DISCLAIMER: This is an alternate universe story based on Beauty and the Beast. The characters have all graciously agreed to let me use their names in my work of fan-fiction, with the understanding that I return them to the CW network after my story is completed. This is completely for entertainment purposes, so no funds were transferred, physically or by wire.

A loud buzzing noise sounded, granting access through the massive metal door. Catherine let out an enormous breath and stepped forward. A stocky security officer watched as she placed her lunch bag in the short, white basket on the table, along with the contents of her pockets. With her pockets emptied and free of potential contraband, she ambled forward through the metal detector. Once she cleared the electronic device, the guard opened her bag and conducted a cursory glance inside. Satisfied with the results, he returned her lunch bag and waved her forward. Proceeding ahead, she approached another metal door with a large window. Without delay, it buzzed, permitting entry. Pulling on the handle, she entered and paused, observing the long hallway.

She gripped her bag tighter than required and proceeded with a fixed smile. Passing the control room, she gave a quick nod to the two officers manning the post. Remembering the elevators were nearby, she used her memory palace to ascertain the exact location. According to her mental map, the elevators were a few paces ahead on the left. It would have been easier to just ask the officers in the control room, but she preferred to appear confident and informed. During training she studied a map of the location and committed every nook and cranny to her memory palace for future reference.

After reaching the elevators, she stepped into the transport and pressed the button for the second floor. Fidgeting, she worked extra hard not to look up at the cameras watching her every move. Instead, she stared straight ahead with a calm facade. But inside her emotions were on a runaway train, with a course charted for Panic city.

A bell dinged, followed by the opening of the doors. Taking one last breath and releasing it, she stepped off the elevator. Ready or not. It was showtime.

"Officer Chandler?"

She stopped and turned around at the sound of her name. A swarthy man with medium-length black hair stood smiling at her.

"Yes. I'm Officer Chandler," she replied.

He slid his phone in his pants' pocket and extended his hand. "Welcome aboard. I wanted to be the first person to greet you. I'm Warden Lowan. If you need anything, my office is the last door on the right,' he said, inclining his head toward the end of the hallway.

She shook his hand. "Thank you. I'm happy to be a part of the new team," she said, releasing his hand.

"Great. Exactly what I wanted to hear. I believe you'll be an asset to our facility. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to shift briefing. You're a little early, but that speaks to your work ethic, and not a bad quality to have," he said, his long strides eating up the lengthy hallway.

"I believe if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. That is my motto in my personal and professional life," she said, speeding up her steps.

He smiled at her response. "Here we are," he said. He stopped in front of an opened door and gestured for her to enter. "Take a seat anywhere you prefer. Your shift commander should be here soon. Again, it's a pleasure to meet you, Officer Chandler," he said, offering his hand.

She took his hand. "Nice to meet you as well, sir."

After the warden left, she took advantage of the short moment of solitude to gather her thoughts before briefing began. The clock chimed on the wall announcing the start of a new hour. Deciding to use her time wisely, she scanned the room for cameras. Her training had taught her to always familiarize herself with her surroundings and be prepared for any and everything. No surveillance devices appeared to be installed, but she knew better. They weren't visible, but with a thorough search, she was positive they could be found; hidden in the most improbable places. Distant chatter put her on guard and she braced herself for the onslaught of introductions and names that would take more than one night to associate with the faces.

***
A faint glimmer of light seeped into the dark room, as Vincent lay in his bunk staring up at the ceiling. After another tedious day of watching TV, and avoiding the crosshairs of dangers, sleep eluded him. With his reputation, most inmates kept their distance, but he knew the time would come when another fool would challenge him, doubting he was as lethal as prison rumors painted him. He had been tested when he first arrived at the facility and needless to say, the aggressor found himself at death's door, begging for life. Ever since then, most prisoners steered clear of him, and he was only too happy to follow the same example. After all, what was the point of striking up conversations and making new friends, when he was a dead man walking? Soon, he would be in a body bag, and not one one soul would care enough to shed one sad tear. It was best to maintain his loner status and keep his distance.

With that thought, his mind wandered down the dark rabbit hole that had become the bane of his existence. The past, vague in his memory, left a lot to be desired. He pushed harder and harder and still he couldn't remember anything. For reasons, he thought futile, the prison psychologist conducted therapy sessions with him, hoping to jog his memory, to no avail. Ten years incarcerated, with every appeal exhausted and death looming over his head, whomever he had been before, was of no importance. With his execution date on the horizon, he had been downsized to nothing more than a number, depersonalized and of little consequence to anyone. He hoped he had at least lived a good life before it was snatched away, never to be seen again.

He linked his fingers behind his head and prepared for shift change. Even though the female guard, that worked nights, was mean as a rattlesnake, he would rather see her than another man. He was surrounded by enough of them. Although not his type, he could appreciate her presence due to his current situation.

The main door buzzed, signaling shift change. He prepared himself for the highlight of his night, by closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. Using the shadow of light from the hallway, he planned to watch Officer Johnson, as she conducted count. She presented a tough exterior to the world, but he had a feeling she was more miserable than he was, if that was humanly possible. The door to his block opened, causing his heart rate to pick up speed, and his penis to jump up from its slumber.

Footsteps sounded on the concrete floor, as she moved slowly through the aisles, counting each head. He inhaled and a sweet scent assaulted his nostrils. The spellbinding fragrance sent his mind into a tailspin, obliterating his composure. His eyes flew open and his mouth soon followed. It was an officer, but not the mean Officer Johnson he had been expecting. Not that he was complaining. In fact, he was ecstatic. Although, by his stoic demeanor, one would never know.

With every kilowatt available, he scrutinized her departing form. He imagined the lush curves, he was sure he would find under better lighting. At that moment, he realized how much he had taken the small luxury of light for granted, because at present, he had never wanted illumination more.

His mind worked overtime wondering if she was the new floater or just a replacement for the night. One thing was for sure, sleep wouldn't find him tonight. As a matter of fact, if she was the new night floater, sleep could take a vacation, because now, he had better things to do during the night.

He didn't dare blink as he watched her enter the pod, and take a seat. It appeared she would be monitoring his section. Maybe she was new, and learning the routine by conducting count. It didn't matter, he was just glad to be in her presence, and praying he would see her again, even if she wouldn't waste a glance on a nobody like him.

...

Catherine opened the door and took a seat close to the other officer, Tess, whom she had met before conducting count.

"So, what do you think so far?" Tess asked.

"I haven't seen a lot. Ask me by the end of the week and I'll sure I'll have a more definitive answer. How long have you worked at this facility?"

"I've been here two years, but this is my first time working this floor. I have the honor of training you tonight, so that's the only reason why I'm here. We normally rotate floors, but due to the high turnover rate, we haven't been able to."

They both looked up at the same time, when their peripherals caught movement in the sleeping area. A stunned Catherine stared, unable to utter a word. It was dark, but by the silhouette, the inmate was one fine specimen. Tess laughed at her controlled facial expression.

"Don't worry, we've all been shocked by that particular prisoner. He is even better looking up close with lights on. He is a model inmate unless you provoke him. Only one person has been crazy enough to try and with the beating he inflicted on the idiot, no one has dared challenge him since. At this point, he doesn't have anything to lose, since he is going to be executed by the end of the week."

Catherine gasped, to her own dismay. "What did he do?" She asked, her face registering surprise.

"He killed his fiancée, but he claims to have no recollection of the crime or of his past. His name is Vincent Keller, but you are to refer to him as prisoner 513. His files are classified, so we were only told of his crime and nothing else."

"I know the inmates on death row are assigned numbers at the end, to prevent us from seeing them as people, but how heartless. I don't know how to feel about that," Catherine said.

"I agree, but in the past female guards fell in love with inmates slated for execution and the outcome wasn't pretty. I don't think calling the prisoners by a number will change others feelings or opinions of them, if anything it makes the remorseful ones feel worse, but then that could be the intent.'

Catherine watched as he left the toilet area and walked back to his bunk. Her heart went out to prisoner 513. She wanted to know more about him, but if Tess was right, then she wouldn't get the opportunity. With all of her training, she found herself ill-prepared to handle the unexpected situation.

"Does anyone visit him?" She asked, ignoring her training and delving into uncharted territory.

"No. At least not while I've been here. I only see him every now and then, since I don't work on this floor. He works in the infirmary and everyone says he is very skilled at it. He doesn't converse with anyone though. Very few people have had a conversation with him. Although, from what I'm told, he appears to be well-educated, but again, that's hearsay."

"Why is he in general population, if he's on death row?"

"He is considered a trustee, if that makes sense. We all have questions about prisoner 513, but only the warden has the answers."

"Very few things surprise me, but I find myself at a lost for words."

"Welcome to my world."

The rest of the night passed without another appearance from Vincent, but he never left her mind. She refused to refer to him by a number. He was a person and she would treat him as such. As a young girl, she had attempted to rescue every stray animal she came across, which had her questioning if she was mimicking her past behavior. In her heart, she knew wasn't, but her thoughts were far from the norm. Was her life that unfulfilled that she would gravitate towards an inmate? After all, she had job to do, and an investigation to conduct.

A/N: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED.