Vincent hesitated the way he always did when he approached the
underground entrance to Catherine's new home.  Part of him could not
believe that he would be welcome while the rest of him embraced the
idea, with a passion he only now felt he could show.  A happy glow
filled their bond and he was warmed by her happiness, hurrying his steps
to the old wooden door that opened into the unused basement.

      "Vincent!"  Her voice welcomed him and he held out his arms for the hug
he knew was coming.

      For long moments, he hugged her close, enjoying her clean, fresh
scent.  She was a delight for all his senses and he felt her lips
against the pulse in his throat.  Shivering at the unexpected touch, he
rested his cheek on her silky hair.  "How was your day, Catherine?"

      "Long and partly boring."  The soft murmur sighed.  "But I gave the
rats to the scientist I told you about."

      "The Russian?"

      "Un-uh, Illya Kuryakin.  He's only been back a week or so after
recovering from a gunshot wound.  His nickname is the Ice Prince among
some of the others but I think he's just very shy."  She pulled away
just a little and looked up with a smile.  "April told me that he was
orphaned at a very young age and raised in one of the gulags in
Siberia.  That might make anyone a little unsure of others."

      "But you trust him?"  Vincent was still uncomfortable with some of the
people with whom she now worked.

      She thought for a moment before nodding decisively.  "Yes, I think I
do.  He doesn't flirt with me like his charming partner does.  And he
always looks so surprised when someone compliments him as if he weren't
used to being praised.  Illya reminds me of you, really."

      "In a good way, I hope."  Vincent returned her smile.

      "Always, love."  Coming up onto her tiptoes, she brushed a kiss over
his cheek.  "Now, come upstairs and help me cook dinner.  You can stay,
can't you?"

      "Yes, although I don't know how much help I will be."  Vincent let
himself be tugged towards the stairs.

      "You get the pleasure of mincing the vegetables while I brown the meat
and onions.  It's stew tonight since that's one of the only things I
really know how to cook."  She laughed down into his face from two steps
up.  "But then you knew that."

      He shook his head ruefully, remembering her last attempt at making
omelets.  He hadn't known that eggs could get that black and burned.
"This sounds like something that we can both enjoy.  Lead me to your
vegetables."

      At the top of the stairs, she took his cloak from him and frowned at
him until he removed his heavy vest as well.  The room was warm enough
he didn't need them but each layer shed left him feeling more and more
vulnerable.  But she pretended not to notice his disquiet, tying a
simple white apron around his waist and handing him a knife.

      They worked in contented silence until Vincent had chopped up all the
carrots, potatoes and cabbage.  The smell of lightly sizzling hamburger
and crisp onion filled the room.  A can of pinto beans went into the
large pot then all the vegetables and enough water to fill the pot.  He
watched Catherine ponder the spice rack with a little frown on her
forehead.

      Her hair was slightly disarrayed where one hand had pushed her bangs
back.  Her hand hovered between two jars in the old wooden rack on the
wall by the refrigerator then with a quick sigh, she pulled them both
off along with a third.  He watched her throw in a pinch of basil,
another of thyme and finished up by crumpling in a bay leaf.

      "There!"  She put the lid on and turned the rapidly boiling stew down
to a simmer.  "We've got about an hour and a half until we can eat.
I've got a movie that I think you'll like.  Come on into the den."

      Taking her hand, Vincent followed her into the rather dark room in the
middle of the first floor of the brownstone.  It was the farthest from
the tunnel entrance that he had been in her new home and it still made
him feel a little uncertain.  But the joy on her face was worth any
small danger to him.

        "This is a classic, Vincent.  I must have watched it a hundred times
and it still makes me cry at the end."  She slipped the medium sized
black cassette into a machine beneath the TV before turning them on and
coming back to sit.  Curling up beside him on the sofa, she snuggled
into his side and pointed the remote control at the machine.

      "Is it very sad, Catherine?"  He could not understand watching
something that made you cry.

      "Yes and no.  The ending just appeals to the romantic in me.  After I
met you, I thought maybe we'd be like them but we chose differently.
Thank God."  She tightened her hold on his shirt and tried to get
closer.  "I am eternally grateful that you let me in."

      "It was the only option that would leave me my sanity."  Vincent dared
to nuzzle a kiss into the shiny hair at his shoulder.  "Anything else
was unthinkable.  Even Father finally had to agree."

      "There's still a battle isn't there, Vincent?"  Her sigh was almost too
faint to hear.

      "Small skirmishes, perhaps.  At the moment, Mary's behavior has him so
confused that all his energy is focused elsewhere."  Vincent couldn't
help a little chuckle at the disconcerting overturning of several
customs below.

      "Sh-h-h, tell me over dinner.  The movie is starting."

      And he watched the black and white movie called 'Casablanca' begin.

**********************

      He was washing up after a long day of moving rock from the six new
chambers when the first trickle of unease filtered through their bond.
Tilting his head, he tried to catch what shape the fear might be taking
but it stayed silent.  Then a clear picture of a telephone was sent to
his mind.

      The telepathy between them was increasing as their physical
relationship progressed.  He finished washing and pulled a clean shirt
from his wardrobe.  Tucking the tails into his work pants, he decided to
make the trip Above without his customary layers.  Leaving his room, he
almost ran into Mary.

      "Going Above, Vincent?"  She asked him sweetly.

      "Yes, Catherine needs me.  Is there something I can do for you Above?"
He hesitated at the slow smile that blossomed across her face.

      "Thank you, Vincent.  If you could give her this note for me, I'd very
much appreciate it.  She and I have a little project that's progressing
quite nicely."  Handing him a small envelope, she patted his cheek and
went off down the tunnel humming a tune that Vincent didn't know.

      Smiling a little, he hurried on to the short tunnel that led up to
Catherine's brownstone.  Using his advanced hearing, he made sure that
the brownstone was empty before entering and mounting the stairs.  In
the kitchen, he took a deep breath and picked up the phone, carefully
dialing the number at UNCLE that Catherine had given him.  The sexless
operator asked for an extension and he gave her the four digits.  In
another moment, he heard Catherine's voice.

      "Chandler."

      "Catherine.  I need you to bring home some milk."  He used their code
phrase.

      "Hi, Vincent.  I'm going to be a little late this evening.  I have to
show Dr. Kuryakin where the kids were playing."

      She sounded a little tense to him and he thought about the culvert
where they'd found the rats.  "That's all right, Catherine.  The stew
will keep until you get home.  Is everything all right?"

      "I'm not very happy about what the good doctor found inside the rats
but I'll tell you about it after dinner.  Do we have bread or should I
stop at the bakery?"

      "I'm baking rolls.  All we need is milk."  He decided to check the
fridge for the crescent rolls that she enjoyed and usually kept on hand.

      "You're an angel, Vincent.  I love you."

      He hesitated, wondering if someone might be listening in then threw
caution to the wind.  "I love you too, Catherine.  Hurry home."

      "Bye, love.  See you soon."

      "Goodbye, Catherine."  He heard the click on the other end and hung up
the receiver.  Looking around the brightly painted kitchen, he decided
to set the table and get the rolls ready for the oven.

      An hour later, she rushed through the front door and threw herself into
his arms.  "Hold me, Vincent."

      He hugged her tight, his hand stroking the golden hair.  "I'm here,
Catherine.  It will be all right."

      "It's horrible."  Her voice was muffled in his shirt.  "The rats were
infected with some kind of bacteria.  Illya called it . . . enteritis or
something like that.  It's some kind of bacterium that's highly
contagious and often fatal to humans.  And they were sent down to the
tunnels on purpose."

      Vincent shivered and held her tighter.  "You took Dr. Kuryakin to the
culvert?"

      She nodded and pulled back enough to look up at him.  "UNCLE will be
out in force tomorrow so we'll need to call a Silence for the time that
outsiders are in the outer tunnels.  Father will probably blame me."

      "Hush, Catherine.  You saved us from another epidemic.  He will be
grateful."

      "Maybe."  She noticed the table settings and smiled up at him.  "Let's
eat dinner before we go Below.  I need some fortification before talking
to the Council."

      "Agreed.  The rolls will take ten minutes to bake so you have time to
change clothes and shed the office."

      "I do love you, Vincent."  And standing on tiptoe, she kissed him
gently before leaving the room.

      He cataloged all the sensations of her lips on his before shaking
himself out of the reverie that kissing her always produced.  Each one
was different and special, not something he ever thought to experience.
Putting in the rolls, he turned up the heat on the stew and brought the
bowls over to the counter for filling.

      "Okay, I feel better.  You were right.  Did Mary by any chance send up
something for me?"  She pulled the iced tea from the fridge and poured
them both a glass.

      "Yes, indeed."  He patted his pockets and handed her the envelope.
Watching her from the corner of his eye, he pondered her almost feline
smile.

      "I'm looking forward to this visit."  She tucked the note into her
jeans pocket.  "You're an angel to have dinner ready.  Let's eat so we
can get Below."

      They ate while planning the strategy of keeping the underground
community safe from the searchers.  She broached the possibility of
letting the Russian doctor in on their secret but he shook his head,
knowing what Father would say.  She accepted his belief but he could see
that she had reservations.

      Finishing the kitchen clean up, Catherine got a jacket and they headed
for the confrontation Below.

*************************
End of part two
To part 3