CHAPTER EIGHT.

WEDNESDAY JANUARY 11, 1995

Josephine Grayson rose stiffly from her seat, carefully arching her back to stretch the aching muscles, and flexing her shoulders to try to ease the knot of tension that was there.

She was utterly exhausted, but it was a good feeling.

Her new job was going well and she had already been handed some interesting cases.

But ....

The most interesting things in her life were taking place outside of her working life.

Jenny and Joe Maxwell had overcome their initial hesitancy about her, Jenny especially, wanting to share her excitement and her fears about the possibility that Catherine Chandler might soon awaken, and they had joined Josephine at her home, for dinner, several times in the last week, bringing their young family with them, much to Mrs Ludlow's delight.

And ....

For the past seven days now, they had been keeping a constant, twenty four hour vigil at Catherine's bedside. Jenny and Joe Maxwell, herself, and of course, Vincent, as well as the nursing staff.

Someone was always with Catherine now, just in case she should awaken.

And the possibility of that grew better every day, according to the test results and the readouts on the banks of monitors beside the bed.

Catherine was getting stronger, reaching a higher level of awareness with the passing of each day.

But ....

Even so ....

There were no guarantees

The last seven days had gone pretty much the same, with Josephine rising very early and coming to the hospital to sit with Catherine for a little while, before going on to the offices of the F.B.I.'s New York field office.

During the morning, the nursing staff would see to Catherine's immediate medical and hygiene needs, and then, at lunch time, Jenny Maxwell would arrive, sitting with Catherine, holding her hand, stroking her brow, chattering about her children, Joe, her busy life, the weather, and sometimes, time and circumstances permitting, Josephine would join Jenny, bringing sandwiches and hot coffee, or a can of diet soda, and she and Jenny would spend a little time chatting, getting to know each other better, before Josephine had to go back to her office.

Jenny Maxwell would then stay with Catherine until mid afternoon, when she had to return to her young family, and then Joe Maxwell, taking an early mark from the D.A.'s office, would arrive at the hospital and sit quietly with Catherine, reminiscing about their time together in the office, and telling her all about the people who still worked there that she would remember, and how they were getting on.

Jenny Maxwell would then return to the hospital, joining her husband at about six thirty in the evening, and they would stay, until about eight, when Josephine took over once again.

In-between times, Maggie Connors would sit with Catherine, silently marveling at the battle that must be going on inside the young woman, yet, with no visible signs, save for the flashing lights on the banks of monitors beside the bed.

Josephine usually stayed late, waiting for Vincent to arrive, to take his turn at Catherine's bedside.

He seemed to have recovered himself, after the initial shock of discovering that his beloved was fighting her way back to him, which had rocked him to his very core, and given him something to think about, not all of it good.

She had sensed his doubts, fears, that Catherine would not recognize him.

Or that Catherine would no longer feel as she once had for him.

Josephine had no words to reassure her brother, unable to offer him anything except her love and support, and a shoulder to cry on, allowing him to simply voice his fears and doubts, as he had paced back and forth across her attic.

They both knew that only time would tell.

Josephine had not quite gotten used to Vincent's dramatic entrance to Catherine's room, via the fire escape and the window, but one thing that she had gotten used to, was the look on his face, as he beheld Catherine, still lying motionless and insensate, in the centre of the narrow hospital bed.

In that instant, Josephine would feel again, his pain, despair and frustration, and her own heart ached for him.

Then ....

He would take in a deep breath, expel it on a soft sigh of resignation, cross the room on silent feet, push back the capacious hood of his cloak, and taking the seat beside the head of the bed, would take Catherine's small hand gently in his ownlarger one, and as Josephine discreetly melted into the shadows, he would begin to tell Catherine about his day, about their son, about the people in his life that she knew and loved.

For the first few nights, Josephine had stayed only long enough to see him settled, sensing his need to be alone with the woman that he loved, and knowing that he would soon be immersed in his own little world.

But, one night earlier in the week, when she had been about to slip quietly out of the room, Vincent had caught her wrist gently in his big hand, and had held her with an appealing cobalt blue gaze, his one word, barely audible. "Stay ...."

Now, when Vincent arrived, she would leave him alone with Catherine for a little while, using the time to go to the drinks vending machine at the end of the corridor to purchase a Styrofoam cup of coffee or soup, and walked up and down the corridor sipping at the beverage slowly.

And then, when she sensed his change of mood, and his need for her company, Josephine would return to Catherine Chandler's room, and remain there with Vincent until the early hours of the morning, sometimes talking, sometimes dozing, sometimes just listening to Vincent talk about his 'world', and the special people who shared it with him, until with the approaching dawn, it was time for him to leave.

A soft rustling noise at the window drew Josephine's attention and she looked up just in time to see Vincent ducking in through the window from the fire escape.

He drew up to his full, impressive height, his cloak floating about his booted feet, barely out of breath, despite the hazardous journey of scaling the rooftops and negotiating the fire escape.

His bright blue eyes immediately sought out Catherine, and Josephine again felt his disappointment pound through her.

Their Bond had grown stronger with the better they got to know each other, but, as Josephine had originally suspected, it was at it's strongest when they were physically close.

Josephine could still marvel at just how quickly she had accepted their gift, knowing that he was always with her, sharing her every feeling, knowing that she would never again be completely alone.

That she too could sometimes feel what Vincent was feeling, as strongly as he was feeling that emotion, was a little unnerving at first, and would certainly take time to get used to.

But ....

It was also humbling, and helped to make her a more considerate and compassionate person.

And, there were some things that she was sure she would never get used to sharing with her unique brother.

Privileged things.

His despair and frustration that Catherine had still not awakened.

His distrust of people.

Her world.

His deep and abiding love for Catherine, and their son, Jacob.

Josephine heard Vincent's sigh of resignation, and tried not to smile.

His eyes sought hers, boring into their green/gold depths, head tilted slightly to one side, face concealed in shadow behind the capacious hood.

"Hello Vincent ...." She greeted him with a warm smile, walking to him, arms open and outstretched. She gave him an affectionate, sisterly squeeze and received from him a gentle embrace in return.

"Josephine ...." He spoke her name in soft, velvet tones, then stepped aside and walked slowly over to the bed. "How is she?" He asked, his china blue eyes never leaving Catherine's beautiful, pale face.

"Good. All her vital signs are stronger, and her SMART test results show another improvement," Josephine explained softly. "I'll leave you two ...."

"No ...." Vincent turned sharply to look at his sister, and she was immediately engulfed in his sorrow.

"Vincent? What is it, love?" She crossed the room quickly to stand beside him.

"Tomorrow, no, a few minutes from now .... I will be ..... forty years old ...."

"I know ...." Josephine smiled at him again, and slide her arm affectionately around his solid waist.

"And .... I ...." He faltered then, but Josephine knew what was in his mind, and in his heart ....

"And you had hoped that Catherine ...."

"Yes ...."

"Oh Vincent ...." Josephine squeezed her arm around his waist reassuringly.

"I knew that it was a false hope, but .... I .... could not stop myself ...." He confessed.

"Not a false hope, love. A long shot, maybe ...." Josephine sighed softly. "And I know how you feel. I've wanted that for you too, love ...."

"But, it is not to be ...." Vincent expelled a deep, shuddering sigh, and closed his eyes, briefly.

When he opened them once more, they were brimming with tears, and Josephine felt her heart constrict in her chest.

She wanted to offer him comfort, but she knew that she was the wrong person, that the only one who could comfort him in the way that he needed, was Catherine Chandler.

And despite the fact that that thought caused her more pain than she had known in a while.

Josephine knew, deep down in her heart, that that was as it should be.

With a weak smile, she reluctantly drew away and stepped back from the bed, seeking her place in the shadows, beside the open window, and watched as from beneath the voluminous folds of his cloak, Vincent produced a perfect single stemmed red rose.

With careful, gentle, slightly trembling fingers, Vincent took the delicate rose, and with the soft, velvety petals, caressed Catherine's cheek, chin, lingering under her nose so that she could breathe in it's delicate scent, before moving on to her other cheek.

As she watched, Josephine felt tears sting in her eyes.

It was such an intimate moment, so tender, she could feel the waves of love emanating from her brother, out toward the woman that he loved with every fiber of his being.

And suddenly felt him recoil in surprise.

"Vincent?" Her tone was edged with concern.

"I .... I ...." He stammered, turning to her with eyes that were wide, still bright with tears, and possessing a startled quality.

"I .... remember the first time that I gave Catherine a rose ...." He continued, his voice low and husky, velvet and honey, throbbing with emotion. "One of the children had given me a dried, pressed rose, which I had used for some time as a book mark ...." He went on, tears sliding unchecked down his coarse, ginger cheeks. "I used it to mark the place in a book which I gave to Catherine, as a gift ...."

He paused briefly to take in a calming breath, returning his gaze to the beauty lying motionless on the bed.

"I had not known Catherine for very long, but, even then, I was beginning to believe that in her eyes .... I had a certain beauty .... worth ...." Again he faltered, lowering his head briefly, and again Josephine felt her heart constrict in her chest.

"The book was the Sonnets of Shakespeare .... and in the days that followed .... Catherine would read them to me .... but .... that first one .... meant everything .... everything," his voice trailed away then, and again he bowed his head.

"Which one, Vincent?" Josephine asked hoarsely, feeling tears spilling over on to her cheeks.

"Sonnet 29 ...." He breathed ....

"When, in disgrace with fortune in mens' eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state ...." Josephine mumbled, feeling her heart clench in her chest, for it was a particular favorite of her own and one which she had applied to herself, knowing that her beloved Jeff had seen through to the beauty within her soul, as she had with him.

"And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries .... and look upon myself and curse my fate ...." Vincent continued for her when emotion closed her throat and she could not utter another word.

"Wishing me, like to one more rich in hope .... featured like him, like him with friends possessed .... desiring this man's art and that man's scope .... with what I most enjoy contented least ...."

Again, Josephine could feel Vincent's love for Catherine swelling.

And again ....

She suddenly felt him recoil in surprise .... and shock ....

"Vincent?" Josephine moved back toward the light, watching as Vincent's huge shoulders heaved, as he let out a soft, strangulated moan ....

"Vincent?" She reached for his hand, swamped by a deluge of emotion, so deep, so all encompassing that she could not define any one clearly ....

"Look ...." Vincent mumbled thickly, and Josephine followed his gaze down to where Catherine's small hand rested in his own, her fingers curling up slowly and stiffly, to squeeze his hand in return.

"Catherine ...." Her name was a tortured sound from his lips, torn from his heart, his face a mixture of joy .... and love .... and fear ....

"Go on, Vincent ...." Josephine encouraged softly. "Catherine is remembering too, love. Go on with the poem ...." She laid a gentle hand on his broad shoulder, and squeezed it gently.

Vincent looked down at her then, huge cobalt blue eyes filled with tears .... filled with wonder .... disbelief .... love .... seeking confirmation that what he perceived to be happening was indeed so ....

And Josephine nodded gently, dislodging more of her own tears, which she brushed away impatiently.

"Vincent .... Yet, in these thoughts, myself almost despising ...." She prompted in a voice made deep and husky by emotion.

"Happily .... I think on thee ...." Vincent spoke in a low husky voice once more, his gaze drifting up to Catherine's beautiful face, and took in with astonishment, the fact that her eyelids, closed against the world these past five and a quarter years .... appeared to be fluttering ....

"And then my state .... like to the lark at break of day, arising from sullen earth .... sings hymns at heaven's gate ...." Vincent continued without thought, feeling again the very slight pressure of Catherine's small hand squeezing his own.

And, as he blinked away his tears, and stared in complete astonishment, he saw Catherine's eyes flutter open, her lips moving as she tried to utter words that were almost lost in a dry throat, but one's which his acute sense of hearing clearly detected.

"For they sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings ...."

"That then I scorned to change my state with kings ...." Vincent concluded huskily, his eyes never leaving her beautiful, pale face, taking in the big, grey/green eyes filled with tears, and love, and recognition, as they settled on his face. Her lips curving up into a soft smile ....

"Vincent ...." Catherine breathed, her voice a low, dry whisper, but the love in her eyes was unmistakable, and so was the fact that she recognized him, Josephine realized, as she blinked away her own tears, and forced down the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

Gathering her wits, Josephine discreetly stepped back from the bed, wanting to give them some privacy, not wanting to intrude on this most precious of moments.

"Catherine ...." Vincent breathed her name on a hiss of breath, sinking to his knees beside the bed, his hands, suddenly awkward and shaking visibly, reaching up to cup her face. "Oh Catherine, I love you .... I love you ...."

"I love you too, Vincent ...." Catherine responded in a soft voice, just before their lips met in a brief but tender kiss.

From the other side of the room, concealed by shadows, Josephine Grayson watched the scene unfold before her in muted awe, touched by the tenderness each displayed toward the other, and the love, watching as Catherine encouraged Vincent to rest his head against her shoulder, so that she could stroke his hair and press soft kisses to the top of his head, no more need for words between them, the love and the need and the happiness evident in both of their faces.

Touched, and humbled to be a part of this amazing reunion, to actually be able to feel the love coming from both of them, as well as seeing it with her own eyes.

Deep down inside, the logical, professional physician in her knew that someone should step in and check Catherine's condition .

But ....

As Vincent's sister, and someone who knew what it felt like to pray for miracles to happen, and know the huge disappointment when the did not.

Josephine understood the immensity of this miracle, the impact that it was going to have on all of their lives, and she also understood the need to allow these two very special people to savor this beautiful moment for as long as they could.

For they would never have it again.

And from somewhere close by, a church clock struck.

Midnight.

Josephine Grayson smiled through a veil of tears.

Vincent had gotten his birthday wish after all.

And Josephine found herself hoping that from this moment on, all of her brother's wishes would come true.

For this was only the beginning of the happy life that he deserved.

With the woman that he loved.

He and Catherine .... together at last ....

As they were meant to be.

Forever.

Happy birthday my dear brother ....

Happy birthday ....

And very many more ....

The End

And they all lived happily ever after ....

But that's another story ....