Title: TO KNOW WITH YOUR HEART

Characters/Pairings: Catherine/Vincent
Rating: K+
Warnings/Spoilers: Minor violence.
Summary: When Joe and Catherine are injured during a shootout, Vincent and the tunnel dwellers must help them. But as Joe recovers from him wound, he finds his body isn't the only thing that is being healed.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, anyone or anyplace.

A/N: Thank you for the heads-up regarding the division between scenes. Originally, there were lines of asterisks. For some reason, transferring from one version of Word to another and then uploading, the little stars disappeared. I have put in new breaks (C-V-C-V) and reloaded the chapters. Sorry for the inconvenience.

And regarding those who commented on Catherine's explanation to Joe about Below: have you never heard yourself explaining a situation to someone using words you must constantly hear to believe? I always assumed Catherine knew exactly why she couldn't live below but needed to hear the words from Vincent from time to time in order to accept them. I hope you consider that scene as maturity and wisdom, not so much an out-of-character anomaly. But if it does jar you as too OOC, I hope you can overlook it and still enjoy the story.

Chapter 1

Catherine ducked as another bullet whined above her head.

"Stay down, Cathy!"

Her boss, Deputy District Attorney Joseph Maxwell, moved closer to her. Catherine Chandler gave him a shaky smile.

"When you said we'd finish this tonight, this isn't quite what I'd pictured, Joe."

"Really!"

They were silent as they returned gunfire in the dark warehouse.

"Can you see them?" Joe asked.

"No, but ..." another bullet sounded, hitting the wall just over their heads. "... but I think they're still there."

"I believe so," he agreed.

He looked at her. His boyish good looks were slightly strained. His dark hair was tousled. The normally bright and animated brown eyes were sober.

"Radcliffe ... I don't know if I'm going to be able to get you out of this," he said, all banter gone from his voice.

She looked at him solemnly. "I know," she answered quietly. "I just want you to ..."

A bullet smashed through one of the boxes they were using to hide behind. Joe grabbed his upper arm, fell backwards and bit off a cry.

"Joe!" Catherine knelt beside him.

"I'm ... okay. It's not too serious."

Catherine helped Joe back to his feet.

"We have got to get out of here," she insisted.

Before he could reply, there was a crashing sound and an animal-like roar.

"What on earth ...!" Joe exclaimed.

Joe and Catherine cautiously looked around the stack of boxes. At the far end of the building, in dim light that filtered through the filthy windows, they could make out a large form that had picked up one of the gunmen and was savagely slashing at him. The growling noise was coming from the strange figure.

"No," Catherine struck Joe's gun hand as he aimed at the new figure.

He stared at her in surprise. "Do you see what he's doing?" he demanded.

"Yes ... He's saving our lives."

Joe peered through the dark shadows again as Catherine's words registered.

"You're right," he said in amazement.

The pair continued to watch as the figure threw the second gunman against the side of the building. He turned toward the final gunman. The gunman leveled a gun at the figure and fired at almost point blank range.

"No!" Catherine screamed and jumped from behind the boxes. She began to run toward the large figure as it sank slowly to its knees.

The gunman turned at the sound of Catherine's voice and fired at her as she ran across the warehouse. Joe had started after Catherine. When the gunman fired, Joe stopped, aimed and pulled the trigger. The gunman dropped. Joe stared in horror at Catherine. She turned back toward him. Blood streamed down the side of her face, matting her light brown hair, covering one eye.

"Help … him …" she whispered.

She turned back to the strange figure as he fell forward to rest on hands and knees, his head hanging down. The dirty moonlight reflected on his tawny mane-like hair. She took another step toward him.

"No," she cried out softly, and then pitched forward to land face down on the floor.

In a daze, Joe ran across to Catherine.

"Radcliffe? Cathy! Please be all right."

Gently he rolled her over. She moaned as Joe moved her. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Cathy!"

She blinked her eyes as if trying to focus on his face.

"Vincent?"

"No, Cathy. It's me – Joe.

Joe took his handkerchief and tried to wipe some of the blood from Catherine's face.

"I feel... I think ..." her voice tapered off as she fainted.

Joe laid her down on the floor. He pulled his jacket off and covered her. Before he could decide what else he could do to help her, he heard a rumbling noise coming from the other side of the room.

There was a deep snarl. Joe stood up and looked around. He watched in amazement as the man who had saved them rose laboriously to his feet. Painfully he moved closer to Joe. Joe quickly took in the stranger's clothes. They resembled Joe's idea of what Middle Ages peasant might wear. He stared at the long, flowing mane-like hair and the leonine features of the face.

"What the ... hell?" Joe exclaimed. "Who ... who are you? What do you want?"

"I mean you no harm. I am here to help you."

"Then why are you wearing a mask?"

"I wear no mask."

"Then ... what are you? Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Catherine's. Please ... hand her to me. We must leave here."

Joe looked up at the large figure that stood over him by several inches. The stranger's broad shoulders and barrel chest made him appear massive. Joe stared at him defiantly.

"No way. I have no idea who you are."

Joe backed up as Vincent moved closer. He stood firmly between Catherine and Vincent.

"I'm warning you ... You stay away from her!"

Vincent stopped. "I assure you, Mr. Maxwell. I mean you no harm. I am here to help. Please ... You must trust me. I … I need your help."

"Why should I trust you? I don't have any idea who you are."

"I've told you ... I am a friend of Catherine's. My name is Vincent."

"Vincent?" Joe asked sharply. "She was asking for you before she fainted.

"I know."

There were the sounds of a car screeching to a halt, car doors opening, and men running around the warehouse.

"Please, Mr. Maxwell. You must trust me. We have no time to waste."

"How do you know my name?"

"Catherine has talked of you often. She thinks a great deal of you."

Catherine moaned softly and lulled her head from side-to-side.

"Vincent," she whispered.

At the sound of Catherine's voice, Vincent pushed past Joe and knelt beside her. He took hold of one of her hands.

"Catherine? Can you hear me?"

Her only response was another low moan.

With great difficulty, Vincent forced himself to his feet so he could face Joe again.

"There are other gunmen. They'll be here in a moment. You must help me save Catherine."

Joe stared into the deep-set, azure eyes as if he could read Vincent's thoughts.

"I've seen your cape before. Cathy was wrapped up in it that night at Stony Point," Joe said evenly.

Vincent bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Joe made up his mind. He moved past Vincent and bent to pick up Catherine. Vincent reached out to steady Joe as he rose to his feet. Vincent held out his arms. Joe hesitated a brief moment before transferring Catherine into the waiting arms.

"This way," Vincent told Joe, motioning his head toward the back of the warehouse.

The men carried Catherine into a small back office. There was an open trap door. They maneuvered down a ladder, pulling the door shut after them. They descended into a room that was four foot cube. Vincent touched a brick with one foot.

"Lift this brick," he instructed.

Joe did so. The seemingly solid brick floor actually covered another trap door. They moved through this door also and continued down the brick chimney-like shaft. Joe felt like they had climbed down several stories when they reached the end of the ladder. They stood in another four foot square room. Three of the walls were brick. But the fourth was steel. Vincent touched a brick beside the steel and the 'wall' slid open. Vincent went through the doorway and waited for Joe to follow.

Joe found himself in an entrance to the tunnel world. He looked around at the tunnel that had been hewn out of solid rock. He had only a moment. Vincent was moving down the tunnel with long powerful strides. Joe glanced quickly around once again and then hurried after the disappearing figure.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

"Leave me alone!" Vincent barked at the older man who was trying to press a bandage to his shoulder wound.

"Vincent, you are bleeding badly," the man stated.

"I will be all right. Take care of Catherine."

The older man sighed. "I assure you ... she is being cared for. Now let me look at your shoulder."

Vincent pulled angrily away from the man's ministrations. The man turned to Joe. He spread his arm slightly and shrugged.

"Mr. Maxwell, will you allow me to care for you?"

"I agree with," Joe waved in Vincent's direction, "him. Catherine should be cared for first."

"She only has a graze on her temple. I've cleaned it and Mary is bandaging it. There is truly nothing else she needs. You two, however, both have bullet wounds that need treatment. I don't care which of you is first. Nor do I particularly care if I have to wait for both of you to pass out from loss of blood. It's the middle of the night ... I'm tired ... and if either one of you wish to be helped tonight, I suggest one of you get on that table immediately," he said in a cultured, lecturing fashion – as one would talk to errant school boys.

Joe and Vincent looked at each other. Joe nodded to Vincent

"Mine's clean – the bullet went through. You need to have that bullet removed. Go ahead," he said.

Vincent hesitated.

"Oh, Vincent, for heaven's sake!" the man exclaimed in complete exasperation.

Joe grinned as Vincent moved doggedly to the examining table. He looked around the hospital chamber. He was still trying to decide if this subterranean labyrinth of rock and strange characters were reality or a hallucination caused by his wound. He watched as the older man, who had been introduced as Father, worked on Vincent's shoulder. Vincent was a hallucination. Joe was sure of that. There could be no other explanation. The strange half-beast, half-man with the soft crooning voice could only exist in the imagination. Joe had not known he could be so creative.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe sat in a high backed chair and took in his surroundings. The chamber was the size of a large room. Bookcases, sideboards, and dressers lined three of the walls. These items were stacked with bric-a-brac of all types and description. There was statue in a slight indentation of the rock wall. Behind the bed was a small alcove. A short bookcase stood between the bed and the chamber wall. Above the bookcase was a Tiffany window done in yellows, shaped in a half circle. Some light came from an electric light behind the decorative window, but most of the light in the chamber come from dozens of candles that sat everywhere – candles of every size and shape, being held by a diverse assortment of holders.

He sat with his arm in a sling, reading from one of the myriad books that cluttered the few areas in the chamber not already taken by the knickknacks. Joe kept vigil as Catherine slept peaceably. The bed, like the chair Joe was using, was large – like every thing Joe had been able to learn about Vincent.

Catherine lay in Vincent's chamber because Vincent had insisted she would be more comfortable in his chamber than in the hospital chamber. Joe was sitting, watching over her because Vincent had "suggested" it. In Joe's short time Below, he had learned that, at least where Catherine was concerned, Vincent's slightest wish was an irreversible dictum.

Joe's attention focused on Catherine as she moaned softly. He moved to the side of the bed.

"Cathy? Can you hear me?"

"Vincent?"

"No, honey, it's Joe."

She grasped his hand tightly in hers.

"Joe? Where … I thought …" She turned her head to look around the chamber. "But … Vincent …" She took a deep breath. "Where am I?"

"His chamber," Joe answered.

She turned back toward Joe, but her eyes did not meet his. She gazed past him, over his shoulder. He felt her begin to tremble violently.

"Vincent?"

"Cathy? What is it?"

"Vincent!" she cried.

"Catherine!" the amazing voice Joe had come to recognize sounded just outside the chamber. Vincent's presence filled the chamber even before he entered. Joe felt himself brushed firmly but gently aside by the massive form that surged to Catherine's side.

"I'm here, Catherine," he said.

Her arms flew around Vincent's neck. She buried her face in his neck and began to sob. His hands stroked her hair. Joe stared at the fur covered hands.

Father entered the chamber. "Vincent? Is she all right?"

"No," came the curt reply. "Catherine?" he questioned gently. "I can only feel ... your fear. Tell me."

She pulled away from him slightly. Her hands came up to his face. Tenderly they moved over the leonine features. Another sob escaped Catherine's lips as her hands moved more frantically over Vincent's face.

"Your face!" she cried. "I can't see your face!"

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe sat in the main chamber, studying the unusual room. There were several short stairways that connected various mezzanine-style rock shelves that gave the chamber a multi-level appearance. There were also many little alcoves that made the chamber look even more interesting. There was a half floor over one section of the main chamber. A wrought iron spiral staircase led up to this area. From where Joe sat, it looked like a small library. But then the whole chamber looked like a library run amuck.

Stacks of books were everywhere. There were several bookcases and a number of shelves, but they did not begin to contain the hundreds and hundreds of books that were scattered on every available surface. There were stacks of books on the floor, leaning against the walls, and piled on top of the bookcases until it seemed impossible that they did not fall. As with Vincent's chamber, the primary source of light came from candles. The candles sat precariously between, beside and on top of the books.

Only the very center of the main part of the chamber was clear of books. A rug covered the floor. There was a dining table stacked with books and a chess board surrounded by a few straight back chairs. Father's desk and favorite chair sat at the edge of the rug. Three other arm chairs were also along the rug's perimeter.

Vincent's pacing interrupted Joe's inspection. Vincent strode from side to side of the rug covered area. The strong, quick steps only emphasized Vincent's resemblance to a lion. Vincent reached the rug's edge and turned to cross the room again. As he looked across the chamber, his eyes met Joe's. For a long moment the two men regarded each other in silence. Slowly Vincent crossed the chamber and sat down across the table from Joe.

"I believe, Mr. Maxwell ... we have a conversation that is … overdue."

Joe nodded quietly. "I don't know where to start. What to ask first." He chuckled. "That's not a good thing for a prosecutor to admit."

Vincent smiled.

Before either could continue, Father entered the chamber. Joe and Vincent both rose to their feet. The two men watched him walk down the steps and across the floor. His grizzled hair and beard were, as always, neatly groomed. But his eyes and face showed the strain he had been under caring for the three wounded people. He moved slowly across the floor, his limp more pronounced because he was so tired. He slumped into the chair behind his desk.

"Well?" Vincent demanded impatiently.

"I believe she will be all right," Father answered.

"All right? She's blind!" Vincent roared.

"Temporarily I'm almost sure."

"Almost?" Joe questioned.

Father looked from one man the other.

"Catherine was grazed along the temple. The swelling from the wound must be pressing against the optic nerve. In a few days, when the swelling has reduced, her eyesight should return. There's no other reason for her blindness."

Joe and Vincent turned to look at each other. Slowly Joe turned back to Father.

"Can I see her?"

"I've heavily sedated her. She's probably asleep," Father replied.

"She's awake," Vincent stated.

"How do you know?" Joe asked.

"I can feel it," he replied simply and turned to leave.

Joe watched him leave the chamber, turned to look at Father, and then hurried after Vincent.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe watched from the entrance to Vincent's chamber as Vincent sat on the edge of the bed. He watched as Vincent's large paw-like hand closed in gentle protection around Catherine's slim, smooth one. Her lips curled into a soft smile.

"Vincent," she whispered.

He bent to nuzzle his lips against her hair.

"I'm worried about Joe."

Vincent looked over his shoulder and smiled at Joe.

"He's here," Vincent said softly.

Joe crossed to the bed as Vincent rose to his feet. Tenderly he placed Catherine's hand in Joe's.

"Vincent," her voice held a touch of panic. "I need you near me."

"I won't leave," he promised

Joe squeezed her hand.

"Joe, are you all right?" she asked.

"I will be – a minor bullet wound – major culture shock. Nothing to worry about," he assured her. "How do you feel?"

She shrugged. "Very little … I don't know what Father gave me … but I'm a little … numb."

She reached her other hand out to Joe. He took it.

"Joe … the tunnels … the people … Vincent … I had to keep the … most important things in my life … secret … even from you. But now …" she paused. "Vincent, will you do … something for me?"

"You know that I would do … anything for you."

"I'd like Joe to know about us … about the community. Will you show him?"

Vincent hesitated.

"If this is as big a part of Cathy's life as I think it is, I'd like to know," Joe stated.

"I will need your promise, Mr. Maxwell … a promise of absolute secrecy … for everything you'll learn."

Joe grinned. "Call me Joe and you have it."

Vincent nodded and shook the hand that Joe extended to him.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

"May we enter?"

Joe looked up from the book he was reading.

"Vincent? Sure."

Vincent and a teenager entered the guest chamber where Joe had been installed. The teenager looked as if he could have easily been Joe's son, the same good looking Italian features. Like everyone else Joe had seen so far, he was dressed in a 'middle-earth' style. Joe was beginning to feel a bit like a hobbit.

"Zach," Vincent said softly, "this is Mr. Maxwell. He's a friend of Catherine." Vincent turned toward Joe. "I've asked Zach to … show you around the community."

Joe looked slightly disappointed. "I thought you might do that."

Vincent shook his head slightly. "I cannot leave Catherine. Zach will guide you … and then we'll talk."

"Is Cathy worse? Is that why you can't leave her?"

Vincent smiled slightly. "No … she's as well as can be expected. It's her ... fear ... that requires my presence. I will not leave her … alone in her darkness."

Joe nodded.

Vincent patted Zach's shoulder. "Zach has grown up Below. He knows the community well. I've told him those I'd like you to meet. I will leave you two now." He turned to the boy. "Start with Elizabeth."

"Sure," Zach acknowledged.

As Vincent left the chamber, Zach and Joe turned to look at each other. After a long moment, Zach gestured for Joe to follow him.

"Come on. Let's get started."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Zach stood back, holding a lantern high so Joe could see the painting on the walls of the tunnels. They were high in the tunnels in an area where the stone walls had been finished to resemble cement walls.

The first few minutes, Joe had commented on the various scenes that had been painted on the walls. But gradually he became overwhelmed as scene after scene after scene of life Above and Below unfolded before him. There were portraits of various people – some Joe had already seen Below, some who were still unknown to him. There were pictures of people who lived Below but were involved in functions Above.

They slowed before a picture of Father and an infant Vincent. Joe turned to Zach.

"Has he always been like this?"

Zach nodded.

"Why?"

The boy shrugged. "No one knows. He was found Above – deserted – a few hours old. He was brought Below. Father raised him.

"But what ... did this to him? How did he … why is he …?"

Zach shrugged again. "He's Vincent. That's the way he is."

The boy seemed to scrutinize Joe.

"I've heard that you Topsiders are like this."

"Like what?" Joe asked.

"Always wanting to know how and why so you can change … things … people. That you can't accept people as they are."

"Things aren't like that down here?"

Zach made a snorting sound. "That's why a lot of people have come down here. The Topsiders wouldn't accept them for who they are – for the talents they had."

"Haven't you ever been Above?"

"Sure I've been Above. We aren't prisoners here. I just have never wanted to stay Above. It's ... different."

After a pause, they continued along the underground gallery. They came to the end of the paintings and Zach pointed to another tunnel that branched off to the side.

"This is where Elizabeth's working now," he said and led Joe into the new tunnel.

The scenes here were slightly different. There was a greater blending of Below and Above. Joe stared at an artist's rendering of what the Burch Tower would have looked like had it had been built.

"What did this have to do with down here?" Joe questioned.

"That thing," Zach replied, "almost destroyed our world when they started blasting for the foundation."

"Oh," Joe said thoughtfully.

They continued. A few feet further a scene of Vincent dominated. His fangs were exposed as he snarled at the man he held by the throat in his powerful hand. The other massive appendage was raised, fingers curled, as the claws prepared to deliver a savage blow. His black cape billowed behind him and his long, tawny mane was in disarray, giving the appearance of a mythological avenger. Flames filled the background.

Joe spun around to face Zach. "Is he like this often?" he demanded.

Zach stared at Joe with obvious hostility. "This shows what happened when Vincent had to rescue Catherine from Paracelsus. A member of the tunnels was killed. Catherine almost died, too."

Joe looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to criticize. I just don't understand about him."

Zach gave Joe a look that showed he found Joe's lack of knowledge hard to comprehend. Joe broke eye contact and turned to continue along the wall of paintings.

Another few feet and Joe saw Vincent and Catherine. This Vincent was the opposite of the warrior of the earlier scene. This Vincent was an enchanted prince, dressed in a ruffled linen shirt, a cravat under his chin and thigh-high leather boots. He looked like a character that had stepped out of a faerie tale three centuries earlier. And there could be no doubt that Catherine was his princess. She wore a long, old fashioned gown that bared her shoulders. She stood in the circle of his arms, staring into his eyes. The artist had captured a look of total love and adoration passing between the two. Joe could simply stand and stare with open mouth at the two lovers.

"Ah, you like the heart and soul of our community," stated a soft voice.

Joe turned to look at an elderly woman. She was petite with white hair and dark sparkling eyes. Her smile was brilliant.

"Wha … I don't understand …" Joe stammered still dazed by the unexpected image that he had been viewing – an image that burned deeply into his thoughts and feelings.

"Vincent and his Catherine: Vincent has been the soul of our community – almost since the day he arrived. And when he brought his Catherine Below – then we found our heart."

"Elizabeth, this is Joe Maxwell. He's …"

"Oh, Catherine's friend," Elizabeth interrupted Zach. "Then you know about her."

"About her," Joe admitted, "but not about this." He waved his arm to encompass the painted walls.

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's just the way I see things."

Joe looked from Zach to Elizabeth and back again. He shook his head.

"I thought this trip was suppose to help me understand. I'm more confused than ever!"

Elizabeth chuckled. "Better keep him away from Narcissa."

Zach laughed.

"Who's Narcissa?" Joe asked.

"A voodoo sorceress," Zach explained.

Joe laughed. "You're right, Elizabeth. I am definitely not ready for that. Thank you for sharing your work with me." He turned to Zach. "Now what?

"Vincent told me you still need a lot of rest. I'll take you back to the guest chamber. We'll see more tomorrow."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe entered the main chamber

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell," Father greeted him. "Please join me. I was just preparing to have some dinner. I thought I'd have to eat alone."

"Where's Vincent?"

Father gave a small chuckle. "Obviously you haven't learned much about my son yet."

Joe smiled as he came down the few steps to the main level of the chamber. "With Cathy?"

Father nodded. He rose from behind his desk. As he crossed to the table he motioned for Joe to sit down.

"Kipper!" Father yelled for his runner.

A young boy appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Kipper, will you ask Mary to bring Mr. Maxwell's dinner in here with mine?"

Sure, Father," came the quick answer as the boy disappeared down a tunnel.

"I think Joe's more appropriate than Mr. Maxwell," Joe stated.

Father smiled and nodded slightly. The two men regarded each other for a few moments.

"Will you answer some questions for me?" Joe asked.

"If I'm able."

"Why are you down here?"

Father sighed deeply. "That is a … long story. I was a victim of your judicial system. Afterwards, I was very bitter. I'd lost my professional standing … my home … my wife … my reasons for living." There was a long pause before he started again. "A woman told me of this place. I came down here to live … to just exist really. Even the birth of my son didn't restore my spirit. Even the work of helping to establish this community didn't restore my enthusiasm."

Joe shook his head. "You're an active, vital man. What changed you?"

Father looked wistfully for a long moment and then smiled slightly. "It's a favorite story of the children. About a bitter cold January night and a baby, wrapped in rags, thrown into the garbage close to St. Vincent's Hospital." There was another long pause as Father relived the moment he was about to make known to Joe. "When the rags were removed … at first I was horrified. Not only by the emaciated little body but by the knowledge of what could happen to this child if he were Above. And then … small, trusting eyes opened. I looked into the most azure eyes I'd ever seen. And, suddenly, I had a reason to continue. I knew that if this community was not built … was not based on a higher order then the one that ruled Above … if this community did not survive … then neither would he. The others recognized it also … and we found the strength … and the determination … to overcome our differences and the obstacles that we faced. We found the …" He paused as he searched for the word.

"Elizabeth called him the soul of the community," Joe supplied the word softly.

Father nodded. "Yes."

After a moment Joe looked into Father's eyes. "And she called Cathy the heart. Now I understand what she meant about him but not about her."

Father sighed. "In order to understand, you need to understand about Vincent's life before. And even I cannot tell you the entire truth of that – the extent of his aloneness before Catherine."

Joe nodded.

Before either could speak again, Mary came in carrying a tray with two dinners on it. She set the tray down and began to fuss around the table, setting up the dinners. Joe watched her as she moved around the table. She was approximately Father's age. Her hair was an equal mix of gold and silver. She had obviously been a great beauty once, and she was still a very handsome woman.

"Let me help," Joe offered.

Father chuckled as he waved Joe back into his chair.

"No, no, let her be. Her only delights in life are caring for the children … and fidgeting around me."

"Father!" Mary reproached him gently and then hurried out of the chamber.

Father chuckled again, stared fondly at her retreating back, and then he turned back to Joe.

"Eat your dinner. And afterwards … do you play chess?

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe was just finishing his breakfast the next morning when Zach appeared in the entrance of his chamber.

"Are you ready to go?" Zach asked.

"I guess – where to?"

"Vincent wants you to talk to Mary."

"Mary? I think I met her last night," Joe said.

"Probably. She sort of takes care of Father."

Joe smiled thoughtfully. "You mean her and Father are …?"

Zach laughed. "Well … not like Vincent and Catherine … but …" he shrugged.

The two continued through several twists and turns of the tunnels until they entered a relatively large chamber. Mary was walking around the chamber laying out paper and pencils in front of various cushions and chairs. She looked up and smiled as Zach and Joe entered.

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell, please come in," she greeted him. "Thank you, Zach."

He gave a brief wave of his hand. "I'll be back after class."

Joe turned to stare after him.

"Class?" he questioned as he turned back to Mary.

"Yes. All of the children have classes all morning."

"What kind of classes?"

She shrugged. "It depends. This is a math class for the smaller children. I believe Zach's scheduled for a literature class now."

He shook his head. "But what kind of education can they get down here?"

She smiled broadly. "Much better than you obviously think. Our children have a very thorough knowledge of math, science, classical and contemporary literature, and ethics. Much better than they'd get Above – I know."

"May I ask how?"

Her face clouded over with a remembered pain. "I had children – my own children – long ago – Above."

Joe reached out to pat her hand. "You lost them?"

She nodded. "They were killed … an accident."

She stopped and gazed into the past for a long moment. Then she looked into Joe's eyes and smiled again.

"But now I have other children. Children that no one else wants. Children who have no one else to care for them."

"And you take care of them?"

"The community takes care of them, yes."

"You mean that all of the children Below are … community property?"

She laughed. "No, not exactly. There are family units here Below. But this is also a sanctuary for those who are not wanted Above. The homeless children that make their way down here are cared for by all of us. But that special time – what they now are calling quality time – Father and I try to provide that for them. And he's there for any of them – really anyone in the whole community – whenever they need him."

"How large is the community?"

Mary looked a bit hesitant. After a moment she replied.

"I don't believe that I should answer that question. Even though you've been accepted as a friend of Catherine's, our laws are very strict about our safety and security. Until the Council accepts you, there are some things that must remain hidden."

Before there could be another question, there were voices in the tunnel and children ranging in age from about 5 to around l0 years began to file in and find seats. They sat down and stared at Joe with unadulterated curiosity. After the surprise of their openness, he found their frank scrutiny refreshing.

When the children had all taken their seats, Mary introduced them to Joe. Before she could start the class, several of the children raised their hand.

"Yes, Samantha," Mary acknowledged one of the girls.

"Mr. Maxwell, why did you let Catherine get hurt?"

Joe blinked, slightly stunned by the question. He grinned at the precocious brown eyes that stared at him. It was obvious that she was not being flippant but was honestly seeking information.

"I didn't mean to allow her to be hurt. If I could've prevented it, I would've."

Mary turned to one of the boys. "Geoffrey?"

"Why have you stayed Below?"

"Well, Geoffrey," Joe answered, "first, I haven't been given the option of leaving. Second, I want to stay with Cathy until I know she's going to be all right."

"Her name is Catherine," another voice spoke.

Joe looked at one of the older looking boys.

"Eric, don't be rude," Mary ordered gently. "If Catherine has decided to allow Mr. Maxwell to call her Cathy, that is not our concern."

Several children again raised their hands.

"Thomas," Mary called on one.

"Did you know about us? I mean before?"

Joe shook his head. "No, I didn't. I knew that there was something in Cathy's … ah, Catherine's," he gave a brief nod in Eric's direction, "life that she kept secret. But I had no idea it was anything like this place."

"Jessica," Mary called on the next child.

"Are you going to be a Helper?"

"I'm sorry," Joe replied. "I don't understand what you mean."

"That's enough questions," Mary interrupted before anyone could say anything else. "We need to get started on our lesson for today."

TBC