Who I Am
Who I Am
By
Lady MoonHawke
“When everything’s made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.”
Iris - Goo Goo Dolls
Aurora heard shuffling feet on the other side of her newspaper and, in a devilish turn of mind, ignored them. The shuffling was repeated, louder, and she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing as she carefully turned the page and continued reading. Finally, the foot-shuffler became tired of waiting and pushed down the top of her paper to reveal her husband, Steven, He looked at her inquisitively.
“Something interesting in there?” he asked.
“Not really,” she replied mischievously. “Just pork futures.”
He settled into a chair next to hers. “I’m getting cabin fever,” he declared.
Aurora looked around the sumptuously appointed den, complete with original artwork and floor-to-ceiling poirtier window treatments. “I can understand that,” she replied without a trace of sarcasm. “Do you want to move up to the castle for a few weeks?”
“No.” He was silent a moment. “I was thinking of somewhere a little further afield than that.”
“Like where?” she asked.
“Like New York,” he answered.
Aurora merely looked at him, waiting for the rest.
“SL has a bid in there for a new R&R center, and I though I could oversee the process personally for a few weeks. I want to make sure the right people understand how important this project is for them.”
“It does sound important,” Aurora said. “What are they planning, a new set of inner-city youth programs?”
Steven looked bewildered for a moment, then laughed. “No, honey. R&R isn’t rest and recreation. It’s reclamation and recycling. They’re planning to clean up the city, not entertain it.”
“Oh. Well, it’s not as glamorous, is it?” She considered for a moment. “Okay. I guess I can go. When do you want to leave?”
“Honey, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, you know,” he said.
“Steven, you know you’re going to need me. There will be a ton of those society parties, and the wives tell things to each other that you men will never hear. If you really want this project, we have to do it together.”
He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “You are so right. I hate those damn things, too.” He stood up to make arrangements. “Tell Bernard if there’s anything particular you want brought along. I’ll call Adryanna and see if she can stay with Jareth for a while.”
“She’s in Europe for two months,” Aurora said.
Steven made a disgruntled noise. “You’re right again. Well, I’ll just have to see if Sarah and my brother can take him for a while.”
“Steven, you know I love them dearly, but your brother will certainly take it into his head to teach my son all kinds of inappropriate tricks.”
“Do you want to take him to New York?” Steven asked.
Aurora considered seriously for a moment. “No. We will be much too busy to make it worth uprooting him. And he loves your brother. I just don’t want him learning things that could get him into trouble.”
“Aurora, you know he has to learn to control his abilities, and he’ll never learn sooner. Jareth has an exceptional amount of control. He won’t let the baby get away with anything, including sloppy magic.”
Aurora smiled wryly. “I was so worried about that, too. My son using sloppy magic.”
“You know the deal,” he reminded her.
“I know. I wouldn’t regret anything. And I don’t. I wouldn’t have been happy with a normal husband and normal children.”
“Are you calling me abnormal?” he teased.
“Aren’t you?” she parried.
Catherine Chandler, Deputy District Attorney for the City of New York, was having a terrible day. Two cases of hers had been closed that day, but not in the least to her satisfaction. A bad warrant in one case, and not enough evidence in another had allowed two slimeballs to walk, and it really made her angry. Now, as she got out the elevator and walked to her apartment, she saw a neighbor’s door wide open. _Funny,_ she though. _Neil and Sylvia were taking an extended vacation, they said._ On a hunch, she set her purse and briefcase down outside her own door, then walked over to the open one. She knocked gently on the frame and stuck her head in.
“Hello?” she called.
An unfamiliar face appeared around a corner and smiled. “Hi!”
Catherine’s brow furrowed. “Have Neil and Sylvia come back?” she asked.
The woman came out from the hall. “I certainly hope not. We’ll be mighty crowded if they do.” She came forward, holding out her hand. “I’m Aurora Landon. My husband and I are sub-letting for a few weeks.”
Catherine relaxed. Sub-letting was a common habit in her building. Many of the units had very desirable view of the park, and any open unit fetched a good price for its owners. She shook the proffered hand. “Catherine Chandler. I live at the end of the hall. So what brings you to New York?”
“Steven, that’s my husband, his company is planning to bid on building a waste management system, and I came along for the ride,” she said. “Hey, why don’t you come in for coffee? It’s better than standing in a doorway.”
Catherine smiled. “I’d like that. Let me put my stuff inside and I’ll be right back.” She returned a few minutes later and almost bumped into a tall, blonde man leaving the other apartment.
“Oh, hey, sorry. You must be Catherine. Go on in. Rorie’s expecting you.” He turned and looked back inside. “I’ll be back as soon as we nail down some kind of schedule, Angel,” he hollered. Then he was out the door and striding toward the elevator with long steps.
Catherine went inside. “Was that your husband? He’s in a rush.”
Aurora nodded. “Yep. He wants to get some idea of what we’re going to do here. Social parties and what not.” She put two mugs on the table. “Do you need cream or anything?”
“No,” Catherine said. She picked up the cup as soon as Aurora finished filling it. “Mmmm, good.” She put it down. “So what about you? Planning on playing tourist much?”
Aurora nodded. “Some. The museums, the Met, anything that looks good on Broadway. I’m going to have to hit some of the parties with Steven as well, trying to figure out how his project will be accepted.” She made a face.
Catherine laughed. “I know those parties. I used to have to go with my father. They are terrible, aren’t they?” She sipped her coffee again. “So what do you do at home?”
“I’m a mini-mogul. CEO of one of Steven’s subsidiary companies. We design and market a line of women’s clothing for these parties I dislike so much. It makes it much more amusing to tell people when they ask where I bought it that I made it myself.” She smiled. “They look at me like something out of ‘Little House on the Prairie’ for a minute, then change the subject or run away. So what about you?”
“Assistant District Attorney. One of many, actually, and corporate law before that.”
“That’s quite a change,” Aurora commented. “More coffee?”
“Please.” Catherine sipped from her fresh cup. “I was attacked one night, and when I recovered, I wanted to do something to make a difference. The D.A.’s office had an opening, and I went for it. My dad was less than thrilled, to say the least.” She found herself opening up to this stranger, oddly comfortable in her presence. She finished her coffee quickly and stood. “Well, I’d better be going. I still have some work to do tonight, and I know you must be busy. Thanks for the coffee.”
Aurora stood to show her out. “You’re welcome, and thank you for the conversation.” They walked toward the door, but Catherine stopped by a picture that had been hung in the entry.
“Oh, who’s this? He’s adorable.”
Aurora smiled. “My son, Jareth. He’s almost two.”
“He looks just like your husband,” Catherine commented.
“Yes, his pride and joy, along with our daughter,” she said, indicating another picture.
“Oh, now she’s the spitting image of you.” Catherine looked from the picture to Aurora. “You can’t be old enough to be her mother.”
“I’m remarkably well-preserved?” Aurora offered, sliding over the issue. “I sure hope we get to talk again,” she said, holding the door.
Catherine smiled. “I’d like that.”
Aurora set her half-empty champagne glass on a tray and sighed silently. These social functions were something she tolerated in Colorado where she knew most of the guests, but here she felt like an outcast; the ice queen she had been for two years after Steven’s accident when she thought him dead. Now, watching him handle city council members and influential private citizens, she was amazed. Steven could easily adapt himself to almost any situation, be it board room or barn dance. He smiled and laughed and talked, hands waving to illustrate a point. Aurora smiled as he reclaimed his own glass from a table, wild gesticulating over for the moment. She found some water, and stood against a wall, watching him. He happened to look her way and their eyes met. She raised her glass in salute, and he returned the gesture, smiling, then turned his attention back to the conversation. Aurora continued to lean against the wall, drinking in the sight of him.
She was pulled from her reverie by a soft touch on her arm. “Aurora? I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Aurora turned to see Catherine Chandler holding a white wine glass and smiling. “Hi, Catherine. How are you?”
“Just fine. Is your husband here with you?” she asked, looking around.
“He’s in that big group, explaining the merits of the plant his team designed. He’s trying to get some influential backers on the City Council.” Aurora looked toward him longingly.
“Not having a wonderful time?” Catherine asked.
Aurora sighed. “I’m not having much luck tonight. I can’t seem to get into the right group of hens-” She broke off and covered her mouth quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry. These people are your friends and-”
Catherine laughed. “They do cluck and cackle a lot, don’t they? I’m a favorite target. In my thirties, no husband, meaningful career.” She sighed. “It’s not what my mother envisioned for me.”
“When is it ever?” Aurora asked. She looked down at her fingers and saw a smear of red there. “Oh, Lord. I need to hit the lounge for a minute. Do you want to come with me?”
Catherine smiled. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
The days rolled by quickly, turning into weeks. Aurora enjoyed New York, seeing what she could with Steven, and inviting Catherine along when he was busy. Catherine, it seemed, knew people all over New York; a deli-owner in Brooklyn, a florist in SoHo, and a barber in the Bronx.
“You sure know a variety of people,” Aurora remarked as they ate Italian Ices.
“We have common interests,” Catherine said vaguely. “Hey, there’s the ferry,” she announced, changing the subject. They ran for it like a pair of children.
That night, Catherine stepped out onto her balcony to find Vincent waiting. “You were very happy today. Your joy and excitement were almost intoxicating.” He held her close, savoring the warmth of her slight form.
“I wish I could have taken you. I want so much to show you the Museums, and the Shakespeare Festival in the park. You would appreciate it like no one else I know.”
He stroked her hair. “I am content, Catherine. I have your love, and I see all these thing in my mind as you describe them. Do not fret for what cannot be. Remember, what we share is greater than what we are denied.” He settled her into a chair. “Now, tell me everything you saw today.”
Aurora came into the living room, twitching the skirt of her green velvet gown, and a shawl over her arm. She saw Steven on the phone, and stood waiting for him to finish. She tried not to listen, knowing how he hated it, but she couldn’t help but notice that he was not happy with whatever was happening.
“Are you telling me there is no other way to do this?” he asked, sounding incredulous. He was silent as the other person spoke, then sighed. “All right. Set it up for half an hour at the office. Let everyone know that we could go really late. Yeah, see ya.” He hung up the phone and swore.
Aurora pursed her lips, and turned quietly to go back and change. No opera tonight, it seemed. He turned and saw her.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Why don’t you go without me? Ask Catherine if she likes opera,” he suggested.
Aurora brightened. “You wouldn’t mind?” she asked.
He smiled. “Of course not. Next time we hit Paris, I’ll take you. Ms. Chandler’s been showing you a lot of good things. You should return the favor.” He grabbed his briefcase from near the door. “Guess I won’t have to change after all. Have a good time.” He kissed her quickly and was gone almost before Aurora could blink.
She drew on gloves slowly, contemplating what he had said. Well, why not? Catherine had taken time to show her quite a bit of New York , and Aurora knew she liked opera. She picked up her bag and moved purposefully toward the door.
A knock at the door startled Catherine from the reverie she had fallen into, listening to Vincent read. She jumped to her feet, and he tensed, looking ready to flee.
“Wait,” she urged, pressing a hand on his arm. “I’ll send them away. Just, please stay.” He settled back into the chair and she slipped back into the apartment.
Aurora was about to knock again when the door opened a crack, chain still in place.
“Yes?” she heard Catherine ask.
“It’s Aurora.”
“Hang on a minute.” Aurora heard the chain rattle and fall against the door frame. “What’s up?” Catherine asked.
“Steven had to stand me up for the opera tonight; some business thing. Would you be interested in coming along? I know it’s last minute and all, but I was hoping I could repay some of your kindness.”
Catherine smiled. “Thanks for asking, but I can’t tonight.” She threw an unconscious glance toward the balcony. “I have...other plans.”
Her gesture had not gone unnoticed. Aurora looked over Catherine’s shoulder and could just make out a dark shape on the balcony. Then she smiled. “We’ll do it another time.” Her smile turned knowing. “I’ll wish you a pleasant evening, then.”
“Ms. Chandler?”
Catherine stopped putting her key in the lock and peered over the bag of groceries, eyeing the blond, muscular man standing hesitantly in the corridor. She had eventually gotten over her jabbering fear of strangers since the attack--greatly due to Vincent's patient ears and unshakable devotion--but something about this man pricked her awareness; still, it wasn't an unwelcome sensation.
“May I help you?” Recognition dawned; they’d passed in the hall several times. “You're Steven, right?”
The blond man nodded, his intensely blue eyes flashing for an instant. “Yes, I'm Steven Landon. Aurora--she's my wife.”
“Ah.” Cathy shifted the groceries more comfortably, trying to keep her briefcase from sliding to the floor. “How are you enjoying New York?” Small talk was never her forte, she mused, but her instincts told her that Steven had something to tell, and it would only take a little more to reveal.
Seeming to have not heard her question, Steven saw the briefcase, and shook himself as if awakening from a dream. “I'm sorry, where are my manners? Let me help you with that.” He took the groceries as Cathy opened the door, then followed her and her briefcase inside.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I need about three more hands,” she joked, setting the briefcase on the glass-topped table and tossing her keys beside it. “Just put that in the kitchen.”
As he did so, Steven casually took in the tasteful decor, the subtle lighting, the diaphanous curtains on the triple French doors. “You've got a beautiful home, Ms. Chandler,” he commented. “You and Aurora have much the same tastes.”
“Please, call me Cathy. I can't have you standing on ceremony if we're going to be neighbors.” She smiled warmly, taking off her heavy wool coat and hanging it in the closet. “Now, what can I do for you, Steven?”
The blue eyes met hers, suddenly full of stricken anguish. “Help me find my wife.”
Cathy's smile melted, and she felt her blood begin to pound in her ears. “Aurora's gone?”
Steven nodded, feeling powerless for the first time in all his many centuries. “She's disappeared. I just don't understand it.” He found himself sitting on the divan opposite Cathy, but he didn't remember actually sitting down.
“Why don’t you tell me what you know?” she asked gently.
Steven took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. “I had a meeting come up suddenly last night, and couldn’t go to the opera with her,” he began, then paused.
Catherine nodded. “She asked me to go, but I had a previous engagement. I’m beginning to wish I’d gone now.”
Steven shook his head. “You couldn’t have known. Anyway, I was at the meeting until some ridiculous hour of the morning, so I left a message with the night clerk here for Aurora and slept at the office. When I finished today’s round of meetings, it was close to seven, so I rushed home to make up missing the show to Aurora, and she wasn’t there. What’s more, there wasn’t any sign that she’d been there. Nothing’s been touched, the blinds are still closed, and the dress she was wearing isn’t in the closet.”
“Maybe she spilled something on it and took it to the cleaners,” Catherine suggested half-heartedly.
“No. Her purse and shoes aren’t there either. Something prevented her from coming home last night. She's not the type of woman to just run off--I know you must hear that quite a bit, but I'm telling the truth. Aurora's got a good head on her shoulders.”
Nodding, Cathy scrutinized the blond god in front of her, not knowing just how close she was to the truth in her assumptions. Beneath her serene surface, though, her mind was racing, as it always did. She found herself automatically thinking of Vincent, but she couldn't understand why. “I see,” she breathed. “Have you told the police?”
“No, not yet. I was hoping not to have them involved. I wouldn't want whoever's got her to be alarmed and cut their losses.” With a sudden gulp, Steven realized what he'd said, and he blanched. “I...don't know why I said that.” He put his head in his hands and ran his strong fingers through his pale hair, frustrated beyond words. How was it that in his own realm, he felt secure, and in this one, it was like trying to walk on greased ice?
Cathy's hand was drawn to the four-inch scar hidden under her right ear, her fingertips seeking out the slight ridge of tissue. Steven couldn't have known what had happened to her, but it didn't make the thought any less pleasant. She couldn't imagine anyone else being made to endure that horror, and shoved the image out of her mind with effort. “I understand. I don't know what I can do, without police involvement, but I have some connections, I'll ask around.” She stood, her arms wrapped around her slender frame. “Why don't you go home and get some rest. It's possible she'll turn up any moment.”
Visibly straining to believe her, Steven stood as well. “I hope you're right, Cathy, but I fear otherwise.” He clasped her proffered hand instead of shaking it. “Thank you for listening. I hope your 'connections' turn up some answers.”
She nodded again, making her honey-brown bob sway. “I'll be in touch when I find something. You really might want to think about calling the police, though.”
His eyes were storms of icy blue. “Trust me, Cathy. If one hair of Aurora's hair is harmed, whoever kidnapped her will wish all they had to worry about was the police.”
As soon as she had shut the door behind Steven, Catherine slipped out onto the balcony, staring out into the lights of Manhattan, and the misty darkness of Central Park. Was she there, dead or dying under a bush? Catherine sighed, wishing this had not happened.
“Catherine?” whispered a voice behind her. Any other voice, so close in her private sanctum, would cause her to scream and fight. But now she felt totally safe.
“Vincent,” she murmured, and turned into his powerful embrace.
“What troubles you?” he asked, his voice rumbling in her ear.
“A woman is missing, someone I know. Her husband is frantic to find her.”
“There are many lost souls in this city,” he replied. “Is she lost for her own reasons?” he asked gently.
“I don't think so. She's very open and charming, and I don't get the feeling that there is anything wrong with their relationship. I think he's afraid someone is holding her for ransom.”
Vincent frowned. “Is there any purpose in this case?”
“The husband is Steven Landon, of SL Industries. His company's making a bid on some reclamation and recycling contracts that could really make a difference for this city. She'd be a legitimate target, as disgusting as the thought is.”
“Catherine, tell me about this woman,” Vincent instructed, pulling back to look into her eyes.
“Ahhh, about 5'9, dark hair and eyes, and pale skin. She doesn't look much more than her mid-twenties, but her eyes are old. Like there's something below the surface. Why?”
He sighed heavily. “Catherine, I think I have your missing woman,” Vincent said.
She looked at him in confusion. “How?”
He released her and turned to face the city, resting his large hands on the cool concrete balustrade. The darkness that enveloped Central Park beckoned to him, offering to enfold him like a familiar friend. “I took a chance to walk through the park last night after we parted. It was a night much like the one when I found you, wisps of fog reaching through the trees, and distant streetlights giving everything a hazy glow. As I was approaching the drainage tunnel, I saw what appeared to be a bundle of clothing lying on the ground. As I drew closer, I could see it was a woman in evening dress. I was so reminded of you that I couldn’t help myself from picking her up and taking her Below. Her hair and skin are as you describe, but I have not yet seen her eyes.”
Catherine was aghast. “What happened to her?” she whispered, afraid to know, but more afraid not to.
“Father found a large swelling on her head. He believes she was mugged in the park very late. I found no purse near her, and I feared to take the time to search then. She was scarcely breathing.” Vincent sighed and turned back to Catherine. The worst news was still to come. “She is still unconscious now, and Father has no idea when she will wake, or if she will have any memory when she does.”
"Steven!"
Catherine heard shouting and pounding in the hall. "Steven, open this door before I blow it in!"
Catherine opened her door a crack, careful to keep the chain securely latched in the event that whomever was shouting was a lunatic of some kind. She saw a blond...man, she guessed, wearing black boots and pants and some kind of dark red leather jacket. He was standing in front of the Landon's door, arms akimbo.
"In the name of all that's Holy, brother, I dropped everything on Sarah, including your son. Now open the door and let me in!"
Catherine was considering ducking back inside to call security when she heard the other door open and saw Steven walk out, a towel wrapped around his waist.
"You can't wait half a minute for a person to get dressed, can you?" he said. "Come on. I'm dripping and freezing." He turned and looked at Catherine's door, and she knew he saw her. "Cathy. Great. Come on over and meet my brother."
Catherine found herself ensconced on the sofa with a cup of coffee while Steven quibbled with his brother.
“Honestly, Steven,” he was saying. “You have the worst track record when it comes to keeping track of your wife. If you would just get off your high horse and come home to Avalon, this would not keep occuring.”
Catherine looked up from her coffee. “This has happened before?” she asked sharply.
Steven merely looked daggers at his brother, but Jareth smiled sweetly at him and turned to Catherine. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Steven’s brother, Jareth Landon.” He smirked again at Steven.
Catherine offered her hand. “Cathy Chandler, with the D.A.’s office. Steven asked me to look into his...problem, quietly. Now, this has happened before?” she repeated.
“A long time ago, and the perpetrator met with an...unfortunate accident,” Steven said briefly.
Catherine nodded silently, very aware of how many people had met with “accidents” after threatening her. The D.A. in her was appalled, but she crushed the feeling quickly. This man obviously loved his wife as Vincent loved her, and would brook no danger to her person. “I haven’t had time to look much into your situation yet,” she began. She was unsure how to bring up Vincent’s involvement; whether to mention the woman he had found. Perhaps it would be better to see for herself first.
Jareth gave her a penetrating gaze. “But you know something?”
She shook her head quickly. “No. Nothing, really. But I have contacted my friends across the city, and they are looking for her.”
Jareth continued to look at her for a moment. then glanced at Steven. “Oh, go get dressed, brother. You’re dripping on the carpet.”
Steven suddenly realized her was standing in front of an almost total stranger with only a towel on. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, then left the room.
Jareth returned his attention to Cathy. “There’s something you don’t want him to know,” he said flatly.
She found the steely-blue gaze intimidating. “It may be that she has been found already,” she whispered softly. “A woman matching her description was found two nights ago, but she is unconscious. I didn’t want to raise his hopes only to have them dashed if it isn’t her.”
“Good,” Jareth said. “Don’t.”
“He would be that hurt?” Catherine asked softly.
“To Steven, the sun rises and sets on Aurora.” He grined wryly. “I can understand, however. If it were my wife, I would be just as devastated.”
“So you are married as well?” she asked, settling back. She could hear Steven walking back down the hall, and didn’t want him to think he had missed anything important.
“Yes,” answered Jareth, catching her intentions. “For quite some time, and quite happily.”
“Sarah’s a jewel,” said Steven, sitting in an empty chair. “She’s watching Jareth for us.”
Catherine looked confused for a moment, then her face cleared. “Oh, your son. Aurora mentioned him.” She bit her lip when she saw Steven’s face go pale. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She set her cup down and took his hand. “I’m confident that we’ll find her. It’s just going to take a little time.”
They all looked up as the doorbell rang. Steven stood and went to open it. He came back accompanied by two men in suits with badges. “These men are from Missing Persons,” he stated flatly, looking at Catherine. Her eyes went wide and she shook her head slightly.
They caught the gesture. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Ms. Chandler,” one said. “I’m Detective Grant, this is Detective Burns,” he continued. “We found this in Central Park and wanted to return it to Mrs. Landon. Is she at home, by any chance?” He held out a small dark green clutch purse.
Catherine took charge, walking over to the Dectectives before they could invade any further. “No, I’m afraid not, but I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have her bag back.” She held out her hand, but they didn’t turn it over.
“We were really hoping to return it personally,” said Burns.
“Well, she’s out right now,” said Catherine, still trying to herd them to the door. “I’m sure she will contact you when she returns, if it’s really necessary.”
Grant looked at her. “I hope she does, Ms. Chandler. I really hope she does.” With that, they left silently, still carrying Aurora’s purse.
Catherine locked the door behind them and sighed. “We’re going to have to step things up a bit. Those two are looking to make a homicide case from a silk purse.” She looked at the men and sighed. “I’m going to talk to some friends. If there’s anything new, I’ll tell you this evening, okay?”
They both nodded, Jareth truly hearing what she was saying. “Go,” he said. “I’ll stay with Steven. Keep in touch.”
Catherine watched out the peep hole until the hall was clear, then slipped out and made for the stairs. She didn’t want to take any chances with meeting the detectives in the lobby.
The woman stirred and tried to open her eyes, but the light stung like daggers in her head, and she shut them again with a soft moan. She heard a rustling in the room and called out.
“Wait! Don’t leave!” She reached out blindly.
A hand grasped her flailing arm, holding her gently through the sleeve of the gown she was wearing. “I won’t leave,” a deep, gentle voice promised. “I want to call someone to look at you.”
SHe relaxed. “Okay,” she said, laying back quietly. She could hear murmuring somewhere across the room, and there was an intermittant tapping sound in the background.
She heard someone sit down near her, and a hand touched her head. “How are you feeling?” asked a feminine voice.
“I..I guess I’m okay. My head hurts a little. It’s worse when I open my eyes,” she said.
“You suffered a rather heavy blow to the head,” said a masculine, authoritative vioce. “You were unconscious for more than a day.”
“Where am I?” she asked.
“You are safe,” the first voice replied. “No one will harm you here.”
“What is your name, child?” asked the feminine voice.
She thought, trying to drag something meaningful from her mind. “I don’t know,” she said at last.
“I was afraid of this,” said the authoritative voice. “She seems to have amnesia. Vincent, put out some of these lights. I want to look at her eyes.”
She could hear more rustling, then felt the bed she was lying on dip a little. “Open your eyes, my girl. I want to see if you have a concussion.”
She complied, and found the dim room easier to take. The small light hurt, but she endevored to help. The authoritative voice belonged to an older man with brown hair going to grey, and the woman was a smiling, grandmotherly type. But it was the owner of the first voice she had heard that she looked for. She caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows, and reached out for it. The figure started to slip towards an arass over an opening in the wall. “Wait!” she called again. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”
The figure paused. “I did not want to frighten you,” he said.
The woman laughed briefly. “I can’t even remember my name. What could be more frightening than that?”
“Father?” the voice asked. It sounded as though he was asking for guidance.
“It is your decision, Vincent, of course. But surely your can sympathize with her. To not know yourself can be more frightening than any physical thing.”
“Come, Vincent,” said the grandmotherly woman. “I think you worry more about your appearance than anyone else who knows you.”
The figure, Vincent, stepped out into the dim light of the candles, and the stranger saw why he had hesitated. But rather than repulsed, she was entranced. “You’re the most astonishing person I have ever seen,” she said, completely without artifice.
“Thank you,” he said softly. He came closer and sat in a chair. “Can you recall anything at all?”
She put her head in her hand and rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. I can see images, but I don’t even know how to describe them, or even what they might mean.” She looked at the others. “Do you know me?” she asked.
“Father” shook his head. “Vincent found you in the park two nights ago and brought you here, and as I said, you have been unconsious ever since. I am concerned because you seem to have a slight concussion.” Her eyes widened, and he hurried to reassure her. “I don’t believe it’s serious, and that you awoke for yourself is a very good sign. A little more bed rest should clear it right up.”
She looked around the room, trying to orient herself, then looked at Vincent. “This is your room,” she said softly, and he nodded. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I don’t want to put you out.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand, but her head whirled.
“Lay down!” everyone demanded, and she was glad to oblige.
“I agree.” She looked at Vincent. “I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll be able to return your room to you a little later.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” said the older woman. “Now you two shoo,” she said to the men. “I’m going to help her into some clean clothes, than we’ll see about something to eat.” She drove them gently to the doorway.
Vincent paused before leaving. “Will you be all right?” he asked the unknown woman.
She smiled. “Yes, I think so. Thank you for your help.”
The older woman came back over and sat down. “I’m Mary,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Mary. I guess, for the time being, I’m Jane.”
Mary looked confused.
“Jane Doe? You know, someone without a name.”
Mary nodded. “Do you want some help with this?” she asked, indicating a fresh with nightgown.
“Jane” looked around her. “Is there a, ummm, a ladies room around here somewhere?”
Mary understood instantly. “Come with me. I’ll help you get yourself in order, then we can see about something to eat.” She helped her out of the bed and they moved slowly toward the cleaning chambers.
Vincent could feel Catherine’s turmoil as she came closer, and met her near the Tunnel entrance to her apartment building. “She’s awake,” he said, enfolding her in his arms.
“Thank heavens,” Catherine murmured. “Vincent, there’s no time to waste. The police think something dreadful happened to her, and I think they suspect Steven. We have to get back to him as soon as possible.”
He reluctantly disengaged from her. “Catherine, there is a problem. She has no memory of who she is, if she even is this man’s wife. Is there any way you could identify her, at least?”
“I can certainly try,” replied Catherine. “Vincent, if it is her, I need to tell her husband today. He’s going stir-crazy without her, and his brother knows I’m holding something back. It’s eerie, Vincent, the way he looks at me.” She heard a rumble in his chest, and put a reassuring hand on his arm. “He doesn’t mean me any harm. He just wants his sister-in-law back.”
Vincent relaxed a little. “We will cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let us be sure it is that same woman we are discussing, and not some other poor soul.” They walked slowly back to the main chambers.
“Jane” was happily ensconced in Father’s main chamber, putting away a vast quantity of food, and marvelling at all the books. They seemed to cover every horizontal surface everywhere she looked. “You have a marvelous collection,” she said between bites.
Father smiled. “Do you like to read?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she replied without stopping to think. A darkness fell across her face. “How can I remember something like that when I can’t ever recall my own name?”
“You weren’t thinking about it,” he replied. “I think your memories will come back in time. Don’t push yourself, or it will only take longer.”
“Jane” sighed. “I just feel like there’s something important I’m not remembering.” She set her fork down and wiped her mouth with the napkin. “I can’t eat another bite,” she announced. “Is there somewhere I should take the tray?”
Father shook his head. “I think you should take it easy for now. Someone will take it later.” He heard footsteps in the hallway outside, and saw Vincent come in with Catherine on his arm. It had taken him much time to see Catherine as the great asset she was, not only for her abilities as a Helper, but also for the joy she brought to Vincent.
Catherine disengaged herself from Vincent and came down to kiss Father’s cheek. “Hello, Father,” she said brightly, not wanting to alarm his guest. She sat down, not far away. “Catherine Chandler,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Jane” took it by reflex. “A-” she began, then was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I don’t seem to know who I am at the moment.”
Catherine smiled. “I think that can be cleared up rather quickly.”
“You know who I am?” she asked, leaning forward.
Catherine nodded slowly. “You are Aurora Landon.”
Steven paced before the French doors, watching the twilight creep across the city. Jareth sprawled in a chair, growing tired just watching Steven frantically wasting energy.
“Why don’t you sit?” he asked for the upteenth time. He didn’t really expect an answer, but he got one.
“Because I can’t rest on my laurels while wife is missing. Are you sure you can’t find her up here?” he asked, tapping his head.
“No,” Jareth said yet again, still patient. “I still don’t know what’s blocking her, but something is, and until I know what it is, I can’t filter it out. It’s an inexact science at best.” He downed some coffee. “Now sit down and stop wearing a path in your rented rug.”
Steven flopped into a chair near Jareth’s and grimaced. “I wish I’d never gone to that stupid meeting. I should have put it off and gone with her. I could have prevented this.”
“Oh, don’t let’s have this tired old conversation again. You had no way to know, she had no way to know, and you will find her and everything will be happily ever after again, just wait.” Jareth drew himself from the chair and retrieved more coffee. “Catherine will be here soon, and I think things will be settled very shortly there after.” As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and he moved to answer it. He returned a moment later with Catherine Chandler in tow.
Steven jumped up when he saw her. “Is there any news?” he asked hopefully.
“There is something I need to speak with you about, but I think we should talk privately first.” She threw a brief glance at Jareth.
Steven shook his head. “No. Jareth is the only one of my six brothers who bothered to come. He deserves to hear anything you have to say.”
Catherine grimaced a minute, then exhaled noisily. “Have it your way, then. A woman matching your wife’s description has turned up. She is safe, and for the most part, unhurt.”
“For the most part?” Steven questioned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Oh, for the love of Oberon, sit down, Steven. How can the woman tell you anything if you interrupt her?” Jareth pushed on his chest and Steven fell back into his chair. “Do go on, Ms. Chandler,” Jareth said ingratiatingly.
“As best I can tell, it’s Aurora. However, I don’t know her that well, and she’s received a blow to the head.” She paused for a moment, unsure how to continue. “She’s suffering from amnesia,” she said at last.
Steven dropped his head into his hands, and Jareth reached out to rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Be glad,” Jareth whispered. “It could be much, much worse.”
Catherine hastily agreed. “She seems to only be missing her personal memories. Everything else is pretty well intact, as far as Fa-” she almost slipped, but recovered quickly, “the physician call tell. Time and routine should bring everything back.”
Steven looked up. “So when can I go get her?” he asked bluntly.
“That’s another issue we need to discuss,” Catherine temporized.
Steven was tired of the whole run-around business, and his concern for Aurora was starting to overshadow his good sense. He rose to his feet and allowed the full force of his height and size soak up the room’s dimensions. It was a cheap shot, especially against a slight woman like this, but he was almost beyond caring. He spoke softly. “I’m done discussing anything. I want to go to my wife, and I want to do it NOW!”
Jareth felt the energy radiating from his brother, and consternation radiating from another source, not in the room, but very close, and knew this could become ugly very quickly. In the blink of an eye, he was between Catherine and Steven, blocking his brother’s view and breaking his concentration. “No,” he said softly. “This accomplishes nothing.”
Steven glared at him. “That’s easy for you to say,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “It’s not your wife out there, cut off from you. I can’t HEAR her, Jareth. Do you understand?! I CAN’T HEAR HER!”
Jareth pushed him back into the chair with a light shove on the chest. “Sit down and shut up,” he said pleasantly. Then his attention was drawn quickly to the balcony. He gestured negligently at the doors, and they flew open. “You may as well join us,” he said to the shadows. “You wouldn’t be out there if you didn’t have some interest in this issue.”
There was a rustling in the darkness, but nothing appeared. Steven turned to look into the shadows as Jareth continued.
“Why must these things always be so difficult?” he griped. “Fine. I’ll show you mine first if your going to be that way.” He collapsed in on himself and transformed into a snowy owl. The owl circled the room twice, then flew out the window. It returned a moment later and resumed human form.
“Cold out there,” Jareth commented, briskly rubbing his hands together. He looked back toward the shadows. “Well? Satisfied?”
There was another sound from the shadows, and a hooded figure stepped forward, into the light. Catherine held her breath. She trusted Steven, and his brother had just given her good reason to trust him, but Vincent suffered greatly from self-doubt. It wouldn’t take much to send him running. She continued to hold on to strong feelings of trust and acceptance.
Vincent slowly drew back his hood. To the credit of both Steven and Jareth, neither stirred or so much as blinked. At length, Jareth glanced at Steven. “He’d certainly fit in at home,” he remarked casually. “Have a seat,” he offered. Steven dropped his head back into his hands.
Vincent gingerly seated himself, still tense. Catherine rested a hand on his shoulder, and wrapped herself in calm. It was getting to be a habit, using her emotions to affect him. She quickly suppressed a thorn of guilt. Anything that benefited Vincent she could easily live with. “This is Vincent,” she said softly. “He found Aurora the night she went to the opera.”
Jareth’s icy eyes narrowed. “You’ve known about this, I presume?”
Catherine pressed down on Vincent’s shoulder, reinforcing calm through their bond. “I knew that a woman was found after Steven told me Aurora was missing last night. I went to see her today to confirm that she could be Aurora. But it is up to you or Steven to identify her for certain.” She left Vincent’s side and approached Steven, crouching down before him. “Steven, I could be wrong. It may not be her. Do you want to see her, or do you want Jareth to do it?” she asked softly.
Steven lifted his face from his hands and looked at her. He passed a hand in front of her face, altering her features to look like Aurora’s. He stared at her for a moment, then snapped his fingers, releasing the image.
Vincent was astounded. Catherine had seemed to vanish, only to be replaced by the dark-haired woman waiting Below. He could still feel the bond with her, and she seemed unaware of what was happening. Then the image shimmered, and Catherine was back. “Truly that is amazing,” he said softly.
“Well,” said Jareth, “you get used to it. Now, if show and tell is over, I’d like to see my sister-in-law back where she belongs, so I can get back where I belong. I’d rather not spend the night here, if it’s all the same to everyone here.”
Steven and Jareth followed Catherine through the basement and waited in the dim stone corridor.
“Why don’t we just meet him on the way?” Steven asked. Action had shaken him out of the lethargy, and he was anxious to get to Aurora.
Catherine remained unperturbed. “Vincent will be here to lead us down soon. We’re doing things a little quickly for these people, and he is attempting to smooth things over. Your wife won’t be going anywhere before we get there, so I suggest you relax.” She tapped on a nearby pipe to advise the Tunnel residence of thier presence.
He appeared with in a half hour, appearing out of the gloom ahead with a torch. Catherine approached him eagerly. “How did it go?” she asked.
“The Council was very reluctant,” he said, and Steven felt his heart drop. He knew somehow that he wouldn’t be able to see her tonight.
“However,” Vincent continued, “they eventually came around.”
“What finally convinced them?” Catheirne asked, hoping Vincent would admit to speaking on Steven’s behalf, as she knew he would.
“Father made an impassioned speech, asserting that the young woman has a right to know who she is, and her husband would know that best. When I said I trusted them, the matter seemed closed,” he replied diffidently. It pained him to admit that many of his world’s security measures existed to protect him in particular.
Steven and Jareth followed the flaring torch down the dark corridors. “So I’ll be able to bring her home tonight?” Steven asked.
Vincent considered a moment. “You will be able to see her, and speak with her, However, if she chooses to remain here, none of those who dwell Below will oppose it. It may be best not to hope for too much right away.”
Steven sighed deeply, unable to fault the logic. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten Aurora or threaten her, but to leave her here would be so hard....
Jareth felt his turmoil, and uncharacteristically wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, giving him a brief but affectionate hug. “I had to wait two years to reclaim my wife, Brother. If you have to wait a few days, you will live.” He chuckled lightly. “You may not like it much, but you will live.”
Aurora sat in the large central chamber, fingers tapping on the arm of her chair nervously, watching the mantle clock as the minutes slowly ticked by. Father reached over to cover her trembling hand.
“Try not to fret, child. If you’re not comfortable, the visit can be cut short. No one will force you to do anything you don’t wish to do.”
Aurora looked at him. “But is that fair? This man is expecting to find his wife. How can I tell him that I don’t know him, that I may not want to go with him?”
He patter her comfortingly. “Catherine will explain the limitations we have placed on this meeting for your protection. If anything bothers you, feel free to say so, and it will be over immediately.” He heard footsteps in the hall, and rose slowly to him feet. “Don’t worry. You are safe here, no matter what.”
Aurora heard him move carefully toward the doorway, and remained still and quiet in her chair. She tried not to listen to the conversation softly taking place, not wanting to hear what they were saying about her while she sat not ten feet away. She heard footsteps moving hesitantly down the steps, and steeled herself not to flee.
Steven crouched before his wife, and his heart fell when he saw no sign of recognition in her face. He had half-hoped that a truly familiar face would bring back what she had lost, but clearly that was not the case. He laced his fingers together before him to resist the urge to reach out and touch her. He had seen fear in her face before, but in the past, it had always been colored with a hint of defiance. Now there was only fear. “Are you all right, Sweetheart?” he asked softly.
Aurora frowned slightly. This must be her husband, but she couldn’t feel even a glimmer of recognition. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I don’t remember you at all. Are you my husband?”
Steven looked down and shook his head quickly, then looked back up. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I hoped maybe seeing me would jog your memory. I’m Steven, and I am your husband. Do you remember anything about yourself at all?”
Now it was her turn to shake her head. “Nothing I can explain. I have some jumbled impressions, but I don’t know how to explain them.” He shifted a little, and she realized suddenly that he must be very uncomfortable. “Would you like to sit down?” she asked solicitously.
He settled quickly into a chair across from her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Is there anything you want to know?” he asked.
She appeared to think for a moment, although she had planned this as soon as they had told her someone was coming for her. “I don’t want to sound too suspicious, but is there some way you can prove you know me? At least, beyond telling me things I don’t remember anyway?”
He rubbed his hand absently, trying to find an answer to her question. Then he looked at his hand, seeing the answer. “You have a scar on your right hand,” he said, holding out his own. “It’s just like this one.”
Aurora examined her palm, tracing the white line engraved near her thumb. “What happened?” she asked absently.
“It’s a Celtic mark of marriage. The bride and groom cut their palms and press them together to seal the match. It’s a life-long bond for both partners,” he explained,
Aurora studied the scar, trying to recall feeling strong enough to cause her to mark her own skin. “When did I do this?”
“Before we were married. We were talking about ceremonies, and I’d said that a Catholic ceremony wasn’t very meaningful to my family. I explained what was common for us, and you thought it was a good idea.” He tried not to make it sound like some form of torture, although it had been a knife in his heart to see her slice into her palm. And she had been so willing to do it, even eager, to prove her love and devotion.
“So it’s like a ‘Til death do us part’ thing?” she asked, trying to understand.
“Death doesn’t excuse the bond. There’s no divorce, no remarriage. We’re bound until we both die,” he said, judiciously leaving out the fact that he didn’t intend for either of them to die, ever.
“What if I never regain my memory? What if I decide not to go with you? This doesn’t have any kind of legal standing, does it? I mean, wherever we live would still grant me a divorce, right?”
Steven grimaced. “You could get a civil divorce, if you insisted. I probably wouldn’t even try to stop you, if it was what you really wanted. But in the eyes of my family, you will always be my wife, no matter what’s printed on any piece of paper.”
Aurora was a little stunned by the solemnity of his reply. “All right, then. I just want to ask one more thing.” She waited until he was focused on her alone. “Do I love you?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say something like “of course,” but something told him that would be the wrong answer. “I hope so,” he replied. “I’d like to think that’s the case, but only you know for sure.” He stood and held out his hand. “Will you come home with me, and we’ll try to find out?”
As strange as it seemed to her, Aurora was relieved by his uncertainty. She took his hand and let him help her up. “I’ll give it a try.”
Nothing in the apartment was familiar, but she hadn’t really expected it to be. Steven had explained his business in New York, and promised that he would wrap up what he could quickly, and turn the rest over to others. Then they would truly go home, and she could settle back into her routine.
There was no denying that the photo of the young woman he had shown her had resembled her greatly, and Steven’s intense blue eyes seemed to be looking out of the face. The other child was no more than a baby, but his childish features showed every indication that he would take after his father in all things physical. Steven had graciously turned over the bedroom to her, and as she lay in the bed, she could hear Steven and his brother talking softly until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.
When she awoke in the morning, she was slightly disoriented until she heard a knock at the door, and Steven’s voice asked if she wanted breakfast.
“Do I generally?” she asked, trying to remember her routine.
“You didn’t in college, but I’ve had luck since then trying to convince you to eat in the morning,” he replied lightly.
Aurora sighed. That wasn’t much help. “Okay. I’m going to shower first, so don’t rush or anything.”
Steven waited until he heard the shower running before calling a catering service to deliver breakfast for two in 30 minutes. He was preparing coffee when he doorbell rang. He left the kitchen and went to answer it.
“You’re a bit early,” he said, then realized it wasn’t the caterer standing in the hall.
“Didn’t realize we had a specific appointment,” replied Detective Grant laconically.
“Sorry,” Steven said briefly. “Though you were the caterer. Can I help you, again?” he added pointedly.
“Mrs. Landon in now?” Detective Burns asked, bordering on rude.
“She’s in the shower,” Steven replied brusquely. “Would you like her to call you later?” One could hope, after all.
“We’d like to wait here, if you don’t mind,” said Grant, stepping forward.
Steven was incredibly tempted to deck him, but thought better of it. “Fine,” he said, stepping out of the way. He closed the door after them and followed them as they made themselves comfortable in the living room. “I’ll just tell her that you’re here.”
He found her exiting the bedroom, hair still damp and wearing comfortable slacks and a blouse. “There are some detectives waiting for you in the living room,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t panic.
She raised an eyebrow. “Something about the mugging?” she asked.
He nodded. “Do you want coffee?” he asked, following her out to the main rooms.
“Sure,” she replied, then went into the living room. They stood as she entered. “Gentlemen,” she said, then sat. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Steven said you were most anxious to speak with me.”
Grant leaned forward. “You are Aurora Landon?” he asked.
“I am,” she replied serenely. _Wish I could remember it,_ she thought.
“This was found in Central Park early Saturday morning,” said Burns, holding out the green purse. “Is it yours?”
Aurora took it and studied the outside. There were no identifying marks, and she didn’t want to guess wrong. “It certainly could be,” she said non-commitally. “May I look inside?”
“The contents are here,” said Burns, removing a clear plastic bag from his pocket. He handed it over to her, and she studied the items carefully. Thankfully, she saw at once a driver’s licence for Colorado, with her name and photo on it, and a number of pictures of the children Steven had told her about the night before.
“These are my things. I assume the charge cards and cash were not found?” she questioned, taking a stab in the dark.
“No, I’m afraid not,” said Grant. “It’s pretty common for a mugger to take the plastic and cash and dump the rest quickly. Do you recall what happened?”
Aurora chewed her lip quickly. She didn’t want to tell them she had lost so much of her memory. “I went to the opera at the Met, alone, because Steven had a meeting,” she said, repeating what Steven and Catherine had conjectured. “I decided to walk back through the park, and someone hit me on the head and grabbed my purse.” She paused a moment, considering. “I really don’t remember much after that,” she said truthfully.
“And where were you yesterday?” Burns asked intently.
“Looking for my purse,” she replied quickly. “I thought maybe it had fallen under a bush and I could find it. But since you had it, obviously that wasn’t the case.”
Burns and Grant shared a look, then closed their notebooks. They rose as one as Steven came into the room with coffee. “I think we have everything we need, Mrs. Landon. There’s a chance we’ll catch the attacker, but frankly, I doubt it, and the cards are probably maxed and destroyed by now.”
Steven handed Aurora the cup, then turned to the detectives. “Those cards are pretty hard to max,” he said. “Their corporate cards, with no limit. But the signature has to be verified every use, so I’m not too worried about it. I’ll have some new ones issued for you tomorrow,” he told her.
“Thank you for coming by, Detectives.” She stood and shook their hands, then waited while Steven showed them out, then returned with breakfast.
“They were quite a suspicious pair,” she commented as he set the tray down. “What were they really after?”
Steven shrugged. “Probably wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you for your money or something ridiculous like that.”
Aurora noted the place settings on the table. “Did your brother leave?” she asked.
Steven nodded. “Last night, after you went to bed. He’s not going to say anything to Jareth until we go home. If you get your memory back before then, there’s no point in worrying him, and he might not really understand anyway.” He ate some toast. “So what do you want to do this morning?” he asked.
“You’re not going to work?” Aurora asked, slightly surprised.
“Not until you’re more sure of yourself,” he replied. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Well, drill me on the things you told me last night. The mroe I know about myself, the less I have to try to remember later.”
They reviewed for three hours, until Aurora wasn’t sure anymore about who anyone was. “Do you mind if I take a nap?” she asked at last, rubbing her temples.
“Go ahead. I’ll do some paperwork and make a few phone calls. Let me know if you need anything.”
Aurora decamped to the bedroom and kicked her shoes into the corner. She laid down on the bed and pulled a light throw over herself, trying to quiet the swirl of names and facts in her head. Slowly she slipped into a restless sleep.
She awoke screaming, Steven’s arms wrapped around her.
“Shhh, Baby, shhh. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I won’t let you go.” Finally she quieted and he asked, “Was it the mugging? Did you see something?”
She shook her head and tried to steady her breathing. “It was Dead Man’s Curve,” she answered, not bothering to think how she recognized it. “It was that night again. Gina and Geoff were there, and I saw Krys and Mike and Will and Emily, and my father, and Amy. I saw you go over the edge, and I ran toward it, wanting to go over after you, but Geoff didn’t catch me this time. I went straight over the egde, and I was screaming for you over and over...” She drifted off as realization came to her, and she looked up at him. “I remember,” she said.
“What? What do you remember?” he asked urgently.
She looked at him levelly. “Everything. I remember everything about you, about Adryanna. About me. I remember who I am.”
He pulled her close and whispered thanks to any deity who would accept them. “We’ll go home tomorrow,” he promised.
“We don’t have to,” she said. “I want to tell the others first. Will you ask Catherine to arrange it?”
“Anything for you, Angel. Anything.”
Aurora waited with Catherine and Steven in the tunnel below the building for Vincent, and wrapped her sweater more securely around her. She could feel the mental connection to Steven again, and reached down it to touch his mind gently. He smiled and squeezed her hand in responce.
The tunnel ahead of them glowed faintly, and Vincent appeared with a torch. “Congratulations on your recovery,” he said.
Aurora smiled. “Thank you. I might have been dead without your help, and I wanted to tell you how much we appriciate everything you did. I’m really glad Father was willing to have us back to say good-bye.” They followed Vincent and Catherine as they led the was through the maze of concrete and rock under the city.
Father was alone in his chamber when they came in. He hugged Catherine and Aurora warmly, and shook Steven’s hand.
“So your memory has returned completely?” he asked.
Aurora nodded. “Everything about my past, the mugging, and being here. I wanted to thank you for your care, not just for myself and my husband, but for my baby as well,” she said, laying one hand on her flat abdomen.
Steven’s eyes went wide. “What in the name of Avalon are you talking about?”
She raised her eyebrows and shrugged a little. “Surprise?”
Father hugged her again. “Congratulations, child. I’m very glad you were able to remember something that important so quickly.”
Steven gathered her back into his arms quickly. “When were you going to tell me?” he chided lightly.
“Originally? When we got home. There always seemed like there was plenty of time, but the mugging reminded me not to waste any time in life. You really never know what’s going to happen.”
“What will you name the child?” Vincent asked, standing near Catherine.
Aurora looked at Steven, a question in her mind, and he nodded, approving of her decision. She looked at them. “Catherine, if it’s a girl, or Vincent for a boy. I hope you don’t mind, but without both of you, I don't think I’d be here now. And we’d like to ask you to stand as god-parents, someone the child could turn to when Steven or I might not understand.”
Vincent wrapped an arm around Catherine’s shoulders. “We will be honored,” he said.
*THE END*
SilverHawks, Narnia characters, Labyrinth characters, Beauty and the Beast characters and Gargoyles characters are the properties of their respective owners, and are used without permission. These stories are not for sale, and no money is being made from them. Original stories are the property of Lady Moonhawke, as are any original characters. Krysten Barter (AKA Krysten Merino / Skyedansuer) is the property of Lady Razorsharp, and is used with permission.
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