This is an original story, inspired by the U.S. cult T.V. series BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, originally written in 1998 and pulisjed in a fan zine in the UK. I am the original author.
Copyright refers to the author of this original material, and is not meant to supersede any copyrights held by Ron Koslow, Witt-Thomas Productions, Republic Pictures, CBS.
FATHER'S DILEMMA.
"Vincent ..." Father regarded his young companion thoughtfully.
He was sitting there, a faraway expression on his noble, leonine features, which, Father knew, usually meant that he was thinking about Catherine.
And in the meantime, their game of chess had come to a grinding halt, whilst he awaited his opponent's next move.
Father had been waiting patiently now for his opponent, usually so attentive and eager to beat him, again, to make his move, for close to five minutes now.
If Vincent didn't hurry up, Father knew that he would be asleep amongst his pawns!
This was getting to be a habit, Father thought with a deep sigh.
A bad one too.
The young man was off in a world of his own, probably walking hand in hand with his lady love, Catherine, through a meadow full of wild flowers ...
Ah to be young again ...
And in love ...
Father regarded Vincent now, with a father's loving eye, taking in his appearance; clothes, homespun, the usual mismatch, patched and mended, but newly laundered, his hair, also freshly washed, all fluffy and gleaming with vitality.
He was a fine figure of a man, and since his involvement with the beautiful and worldly Catherine Chandler, Vincent's pride in his appearance knew no bounds.
Father smothered a smile in his whiskers, lest Vincent suddenly pull himself together and look his way.
"Vincent ..." Father spoke again softly, shifting impatiently in his chair. Give it another few minutes, and he would return his attention to the book that he had been reading before lunch. Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men In A Boat. It had suited his light hearted mood. Then Vincent had offered to play chess, in a bid, no doubt, to take his mind off the fair Miss Chandler, whom he knew had plans for this afternoon, with her friends from the world Above.
He was also aware that Catherine had accepted an invitation to dine with them here Below, this evening, after which, she and Vincent would go on to listen to the open air concert in the park. The summer season was in full swing, and Father knew that the pair had a particularly good vantage point, just below the first row of seats.
Father let out a long, deep sigh of impatience now, and was just about to try a scathing remark, to illicit a rise from his companion, when he suddenly noticed a slight wince of pain on the younger man's face, and a small, jerky movement which jolted him out of his day dream.
"Vincent?" Father was all concerned doctor and anxious parent now.
"Sorry Father, I was miles away ..."
"So I noticed. At the theatre with Catherine?" She was attending a matinee performance of a play, with Jenny Aronson, which had several of their friends in the cast, this fine, mid summer Saturday afternoon.
"Mm ..." The wince was still there as Vincent forced his intense sky blue eyes to study the chessboard before him.
"Vincent, are you all right?" Father reached out and laid a warm, glove less hand atop his son's furry one.
"Yes Father," Vincent placated, his gaze still on the chessboard before him. "Don't worry, " he suddenly reached out and moved a pawn.
"How can I not ... I know, we have had this conversation before," Father sighed softly, noting the move on the board and frowning at the unusual opening Vincent had left for him, with silent glee. "But, for a moment there, I thought that you were in pain ..."
"Just a touch of indigestion, Father," Vincent passed if off lightly.
"Ah, a little too much of William's marvelous apple pie at lunch?"
"Mm ..." Vincent mumbled. "Your move, Father ..."
"Is Catherine well?"
"Yes," Vincent lifted his gaze from the chess game and regarded Father curiously. "You will see her this evening," he reminded gently.
"Yes, I remember. My memory is serving me better today than your concentration, my boy," Father absently glanced up at Vincent before returning his attention to the chessboard, then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Vincent jerk in his seat once more, another wince of pain skittering across his face before he could hide it.
"Vincent?"
"It is nothing Father ..."The younger man placated. "Your move ..."
"That's rich!" Father mumbled, distracted, just as Vincent had hoped he would be. "I've been sitting here waiting for you to make your move for five minutes!"
"My apologies," Vincent sighed deeply.
"Tell me," Father invited softly, his deep sapphire blue eyes gentle as they regarded Vincent's unique countenance.
"Catherine ... she seems to be on an emotional roller coaster ride ..."
"Ah, that would account for it," Father grinned. "Is she enjoying the show?"
"Yes ..."
"What it is?" Father enquired casually.
"Some friends of hers are putting on a charity performance of Noel Coward's Blithe Spirit," Vincent explained.
"Ah yes ..." He recalled now.
"I just wish that Catherine wasn't quite so ..."
"Caught up in it?"
"Yes," Vincent sighed deeply.
"That is one of the disadvantages of this empathic bond that you have with her."
"I know," Vincent regarded the older man with sorrowful deep azure eyes. "I'm sorry Father, I'm not really much company right now, and, as you so eloquently pointed out, I can't concentrate worth a dime, so, if you will excuse me, I think I will go for a walk. Work off William's apple pie ..."
"All right, but, I just wish that one of these days, we could actually finish a game in one sitting ..." Father grumbled.
"I didn't realize that you were so fond of losing," Vincent chuckled as he ambled up the four small metal steps that led out of Father's chamber, Father's snort of indignation following him out in to the tunnel beyond.
Vincent walked around for a little while, visiting the chamber of the winds, Echo Bridge, and then the falls, feeling restless and uneasy, and yet, not knowing why.
Even a trip down to the deepest chamber to visit his young friend Mouse did nothing to relieve his discomfiture, and so, he politely took his leave, returning to his own chamber, where he lay down on the bed, staring up at the rocky ceiling, thinking about Catherine.
He reached out with his mind to the woman that he loved.
She was feeling pretty relaxed and happy now, but earlier, she had been melancholy, sad, and downright depressed and he knew that she had been thinking about him.
Their situation.
Emotionally, she was still very fragile after her father's recent sudden death.
And so was he.
After the sweet days of having her here, in his world, so close.
And then she had returned to her world.
Above.
It had been hard for her to come to terms with her loss, but she was getting stronger every day.
With his love and support.
But at what cost to himself?
Dealing with her worries, fears, doubts, sorrows, as well as his own turbulent emotions, was taking its toll on him too.
But, he hadn't said anything to Catherine, or to Father either for that matter.
He had to be strong.
For them.
At least Catherine seemed happier now.
He could sense her anticipation of their evening together, the thrill that she felt at the thought of seeing him, of being with him, no matter how briefly.
He sighed softly.
Then winced.
The stitch was back in his side.
He had had a niggling little pain in his right side since lunch time, nothing too painful, but it kept catching him out now and again.
The walk had eased it a little, but if he was honest with himself, Vincent could not help thinking that it was a physical manifestation of the tension and mental fragility that he had been feeling these past few days.
In a couple of hours time, he would go above, to meet Catherine at the Central Park threshold, and bring her Below for a light supper, with Father, Mary and William, and then they would go on to their favorite spot under the front row, at he concert in the park.
Tonight's program was Mozart's Piano Concerto No 21 and he knew how much Catherine was looking forward to it.
Perhaps a little nap now would be beneficial, he decided,
It couldn't hurt.
Perhaps he would be in a better frame of mind then too.
For he would see Catherine again.