She stood on the balcony hoping he would come to her. Since her recent return from Westport and the ensuring commitment she made to their dream, she could sense a change in their relationship. Vincent's embraces had become more intimate and less restrained. She felt more at ease about touching him and lingering in his arms. "Yes," she sighed. "Things are definitely moving along."

"Catherine?"

The sound of that deep, melodic voice turned her knees to jelly. Turning to greet him, she offered her most loving smile. "Vincent, I hoped you'd come," she commented as he enfolded her in his arms.

All Catherine could remember about the rest of the evening was how warm she felt and how, at first, she passed it off as a result of Vincent's nearness. When her stomach began to churn and her head began to pound, she couldn't ignore it any longer. It's difficult to be romantic when you're fighting to keep your dinner down.

"Excuse me," she muttered suddenly as she clasped one hand over her mouth then bolted for her bathroom. She left a very confused Vincent in mid-recital.

After emptying the contents of her stomach, Catherine sat back and realized just how horrible she felt.

"Catherine--are you all right?"

'Oh God, Vincent!' "I'm sorry," she apologized.

"You're not well, Catherine. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't realize how bad it was."

Tentatively, he walked into her tiny bathroom and knelt beside her. She remembered how odd that seemed at the time because of his reluctance to cross the line into her world. Under better circumstances, she would have been quite pleased. But considering she was on her knees throwing up into her toilet, the event lost some of it's magic.

"Let me help you," he offered as he quickly dampened a wash cloth and began to dab it gently on her heated forehead.

Soon the soothing coolness of the wash cloth, combined with Vincent's gentle voice and supporting arms, eased her misery. Minutes later, however, she felt her stomach churning and gripped the bowl again. After throwing up once more, she sat back and leaned into Vincent's arms. "This is awful!" she moaned. I hate you seeing me like this."

"Ssh--just let me take care of you." When his hand found her forehead, he gasped. "You're burning up!"

Quickly, he picked her up and carried her to her bed then carefully lowered her onto the cool comforter. He helped her out of her robe and under the covers.

"I'm so hot."

"I know. I need ice. I'll be right back." Without hesitation, he made his way quickly to the kitchen and returned with a towel filled with ice cubes. He applied it to her head and neck.

The next few hours were a blur to her. It was after midnight when she awakened to find herself drenched in sweat and chilled to the bone. What really shocked her was the fact that lying beside her in her own bed was Vincent. She stared at him in wonder.

Suddenly, he awakened and turned to her. "Are you...you're freezing!"

"I am cold," she answered meekly.

Without thinking, he threw back the covers and insisted she change out of her damp clothing immediately. When she expressed some reluctance, he virtually began to remove the gown himself. Finally, she gave in and, in a very gentlemanly fashion, he turned his back until she disgarded the gown and slipped into the dry one he had hastily chosen from her dresser.

What happened next astounded her. Vincent lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms. Not stopping at that, he pulled the comforter up over them both then pressed her against the warmth of his body. He stroked her back as he intimately intertwined their bodies. 'If only he'd do this when I wasn't so sick,' she remembered thinking.

After the chills subsided, she slept. When she awakened again about lunch time, she was shocked to see Vincent sitting on the step at the French doors staring out into the sunshine. He looked so peaceful; so magnificent as the sun caressed his face. She sighed involuntarily.

"Catherine--are you feeling better?" he asked as he approached her then sat on the bed.

"You're still here!" she gasped.

"Of course. You needed me. I could not leave you feeling so ill."

"Thank you."

He just smiled. "Do you think you could eat something?"

"Maybe... some soup?"

His expression became one of puzzlement and embarrassment. "If you'll tell me how to operate your stove, I'll warm it for you."

It hadn't occurred to her until then just how different their worlds were. After a brief explanation, she took advantage of his absence to try to pull herself together.

After a somewhat fulfilling meal, Catherine lay back and watched a very uncomfortable Vincent try to find something to do. "Why don't you read to me. Better yet--why don't you make up a story for me."

"A story? What kind of story?"

"Oh--something terribly romantic," she answered as she settled back against her pillow.

"Oh. Well, let's see... "

Catherine remembered that story as clearly today as she did then. It was indeed a romantic tale of an impossible love between an ancient warrior and a beautiful princess. Their love was forbidden by their separate worlds but yet they could not ignore the love they felt for each other. In the end, the warrior did the noble thing and said good-bye.

After several minutes of silence, Catherine looked deeply into Vincent's eyes and saw the sadness mirrored there. "I didn't like that ending. Tell me, Vincent. How would you REALLY like the story to end?"

"That was the only possible ending."

"No. Tell me how YOU want it to end," she demanded.

He took a deep breath. "The warrior asked his lady to--marry him. They created a world all of their own and lived a life of love. They had--children and were happy ever after."

Catherine smiled warmly. "That's how it should end then."

"If only it wasn't a fairytale," he commented sadly as their eyes met and their longing surfaced.

"It could be..." she tried to reassure him.

For a moment, she thought he might conquer his fear. Then the phone rang and the moment was lost.

That annoying buzz interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to the present. Like before, the voice on the other end was Joe with a question about ongoing case. Their conversation was brief and as Catherine hung up the phone, the object of her fantasies entered the room.

"I see you're awake. Are you feeling better?"

"Much. I'd feel even better if you'd join me."

"I'd love to," he answered without hesitation. He quickly stretched out beside her and engulfed her in his arms. They were silent for while as their thoughts wandered down similar paths. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I was remembering a story you once told me."

"Oh. I think I know the one you're thinking of. I remember it well. It was more than a story you know."

"Yes, I know. I knew then."

"Who would have believed our particular fairytale would come true?" he mused.

"I did."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." She sat up and looked down into his blue eyes. "If you believe in something with all your heart, you'll find a way. I truly believe that. We are proof of THAT."

"You make me believe anything is possible."

"And you made me believe in miracles. Uh-oh!"

"What is it?"

"I've got to throw up..." She made a wild dash for the bathroom and did just that. Once again, Vincent was by her side.

"We seem to spend a lot of time in this position. Through all the morning sickness, flu, colds, and PMS, you've always been there for me."

"As I always will be."

She started to laugh. "Ain't love grand!" she declared then immediately threw up again."

"Uh... right."