Hope skipped into her parents’ bedroom and exclaimed, “Daddy! Uncle John’s coming back!”

Stopping his search for Catherine’s glasses, Vincent looked over at his daughter in surprise and asked, “Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything on the pipes.”

Hope hesitated, then bit her lip, prompting a measure of suspicion in Vincent.

Just then, Catherine walked into the room behind their daughter, holding up her glasses. “Found them. And Joe just called to say that John’s at his office. I’m going to go get him and bring him Below.”

Vincent pinned Hope with a stern look and scolded, “How many times have we told you not to eavesdrop on people’s thoughts?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Hope wailed. “He was so upset it just kinda hit me. From really far away.”

“From as far as lower Manhattan,” Catherine said dryly. She tweaked Hope’s ear and stated, “No television for a week, young lady. Unless someone is trying to get your attention, you are not to eavesdrop.”

“But Mom!”

Vincent moved to join them and agreed, “At least a week. If you continue to do this, we’ll have to take more drastic measures…like no visiting the Whispering Gallery for a month.”

Hope’s mouth dropped as if to protest more vehemently, but then she sighed and nodded, leaving the room with a pitiful expression on her face.

When she was far enough away, Catherine started chuckling and observed, “And she’s not even a teenager yet. What on earth are we going to do then?”

“Batten down the hatches?” Vincent suggested, tugging her in close for a loving, if short, kiss. “I doubt anything less will work.”

Catherine smiled up at him and said, “I love you, but sometimes you’re absolutely no help.”

He smiled in return. “You’re welcome.”

“Mmm. Okay, time for me to go pick up our guest,” Catherine said, reluctantly pulling free. “From what Joe said, he’s in rough shape.”

Vincent frowned, suggesting, “I could go with you, in case he needs to be carried.”

Catherine thought it over, then shook her head. “You’re meeting with the group occupying the west tunnels today. If John’s in that bad of a shape, we’ll take a cab to the Park entrance.”

“Call me if you need help,” Vincent insisted.

She nodded and stole another kiss before heading out.

Vincent was about to go to his meeting when he noticed that she’d left her glasses on the dresser. Shaking his head, he smiled and pocketed them for later that night when she read to the children. He mentally conceded to Father’s wry observation that the only way Catherine wouldn’t lose her glasses was if they were permanently embedded upon her person. He smiled wistfully and thought, I miss you, Father. I wish that you were still here with us.

Father would have been eighty-one, if he were still alive, but his heart had failed two years before. Running Below was now Vincent’s job and Catherine was his right hand, just as he had been, for Father. There was no way that he would be able to tackle such a big responsibility without her at his side, that Vincent knew without a doubt. Having someone to help shoulder the burden of caring for so many was vital and now he understood why Father had always seemed troubled, even during their happiest of times. Below had a Council, but ultimately, the decisions that affected them all rested on Vincent’s head, just as they had on Father’s.

Shaking off the melancholy mood, Vincent left the bedroom for his meeting.

*  *  *  *

Joe was right. John did look like he’d been smacked with a two by four and then shaken like a rag doll. There was a definite aura of defeat to the young man’s slumped shoulders that made Catherine want to hug him and tell him that everything would be all right. She laughed at herself and thought, This from the woman who thought she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

Time had proved that wrong, no doubt about it. And now it was time to shower some of that attention to someone who clearly needed it.

Walking over to John, she said, “Looks like I lost the bet.”

He looked surprised, but pleased to see her, and asked, “What bet?”

“I thought you’d be at least a month returning to the fold, but Vincent said two weeks at the outside,” Catherine informed him, sitting down in the next chair. Putting her arm over his shoulder, she brought him in close and said, “It’s okay now, John, you’re almost home. We’ll take care of you now.”

It took a few seconds, but he finally relaxed against her, his head resting on her shoulder.

“Hey, Radcliffe, there you are,” Joe greeted, smiling. “Found your stray, I see.”

She returned the grin, even though John pulled away, and said, “I did, thanks. How are you?”

“Good, good. Busy. You know. Crime never takes a damn holiday.”

“I remember it all too well, yes.”

“Cath, can I see you for a minute?”

A little surprised by the request, Catherine stood and said, “I’ll be right back, John.”

He waved her off with a wan smile. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Catherine followed Joe into the Assistant DA’s office and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Leaning against his desk, Joe answered, “Nothing, really. I was just going to talk to you about your latest project.”

“Joe…”

“No, seriously, Cath, do you know anything about this guy?” Joe demanded. “He’s a federal agent and you’re just going to let him waltz right in there?”

Sighing, Catherine reminded, “We don’t ask anyone about their pasts when they find us, Joe, you know that. If we did, no one would live Below.”

“But he’s not going to live there, is he?” Joe pointed out.

Catherine thought about the wreck of a man waiting outside the office and answered, “I don’t know. At this point, I suppose anything’s possible. But even if he doesn’t, he’s a friend. And speaking of friends, the kids are starting to forget what you look like. Are you coming for dinner one of these weeks, or what?”

“Well, that depends,” he replied.

“On?”

“How long is Agent Myers going to be sticking around?”

“Joe.”

Joe quirked a grin at her and clarified, “I was also wondering if he was single.”

Catherine’s jaw dropped, then she exclaimed, “First you try and talk me out of letting him Below and now you want to date him?”

“Hey, I had to make sure he passed the Radcliffe test. Not that the last few blind dates you’ve set me up with have worked out all that well,” Joe teased, reaching out to tug a lock of her hair.

Eyes rolling, Catherine walked to the door and said, “Saturday night, seven o’clock. Be there, or I’ll have your head.”

He gave a jaunty salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Catherine was still grinning when she rejoined John, which seemed to reassure him somewhat. Holding out her hand, Catherine promised, “Joe’s bark is much worse than his bite. You should’ve seen him when I first worked here. I don’t think he called me by my first name until I’d been here for over a year. He’s a great guy, if you get past his unhealthy obsession with the Yankees.”

John gave her a tentative smile and took her hand, standing as he said, “I’m not terribly into sports, but it’s not the worst habit someone can have.”

“No, I suppose not,” Catherine agreed, wrapping her arm around John’s. “So. Let’s go home, shall we?”

John sighed. “That definitely sounds like a plan.”

*  *  *  *

John slept for the first full day and night that he was Below. He was settled in the large, comfortable bed that was for some reason in the middle of a library, the one in which he’d spent his first week there. He woke up a few times to relieve himself, said hello to Catherine or Vincent, or whoever was around, and went back to bed. It was the best sleep that he’d gotten in a long time, probably since before he’d gotten into Quantico.

When he finally emerged from the bedroom/library for good, he wandered down to where a bunch of kids had Catherine surrounded as she read from a book. They were of varying ages, from four or five to teenagers, and they hung on her every word. As he drew closer, he recognized the story as that of Peter Pan and smiled, remembering the first time he’d read it at age seven, all by himself. It was his first ‘big boy’ book and he’d been very proud of himself, as had his uncle.

Finding an unobtrusive spot, John sat and listened to her warm, inviting voice. Hope found him a short time later, sitting on his lap and curling up in his arms. She was so light that it was no burden at all for his healing body to hold her, and there was something comforting about the way she just trusted him without any question at all.

When Catherine wrapped up about a half hour later, there were groans of disappointment all around. She smiled and said, “You’ll just have to come back tomorrow night. It’s time for bed now.”

John watched her give out kisses and hugs like she was everyone’s mother, giving soft words to each of the many children until they were all gone.

Approaching him, Catherine smiled and asked, “Will you be able to sleep now?”

“Probably not. I’m used to the night shift,” he answered.

“Here, let me take her for you,” Catherine said, reaching for Hope.

He passed the sleeping girl to her mother and stood, asking, “Where’s Vincent?”

“Probably going over Jacob’s homework with him. He’s got a natural gift for medicine and biology, but does terribly in math,” Catherine told him as they started walking. “We have to push him to get the work done by telling him that doctors need to know as much as they can about everything.”

Not surprised by the news that Jacob would be going into medicine, John offered, “I know a few doctors, if he wants to talk to them and find out what it’s really like to be one. A college friend of mine is an ER surgeon.”

Her eyes lit up and she exclaimed, “That would be wonderful, John! Are you sure you don’t mind? I mean, he already knows Dr. Grendle, that’s the doctor who delivers the babies around here, but Jacob has no desire to be an OB.”

John was glad that he could offer something in return. “It would be my pleasure, honest.”

They’d walked down a long corridor and down two sets of stairs to get to what was obviously an apartment within the underground world. Inside was a living room, complete with television, dvd player and a Playstation, everything a modern family with two children would need. Though there were far more books than electronics lining the shelves in the walls.

John followed her through the living room into what was obviously Hope’s bedroom, decorated with horses and rainbows on the walls. He retreated to the living room when Catherine began undressing Hope, taking a seat on the worn sofa to wait. He was alone for only a few minutes, Vincent and Jacob returning with paper bags.

Jacob plopped down on the sofa beside him and gave him a bag as he said, “I hope you like chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. That’s all she was making this time.”

“Ah, yes, I do,” John confirmed, taking the bag.

“One of the women in the lower caverns makes ice cream for the children,” Vincent explained, sitting in the larger chair across from them. “It’s really quite good. She sells it in batches to local stores for some extra money that we use for things that we can’t trade for.”

Pulling a plastic container and a regular spoon from the bag, John took a careful bite then made an appreciative noise. “This is really good!”

Catherine arrived then and plucked the bag from Vincent’s hands to sit on his lap. “Hope will be sorry she missed the ice cream.”

Vincent nuzzled against the side of her throat and replied, “I’m not. She gets too over-excited with the sugar.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Catherine teased, leaning back against him to feed him a spoonful of ice cream.

John had the vague thought that such behavior should be private and glanced over at Jacob, who was either ignoring it, intent on his ice cream, or just didn’t care that his parents acted like honeymooners. It wasn’t anything that he’d been exposed to, barely remembering his own parents as quiet, easy-going people who certainly didn’t kiss and feed each other ice cream in front of the kids.

“Are you feeling better, John?” Vincent asked, a few minutes later.

Nodding, John said, “Much better, thank you. I can’t believe I slept for that long. What day is it?”

“It’s only Friday,” Catherine assured him.

John was relieved, not wanting his hosts to think he didn’t appreciate everything they’d done for him. It was just that he’d been on the go for so long, his body had apparently decided it had had enough and was going to crash, whether he wanted it to, or not. “What about the room that I’m in right now? I’m not stopping anyone from getting what they need, am I?”

Catherine shook her head and explained, “It’s Vincent’s old room, before we got married. All the newer books are in the main library.”

“And where is that?” John questioned, knowing that he was likely to be up for quite a while.

“I can show you,” Vincent offered.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to disturb you.”

Smiling, Vincent said, “You aren’t. I’ll give you a tour so you can find your way around.”

Scooping up the last of his ice cream, John gave in without further protest, wanting to be able to find things on his own. He hated to be dependent on anyone, not wanting to be a burden to anyone.

Catherine whispered something in her husband’s ear and stood. “All right, young man, time to impress me with your trigonometry.”

Jacob groaned. “Now? Mom, I still have to finish reading another fifty pages of War and Peace.”

“You do that for fun,” Catherine pointed out.

“Not the Russian version,” Jacob muttered.

Vincent stood as well and said, “Math first, Russian second. I’ll stop by later and we’ll discuss the chapters then.”

Jacob made a face and hopped to his feet muttering, “Can’t wait.”

Hiding a grin, John observed, “Teenagers are the same everywhere I guess. Although, I have to admit I’ve never read War & Peace in Russian.”

Proudly, Catherine said, “He knows Russian, German, Italian, Latin, Greek, and French.”

“And he’s doing trig at what age?” John asked incredulously.

She grinned. “Fourteen.”

“So. He’ll be going to an Ivy League then,” John commented dryly.

Vincent and Catherine chuckled, smiling at each other, and then Vincent said to John, “Let’s start the tour.”

John walked to the doorframe that had no door in it and mentally shook his head. A society that didn’t believe in doors. It was absolutely amazing.

*  *  *  *

“I, am going to give you advice that you really don’t deserve.”

Hellboy flipped the pages of the furthest book first and demanded, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You need to break things off with Liz, and go find John,” Abe replied, following Hellboy’s path along the library/aquarium wall.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Hellboy groused. “I’m not breakin’ up with Liz. I love her.”

Abe made a rude noise, clearly carried by the radio, and pointed out, “You’ve been moping about John leaving since you found out yesterday. You were moping about him before that. I don’t need to be psychic to know that you’re in love with him.”

“Moping doesn’t mean love,” Hellboy snapped, accidentally tearing off a page in the next book.

“Kindly try not to destroy texts that have survived more than two hundred years,” Abe requested.

Hellboy sighed and said, “This ain’t like anything I’ve felt before, Blue. I mean, I never thought about Myers like that. Hell. I only ever thought about Liz like that.”

“That’s because she was convenient,” Abe observed, lazily turning a summersault. “She was not only the only woman around who wasn’t afraid of you, she was the only woman around. Really, when you think about it, John is a much better match for you.”

Frowning, Hellboy asked, “How do you figure?”

“Well. He knows everything about you. He understands you. He backs you up no matter what sort of trouble you get into. He thinks you’re funny, which I truly don’t understand, and he’s a good man. Far better than you deserve.”

Hellboy snorted and turned the page on the last book. “Thanks, pal.”

“Anytime.”

Walking out of the library, which still made him uneasy and even sad sometimes, remembering how his father had been killed there, Hellboy thought about what Abe had said. It was true. Myers was much better than he deserved, but so was Liz.

He’d always wanted Liz, so why would he turn around all of a sudden and want Myers? He wouldn’t. The kid was annoyingly perfect. He dotted all his I’s and crossed all his T’s, even on triplicate forms. He was practically anal about making sure everything went right for the team. He was so…naïve…about the world that he just about squeaked with being so clean and even innocent sometimes. And the kid had no life. All he did was work. It was like he had nothing better to do than hang around Hellboy and make sure he was behaving.

Liz was different. She was independent and funny, fiery in all senses of the word. She was kind, but knew that the world could be a hard place. She kicked butt whenever it was necessary, Hellboy’s included. She was so damn pretty that sometimes he ached, just looking at her. She was sarcastic and stubborn and just as much of a freak as the rest of them, something that Myers could never really understand. There was absolutely nothing freaky about Myers, except maybe his devotion to that stupid moped.

What the hell am I doing, comparing them like don’t know who I love? Hellboy snapped to himself. It’s Liz, damnit!

That was when he realized he had walked to Myers’ room and sighed. This separation wasn’t going nearly as well as he’d hoped. Shaking his head, Hellboy was about to walk away when he changed his mind and entered the room anyhow. It was mind-blowingly neat. Every single thing had a place to be and was definitely put away. Books and dvds were alphabetized. Clothing was folded in the drawers or hung in the closet.

He thought about his own rooms and the chaos that had suddenly doubled in the two days since Myers had left. He was a little scared to think about what it would look like in a week, never mind by the end of the month. Strange to realize that not only did John watch his back out in the field, but he organized Hellboy’s stuff without complaining or even mentioning it. He never complained about anything, acting like he was just happy to be there.

Hellboy sat down a little too hard and the bed-frame cracked under his weight. Wincing guiltily, he stood again and left the room before he caused any more damage. He left the room and firmly aimed himself for his own rooms thinking, This is ridiculous. He’s coming back, so what’s the big problem? He’ll come back, things will be back to normal, end of story.

*  *  *  *

Not entirely sure why he was back at Central Park the next night, Hellboy wandered into the tunnel system with all the innocence of a thief in the night. He had the sneaking suspicion that John was in there somewhere, instead of having gone to friends somewhere else. The clinks and clanks on the pipes didn’t stop this time, though he made out the phrase, ‘red visitor’ among the code. Well, at least they don’t consider me a threat anymore. Probably due to Myers, he thought, walking towards that place where he’d seen the mysterious and annoying person the previous week.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Bingo, Hellboy thought, unsuccessfully scanning the area for where the guy could be hiding. The echoes made it difficult to pinpoint him. “I wanna see Myers.”

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

That hurt, a lot more than Hellboy would’ve thought, and he blustered, “Myers always wants to see me!”

“Not this time.”

“Would you come out and show yourself? It’s like talking to a damn cartoon or something!”

The cloaked figure came out into the middle of the hall in a completely different spot than Hellboy had been looking. Raising his flashlight to where the face should be, preparing himself for some kind of demonic face, Hellboy was surprised to find a mix of cat and man staring back at him. The eyes were as blue as could be, and as human as could be, pupils contracting instead of slitting, at the sudden glare.

“Why do you want to see him?” the cat-man asked.

Hellboy hesitated, then said, “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

With a shrug, he was answered, “John is fine. He slept most of the first two days that he was here. His body is as run down as his spirit.”

“His spirit? What’re you talking about?” Hellboy demanded. “His spirit’s just fine.”

Shaking his head, the cat-man stated, “He is lost and alone. He feels as though he is not valued by those he cares most about. Or anyone, truly. A man who feels he has no worth, is a man who has no reason to live.”

Alarmed, Hellboy questioned, “He’s okay though, he isn’t gonna hurt himself?”

“No,” the cat-man replied. “I doubt that would ever occur to John. It’s simply not in his nature. But he takes no pleasure from this world anymore, his life holds little joy. This is why he returned to us, despite his duty. My father often said that duty alone is not enough reason to stay in a life that gives nothing back.”

Hellboy sighed. “Smart guy.”

“He was, yes.”

“So okay. John’s hurting because he thinks we don’t appreciate him. Anything else I should know?”

“Just that if you don’t…make a move, as my Catherine would say…you will lose the opportunity to find out what it is like to be loved by John.”

A scowl surfaced and Hellboy demanded, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Giving him a thoughtful look, the cat-man said, “I will bring you to a place where you can observe John, if you promise me that you will not interfere. If he doesn’t feel safe with us, he will truly disappear and none of us will be able to help him.”

Not like that one bit, Hellboy had no choice but to agree. “Yeah. Yes, I promise.”

He was led through a maze of tunnels and caverns, passing by people who didn’t give him or the strange cat-man a second look. Although really, if they were living beneath the city, they’d probably seen stranger things over the years. They stopped along the top of a ridge that looked down into a large cavern where people talked and laughed, dancing to music played by a live band of fiddle, flute, guitar and bongos, of all things. It was a strange mix, but it worked, the tunes lively and sweet.

He spotted John standing along the wall talking to a really pretty, golden haired woman. With them was a miniature version of the cat-man at Hellboy’s side, except in a dress and with braided hair. Everyone seemed really nice and happy, people stopping by to talk to the small group. John was relaxed, a hell of a lot more relaxed than Hellboy could ever remember seeing him. He was also dressed in jeans and a comfortable, gray sweater that complimented him a lot.

“Damn. I never knew how tense he was until now,” Hellboy muttered. Even the kid’s hair was soft and relaxed, not in its rigid, slicked back fashion.

The music changed into a slow song, a lover’s tune, and Hellboy got more than a little tense himself when a handsome, dark-haired man walked up to John and clearly asked him to dance. John flushed, visible even in the flickering torchlight, and shook his head. The man wouldn’t take no for an answer, though, and caught John’s hand, drawing him onto the stone dance floor. John was stiff in the man’s arms for all of ten seconds until his dancing partner said something that made him smile and relax.

They look good, Hellboy had to admit, if only to himself.

John was far slighter than his companion, who looked like a natural athlete, and was easily moved around the room in time to the music. They were graceful, like it wasn’t their first dance together. The longer the song went on, the closer they got until finally, John’s head rested on the other man’s shoulder.

Unable to watch any more, Hellboy stalked back the way they’d come, but then had to stop so he didn’t get lost.

“That’s Joe. He’s a very good friend of my wife and has seen us all through some tough times,” his new companion said, walking up to Hellboy. “He’s a very good man. He’s worked in the DA’s office for about fifteen years now. He would be good for John. He would take care of him and see that he gets the attention and love and respect that he deserves.”

“So what’s the problem?” Hellboy growled.

The cat-man shrugged and said simply, “John’s in love with you. That’s why he’s here. To figure out a way to make it so that he can continue to be your friend without making any demands on you beyond that. He claims that you’re in love with someone else.”

Hellboy nodded. “I am.”

Lips twitching, the other man said, “Then I don’t think you truly know what the word means.”

With a scowl, Hellboy demanded, “Just bring me back to the surface.”

Not saying anything else, his guide did just that. It wasn’t until they reached the outer exit that he said, “Joe is a very persistent and persuasive man and John’s caught his eye in a way that no one has in a long time. I suggest you make decision quickly, or the choice will be taken from you.”

Hellboy watched the cat-man disappear into darkness again, his scowl growing.

*  *  *  *

John groaned as his mouth was devoured with an insistent passion he hadn’t felt in a really long time. Joe had him pressed up against a wall, one leg between John’s, and they’d been making out for an incredible eternity. The whole night had been incredible. He’d been expecting some kind of family dinner, when Catherine had said it was someone, whose name he couldn’t remember, birthday. But no, it had been a full-out festival with music and food and dancing and a lot more fun than he’d had in ages.

Hard and aching, he nonetheless forced himself to push somewhat ineffectually at Joe’s chest. If the other man hadn’t relented, John doubted that he’d have had the strength to push him away. Panting, John licked at his swollen lips and gasped, “We have to stop.”

“No, we really don’t,” Joe countered, taking his mouth again in a deep, wet kiss.

Groaning with need, John relished the touch of another body against his but then pushed against Joe’s chest again. He pulled his mouth free, rolling his head back against the wall. “Joe, oh God, Joe, really, we have to stop.”

Joe was breathing hard as well and pressed his forehead to John’s as he asked, “Why? Are you seeing someone?”

“Well, um, no.”

“You don’t like me?”

“No, God, you’re great!”

“So there’s no reason I can’t make you crazy for the next few hours.”

Few hours? John thought faintly. Shaking his head, keeping his hands on Joe’s chest, he said honestly, “I couldn’t. I can’t. I’m in love with someone else.”

Joe sighed and pulled back, standing straight on his own again instead of leaning against John. “So where is he?”

Taking a breath, John explained, “Well, see, there’s the complication. He doesn’t love me back, not like that, but I can’t really make a commitment to you knowing how I feel about him.”

Scrubbing fingers through his hair, Joe said, “Let me get this straight. You love him, he doesn’t love you, but you’re still gonna stay faithful?”

Put like that, it does sound absurd, John thought with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let things get this out of control.”

Unexpectedly, Joe laughed and caressed John’s cheek as he observed, “You’re a strange man, John, but I like you. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you consider me a, a suitor, I guess, and we can do the old-fashioned thing and date. You can even have Catherine or Vincent around as a chaperone, how’s that?”

“Really?” John asked, unable to not feel suspicious at the offer. “You’d do that?”

With a brash, but sincere smile, Joe told him, “I think you’re more than worth the wait, John. You want to take things in the slow lane, I got no problem with that. Well, aside from the obvious one where I’m gonna need my coat before I go anywhere, you got me so turned around here.”

Flushing at the compliment, John gave him a shy smile and said, “Me, too. And, thanks Joe.”

Joe leaned in for a soft, short kiss and said against his lips, “My pleasure.”