The heartbeat was fast. The pressure he had felt, gone. He was running past doors toward the stairs,where the the heartbeat was pulling him. That was when he smelled it…blood! But the pull was stronger. Running up the stairs and out to the roof, he was too late. “Catherine!” Vincent yelled her name.
And that face, the face of a man with cold eyes looked at him with no fear. Vincent looked back at him in bewilderment. As the helicopter flew out of sight, Vincent turned back toward the smell of blood. He prayed if it were Catherine that she was alive.

She replayed the doctor’s words. “Morphine. If it doesn’t kill you, get out of here and hide. Never show your face again.” He didn’t say the words but as he injected it straight into her vein, his eyes seemed to almost hold an apology. Almost didn’t count in this instance. It was like someone had walked across her grave. It shook her. She had to get out. How? Catherine was laying there feeling tired, hopeless, miserable and alone when Vincent burst through the closed door. She swiftly turned her and head and heard Vincent call “Catherine!” In surprise and the whispered brokenly “Cathe…rine.” Tears filled his vision as he rushed to her side, but stopped for a brief second as the smell of morphine assailed his nostrils.
“No! NO! Catherine, we must hurry. We must..” Then he smelled the blood.

“Vincent..” She touched his face, his tears. Felt her own as he brushed his hand across her cheek, his thumb brushed under her eye.
“You’re hurt. Catherine, where are you hurt?” He smelled the antiseptics, felt the hospital like surroundings. He turned around facing away from her, took in the stirrups, the blood on the floor, between her legs. Frightened to hear what happened, but knew he had to know, fear crawling up his spiny like an icy spider he asked “What happened?”

“There’s a child.” Her words slow, her body sluggish. The morphine was taking effect. Although his mind was going numb with fear and his body started shaking with rage, his chest tightening in worry. Unclenching his jaw, he spoke. “A child?” He cocked his head to the side, confused.

She smiled a small smile, tight and told him,”We loved, Vincent. He’s beautiful.” Vincent picked up her shoulders, slid his arm underneath them. He could feel her get heavier, saw her getting more sluggish. “They took him. Vincent…below, get Below.”

His mind suddenly caught up with his body and he gently lowered her back down. She was struggling to stay awake to help him get her ready to leave. He wasted no time now.
He found a towel, turned the warm water on and quickly cleaned her up as best as he could. Later he might realize what he had had to do but now he was worried about her bleeding and his biggest fear that she would die. He would NOT lose her again.
Grabbing another towel, he put it between her legs and quickly wrapped the sheet around her. Dropping his cloak, he then proceeded to untie his vest. Slipping the vest off his shoulders,he pulled his thicker sweater over his head and roused Catherine.
“You must put this on Catherine. It’ll keep you warm.”
She helped him slip the sweater over her head and she struggled to put her arms through the sleeves, grateful for his help.

Vincent had saw the needle marks and it made him cringe with fear even more. Anger once again rushed through him and yet again he pushed it away. Now was not the time. He had to get her Below. He didn’t know how much morphine was given to her but he was sure it was meant to kill her. The cold eyes of a hard man would not let her live, he was sure of that.

Writer’s Note:More to come. It makes sense to me that Vincent’s keen sense of smell would detect blood but he finally had a sense of the bond and was more intent to follow it to the roof.

Tags: batb, batb fan fiction, beauty and the beast, fanfic, vincent and catherine