good for our image pal. See no one wants to come and buy cannelloni from a couple of rapists. Although even that's debatable. If you ask me she enjoyed it.

Vincent looked from one to the other, the fury mounting in him like a volcano. Suddenly Vincenzo laughed.

"Well sure she enjoyed it. Man she was begging for it. In fact, I was thinking of charging her for giving her such a good time!"

Something in Vincent snapped. A picture of Lucy and Catherine flashed into Vincent's head, their faces bloodied and battered. He lunged at Vincenzo, striking him across the head and chest, but as he did so he heard a gunshot. Heard it before he felt the bullet sink into the flesh and sinew of his right hand, held high as he raised it to hit Vincenzo again. Whirling around he yanked Al towards him by his vest and threw him with tremendous force against the wall. Kicking the gun into the shop area, Vincent slashed again and this time Al lay motionless on the floor. But he was an instant too late to see Vincenzo climb a little unsteadily to his feet and raise both arms over his head. Vincent turned just in time to feel a rush of air as the baseball bat smashed down onto the forearm of his already injured limb. He didn't need to hear the sickening crack to know the bone had shattered, and in the split second before the pain reached a crescendo, he gave a mighty roar and sent the other man's soul straight to Hell with a blow to the head from his left arm.

With blood pumping from his hand, Vincent staggered from the shop and out on to the street. The disturbance must have awakened neighbouring shopkeepers because an N.Y.P.D. patrol car, its siren wailing, was coming down the street straight towards him. Vincent darted into an alley doorway, propped his left arm against the wall and leaned his head on it, breathing hard. His right arm hung limply at his side, the pain from both injuries so severe it was making his stomach heave.

Catherine awoke with a start. Then she realised she had been lying on her right arm and it was completely dead. She pinched and rubbed it to stimulate the circulation, but as feeling began to return, an agonising pain shot through it. With a cry of alarm Catherine switched on her bedside lamp and examined her arm. There was no sign of any injury or abnormality and it was not until the pain subsided that it dawned on her what it meant. The pain was not hers but Vincent's. He was in trouble somewhere and hurt.

lt was a long way back to the nearest tunnel entrance from the Lower East Side, and Vincent knew he couldn't make it. He'd have to use the old Beaumont Building again. As soon as the police officers had gone inside the Mittorini's shop, followed by several curious neighbours, he began to make his way through the dark streets towards the children's' play area and the building beyond. It was instinctive for Vincent to move quickly whenever he was Above, but now every step jarred his badly bleeding arm, and tidal waves of pain rippled through him one after another. By the time he reached the massive door which led Below, he felt so faint and sick he was sure he'd never be able to move it. He leaned against an old oil drum for a few moments until his head cleared sufficiently to try and tackle the door.

Even with two good arms it was a Herculean task, and in his weakened condition, it took Vincent six attempts before he was able to open the door wide enough to squeeze through. Exhausted, he stumbled over to the nearest pipe and tapped out an S.O.S. and then slid down the wall to rest for a while. If he kept completely still the pain was just bearable, but the instant he moved it returned with a vengeance, spreading through his body like fire. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay conscious, and eventually heard voices in the distance.

Hauling himself upright he went to meet them; Father, Mary, Catherine, Pascal and Lucy. He heard Father's murmured, Oh my God! and through pain-filled eyes, saw Catherine stop in her tracks, her expression wavering between anguish for him and shock, as Lucy rushed forward and threw her arms around him.

"Oh Vincent, I've been so worried! Are you okay?"

"Please, Lucy... my arm ..." he gasped, and Lucy suddenly saw the blood and how awkwardly it was hanging.

"Oh God, let me help you!" she cried, but Vincent gently held her away and Mary drew her to one side, patting her shoulder reassuringly.

Holding out his left hand, Vincent looked at Catherine and saw the relief in her eyes, and she ran to hold him. He held her head against his chest for a moment and when she looked up, he knew she understood what he was trying to convey with his eyes, but which he had neither the strength nor the privacy to speak out loud.

I love you, she mouthed. At that moment Vincent swayed sIightIy.

"Father, please... could we..." Father and Pascal were beside him in an instant and he leaned on them for support as they made their way to the hospital chamber. Lucy had watched Vincent's encounter with Catherine miserably and fallen a few steps behind the others as they began the journey back, so was surprised when Catherine fell into step beside her.

"You must be Lucy," said Catherine gently. The other girl nodded.

"And you're Catherine?."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry Catherine. I didn't know how it was with you and Vincent. He only told me that you were a friend."

"It's okay Lucy. Please don't worry." She paused, uncertain whether she should voice her suspicions, but deciding that Lucy might well need someone to talk to. "Does Vincent know how you feel about him?" Lucy shrugged, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm not sure. I haven't told him in so many words, but he's probably figured it out. Guess I'd have made a real fool of myself if I'd made a pass at him."

"He'd never have made you feel like that. He's too fond of you... and much too sensitive."

"He is, isn't he? And yet he seems to think it's impossible that anyone... women I mean... could find him attractive." Catherine smiled.

"Well we both know he's wrong, don't we? And there have been at least two others to my knowledge." She tried to inject a little humour into her voice and said conspiratorially; "Heaven knows how many hearts he broke when he was growing up down here!" Lucy managed a smile.

"I have a feeling that you're the only one for him. Is that how it is Cathy?" Catherine squeezed the girl's arm.

"Yes Lucy. That's how it is... for both of us. Although we cannot live a life together in quite the same way as other people, we're working on it. There's a bond between us. We are... connected. There is only me for him and... only him for me. I'm sorry Lucy. I know he'll always treasure your friendship, if you can bear to stick around." Lucy rubbed a hand over her eyes.

"Yes. Sure. I've gotten used to disappointments. Happens all the time. The problem is that none of the men I've loved before, were worthy of even licking Vincent's boots."

With a smile, Catherine slid an arm around Lucy's waist and the two women walked the rest of the way together, each understanding the other better than they might otherwise have done if the circumstances had been different.

When they reached the hospital chamber, Father filled a syringe and expelled the air.

"I'm going to give you an injection before I examine that arm Vincent; it looks very bad. Now for goodness sake lay down. You look as though you're about to faint." Vincent attempted a smile, but his face had gone from white to ashen.

"Then I will not take that chance, Father," he replied and sank down onto the bed, closing his eyes. Father emptied the syringe into Vincent and then turned to the others.

"Alright everyone, I can manage now thank you. Catherine, you may stay if you wish. Mary perhaps you would go with Lucy, and Pascal, I'm sure you're needed in the Pipe Chamber. Vincent will be quite alright and you can all see him tomorrow." Murmuring their goodbyes, everyone left and Catherine looked at Father.

"What can I do to help?"

"Well," he replied, "if you'd like to, you can be my nurse while I take the bullet out of Vincent's hand and ascertain how badly this arm is broken. Then I shall need to set it. I know you've got a strong stomach after the way you coped when we had that terrible plague down here." She raised her eyebrows.

"That was different. This is Vincent. I can't bear to see him hurt. I'd rather it was me." Father looked at her.

"That's funny; that's exactly what he says whenever something happens to you."

The following morning Vincent awoke to find Catherine curled up in a chair beside him, holding his hand. He glanced down to see his right arm stretched out and heavily bound to a splint. Raising himself a little he touched Catherine gently. She awoke instantly, pushing back her hair and smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello Vincent."

"Catherine, have you been there all night?"

"Of course. Surely you didn't think I'd leave you? I wanted to be here when you woke up. How are you feeling?" He smiled.

"Better than you, I imagine. At least I had a comfortable bed." Catherine stood up and picked up a jug of water which she poured into a glass. This she handed to him together with two tablets.

"Here. I had strict instructions from Father that you were to take these as soon as you were awake." Vincent sighed.

"I dislike taking pills. I am not in pain now."

"Don't be such a hero. Your arm was broken and splintered in three places. Just you wait till the anesthetic wears off." He gave a wry smile.

"You are such a comfort Catherine. I will do as you say; I am not quite up to arguing with you yet."

A little later Vincent wanted to return to his own chamber, so Catherine went with him. He stared down irritably at the water jug and bowl, desperate for a wash and knowing he wouldn't be able to manage alone.

"I wish to wash and change my clothes Catherine, but I fear I shall not be able to manage it on my own. Do you think... I mean would you..." Catherine went to him immediately, unclasped his belt and threw it on to a chair.

"Of course I'll help you. What on earth do you think I'm here for?" she grinned. She undid his padded vest and removed it, then turned her attention to his shirt. Unlacing it with unusually clumsy fingers, she slid it carefully off his shoulders. Then she stood looking at him, a glow of warmth from somewhere low down inside her reaching upwards to evidence the sensation in two spots of colour on her cheeks. They were standing so close together that she could see the rise and fall of his chest muscles as he breathed. Suddenly he pulled her to him and, a little uncharacteristically, kissed her with all the passion he usually tried so hard to submerge.

"Catherine!" he whispered as her fingers raked the light, golden fur of his chest, "this was not one of my better ideas. I do not think I am going to be able to just stand here calmly while you wash me." His words fanned Catherine's inner flame and knowing he really should keep his arm horizontal, she had an idea. Forcing herself to break away from him, she walked to the doorway of the chamber and released the heavy curtain which dropped into place to show anyone passing that Vincent did not wish to be disturbed. Then she spread out a rug over his bed and led him towards it.

"Lay down," she commanded, a little breathlessly. He looked puzzled, but did as she requested, and Catherine gently extended his right arm, supporting it on a pillow. Pouring warm water into the bowl she carried it over and set it down by the bed. Then she fetched a bar of soap, rolled up her sleeves and sat down beside him on the bed.

"Catherine what are you doing?" he asked. "I really think perhaps I had better do this myself. You don't even have the sponge."

"Oh no you don't," she replied, soaping her hands into a rich lather and placing them on his body. "And who needs a sponge. You're not mobile enough to make love to me just now even if I was finally able to convince you the time is right, and we can't jump in a tub together down here, so ... since you asked me to help you wash, I see no reason why we shouldn' t both get all the pleasure we can out of it. Now close your eyes and relax." By his amazed expression, she thought at first he was going to stop her. Vincent. could be quite puritanical in his views sometimes. For a few seconds he watched her warily, and then, unable any longer to ignore the sensual way her hands slipped and slid over his neck, across his shoulders and chest, and down into the hollow below his ribcage as she moved the foaming bubbles around, he closed his eyes and gave a low growl of submission and ecstasy.

"That's better Vincent," Catherine whispered, "just relax and let whatever happens... happen. I love you."

"You bewitch me," he gasped, and as he opened his eyes briefly to look again at the miracle that had entered his life, he felt her removing yet another of his deep-rooted inhibitions, to add to her rapidly growing collection.