Reminder of Love

a story based upon the characters of “Beauty and the Beast”

by Nancy Lynn Knauff

(“Beauty and the Beast” and its original characters are the creation of Ron Koslow, and is owned by Republic Pictures and its owners. This story is written exclusively for the enjoyment of fans, and no infringement is meant in any way.)

Originally appeared in the 2002 Convention Zine

Oh, but she was frustrated!

Catherine practically slammed the door to her darkened apartment shut. Angrily she fumbled along the wall for the light switch, finally finding it and switching the lights on. She gave a startled half-shriek as one of the light bulbs flashed and burnt itself out.

“That’s great. Just great.” She knelt on the sofa, unscrewing the darkened bulb from the lamp socket then looked at it. Impatiently she blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Today can now be considered an evening from hell,” Catherine muttered as she regarded the thing.

Taking a detour into the kitchen, she deposited the defunct bulb into the trash. Making herself a cup of tea, she then she resettled into the living room sofa, contemplating the events of the last few hours. Catherine sighed. This Saturday had started off so wonderfully…

She had met Vincent at the threshold that afternoon after shopping and having lunch with her friend Jenny. Vincent finished his rehearsal with the children for an upcoming skit while Catherine visited with Father for a spell. Then they had read to each other from a second edition copy of Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass” Catherine had found earlier that morning. She loved listening to him recite from their perch in the Chamber of the Falls. Vincent, as always, didn’t disappoint her.

They were on their way to dinner with the rest of the community when the alarm came over the pipes. Catherine only caught half of Pascal’s frantic message but she gleaned the most important part- the Simple Ones were attacking a part of the hub again.

Paracelsus’ minions did not simply disappear after the madman’s death some months prior. The community had been intruded upon by the brutes since Vincent’s recovery. At first it was simple stealing from the food supplies stored beyond the Stone Stair. Now they were even worse; the simple-minded thugs mindlessly hitting anything in their path. The last two attacks had been simply that- Lawrence was still nursing a wound from the week before when several of them had struck his sentry post. It made no sense- they struck at random, no apparent organization to their attacks. So far Vincent, Jaime and several others had been successful in driving them back without too much damage. Still, Father and other members of the council fretted over the whole affair, as did Catherine.

At the first clang of the alarm, Vincent went flying off, Catherine at his heels as fast as she could. They hurried through the tunnels; Vincent’s cloak sailing behind him as if in flight. He rounded a corner lightning-fast. As she reached the same spot, Catherine heard a familiar roar coming from Vincent and stopped right behind him.

Peering into one of the many storage chambers, Catherine saw nothing but disused furniture and other assorted items of the sort for a moment. As her eyesight adjusted to the gloom, she spotted two young girls huddled in a corner. They were cowering from what Vincent was roaring at. Three brutes of various size were smashing anything in their way to get to the girls. The men stopped advancing on them as Vincent roared his challenge, one backing up to brandish a crude club. Snarling at the brutes, Vincent took a fighting stance, then slowly stepped toward the simpletons, using his fearsome presence to corral the men away from the girls.

Catherine took a similar stance, using the wall of the chamber and some of its contents as a camouflage of sorts, inching her way toward the children. Vincent ignored her actions, obviously understanding her intentions. He continued to slowly move toward the men, the fingers of his clawed hands tensing as he flexed them. She reached the two frightened girls, drawing them into a protective embrace. The girls, who were fraternal twins new to the community, clutched her frantically. Catherine looked up as Vincent started to force the others’ retreat from the chamber, a warning growl low and menacing as he advanced.

The men snarled back at him, scared of him, but holding their ground. Strange, Catherine thought. In past attacks, she had been told, the simpletons merely took off at the sight of Vincent. What’s going on here? A sense of dread seemed to hang in the air at the thought.

She had her answer soon enough. From the opposite entrance to the chamber there was a loud cry. Vincent’s back was turned from the sound; he whirled around to see the new threat, as did Catherine. Two more men, smaller in stature yet just as fierce, came barreling into the chamber. Catherine gasped. It was a trap!

Vincent’s distraction was all the first group needed. They charged him, clubs waving. Catherine’s verbal warning was overruled by their battle cry. Vincent whirled back just in time as all three attacked him. He was knocked into a handful of crates by one brute, wood smashing as both men tumbled into them.

In an instant Catherine made a decision. The other two were coming to join in the assault when she pushed the girls aside. “Stay there!” she yelled at them, then charged into the melee, climbing over furniture and boxes in her way.

The two newcomers to the fight were smaller than the three Vincent was currently attempting to strike at with his taloned hands, so Catherine took them on. Her back to Vincent, she whirled around to feint a lunge into the first brute. Not expecting much of a fight from a woman, he charged, expecting to overtake her quickly. When she quickly stepped out of his way, his face took on a look of total surprise as his own weight and momentum was used against him. He crashed into an antique chest of drawers, dazed.

The second man was more cautious and brandished his weapon, a broken bedpost, as he regarded her. Catherine wasn’t impressed; she threw the nearest item she could grab a hold of- a lightweight crate- at him. He smashed through it, then lunged. She turned into him as he grasped her, catching the brute off guard. She used him as a back brace, her legs against an arm of a large upholstered chair and elbowed him hard in the ribs, once, twice. The third time was the charm; he let go of her, swinging his makeshift club and missing as she dived behind the chair. The first one picked himself up from the broken remains of the furniture he had landed in. The second one grabbed a hold of Catherine’s temporary sanctuary, throwing it out of the way, leaving her exposed. She was ready for it, though, as the first one lunged at her again. The brute seized her by one leg, realizing his mistake too late as Catherine’s other hard-heeled shoe contacted his face, knocking him back.

She shot a quick look at Vincent. He couldn’t help her at the moment; one man was down, practically tossed out of the way like a broken toy. Another one was bleeding as well from the arm, but still standing. Vincent’s cloak was torn in places, his hair flying all directions, the look on his fierce face sheer madness. The third simpleton finally succeeded in grasping him by the waist. Vincent’s powerful legs sent both of them into some already broken antiques as he tore himself free with his nails and strength, roaring in rage.

Catherine scrambled back to her feet. The first attacker knelt to the ground, trying to stop the surprising heavy flow of blood from his face. Vincent removed himself from his now unconscious victim, roaring at the last man in his trio of attackers; Catherine stood her ground, back to back with Vincent, facing the other standing brute. With a look of pure hatred on his face, Catherine’s latest victim struggled to his feet, glaring at her. He was bleeding under one eye from the wound her heel had caused. Vincent snarled a challenge at the remaining men, but Catherine knew they were out of tricks.

Suddenly an arrow shot in the air from Jaime’s crossbow, striking one of the attackers. The young woman and several others quickly entered the chamber. Just as quickly as the fight began, it was over- the men left standing and the fallen brutes realized they were the ones now outnumbered. They retreated quickly, dragging their fallen comrades with them.

Vincent closed his eyes, regaining himself as Catherine looked on worriedly. A few tunnel dwellers ran after the retreating brutes while Jaime rushed up to the ambushed pair, crossbow slung over the shoulder. “Are you all right?” she asked both of them, although her gaze was riveted to Vincent as she said the words.

It took him a minute to answer. Vincent always needed a moment to reorient himself after a fight. The length of time he required depended on the situation. Catherine let out the breath she didn’t even know she was holding as he replied, his voice clipped and very quiet. “Yes.” He opened his eyes, glancing at Catherine half in fear. The other half of what he was feeling she couldn’t determine at the moment. She searched his face with her eyes quickly. He had a bruised cheek. One hand reached up to touch it worriedly before she could think. Vincent grasped a hold of her fingers, bringing them back to her. “I’m all right,” he told her.

The two young girls slowly came out of their hiding place as the couple regarded each other. The children moved quickly to them, fear still apparent in their bright eyes. Catherine grasped each child into a reassuring hug. “Are you two okay?”

Christin, the smaller of the two, only whimpered softly as Cassie answered for them both. “We’re okay.”

“What happened?” Jaime asked, tossing some broken remains aside.

“We were playing hide and seek when the men came,” she answered. “This is our favorite place to hide.” She hung her head, “We’re not supposed to be here.”

“No, you’re not,” answered Jaime. “I know Mary has told you two to stay close to the inhabited areas. We were looking for you when we heard Pascal’s warning.”

“Please, don’t be mad at us,” a sniffling Christin cried. She launched herself into Vincent, grasping him tightly. “Don’t send us away, Vincent, please!”

“I would never do that, Christin,” he told the young girl, regarding her twin as well as he spoke, still held by Catherine. “But you need to stay where it is safe.” He included the woman in that gaze, a worried look momentarily etched on his unique features. He lifted the teary-eyed child into his arms. “I’m glad you were not hurt. Come,” he told the others, “we must leave this place. Father needs to know what happened here.”

The rest of the evening was spent cleaning up the broken furniture left behind by the Simple Ones’ attack. Father nearly had an apoplectic fit over the whole affair. The twins were immediately looked over by the tunnel patriarch and given a clean bill of health. Then it was Mary’s turn to fuss over them, sending them off to bed after assurances from Vincent that they were safe once more. Cullen frowned at the growing pile of wood more than once during the cleanup; many pieces were now unusable for much needed furniture, even with the woodcarver’s touch.

Catherine noticed a change in Vincent’s demeanor as she helped in the storage chamber. That in of itself wasn’t unusual- it took time for Vincent to readjust when he had to fight, she knew that from experience. Since the summer when the toll on his psyche had almost killed him Catherine had become more aware of this transition. The few times he had been forced to protect those around him since that time (not because of her job since then, Thank God, she told herself) she had watched Vincent closely, giving him the space he required, but within reach if needed.

But this time Catherine noticed Vincent’s almost complete withdrawal from everyone, including her. He was there in the chamber with them all, answering questions, directing people in an effort to stay organized, but it was as if his mind was traveling farther below than Catherine, or anyone, could reach. It reminded her of when Vincent sent her back Above after his brutal fight with the tunnel invaders last winter. She didn’t like this feeling, not one bit. It was as if the other shoe would drop any moment.

Well into the night, Vincent and the others finally proclaimed the task finished. Soon afterwards, Vincent ushered Catherine back to his chamber. The gnawing feeling growing in her stomach grew when Vincent only stopped to collect her jacket.

Defuse this, she thought to herself, before this gets out of hand. “Vincent, you are not shutting me out this time.”

Vincent turned to her, causing Catherine to let out a very slight gasp of surprise. His blue eyes were blazing as he regarded her. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. Vincent was angry with her! He was trying hard not to show it, but a tightening of the connection they shared convinced her that Vincent was indeed furious.

To his credit, his voice hardly trembled as he spoke. It was the quietness of it that betrayed any emotion whatsoever. “You know what I told you about my visions this summer.”

She nodded; that was a given. Vincent had explained to her in detail the horrifying events he witnessed during his coma after collapsing in a faraway cavern when he had become ill. He had been so distraught, he had relived part of them in infrequent nightmares ever since.

His voice got even quieter. “And you know how it effects me when you are the one in danger.” She nodded again. “Then why did you deliberately place yourself in harm’s way?” he asked her.

She was confused. “What do you mean?”

“You knowingly stepped into danger. You fought those men.”

“I did what I needed to do.”

“Catherine, we’ve talked about this.” Vincent laid her jacket across the back of his desk chair to start a familiar pacing before her. “When you are in danger, when I feel your fear… it… frightens me how… disconnected… I can become.” He stopped, facing the far chamber wall. The anger was still there, but tinged with pain. “When it happens, you see that change in me. You feel it, I know you do. You promised me you would keep out of danger.”

A wave of defensiveness engulfed her and Catherine balked. “What was I supposed to do, Vincent? Let those men ambush us?” She took a step closer to him. “Not even you can take five men at once. I refused to stand by while you got hurt.” He turned around to meet her smoldering gray eyes. “Why do you insist on constantly taking the burden? Some of the blame for the past rests squarely on me.” He took a breath to interrupt, but Catherine didn’t give him a chance. “I also promised not to allow myself to become dependent on that part of you,” she spat back. “I’m not going back on that promise.”

“Catherine, I’m only trying-”

“To keep me safe? What about your safety? Your life?”

“And what of the nightmares?” he countered. “They are not something I care to contemplate.”

“All I am saying, Vincent, is that I care as deeply about your safety as you feel about mine. I cannot stand by and watch five men try to kill you.”

“You do not understand. In that vision- I watched you die. To me, then, in that moment, it was real. And it nearly killed me.” He picked up her jacket once more and handed it to her. “It’s time for you to return Above.”

“You’re shutting me out again.”

“I am not shutting you out, Catherine. I am asking you to give me space. Before I say something I will regret.” Vincent’s eyes closed as he sighed. The anger was abating, she could see it. Frustration was in every line of his unique face and his hands were clenched. “I would not survive the loss of you, Catherine, I know that. But you do not understand what I am trying to say.”

The anger was leaving her as well. “Then make me understand.”

He turned, but looked over his shoulder in her direction. “I don’t know if I can.”

Catherine put down her teacup, drained while she continued her late musing. She wasn’t angry with Vincent now, both of them knew that. His last statement to her in the chamber had unnerved her greatly, however.

What exactly did he mean, she wondered. She hoped those words weren’t a prelude to Vincent trying to end their relationship again. He said he wouldn’t survive the loss, so I don’t think he would try, Catherine reasoned. Still, something is not right. What does he think I don’t understand?

Vincent’s safely and mental health had been of utmost concern to her since those frightening days last summer. She had fought dearly to bring him home in one piece. So why would he be so upset over this battle? Her head was spinning in a thousand directions. What wasn’t she seeing? Her mind whirred, but no answer was forthcoming.

Sitting here in my living room, staring at an empty cup is getting me nowhere, she finally concluded. I’m going to bed. Hopefully some sleep and a little time would open up this conundrum before her. Leaving her cup where it was, she headed to the bedroom to ready herself for bed.

The Park was lovely in the twilight, a welcomed sight to Catherine’s eyes. No one else was around this late. She took a rare leisurely stroll down a familiar path, taking the time to absorb the beauty around her.

As she walked she noticed a change in her surroundings. The trees changed from a leafy green to drab bare branches. The soft breeze turned cold, causing Catherine to shiver and pull her light jacket tighter around her. The colors even muted as they were in the dark, fading into grays and shadows as a darkness greater than night enveloped her.

Catherine’s path led her further into the park, into an unfamiliar section. The branches loomed over her, giving her more of a chill than the wind. Before her was an unknown disused pipe. She studied it with trepidation. It drew her nonetheless, each step inching her way towards it.

A figure emerged from the drain, instantly recognizable as Vincent. She halted her steps, a greeting stilled on her lips. She was frozen as he slowly plodded his way from the pipe and into the park. Catherine suddenly realized he was heading towards her. Her heart suddenly began a hammering in her chest, she swallowed nervously. Should she hide? Announce her presence? What in hell is going on here, she thought. I shouldn’t be nervous of him seeing me. It’s Vincent! Regardless, she was immobile, unable to decide.

It was Vincent himself who took the choice out of her hands. As he started toward the path Catherine was on, he looked up. Frozen, she could only stare back in shock as his eyes locked on hers.

If she hadn’t known him so well, Catherine would never have recognized him. What she saw horrified her.

As always Vincent had a commanding presence about him. Nothing could change that trait; it was a large part of his personality. That and his gentleness were legend in the tunnel world Below. Only someone who knew him so well could see the diminished stature within him now. He looked listless; that kind of mood could get him killed or worse up Above. His unique face was drawn- Catherine couldn’t remember seeing his face so morose. His mane of hair was stringy, as if despite its being combed it couldn’t retain its usual luster. It was as if Vincent had given up on life; that one thought alone was enough to make Catherine’s heart break in sorrow.

As they continued to observe each other, she noticed something else about Vincent. She squinted in the darkness trying to see better in the gloom. Suddenly her eyes grew wider. Vincent had aged, she was sure of it! There was definite gray in his blond tresses. His face also had a sunken look to it which made Catherine want to weep. He had not aged well.

His reaction to her was most unusual. Clearly she had surprised him. Usually he knew Catherine was coming long before the sentries saw her when she would visit Below. Above he could always find her, whether she was in danger or in less hazardous surroundings. Surprising Vincent just wasn’t possible- unless he was preoccupied.

It illogically occurred to Catherine that Vincent had probably been more than preoccupied with something for quite some time.

Finally Vincent broke the stillness. His lips mouthed her name as he took a step back. He was in shock- it was enough to bring Catherine’s mind back to the moment. Something’s wrong, she thought. He’s acting like he hasn’t seen me in ages. I only left him a few hours ago. She took a step towards him as he practically fell to his knees. “Vincent?” she called, now very alarmed.

He closed his eyes, a small moan issuing from his throat. “This… cannot be,” he whispered. He opened his eyes again as Catherine reached him. One trembling taloned hand reached out to touch her face. “It’s you… really- truly you. I… never thought to-to see you again.”

She was totally confused. “Just for a small argument? Vincent, you know I’d never-”

“No,” he interrupted her before she could continue. “I’m dreaming. I must be. Catherine… you died. In my arms. So many years ago.” He looked away as he spoke, almost as if he was speaking to himself instead of to her. “I…I’ve wished… for so many nights, for- for one more chance.” He turned back to her, tears streaming down his drawn face. “And… you’re here. My prayer…answered.”

What in hell is going on here? Catherine thought irrationally. Vincent was staring at her as if she were a ghost. Her confusion was complete as she reached out to stroke a lock of blond-gray hair back from his face.

He moaned, leaned into the caress. “Though lovers be lost…” he whispered, his whispery voice full of emotion, “love shall not…”

Then it clicked. Oh, my God… Catherine knew that line. Vincent had once told her its significance. Somehow, someway, this Vincent before her was from another time- a time where she did die, ripped from him, left to wander in his life alone without her. A life where he couldn’t live without Catherine at his side. “And death shall have no dominion,” she finished for him softly, her heart breaking in turmoil over what he must have endured. “Oh, Vincent, I’m so sorry.”

“So many years… to wonder… to wish… to curse myself for not saying, not doing… the things I should have done.”

“Shh,” she comforted him. “It doesn’t matter now, Vincent. I’m here.”

He didn’t hear her. “I should have told you, should have showed you… all the things I wanted to give you, to- to-” he stopped, grasping her by the arms. “How I loved you, Catherine! I loved you so!!”

By now Catherine was crying as well, tears sliding down unnoticed as she was held in his still powerful grip. “I love you, too, Vincent. I never stopped loving you.” He pulled her into an embrace, clutching her as if the wind would sweep her away. He cried openly now, whispering her name like a mantra. Catherine let him cry, knowing he needed her strength. Her arms slid under his cloak to hold him close.

At length he leaned back to peruse her face. “So beautiful…” One taloned finger slowly traveled the right side of her face, causing her to shiver. His eyes shone with love, leaving her bereft, only one thought running rampant in her mind. He was going to kiss her, and probably wouldn’t stop…

Vincent leaned in, about to take her lips with his own when suddenly he started to fade from her. She watched, helpless as he tried in vain to grasp her once again, her heart shattering into shards as he roared his anguished cry.

“NOOOO! CATHERINE!!” The sound of his voice echoed in her very soul. She tried to reach out to him herself, only encountering emptiness where he should have been. She called out to him, her voice only fading as his horror and pain-stricken form disappeared from her sight completely.

“Vincent! Come back! Vincent!!” She screamed, bolted upright in bed. Her arms were outstretched, trying desperately to grasp the dream images still fuzzy in her mind. Real, it was real, she thought hazily, unable for a moment to reorient herself. Realization came slowly, telling her exactly where she was. Then she wept, the pain of that image too much to bear. Her heart was in torment.

After she was able to readjust to her surroundings, Catherine brushed her tears away. That was more than a mere dream, she thought to herself. It was trying to tell me something. Suddenly she remembered Vincent’s words earlier in the evening about his vision that past summer, the pain she heard in his voice when he recounted them to her during his recovery. She moaned. Oh, God, how completely insensitive! To Vincent, of all people! She felt like a heel.

She was so deep in introspect for some time that she missed Vincent’s gentle rap on the French doors to her bedroom. He had to tap a second time before the sound got through the fog her mind was in. Immediately she was on her feet, through the doors and in his waiting arms without a second thought.

“Forgive me, Catherine,” he whispered. “I should not have sent you away.”

“Forgive you, Vincent?” she replied, bringing her head up to see his face. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m the one who was insensitive.” Her throat choked up with pent emotion as she relived the images of her dream. “I was thinking of myself. I forgot how literal dreams can be for you.”

“You are my light, Catherine. How could I turn my back on that brightness, even for an instant? I did shut you out, just as you asked me not to.”

“No, Vincent. You were trying to make me understand your fear. I never realized it until now.”

“You- you weren’t crying because you thought… I would leave you?” Vincent asked, a puzzled look crossing his unique face.

“No,” Catherine answered. “I had a dream. A horrible dream. It felt so real, though.” She shivered, not only from the remembered images she had seen but from the fact that she rushed into the cold night air without an accompanying robe.

Clad only in her nightgown, she felt a sudden twinge of embarrassment stain her cheeks a moment before Vincent wrapped his familiar cloak around her. “Tell me,” he said softly, escorting her back inside.

She recounted the dream to him, both sitting on the wooden step in front of the closed balcony door. The lonely wind whistled for entrance outside, but Catherine felt safe, snug in Vincent’s cloak with him once again at her side. Listening intently as he always did, Vincent held a thoughtful look when she had finished. “What is it, Vincent?”

“Strange. My vision and your dream… as if- connected to each other somehow.”

“Not so strange,” replied Catherine. “Considering how intertwined our lives have become.”

Vincent softly smiled at that. “So they have.” He paused for a moment. “I can think of nothing better.” He pulled Catherine closer, wrapping his arms around her. She settled into his embrace, resting her head on his broad shoulder. She sighed, contented where she was, not wanting to move. She knew he felt the same way when Vincent kissed her forehead softly.

“Promise me something,” Catherine murmured a moment later.

“Anything.”

She snuggled deeper into the cloak and his own warmth. “The next time you dream of me, make it a happy one.”

“I don’t have to, Catherine,” Vincent replied. “I need no dreams when I’m with you.” He kissed her forehead once more as the two of them happily shared the comfort of the dark together, content in the knowledge that the other was the culmination of all that they shared; never parted, always together.

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