The shells lay scattered on the bottom of a shallow wicker tray. The floor of The tray mirrors the reflection of the shells. Positioned on the floor beside it are brightly colored pebbles. The old woman sitting before them rocked back on her heels and chuckled softly.

"So, de dreams have begun! De boy's features resemble dat of his mother. But his ability to dream the imminent, is a depiction of his father's gift!"

With aged eyes, too dull to see light, Narcissa knows that Vincent is on his way to see her. She can hear the questions in his heart, yet it will be hours before he reaches her lair. Gathering the shells into her hands, she held them to her breast. She began swaying as she moaned an ancient chant.

Approaching the cave, where five years ago, he nearly lost his life, Vincent could hear a voice. One that had burned itself into his memory eight years ago.

"Vincent. We loved. There is a child." *

For a brief moment Vincent stood motionless.

"The music. You can hear it if you try." **

Vincent's heart was thudding wildly within his chest. Tilting his head to one side, he strained to listen.

"You must promise me one thing. That you will share it with me, Whatever happens. Whatever comes." ***

Hanging his head in defeat, his long golden mane shadowing his exquisite features, he softly repeated the words from many years ago.

"Whatever happens. Whatever comes. Know that I love you." ***

On emotionally weakened limbs, Vincent falls to his knees. Great racking sobs echo all around him, through him. Once again he is stricken with grief over the loss of his beloved Catherine.

"When will it end? When will it be over?" he cried. But there was no one to hear his words save the cold dark stone surrounding him.

Approximately eighteen miles from Central Park, A military camp with it's electronic fences and guard dogs, was silent with sleep. Men with M 16's held over their shoulders patrolled the grounds. Inside, an apartment was dimly lit, and a woman sat crying on the edge of her bed. The breeze from outside billowed the curtains softly. The balcony beyond, held only a single chair, a small table, a potted rose bush, and unmitigated aloneness.

"I know it's you I sense Vincent. I feel something-. Why haven't you come to me? You can't be dead or I would feel it. You're out there somewhere. Help me Vincent, please. I m not dead. I'm being held captive. Save me Vincent. Please save me."

But the words dissipate into the night, unheard, unanswered. Catherine wept and her heart ached terribly, as she thought about the only man she had ever truly loved.

'Did he find our son? Is he safe in the tunnels with his Father and Grandfather? Are they still at risk from Gabriel?'

All these unanswered questions. Just then, there was a knock at the door. The door opened, and a young woman entered carrying a tray.

"Your coffee Miss Chandler. Will there be anything else before retiring for the night?" There was obvious fear hanging on the young woman's words.

Catherine rushed out to the living room to where the woman was standing, and with a shove sent the woman and tray crashing to the floor.

"Yes damn it! Some answers!" Screamed Catherine. -"Where the hell am I and why do you people keep me locked up like some damned animal? If you're the F.B.I and this is protective custody. I'm Aunt Fanny's chimp!"

The woman, now on her feet and nearing the door, trembled as she spoke.

"I'll get Major Spence." As she disappeared out into the hallway, the door followed rapidly with a 'SLAM'! The next sound heard was the thud of a dead bolt being slid into place. Limping down the corridor, she wiped absentmindedly at the coffee dripping from her white uniform. The skin at the base of her throat was pink from the hot liquid.

"Four years I've had to put up with that Bitch! Four years! I want a transfer! But the Major says, "The waiting list is very long Barbra. You have to wait your turn Barbra. Can't you wait just a while longer Barbra?" she whined. "WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! I'm sick of her, I'm sick of this!" she screamed.

Turning the door handle to Major Spence's office, Barbara entered, still raving like a mad man.

"I've had it with that bitch! I want out! Look at me! Look what she's done! I bend over backwards for her, and this is what I get! I'm burnt! Look at this mess!"

The Major sat quietly at his undersized desk, not in the least surprised at Barbra’s entrance.

"Is Miss Chandler a little testy this evening?" he grinned.

"Testy, Testy you say! In my books she could win bitch of the year!"

"Now, now, my dear." Spoke the hefty man. "You must have patients."

"Patience! With her? I could have more patience waiting for my pet rock to croak!" She snapped.

The Major tapped his chubby fingertips together watching the young woman with amusement, as she spat her words out at him.

"How can I have patience with a lioness whose ready to devour me as soon as I open her cage? No! I want OUT! And I want out NOW!"

"Impossible." Came the calm reply.

"Impossible? Why?" questioned the girl.

"Because, She'll only be here another two weeks." Stated the Major. "The only way they would replace you at this late date would be in the event of your untimely demise."

"God!" she said exasperated. "Then KILL ME! I can't take it anymore!"

The Major's eyes shrunk to narrow slits. "That, could be arranged."

Barbra's mouth dropped open, and she fell silent. "Ah… right…" she stammered. "Anything you say."

"Some how Barbra, I thought you'd see it my way. Now, let's get Miss Chandler her evening cup of coffee, and call it a night, shall we?"

"But, Major, she…"

"Shall we!" Came his perturbed reply.

"Right." She conceded.

Turning sharply, Barbra left the office and headed for the kitchen. "I'll fix that over stuffed bag of beans." she grumbled. "He's not going to get away with this. I won't be threatened and pushed around anymore, not by the likes of Him." Making a few faces, Barbra proceeded to the kitchen. As she was getting the coffee tray ready, she had a Brainstorm of an idea. With a twinkle of conspiracy in her eyes, she whispered "Boy, would I like to see his face when he finds out what I'm going to do, or rather what I'll have done. But if he finds out before I've finished, I'm dog meat!"

Vincent silently entered Narcissa's domain. The old woman was kneeling on the floor, swaying to music unheard by Vincent. Her movements ceased. Without turning to face him, She bade him to enter.

"Vincent! Come in child. I've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" said Vincent amazed. "How can this be?"

"How does a crazy old woman see witout sight? How do I get from one chamber to another witout bumping into walls? How does not matter Vincent.
What does matter is why you have come!"

Vincent's voice was filled with sadness. "I need to speak with you about my son."

"No Vincent, not about de child, but about de dreams, de visions, about... Catherine."

Vincent sighed and hung his head. "Yes." He whispered solemnly.

Reaching for his hand, Narcissa urged him to sit next to her on the floor.

"Don't look so sad Vincent. For every ill, dere is a cure."

"You have knowledge Narcissa?"

Vincent was now crouched beside the old woman. A slight smile creased her visage as she nodded the affirmative.

"Tell me... Please" he begged. "You must share what you know!"

"In due time child, In due time. Sit, sit down. Watch de pebbles, see de message."

She dropped the pebbles to the floor. They scattered in a two-foot diameter, making different patterns, none of which made any sense to Vincent.

"Look, Vincent. De guns, de dogs, de sparks. Dese are what keep you from de light"

"Sparks? Light? . ." Confusion was evident in the young mans voice, but as he spoke Narcissa raised her hand in protest.

"Silence child! Listen, watch!"

Taking the shells with both hands, the old woman began to sway.

"Guard yourself, Vincent. Guard de child. His dreams tell more dan stories. Dey will lead you to de woman."

"The woman? Catherine?" He puzzled. "Narcissa, Catherine is gone, five years now. Are you saying if I pursue this, I too will loose my life?"

"No Vincent, Not if you are careful. You see child; Your Catherine is very much alive."

"SHE'S ALIVE....? Narcissa, what are you saying?"

Rising from the cold, dirt floor, The aged seer hobbled to her chair.

"I am tired child. I can say no more dis night. We will try again tomorrow."

Within moments the old woman was asleep.

Vincent picked himself up from the floor. With a last look at the shells, he left the chamber in search of a place to rest for the night.

"Perhaps morning will bring me to the path I must follow."

Standing in front of Catherine's door. Barbra took a deep breath.

"With my luck she'll kill me before I can say two words."

Barbra knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer. She knocked again, then slid back the dead bolt.

"Miss Chandler? It's Barbra."

Opening the door slowly to peer inside, she could see Catherine standing by the terrace in her bedroom. The young woman entered, and put the tray she carried on the hutch to her left. Walking with caution, she directed her words toward Catherine.

"Miss Chandler? I think I can help you get out of here."

Catherine turned and started toward her. Barbra ran for the in-suite bathroom, barely managing to close the door before a chair came crashing against it.

"Wait! Wait!" said the girl. " I really think I can help you!"

"Why would you want to help me?" Catherine's voice rang with bitterness.

"Well, if you let me come out, without trying to kill me, that is I'll try to explain."

There was only silence, as Catherine walked back to stand before the terrace. 'What's she up to now?' Catherine wondered to herself 'Why should I trust her?' "Because," she whispered softly. "You have no other choice."

"Miss Chandler...? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you...Why should I trust you?"

"Can I at least open the door?" Came the voice from within the small room.

"Yeah," She spat. "You can come out." Catherine's voice was hard.

Barbra opened the door a crack and looked out into the room to where Catherine was standing. The door opened wider and the woman stepped out and spoke.

"Major Spence has pissed me off for the last time. Now it's his turn, He's been pushing me around for four years, and I don't even belong here. I don't even know what's going on. I only know what I've heard from you, cause the Major sure ain't saying anything. I don't know what you've done to deserve being locked up, and at this moment I really don't care, but if I can get that tub of lard to jump up and down a bit, I'll see that you get a chance to get out of here. Do you know anybody on the outside that you can trust? Maybe they can help me pull this off."

'Vincent, Get a message to Vincent. He'll get me out! She thought to herself, But at the same time realized the risks. 'What if it's a trick and they just want to capture him? What if Vincent had managed to save our son, and now they're trying to find him to take him back?'

"No." she spoke softly, "There's no one."

"Great!" said Barbra disgusted, "I was hoping I'd have a little help, Well, I'm sure between the two of us, we should be able to come up with something. I have knowledge of the grounds and I know a few of the guards. I don't know, I'll have to think about this one But hey, I gotta go, the Major might get suspicious if I'm in here too long. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast."

"Where are you going now?" Asked Catherine.

"Home." she replied as she headed for the door, "Why?"

"You don't live on the grounds? Where do you live?" Catherine questioned in wonder.

"New York! Doesn't everybody?" the girl said with a grin. "Near Central Park. You know the area?"

"Like the back of my hand!" For the first time in years a glimmer of hope shone in Catherine's eyes.

Barbra opened the door to leave when Catherine shouted.

"Wait... Elliot Burch. Can you get a message to Elliot Burch?"

The young woman had a puzzled expression on her face as Catherine continued.

"If you can go tonight, he should be at Burch Towers. I'll give you the address."

As Catherine scurried for a pen and paper, Barbra realized just where she had heard that name before. "Yeah, I thought I recognized that name. Burch Towers burned down, three and a half, maybe four years ago."

"Burned down!" gasped Catherine.

"Yeah, and so did one of the guys Casinos. Killed a lot of people that one did."

Well then," Said Catherine slowly as she wrote. "I'll give you his home number. Leave a message with his answering service that you have information about Catherine Chandler and he'll get back to you as soon as he receives it. Here's the number. They don't search you when you leave do they?"

"Nah, they use to, but they haven't for a long time now."

Opening the door she looked back at Catherine. "Wish me luck." She whispered with a faint smile. As the door closed, and the dead bolt was put in place, Catherine was once again alone. But now all did not seem so hopeless.

Later that evening as she lay in her bed, she whispered into the darkness. "Soon Vincent, soon we'll be together again. When we are, I'm never leaving you're side."

For the first time in four years, Catherine fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Narcissa awoke with a start.

"Who is dere?" she questioned with caution,"Speak!"

"Vincent." Came the soft, deep tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Vincent." She sighed, "You could make dis old woman die a tousand deaths sneaking up like dat. Well, come in child. We will see where your journey must take you."

Rising from her chair with a groan, she reached for the kettle and put it on the fire to boil. Two cups are taken down from a shelf, as was a small canister. From it, the old woman extracted a pouch.

"Dis be exactly what we need." She mumbled to herself.

Vincent watched with curiosity as Narcissa placed a small amount of the contents into each cup. Taking the kettle, she filled them and set one on the table before Vincent, the other at her place, across from him.

Drink child, you must not let it get cold."

Vincent lifted the cup and sniffed at the brew. With furrowed brow he questioned.

"A magic Potion?"

"Oh much better!" Cackled the old woman. "Drink, let it fill you."

Vincent drew in half its contents, then settling the cup between his palms, stared into the remaining liquid.

"What is this mixture, Narcissa?"

"Herb tea" She laughed, "To assist de brain in waking from its lengthy rest."

Vincent felt his cheeks grow warm. A faint smile appeared on his lips as he lowered his gaze and whispered softly. "Thank you Narcissa."

The minutes passed as the old woman and her guest drank in silence. Vincent studied her as she stared into her cup. He was about to speak, when the seer put up a hand and pronounced.

"Waste no time! Go now! For tonight you must walk in de boys dream. It will show you from which corner of de park you must start your journey. Do not let de boy know you are going. He will follow and loose his life. De Father must keep a close watch on him Vincent. Tell de Father, but tell him too, he must be silent. For three nights you must walk through de boy's dreams, taking leave at their tales end. Be warned Vincent, I see great pain, but not yours. De pain belongs to.... HER! Go now hurry! Your time is more limited dan you know."

In a swirl of black cloak, he was gone, running through the caverns toward home as if his very life depended on it and to Vincent it did.

Young Jacob was still sleeping, as his grandfather began preparing their morning meal.

"Just like sleeping with a wild cat." He muttered to himself. "You never know when he's going to pounce. Oh my aching back. That boy has a kick like an old mule. Reminds me a lot of Vincent when he was young." He chuckled, rubbing his thigh.

The elder Jacob reminisced aloud. "Still carry the battle wounds from that one!" Thinking back he remembered sharing his bed with a young, frightened Vincent, at a time when he had been having nightmares.

Father had been viciously kicked out bed by the thrashing youngster. In the process, Vincent had caught his long sharp toenails into Fathers thigh and tearing the flesh had left five deep gashes, almost to the knee. "Humph" he said laughing, "Vincent has worn socks to bed ever since."

Father smiled and shook his head, as he completed their meal preparation. "Well Jacob," he said to himself, "I hope you have had enough sleep." As Father hobbled down the passageway, he heard Jacob scream.

"NO FATHER, DON'T LEAVE ME! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!"

Father quickened his pace. Upon entering his chamber, he spied Jacob hurriedly dressing, rambling nonsensically to himself.

"Jacob, what is it? What's wrong?"

"My Father is leaving I must go with him!"

"No," came the loving reply. "Your Father is due back this evening."

"NO! HE'S NOT COMING HOME! HE'S GOING TO HER!"

"Jacob please!" his grandfather said soothingly. "You don't know that for a fact. Now come on, come with me, we'll talk over breakfast. Come along now."

Reluctantly, Jacob went along with his grandfather, secretly vowing, that if his Father had not returned by evening meal, he would go out in search of him.

Six-fifteen am. Catherine found herself pacing the living room waiting for Barbra, and hopefully, some word from Elliot. "Now if I hadn't wanted to see her, she would have been here by six." Glancing at her watch again revealed only a three-minute passage of time. "I've waited five years," she sighed. "I guess I can wait a little longer."

Walking over to the terrace doors, she sighed deeply as she watched the sun rise.

"How many times have we stood, holding each other, watching the sunrise, or sat on the terrace, reading until it was almost too light out for you to journey home in safety. Oh Vincent, I know you're out there. If I can feel it, why can't you?"

A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Just then a knock came at the door. Catherine rushed to answer it, but stopped when she heard voices. There was a man's voice she could not identify.

"NO, you go in first, she always throws something at me!" Barbra's tone was loud, a warning perhaps?

"She can't he that bad," Whined the Major. Rolling his eyes. He sighed lightly, "Oh very well." He acquiesced.

Gripping the handle with his pudgy fingers, the door began to open…

Thinking fast, as she had always done, Catherine picked up a porcelain vase. As the door opened wider and Spence entered, the vase hit the doorframe, and shattered into tiny pieces.

"Get Out!" Catherine shrieked. "This is my place! You have no right coming in here!"

Major Spence entered, with Barbra in tow. Directing his words to his assistant, he dribbled his remark. "She is a bit of a tyrant, isn't she!"

Barbra sighed in relief that Catherine had caught on. "I told you she was out to get me!"

"Well," said the hefty man, "I still can't give you that transfer. You'll just have to put up with her."

Catherine had left the room after throwing the vase. She was now sitting on her bed waiting, for what she didn't know. She had made sure to close the louver doors behind her.

"Clean up this mess before you leave." Spence was pointing at the shards on the carpet, then turned and waddled out, leaving Barbra to her task. Closing the door, she listened. When she could no longer here the shuffle of the Majors feet, she headed for the bedroom, and tapped on the doors.

"Miss Chandler, He's gone, can I come in?"

As Catherine opened the door, the young woman spoke again.

"God, are you quick! I thought we were dog meat for sure!"

"Never mind that now!" Catherine's voice was brimming with excitement. "What did you find out? Did you speak to Elliot? Does he have a way...?"

"Hold on, Whoa." said Barbra. "That number's out of service and it was too late to check around town, but I'll see what I can do tomorrow. I should have something for you by Monday. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help me locate him?"

Catherine thought for a moment, "What was his name?" she said softly.

"Whose name?" Questioned Barbra.

"Elliot had a private investigator working for him. They were also good friends. If you can find him, he'll locate Elliot for you, only... I can't seem to remember his name?" Pacing the floor, Catherine shook her head. "DAMN. It won't come to me."

"Well, listen," said the other woman. "You think on it awhile. I gotta get this mess cleaned up and report back to 'His Majesty'. I'll be back at lunch," Barbra cleaned up the broken glass, and with a warm smile, left Catherine to her breakfast.

Miles beneath the city, Vincent, again comes upon the cave in which he had heard Catherine's voice. He skidded to a stop, thinking he had seen a shadow duck inside. Cautiously he entered the gaping portal. There was little light, but with his keen sight, this did not pose a problem. He looked down at the dirt floor where he had awakened in his beloved's arms. Further scrutiny brought forth nothing. There was nobody there.

"My mind is playing games with me.," he said softly. "I thought I saw…."

Vincent expelled his breath and hung his head. "I will find you Catherine. If it's the last thing I do, I WILL FIND YOU!" He turned to leave, when he heard a voice rip through his soul.

"SHE'S GONE, NOW THERE"S ONLY YOU…." ****

He turned with a "ROAR!" Clawed hands raised for the attack. But there was no one.

"More mind games!" he growled into the darkness. "She is not gone! She lives... She lives! And I will search until I find her." He choked. "And I will find her!"

Vincent left the cave at a trot, within minutes he was racing at a speed only Vincent could master.

After lunch, young Jacob entered his own chamber and began to pack. Never having been away from the community's surroundings before, he was unsure of what to take with him. With some thought, he began putting items on the bed which he figured might be useful on his journey to find his Father.

"Hmm, lets see," Said the boy. "I'll need something to wear to bed, and play clothes. A warm coat, incase it's cold. A light sweater, in case it's warm. My ball, my lucky rock, and oh! A book 'cause I can read. Now, which book do I take? This one? This one? No, this one... Oh, I know, I'll take all of them!"

So seven books were added to the already heaping pile on Jacobs's bed. The young boy stood back to admire his collection, and....

"Oh No! How am I going to carry all that? It's bigger than I am!"

"What's bigger?" Came a voice from the chamber entrance.

Jacob turned to find Mouse staring at him. His lighted helmet was cockeyed on his head, and his face was streaked with dirt.

"Going away? Not safe! Wait for Father-Vincent."

"My Father is not coming home. I have to go and find him." Said Jacob-.

"Father-Vincent say back soon, Father-Vincent back soon. Jacob stay.
Father-Grandfather get mad. Big trouble maybe."

"No!" Spoke the younger boy with determination. "My Father may be in danger! I have to go!"

"O.k. good, O.k. fine, Mouse go too!"

No! I'm going alone!"

"Mouse knows all tunnels, better than anyone. Can't get along without Mouse."

Mary met with Father in the corridor, leading to young Jacobs chamber.

"Father, have you seen Mouse, I can't find him anywhere?"

"Mary, yes! I was talking to him an hour ago. I asked him to keep Jacob busy for me while I had a rest, you know that young man is a devil to sleep with? But then, he's the only one that slept last night." Father said with a laugh.

"How is he handling the dreams?" questioned Mary.

"Not well I'm afraid. He fears Vincent is not coming home and wants to go looking for him. We are all going to have to keep a close watch on that one!"

As Father and Mary continued their conversation, Mouse came walking toward them rubbing his head.

"Well, Where's Jacob?" demanded the older man.

Wouldn't listen," Said Mouse. "Throw books, hit Mouse, run away, broke light on helmet." He pouted.

Father and Mary, hurried into Jacobs's chamber, only to find it empty. Jacob was gone!

Catharine was standing out on the terrace, sipping a cool glass of water, looking out over the field that stretched for miles, her thoughts were, as always, of Vincent.

Where would we be now if all of this had never happened? If only I had told you about the baby from the beginning, But you were so distressed over the loss of our bond and I was unsure as to how you would feel about a child. You were all ready in enough pain. Oh Vincent, I'm so sorry for what I've put you through. All the pain you must have felt. What you must be feeling now. The emotional pain you had to endure when Paracelsus and...'

"Manning! That's it! That's the investigators name!"

Catherine ran in from the terrace and headed for the door. "Damn, I'll have to wait."

As she walked slowly back out to the terrace she mumbled softly to herself. "Manning. Clingon? Leo, Cleo, Leon, CLEON! CLEON MANNING!"

Catherine looked at her watch. "One twenty-five p.m. where can she be? She was due here with lunch, over an hour ago." As Catherine's sentence came to an end, she heard a knocking at the door.

"Like they say, ask and you shall receive." Smiling, she started for the door.

The door opened and Barbra stepped in but she was not carrying a lunch tray.

"Miss Chandler, How would you like some company for lunch?"

"ELLIOT!" She said in whispered shock.

"Ah... No, I'm sorry," Apologized Barbra, "I meant me."

"Of course, I... I should have realized." she stammered. "Yes, please join me."

"Sorry I'm late." said Barbra, as she reached out the doorway toward the floor. "But I brought a surprise. Hope you like fast food?"

"Fast Food? What's that?" Catherine asked sarcastically. "It's been so long, I almost forget what a hamburger looks like."

Barbra sang a little tune as she swung two large bags in through the doorway. "Ta da, Macdonald's and you."

Catherine squealed with delight. "Oh, Please say there's a chocolate shake with my name on it, and fries?"

"I didn't know what you'd like, so you've got a ton of food here."

Taking the bags to the coffee table, Barbra pulled out and named each item.

"Let's see now, you got your Big Mac, fillet of fish, quarter pounder, with and without cheese. One apple, a cherry and a blueberry pie. I didn't get any chicken, you get enough of that crap here, but here's your fries, I bought large, and look at this!" Barbra was smiling as she pulled something out of a smaller bag." A chocolate shake, and it says Miss Chandler right here on the side."

"Thank you Barbra, and please, call me Cathy. So, let's dig in."

"Oh." said Barbra; "I couldn't wait. I ate mine on the way back here. But I thought you could use some friendly conversation?"

"Yes, by all means. We could talk about my getting out of here."

Catherine reached out for the big Mac and began opening the carton. "I remembered the investigators name. It's Cleon Manning. I believe he lives on Staten Island." Taking a huge bite out of the burger, she rolled her eyes and moaned.

"Not bad for fast rood, eh Cathy?"

NOT BAD? It's fantastic! Anyway if you can find Cleon Manning, you can bet your life on it that he knows the exact where-a-bouts of Elliot. I can give you a list of a few people that may be able to help you track him down."

Time now passed with idle chit-chat, while Catherine finished her lunch. But deep inside her thoughts, she wondered. 'Could there be another contact? Could she trust him, or was he in on this too?'

Catherine got up to put the extra burgers away. "You know Barbra," she said from the kitchen. "There may be somebody else, who might know where Cleon or Elliot can be found, but if you talk to him, don't mention my name, and if he does you don't know me. You've never heard my name before, got that? I don't know if I can trust him."

"I got it, what's his name?"

"Joe Maxwell, he's the Assistant District Attorney. He use to be a good friend, I just don't know anymore. What ever you do DON'T say anything to the D.A. John Moreno. He's as crooked as a corkscrew!"

Barbra glanced at the clock on the mantle. "3:10. I gotta go. You write out that list. I'll pick it up before I head out. I'm leaving early, but I'll be here with your supper. Phyllis is back on weekends and will be in with your evening coffee. Just be your sweet, lovable self, and she won't be none the wiser."

Barbra let go a laugh at her own last statement.

"Yeah, right" said Catherine giggling. "I'll have the list ready. Thanks for lunch."

Barbra smiled and left, latching the dead bolt behind her.

Catherine returned to the terrace and her thoughts of Vincent.

At a fast pace and very close to home, Vincent rounded a bend in the tunnel and bumped into his son knocking him to the ground. With a look of shock, Jacob stared up into startled blue eyes.

"Father!"

"Jacob?" questioned the deep velvety voice. "What are you doing this great a distance from home?"

"Looking for you." he said, "I was worried."

"About what?" Said his Father, as he bent down and helped the young boy to his feet.

Jacob began brushing the dirt from the seat of his pants, trying in vain to avoid his Father's questions.

"It must be nearing supper time now? Does your Grandfather know where you are?"

Jacob was still looking at the ground. He scuffed his boots a few times and cramming both hands into his pockets, shrugged his shoulders and replied slowly. "No, I ran off while he was sleeping."

"This morning?" Questioned his father.

"No, after lunch." Said the boy.

"Is your grandfather ill?"

"No Father, just tired. He said he didn't sleep well last night."

"I see" Said Vincent with a knowing grin. "Well perhaps we had better get you back."

The twosome walked until they came to a stretch of pipe. Stopping briefly, Vincent tapped out a message.

'Home in fifteen minutes. Jacob is with me. All is well. Vincent.'

The reply was immediate.

'Supper in twenty. Glad you're both safe. Jacob we will talk. Grandfather.'

Vincent looked at Jacob and shaking his head, reprimanded the boy. "You will have to deal with this yourself, Jacob. You must stand on your own for what you have done. Your Grandfather has always been a fair man, but you have worried him unnecessarily."

Once again, Jacobs gaze fell to the floor of the tunnel. Vincent took his son by the hand and the pair walked home in silence.

Father sat quietly in their private kitchen. The plate in front of him untouched. He looked up as Vincent and the escapee walked in reacting immediately.

"Need I say anything?"

The older man's eyes bore into the child accusingly. Jacob, feeling the heat, tried to hide behind his father, but Vincent lifted him and sat the boy next to his Grandfather.

"No Grandfather," said Jacob as tears began to well up in his little gray-blue eyes. "I'm sorry."

Age had definitely softened the old man's heart. Placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, he toyed with the fringe as he spoke.

"This must never happen again. Your father left you in my care. What would have happened had he returned to find you missing?"

Young Jacobs mouth dropped open as he remembered some of the stories about his Father and how it had sometimes become necessary to protect their community. Even more terrifying, was the story of what his father had gone through looking for him and his mother Catherine.

Vincent placed his finger tips on Jacobs jaw pushing gently he closed the boys Mouth. "Jacob, are you listening, or catching flies?" his father grinned.

Jacob threw himself into his father's arms crying spasmodically. "I'm sorry Father, I'm sorry. I'll never do it again." he raced. "You'll never have to come looking for me. I'll stay with Grandfather and you'll never ever have to worry again."

Jacob stared up into his fathers worried eyes, then turned to face his grandfather. "I promise Grandfather, I'll never run away again. Will you forgive me?"

Father, now with tears of his own to contend with, took young Jacob into a loving embrace. -"Of course I forgive you child. I love you. I could never stay angry with you."

Evening meal started, and ended in near silence.

Vincent, heeding Narsisa's words, decided to speak with Father, after Jacob was asleep.

Saturday morning, found Barbra in an office building standing in front of a door marked:

but as she raised her arm to knock, the door flew open.

"Edie come in here a min..."

Looking into Barbra's surprised face, Joe gasped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you standing there. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Joe Maxwell."

"That's me," he said smiling. "What can I do for you?"

"Where's Moreno?" she questioned looking around.

"In Hell." he said coldly, "Why, you know him?"

"No" came the answer, "I was told he was the D.A and that one of you might be able to help me find Elliot Burch."

Leaning on the doorframe, Joe called out to his secretary. "Hold all my calls" Opening the door further, he motioned Barbra in.

Barbra sat in the closest chair and studied the room. Joe perched himself on the corner of his desk, folded his hands and began questioning the young woman.

"Ok, Who are you, and what do you want with Burch?"

Remembering Catherine's words about not trusting this man, Barbra invented a story.

"I think my father is cheating on my mother. I was told this Burch guy had a really good investigator named Cleon Manning. I want to hire him to spy on my old man. Catch him in the act you might say."

Joe, taking the girls word, shook his head. "Sorry kid. I thought this might have something to do with Cathy's homicide."

"Her death?"

"You know Cathy?" barked Joe, now leaning on the arms of the chair occupied by Barbra.

"No!" Came the nervous reply. "I only want to find out if my old man's messing around. I don't know anything about anybody dying!"

Her cover still concealed, Joe backed off. Reaching over the desk he opened the drawer and extracted a personal phone book. Thumbing through it he spoke to the girl.

"Manning and Burch are both dead." Said Joe matter-of-factly. "But I know of an investigator who's right up your alley. He's good, and he won't charge you an arm and a leg to get the job done."

Barbra noticed a change in Joe's previously light mood "This Cathy must have meant a lot to you?" she said searching his expression.

"Yeah," said Joe in a hushed whisper. "It's been five years and I still spend after hours trying figure it all out."

"Was she your wife?"

"My wife?'" he choked looking up. "I wish. Then she might still be alive."

A look of longing came across Joe's features and he swiped a tear away from the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry," said Barbra probing for more answers. "Did Burch and Manning have something to do with it?"

No, Manning was killed as a warning to Elliot, and Elliot? Well... Vincent could have taken him out for all I know. A boat exploded. Burch was suppose to be on it, but his body was never found, The only clothing found floating in the water belonged to this guy Vincent. My guess is they were both on board, but from there… Your guess is as good as mine.

Barbra was staring into her lap taking mental notes.

"Look, I'm sorry." Said Joe. "I didn't mean to dump this on you. I just get carried away. Cathy does that to me sometimes."

"That's ok," said Barbra. "I'm intrigued. Who is this Vincent? Was he killed in the explosion?"

"Nah, I doubt that." said Joe a little miffed, I think the guy's got nine lives. He's still out there somewhere, but nobody knows anything about him, Except maybe Bennet."

Scribbling on the note pad, Joe dropped the book back into the drawer and handed the paper to Barbra "Here, I hope everything works out for you." said Joe opening the door. "Good luck, and thanks for listening."

Smiling, Barbra left Joe's office. Once outside the building, Barbra glanced at the piece of paper in her hand then tossed it to the ground. "Great, where do I go from here?" she grumbled. "Joe said Bennet might know something."

Realizing, she turned to look at the ground. Staring up at her, in bold black ink, was the paper she had just discarded.

Snatching the paper, she headed for the nearest phone booth.

A soft knocking at the door told Catherine it was show time. Looking around for Something to throw, she spied a glass ashtray. Picking it up, she tested its weight. Aiming for the wall, she waited for her cue. As the door opened, glass shattered everywhere.

"Get out! Leave Me Alone." screamed Catherine running to her room and closing the louver doors behind her.

Phyllis opened the door slowly and placed the tray on the hutch. Closing and bolting the door, she left, not wanting anything to do with this wild cat.

Happy that it was a short-lived performance, Catherine ate her breakfast out on the terrace, quietly thinking about Vincent.

"Yeah hello." Came the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Diana Bennet?" asked Barbra.

"Yeah, This is Diana, who's this?"

"My name is Barbra." she began. "Joe Maxwell gave me your number. He said you might be able to help me. Can I come and see you?"

"Ah well?"

"Please?" begged Barbra. "I won't take much of your time. I promise."

Diana reluctantly gave her the address and told her to be there no later than 11am. After that time, she would be out and not returning for some time. This gave Barbra only twenty minutes to get across town. Hailing a cab, she instructed the driver to hurry.

"There's an extra twenty if you get me there on time."

Before she could get the door closed, they were racing out into traffic.

Vincent decided to wait until morning to speak with Father about his journey. He wanted to be close to Jacob so as not to miss any of the boy's dreams. Sitting at the boys' bedside Vincent watched as his son's breathing evened out signaling sleep. Sitting back himself, he closed his eyes. Entering the dream Vincent saw himself playing ball with his son. The boy was about a year and a half. The night was dark, but clear and the stars were shining brightly. A light breeze whispered though the trees.

"Frow daddy, frow ball." Jacob was laughing as he imitated his father's moves. Bending his knees, Jacob held his hands close together and readied himself to catch the ball. Smiling at this, Vincent tossed it gently. The ball bounced past the boy and landed near the trees. Jacob ran to it but instead of retrieving his toy, he pointed up into the branches.

"Look daddy, ten birdies."

Vincent stepped closer for a better view. Craning his neck he could see a nest, but the birds were nowhere to be found. "Sorry Jacob" came the quiet reply, "No birds tonight."

"Yes daddy look, eight birdies."

Vincent took a second look, but the answer remained the same. Lifting his son he headed back toward the tunnel entrance. Jacob wiggled and complained trying to get down. "No daddy, other way, go other way!"

"Not tonight son, it is time for bed."

"No, no, no!" complained the youngster, "Not bedtime. Going wrong way. Go other way, far, far away other way!"

But Vincent continued northward into the tunnels. "We can play again tomorrow."

The dream had ended and Vincent sat watching his son sleeping peacefully. It didn't seem to have any connection to Catherine at all.

Mary had taken Jacob off to the playroom after the morning meal. This was the perfect opportunity to speak with Father. Vincent was brief and to the point. He was going in search of Catherine and Jacob was to know nothing about it.

"Everyone must keep watch over my son, be sure he does not leave your sight while I am away! I can not stress this enough. If anything were to happen to him…. Father please, you must be very careful."

Father assured him that all would be well. "I'll make certain that there is somebody with him at all times, day and night."

As the cab pulled up along side the curb, Barbra's watch read Ten fifty-nine. She paid the Driver his fare, plus twenty dollars more for his doubtless drag racing experience.

Closing the cab door she saw a red haired woman leaving the building in a hurry.

"Excuse me!" Barbra directed her words to the retreating figure. "Diana Bennet?"

Letting out a frustrated breath Diana leaned against the wall. "I didn't think you were going to make it."

"I painted wings on the cab." Said Barbra. "Can we talk?"

Well, really, I'm in a hurry. Can you make it quick?"

Not wanting to discuss this out on the street Barbra replied, "I need you to find someone for me. Joe says you're good."

"Yeah" She said not really paying attention. "Who?"

Barbra looked around to see if anybody was within earshot. "It's very personal." she said in a hushed whisper.

"Look!" said Diana impatiently, I don't have time for cat and mouse games."

"I want to find out if my old man is fooling around on my mother." she lied.

"No, uh huh, I only take special cases." And she started to walk away.

"Wait," shouted Barbra before Diana could get away. "I need to know about Vincent!"

Diana stopped in her tracks. Barbra had obviously hit a nerve. "I don't know anybody by that name. I'm sorry. You'll have to go elsewhere."

"Please, there's no place else to go. Elliot is missing, Manning is dead, and I don't know if I can trust Joe! Please? won't you at least talk to me?" She pleaded.

Heading back into her apartment building, Diana motioned for the girl to follow. The elevator doors opened to allow them access to the loft.

Diana turned to Barbra. "O.k. I'm listening!"

"Well, first" said Barbra. "I need to know if you know Catherine Chandler?"

"No."

"You're not going to make this easy for me are you!"

Diana crossed her arms. "Is that what I'm suppose to do? Look! Who are you? and what the hell do you want?"

"GOD!" Snapped Barbra, "If I can't trust somebody, she may end up dead!"

Diana turned sharply toward the other woman. "Cathy died five years ago."

"You said you didn't know her."

"I don't." "Then why do you think she's dead?"

"I investigated the case, and what did you mean she may end up dead?"

Barbra realized her slip. Biting her lip she pleaded. "Please say I can trust you!"

Diana took off her coat and sat down on the sofa." All right, you've got my attention. Let's start at the beginning."

Diana told Barbra about Cathy, Joe, Moreno, and Elliot, but nothing about Vincent. In turn, Barbra explained about Catherine being held against her will, but said nothing about where, then added, "Where does Vincent fit into all of this?"

"How did you find out about him?" queried Diana.

"By fluke I'm afraid. Maxwell was going on about Cathy and how much he misses her, rambling I guess, and he said that you were the only one who might know anything about him."

"Does he know you're looking for him?"

"No, he thinks I 'm trying to catch my father fooling around."

"How did this matter even get brought up?"

"When I mentioned Burch and said I needed a P.I. he assumed I knew Cathy."

"I wonder why he gave you my number? He knows I only take special cases?"

A quick call gave her the answer she was looking for.

"I mentioned your name and must have given her your number by mistake." said Joe, "Is she still there?"

" No" she lied, "I gave her Don Stepps number and sent her on her way. Just wondering Joe, Thanks, Talk to you later."

Placing the receiver back on the cradle, she turned to Barbra. "Well, he doesn't appear to be suspicious of anything."

"So Joe can't be trusted with this information." Said Barbra.

"Your information, yes. Mine on the other hand...? Nobody knows about Vincent. It's a wonder Cathy didn't tell you about them herself?"

"Them?" said Barbra puzzled. "There are two men in her life?"

"Well, kind of but why do you suppose she didn't tell you?"

"As you already know I've been looking after her for four years now, but she's been after my ass. My boss said I could easily be disposed of, and I decided to switch teams. So..." She said shrugging her shoulders, "Here I am. We've only been friends a few days. I guess she doesn't fully trust me, and I can't say I blame her."

Diana not wanting to fully trust this woman herself said, "Give me the number where you're staying. I have to contact a few people before I can tell you any more."

Barbra gave her home number, explaining that she could only be reached after midnight through the week, but to please try for tomorrow so as she could take some news back to Catherine. With this much settled, Barbra went home, happy to find somebody she could trust enough to at least talk about it. However she had not told Diana Catherine's location. Trust works both ways. Catherine would remain safe should the pretty red head turn out to be less than trustworthy.