“A guest for you Mr Burch!” The sound carried down from above and passed his ears until Devin detected a movement far below him.

“Who, what!” The distant voice was gruff but recognisable. Devin shouted down to him, “Elliot!”

“So” the voice came from above, “You do know each other. Well too bad that it won’t be a long friendship, now that your food supply has been cut off.” He laughed wickedly. Devin’s stomach lurched and churned. He’d get him someday he’d get him. He vowed that he would.

His feet touched down and the rope came hurtling past him, whizzing past his ear to land with a thump at his feet. Well at least they had a rope Devin thought.

“Elliot?” The darkness was all consuming, but at least he had been spared the sack, not that he knew it of course, although he was to learn that on the coldest of nights Elliot had been glad of its warmth wrapped around his shoulders.

“Who is that?” Elliot’s voice came from somewhere to his left. Devin turned slowly, getting his barings. Even in this inky blackness he was home, but he knew that mustn’t lose his barings.

“It’s Devin Wells. I don’t believe you know me but…” His words trailed away as Elliot interrupted

“Wells, Wells, as in Vincent Wells?”

Devin sighed, “Yes, Vincent is my brother.”

“Your brother!”

Devin detected the note of anxiety in Elliot’s tone, and laughed despite himself, “Yes, my adopted brother.”

Elliot relief was palpable and he sighed deeply, “Thank God.”

“For what? For the fact that I don’t resemble my brother or for the fact that you have company at last?”

Exhaling a short sharp breath of humour Elliot replied, “For the fact that you don’t resemble your brother. I want no reminders.”

Devin thought it a strange thing to say and told him so, “I thought you and Vincent were friends?”

“Friends? Yes, you could call us friends…” He hesitated, “And arch enemies too.”

“Why is that?” Devin was intrigued.

“Your brother has just married the only woman I will ever love. Surely that constitutes us as enemies?”

Devin smiled into the darkness, “Oh I see.” Then asked, “You been down here long?”

“Long enough” Elliot spoke gruffly. Then remembered something, “What did he mean back there when he said our food supply had been cut off?”

“I’m not sure. What did you think he meant?” Backing up against a rock Devin sank to his knees, his body had begun to tremble and Elliot noticed his teeth chattered.

“You’re cold. Here wrap this around you such as it is. Sorry about the way it smells.” He held out the sack in the vicinity of the sound, but Devin refused. “No it’s all right, I’m not cold so as to be warmed. I just witnessed three cold bloodied murders.”

“That’s terrible. Did you know the people?”

“Yes.”

“Friend’s of yours?”

Devin took only seconds to answer, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. For some reason their friendship with me cost them their lives.”

There was silence between them for a time and Elliot noted that Devin was softly crying. He let him be. The guy needed to let it out otherwise it would eat him alive. He knew. Hadn’t his father been murdered also? Elliot could well remember the pain and the shock. It would never leave him.
After a while he detected that Devin slept. His shallow even breathing signifying that the guy was physically and mentally exhausted even as his breathing was interspersed with strangled cries and moans.
Elliot let him sleep it was all there was to do in this place. His stomach moaned, it was getting near to mealtime.
So used was he to his daily survival kit as he had come to call it, Elliot expected that within the next couple of hours food would be delivered. And as a pinprick of light appeared above, something would block out the light, growing larger and larger as food descended down to him on some thread.
Water too, wrapped carefully in paper so that the bottle did not break. Elliot had quite a stock of bottles now. But he had to keep reminding himself, that if the guy above could be believed then that daily survival kit had been cut off.
Elliot gasped and Devin was awoken suddenly by a man choking on a panic attack. For long moments Devin did not know where he was. It was so dark, but the scent of the underground rocks was familiar to him. “Vincent?” He queried.

“No,” came the hoarse reply.

At once Devin remembered. “What’s the matter, what’s wrong?” He scrambled to his feet making his way toward the sound and encountered Elliot’s bunched shoulders as he kneeled upon the floor.

“We’re going to die aren’t we?” Elliot’s voice was strangled and the choking resumed. Devin found his arms and pulled him to his feet, hitting him squarely on the jaw, “We will if you carry on like that.” He yelled, “Stop it man, get a grip!”

Subdued Elliot stopped as quickly as he had started. All the fight drained out of him. Only his throbbing jaw where Devin had punched him reminded him that he was still alive.

“We’re going to die.” Elliot whispered.

“No!” Devin told him and Elliot could well remember newly arriving in this place and being so passionate about escape. Well Devin would learn just as he had learned, there was no escape.

“No we’re not gonna die we’re gonna get out of here.” Devin told him sounding so positive that Elliot almost believed him. And he didn’t know it yet but out of all the people on the earth that could have been sent down to accompany him in his fate, Devin was perhaps one of the few people that knew enough of underground systems to actually get them out of their predicament.

It was easy to see that something troubled the newlyweds, and Father watched them closely before finally deciding enough was enough, “What’s wrong?” He asked the pair at dinner one evening as each picked over their plate, so obviously distracted with something more important than food.
Father well knew that every married couple would have their ups and downs, and this unique pair would be no different, but it grieved him to see them so at odds.

“Vincent?” Father had to prompt his son for a reply.

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?” Father’s kindly eyes were filled with concern, making Vincent feel that bit too uncomfortable to look at his face for long. His plate looked more appealing right now. “Nothing.” He mumbled.

Father turned his attention to his daughter-in-law, “Catherine?”

“Its nothing, Father don’t worry.”

“But I am worried. To see the two of you so down in the dumps and not be able to help, well I am worried. Please, I want to help.”

Catherine pushed back her seat, picking up her plate as she did so, her meal hardly touched, “Don’t worry so Father, we’re all right.”

“All right my foot!” Father snapped only to be touched on the arm by Mary, he turned and scrowled at her.

“Leave them Jacob.”

He watched his son and daughter-in-law leave the dining area before he turned and glared at Mary.

“Why did you do that? I might have found out what’s troubling them.”

“I know what’s troubling them.” She whispered so as not to be overheard.

“Why am I always the last to know?” Father whispered back. “Will you tell me?”

“Only so that you don’t bombard them further, they’ll sort it out Jacob you’ll see. They’ve covered worse things than this.”

“Worse things? How can I believe you when I don’t know what this thing is?”

Mary edged closer to whisper in his ear, “Catherine wants a baby.”

Father nodded, ‘arh now he understood.’ “And I take it that Vincent isn’t agreeable?”

Mary smiled tenderly, “they’ll sort it out Jacob, let them be.”

“But how can I? Vincent is right Catherine must be made to understand this. A woman’s wiles do not come into it this time. Catherine cannot dispute that Vincent is different no matter what she claims, and he will likely carry those differences over to his offspring.”

“Yes I know Jacob.” Mary sounded if she knew but didn’t agree one iota.

“Mary, you and Catherine are just the same, you don’t see it the way Vincent and I do. All you see is a cuddly, furry baby, a replica of my son.”

“And do you not? After all you saw him as a child. Why should you rob that joy from us?”

“Now Mary that’s not the issue here, and its nothing to do with what you want or what I want, its what Vincent wants that is important here. And I believe he should have the last word in this.”

“And no one cares about what Catherine wants? What Catherine has forsaken to love him to spend her life here with him? Every way I look at it, Catherine is the one that made all the sacrifices Jacob.”

“With her eyes wide open Mary. Catherine knew what she was doing when she married my son.”

“Maybe she did, but even then she believed like every newly wedded wife that their marriage would be blessed with children. It should have been something they’d discussed before their marriage but it wasn’t, and well…Catherine wants a baby. Surely she should not be denied that most basic of needs?”

“Perhaps she can go above and have artificial insemination. If having a child is that important to her.”

“Oh Jacob, she loves Vincent. How could she possibly want any other child than his?”

“Well what she wants my dear and what she’ll get are two vastly different things, because I am off to see them now and talk some sense into that daughter-in-law of mine.” He forced back his chair making to stand as Mary held onto his arm and cried, “Oh Jacob no, you promised.”

“I did no such thing! You told me of your own accord.”

Mary knew he was right, and she felt terrible. Catherine had confided in her and asked her not to tell a soul. She hoped Catherine might forgive her especially after Jacob had spoken with her.

“Then I’ll come with you.”

“As you please.”

Yet as Father hobbled toward his son’s chamber his anger gradually subsided. He could only too well remember Vincent as a babe. And babes grew too fast. In a way he could well understand Catherine’s desire to bear such a child into the world and to the man she loved. But he could also see it from Vincent’s point of view. Vincent had had a terrible childhood in terms of freedom. So much had been denied him and a child of his own facing that? Well Father could clearly see how much that would hurt.
By the time they’d reached the chamber Father had had a change of heart, he stopped and turned to Mary, “Let’s leave them be shall we my dear? They’ll come to us if they need any help.”

Mary hugged him tightly, “thank you Jacob.” She whispered thankful that something had brought him to his senses.

He hadn’t realised he had spoken out loud until she answered him, “only you have the words to make it right.” She whispered.

Vincent despaired, “Catherine please! I can’t I just can’t. Please try to understand.”

“Try to understand!” Her voice rose hysterically, and Vincent knew much of it was from bottled feelings over the last few days. “What is there to understand?”

“I love you isn’t that enough?” His reply caught on a sob.

“But obviously not enough to want my child.” Catherine snapped. Vincent stared at her. How could he answer her?

It was all so simple when she had referred to a baby as ‘his’ child but to refer to it as ‘her’ child well that was a different concept entirely. Catherine watched him pale significantly before she dared to smile just a little. Mary had been right. Re-phrasing words had helped. Catherine almost felt sorry for him.
He continued to stare at her grappling for the right words, dismissing them as they came as inappropriate. He had to word his thoughts carefully, if he didn’t he might lose her entirely, but no matter what he thought of sounded wrong even to himself.
So he simply said nothing.
Catherine on the other hand was jubilant at seeing her husband stumped for words and she started to laugh, “cat got your tongue Vincent?” Then she laughed even harder at the look that passed over his face at her comment. “See how it feels now?” She sobered, asking the question flatly. “You can’t answer me can you?”

“No.”

“So let me get this straight,” Catherine walked over to his chair and paced in front of him much as she would do before a witness in the courtroom. “You love me, but you couldn’t love my child.”

“I didn’t say that!” Vincent jumped to his feet.

“You didn’t say anything my love, at least nothing in your defence.”

Despite himself Vincent grinned. She was playing with him. He decided to go along with it, unaware that was exactly how she had wanted him to react. If he was playing with her then there was a good possibility that she could trip him up.

“The thing is Vincent, I could love both children. I could love your child and I could love my child, as much as I love you, but it seems that where our love is concerned we are at odds.”

“Catherine…you know how much I love you. Do I have to climb to the moon to declare it? Be it that I could I would.”

Catherine’s heart raced then and she took some calming breaths to still its headlong flight. Being taken in by his declaration of love for her would not win her objective.

“Yet would you climb into infinity itself to declare such love for my child?” She asked him sweetly refusing to look up at him as she continued to pace.

“Don’t bait me Catherine.” A low growl from him surprised her. So he had guessed had he? Well she would have to resort to more cunning still.

“I love it when you do that.” She teased, surprising him greatly, “Do it again?”

“No.”

“Oh go on, it gives me goose bumps.”

Vincent’s eyes sparkled, loving the things she was saying despite everything.

“No.”

“No is a favoured word with you isn’t it my love? Let me see now, are you ever able to say yes? I wonder.”

“I do know the difference between yes and no Catherine.”

For a few moments they faced one another and their eyes locked for combat. Then Catherine began her swift barrage of questions that fell upon his ears before he’d time to think.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love yourself?”

“No.”

“Father?”

“Yes.”

“Mary?”

“Yes, Catherine what are you doing?” He eyed her cynically.

“Just answer the question please Mr Wells. Do you love Devin?”

“Yes.

“Ice cream?”

Vincent’s lips quirked at the corners, “Yes.”

“Geoffrey, Kipper, Samantha, Jamie, Mouse?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes!”

“Our child?”

“Yes!”

There was silence. Vincent backtracked, oh no!

Catherine was smiling, “You answered correctly Mr Wells, I have no further questions.” She sat in the chair watching him beneath her lashes. He was the one pacing now.

“You tricked me Catherine.”

“You were the one who said you knew no from yes. No one was forcing your arm behind your back Vincent.”

“Even so you tricked me.”

“Let your yes mean yes and your no mean no Vincent, you know that. You wouldn’t be disputing that would you?”

Vincent glared at her, “It’s just a game Catherine. You can’t play games with something as important as this, you don’t know what you are doing or saying.” Hands upon the table he leaned forward glaring at her from across the room.

“So even under oath you back down.”

“I was not under oath.”

“You was to me.”

Vincent drew in a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, “Well it matters neither way. It’s all metaphorically speaking anyway, for none of this will come to pass.”

“Oh no?”

“No!”

“Ever read Lady Chatterley’s lover Vincent?”

“Nooo.” Vincent was on his guard. He’d heard of the book of course. And if he remembered rightly Father had caught Devin reading it once and had confiscated it. Vincent had concluded from that that it was a bad book, until the day he’d found Father reading it himself!

“Then I’d advise you to do so.”

“Why?”

“So that you can be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

Catherine smiled sweetly at him before returning back to her original seat and picking up the sheaf of papers she had been reading, thus dismissed him entirely.
Vincent stared at her, his hackles rising, well if she wanted war then so be it. And Catherine looked at him beneath her lashes, preparing herself to slay the lion. And via the Bond both of them felt a flutter of excitement for the things that were to come.

“I bought it today, its about Brazil.” Vincent felt an icy shiver run up his spine at Catherine’s reply.

“Why the interest?” He tried not to sound too bothered, entering his chamber to collect a change of clothing before going along to the bathing pool. He was sweaty and dusty from his labours down in the lower levels.

Raising her head Catherine watched him. “You might not have realised darling, but it is almost a week since Peter had word from Devin.”

Vincent had realised, “And?”

“And, if we don’t hear from him soon, someone is going to have to go out there and find out why.” She looked back down at the book unable to meet his eyes.

For long moments there was silence, but Catherine knew by the rapid breathing of her husband that he was having difficulty holding his temper. At last he let it go, “So…by that I take it you have decided to be that person?” Catherine winced at his tone. If she didn’t know Vincent better she would have concluded he had become very possessive of her every move. She looked back up at him beneath her lashes and a thrill of excitement ran through her. He looked magnificent!
His long golden mane covered his shoulders, and hung in front of him as he leaned on powerful arms upon the table. His muscles rippling Catherine could just imagine the force and hard length of him holding her within his embrace. His eyes flashed like brilliant blue ice and Catherine could tell it was taking him all his strength to maintain his control. And much of that fury was put there by her over the last few days when she had resolutely refused to sleep with him until he gave in to her demands for a baby. Catherine could see the deep and buried passion blazing beneath the fury of his gaze and her womanhood clutched as a shiver after shiver engulfed her.
Licking her lips she could find no answer. Well none that would suffice his question. “God I want you.” She whispered, stunning him to the core. His fury evaporated to be overtaken by the shimmering heat that lay just beneath the surface and a long low moan erupted from him together with the words, “Catherine what on earth are we doing?”

“I don’t know Vincent. I love you so much.” Her sobbed reply left her lips as she made to stand and come toward him. He met her half way, lifting her clear off the floor engulfing her in his arms and his lips seeking hers with wild abandon. “I’ve missed this.” The relief of holding her so close brought him to tears as Catherine’s hands snaked behind his head, her fingers tangling with his hair, “Make love to me.” She sobbed into his neck.

“Yes, Oh yes.” He carried her to their bed, laying her down gently, joining her there in one swift motion, his large hands cradling her face, his eyes staring down into hers. “Catherine, my love, we must never do this to one another again. Playing games will kill us both.”

Covering his face with kisses, Catherine agreed, and she apologised, “I’m so sorry Vincent, for everything.”

“You do understand?” Even now in his desperate passion and the aching need that filled him Vincent had to know.

Reluctantly Catherine nodded, “Yes my love, to have a child like yourself would bring you the greatest heartache.”

“Its not that I don’t want a child with you Catherine, please know that.” He husked, tears welling in his eyes.

“I know, I know.” She stroked his brow, running her fingers from there to his cheek, to his jaw, to tilt it toward her and kiss him passionately. He returned the kiss and at the same time probing the Bond as something from Catherine triggered a response in him that didn’t feel quite right. But he couldn’t ascertain what it might be either that or she was withholding her emotions from him. He stared at her, his eyes opening wide, questioningly. Catherine preferred to ignore the searching look that he gave her, quickly caressing his body in ways that she had learned would soon make him forget everything else, and most importantly to forget to use the contraception.

But this time it did not work. “I read the book Catherine.” He told her softly.

“The book? What book? The one I bought today? You couldn’t have, its been in my bag till now.” Catherine was clearly confused.

“Not that one.” He whispered, holding her gaze.

“Which one then?” Drawing her brows together Catherine wondered what on earth he could mean, and waited for him to continue.

“The one you asked if I’d read several days ago. Remember now?” He kissed her brow, anticipating her reply.

“Oh that book.”

“Yes that book.”

Catherine giggled, “And?”

“And what? It’s a good book.”

“You enjoyed it!”

Vincent toyed with her lapping up her disbelief with pleasure. “I take it you thought I wouldn’t?” He asked her lazily, his eyes brimming with merriment.

“I, I, wouldn’t have thought it was your type.” Catherine whispered, surprised that Lady Chatterley’s Lover had found favour with her husband.

“Ordinarily it wouldn’t be. But you did insist that I read it. And I admit to being curious. And I have to admit that I am pleased that I took your advice. It had pleasantly stimulating content, and I do feel so much more in the know since I completed it.”

Catherine gulped, Vincent in this mood was a force to be reckoned with, and all her cunning wiles flew out of the window. She grimaced, “Goofed huh?”

“I would say most certainly goofed my love.”

“So I have to change tactics then?

Vincent laughed, a deep resonate sound that despite everything made Catherine laugh too. She had not really expected him to read the book, and that he had he now knew every move that she had intended to make. Every cunning move that would have secured her dreams - that of holding his baby in her arms.
Suddenly she had a brilliant idea, ‘this’ll wipe that smug look off of his face’ she told herself. She wasn’t done yet.
“But I have changed tactics my love.” Her words were like ice. And at once Vincent was on his guard. His passion and desire of moments ago vanished and he waited for her to continue warily.

When she said no more he whispered fearfully, “You have?”

“Yes.” She waited then, unsure as to whether she would go too far with this. As they had already realised the game that they played could have had dire consequences, and this time Catherine played with fire. There were too many implications in what she was about to say, and she may have backed down had Vincent not at that moment goaded her. “You’re bluffing?”

Struggling to sit up, forcing herself out of his embrace and up against the pillows to the head of the bed, Catherine’s eyes flashed her indignation, “I am not!”

“Then what are you saying?” The tone of Vincent’s voice provided its own warning, and again Catherine was uncertain. Why did they have to play these games anyway? Couldn’t she just make love to him and hope that in the throes of passion one night he would forget the contraception, throw caution to the wind and make her pregnant? Other people did that and to hell with the consequences.
And when that little baby had been born everything had come right in the end, and Catherine had no doubts that it would do so in this case either.
Probing the Bond Vincent’s eyes became mere slits as he encountered her turmoil. His suspicions grew. She was up to something, but it was something that could tear them apart. “Stop playing games Catherine.” He growled.

“I want your child.” She whispered unaware that she had spoken her thoughts out loud.

Sighing deeply, Vincent rolled off of her, his eyes were haunted. Would they always come back to this? “Catherine…listen…” He began lamely.

“No you listen!” Jumping off the bed Catherine stood in front of him, “What’s so wrong with a baby that’s what I want to know?”

In defeat Vincent spread his hands, did he have to spell it out to her? “So you’re different, so what! The circumstances are too Vincent!” Catherine’s voice rose, and Vincent was quite sure that everyone would hear her. “Shh Catherine.”

“Don’t you Shh me! I don’t care who hears this!”

“Well I do!” Father’s voice came distinctly from the entrance, “Catherine have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Its all right Father, I can handle this.” Vincent told his parent.

“That may as be Vincent, but I am on your side here, and Catherine must be made to see just how unfair she is being.”

“I can see Catherine’s point of view though.” Another voice, a feminine one came from the entrance signifying Mary’s arrival.

“Thank you Mary. I’m pleased someone does.” Catherine looked over to the other woman, her green eyes showing her gratitude.

“Father, Mary, I appreciate your concern, but Catherine and I have to sort this out ourselves without your intervention. Please?”

Vincent looked from one to the other - his father and the woman he had known as his mother for many years. Reluctantly they nodded and stepped back toward the exit. “You’ll know where we are if you need us.” The look of concern in Father’s eyes warmed Vincent. The look in Mary’s troubled him.

“It seems you have an ally in Mary.” Vincent confronted Catherine when the pair had gone.

“Yes.” Suddenly Catherine felt immensely forlorn. Vincent felt it and he was sorry, so very sorry. He swallowed with difficulty, whispering words Catherine had not heard from him in a long, long time “Perhaps you should have married Elliot after all. He would have had no trouble in giving children to you.”

Catherine said nothing, and that in itself told Vincent everything. The tears fell unbidden from his eyes.

Catherine stared at him, her heart breaking, ‘Why was she behaving like this?’ She shook her head, ‘there must be something wrong with me - I’m becoming an emotional fanatic - this is my husband - my unique and wonderful husband - the man I would gladly die for - how can I stand here and hurt him like this?’ Catherine knew she had the power to erase his tears, knew she held in her hands the power to pull them out of the depths of despair to which they had sunk, but she couldn’t. For the life of her she just couldn’t.
Instead walking back to the table she picked up the book on Brazil, and took it to where Vincent sat huddled miserably in his chair. “You wanted to know what my change of tactic was. Well here.”She shoved the book into his hands and then at a brisk walk left the chamber.
Staring down at the book, his vision misted by tears Vincent saw not the book, but Elliot trapped somewhere in Brazil and Catherine hurrying out to rescue him. The book slid from his fingers to lay in a heap on the floor and twin pools of blue over spilled soaking the crumpled pages with his tears.

To be continued in part six.