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.
Vincent clenched his hands and closed his eyes, as he lay on the couch in his therapist's office, attempting to stabilize his breathing. The sessions, to him, were a waste of taxpayer's money, and to be honest, his time as well. Succumbing to the constant nagging from Dr. Braunstein, he had agreed to continue the fruitless sessions, much to his chagrin. Today, he had agreed to be hypnotized, and now he was back peddling, wondering if it was the right decision. However, upon on further examination of his inner feelings, he realized he was afraid to hope, to believe that he might recall a memory to help his case.
"I'm ready whenever you are, 513."
His mouth transformed into a grimace, at hearing the number he had come to hate. Ever since Officer Chandler had called him by his name, being called by the number grated on his nerves. She had changed a lot about him in two short days, including his will to live, his desire to fight, and his need to find the answers to save his life.
With three left left before his execution, he resigned himself to try whatever was necessary to jar his memory. With renewed confidence and one beautiful woman fueling his motivation, he opened his eyes with the fight of an army coursing through his blood.
"I'm ready. Leave me under as long as you can. I want to remember," he said and he found he meant it. He had never wanted anything more. Well, there was one other thing or person rather, but for now, hypnosis would take precedence.
A smile crossed the doctor's face, and for the millionth time, he raised his brow and questioned the doctor's persistence in helping him get his memory back. In the back of his mind something about him was familiar, but he couldn't pull the memory forward. If the doctor knew him in the past, surely he would have mentioned it to him, unless he had a more sinister, ulterior motive. Pushing the thought back, he relaxed and prayed for success with the hypnosis.
"Follow the instructions I give you and I'll guide you through the process."
Vincent repeated the words voiced by Dr. Braunstein and soon he drifted into hypnosis. He heard the doctor tell him to relax and concentrate on scaling the wall that was blocking his path. As he ventured through the darkness, he finally spotted a faint line of light. He moved closer and then he heard muffled sounds; piquing his interest. Unable to pinpoint the source, he decided they were a distraction and pressed forward. Several seconds later, he reached a door and grabbed the knob. A voice in his head told him not to enter, not to cross the threshold of evil, but he had come too far to turn back. With his hand shaking beyond his control, he brought his other hand up and steadied it as he turned the knob. The door opened inward, spilling light into the hallway and he probed the space showcased by the illumination. Voices filled his ears and he stopped, hoping to pinpoint the location. And then out of the light she came; red hair, blue eyes, smiling and to his dismay, nude. If he never remembered another face, hers was one he would never forget. He had seen it everyday throughout his trial. His breathing became labored and he felt an ache in his chest, but he ignored it, because he needed answers, and she had them.
"Vincent! Wake up."
He opened his eyes and frowned at the doctor, not realizing the doctor had called him by name. "Why did you bring me out of it!"
"Because you were close to the danger zone. Don't worry, we'll try again tomorrow."
"Fine," he said, even though he was far from fine.
He pushed up off the couch and headed for the door.
"See you tomorrow, Big Guy," Dr. Braunstein said.
It irked him when he called him that, but the doctor had always tried to help him, so he let it slide. Drained and mentally spent, he headed to his section. There was only one person that could make his day better and ironically, she was an officer.
...
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting a spotlight on Catherine's sleeping form. Shortly thereafter, she rolled over and opened her eyes. Squinting through the last remnants of sleep, she looked at the alarm clock. Unable to believe her eyes, she grabbed the clock. After seeing the numbers more clearly, she froze. She was late. Extremely late. Moving with purpose, she ran around the room snatching clothes, before heading into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged in jeans and a t-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Grabbing her keys and purse, she rushed out the front door.
After leaving work earlier, she hadn't been able to fall asleep due to her brain's refusal to shut off. Although, she knew she was being unfair, because she kept thinking of Vincent, so she couldn't fault her brain for wanting to continue thinking about him. He had come to her rescue and she was more than grateful. Even if she could have handled the situation, she couldn't use too much force and risk blowing her cover.
Ten minutes later she parked at the local park and got out. After entering the walking trail, without warning, a hand grabbed her and pulled her deep into the woods. A gasp escaped her mouth, before she reacted and flipped the assailant on the ground. Preparing to deliver another blow, she stopped mid-air when she saw his face.
Her handler.
"Bob, are you crazy? I could have injured you," she said helping him to his feet.
He rubbed his backside. "Who says you didn't?"
"Then it would serve you right, for putting me in the position to assault you."
"Wow. Two months away from the office and you're already baring claws. By the way, you're late. Would it have anything to do with the incident at the prison this morning?"
She paused briefly, gathering her thoughts, knowing she couldn't reveal too much about Vincent.
"No. The incident was handled quickly and efficiently. Fighting and attempted rape and I happened to get in the way. Besides, how do you know about the incident already?"
She studied his facial expression, hoping to get a read on what he knew, as she was sure he was doing the same to her.
"We have another agent working at the prison. They were there long before you agreed to take the assignment. The agent is a watcher and will work there until we can wrap up the case, but your identities won't be revealed to each other. It protects both of you, in case you're ever put in a sensitive situation."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. And then she remembered something Vincent had said about studying people and places. Observing her handler more closely, she hit paydirt. The telltale signs were there, but she hadn't thought to look deeper, because she thought she could trust him. Maybe he wasn't dirty, but he was withholding information from her. She knew he wouldn't simply volunteer the information, so she would have to bide her time and devise a plan of her own.
"Taking your reason into consideration, I believe both of us should have been told. Wouldn't it be more beneficial for us to be allies and help each other, as well as close the investigation sooner?"
"Under normal circumstances, I would agree, but this case is not normal and it's best we proceed as originally planned. Is that going to be a problem?" He asked with a sober look on his face.
The way his eyes bore into her left her feeling unsettled; along with the underlying threat in his words. Something was definitely going on, besides the initial investigation she had been planted in the prison to conduct. Schooling her features, she presented a performance that was Oscar worthy.
"No. No problem at all. I hope to investigate more tonight. I should be able to get off the floor on lunch break, and since I'm new, I can always pretend I'm learning my way around the building."
"Good plan. Oh, by the way, have you met the infamous prisoner 513?"
Okay, that was not a casual question. What had she gotten herself into? And in the grand scheme of things, where did Vincent fit in?
"Actually, I have. I work in his section. His preceding reputation seems to be accurate, if that's what you're wondering," she said, ready to be finished with the conversation.
He chuckled. "I see you haven't lost your skills. I've kept you long enough. I'll see you next week at the same time. The agreed time," he said raising his brow.
"I'll be here," she said as she walked away. She had a puzzle to put together. But first she had to locate all the pieces or players. And there was only person she could trust to help her, and ironically, he was an prisoner.
...
Vincent stared at the clock, despising the slow moving hands, for every second they kept Officer Chandler away from him. Fragments of his past had been flashing in his mind after his hypnosis session, and he needed to talk to someone, well not someone, just her. He had a feeling the information would drop into his mind all at once and trepidation reared its ugly head. He ignored the three day countdown threatening to fuse with his mind and encourage negative thinking. His favorite officer would soothe his worries with a simple glance. He hoped she wasn't afraid to work in his section after the incident that morning. On that front, no inmate would dare touch her again, as long as he inhaled and exhaled the stale institution air. Thinking about the inmate's vile hands caressing her flawless skin, almost had him regurgitating the abominable food served at dinner.
The buzzing of the main door brought him back to present. He stilled his hands at his sides, struggling to remain patient. A few minutes later the door to his section opened, and his heart ran so many laps, he thought he was going into cardiac arrest. Her scent seeped into the air and flowed over to his eager nose. And then she passed by his bunk, leaving an extra helping of pure ecstasy. He closed his eyes and bathed in the fragrant scent that lingered in the otherwise, musty air.
The sound of the other guard leaving interrupted his smelling session, sending his heart on another marathon. Not able to wait any longer, he slid his feet in his shoes and shuffled to the pod. She glanced up and his heart skipped a beat, before resuming anything, but normal activity.
"Hey," he muttered unable to prevent the smile forming on his lips.
"Hi. How was your day?"
Now he was grinning like a lovesick fool and didn't care one iota who thought so. She had reached deep within and touched his soul, by asking about his day. It was funny how the smallest of things were astronomical in prison, like smells, a simple smile, or just someone inquiring about your day.
"It was rough. Dr. Braunstein hypnotized me today, and fragments of my past have been flashing in my mind ever since, but I can't identify anything yet."
He watched her as she listened to him intently. With his keen observation, even under less than perfect light, he knew something was on her mind.
"I hope you figure it out soon."
She didn't say the words, but he knew "soon" meant before his day of doom and gloom.
"What's on your mind tonight?" He asked wondering if she trusted him enough to share it with him. Although, she had shared one secret, that didn't mean she would become an open book to him.
For a moment he didn't think she was going to respond as the silence stretched out. Then she leaned forward and he found himself leaning closer as well, until they were looking at each other through the slot.
"I think my assignment here is a cover-up or a set up for something bigger, and your case is part of it. I can't prove anything right now, but after meeting with my handler today, I am almost hundred percent sure. And to make matters worse, there's another agent working here and neither of us were told about the other person, that is until today."
"What can I do to help?"
She moved her hand toward the slot and he had to blink twice, to make sure he hadn't imagined it. He slid his hand into the slot and grasped her soft hand. No one would ever understand how much joy filled his heart from that small gesture.
"Right now, you're the only person I can trust. I don't think you can do anything, but I feel better knowing I can at least talk to you," she said in a defeated voice.
He squeezed her hand. "I'll do my best to find out what I can," he said hating his situation with a renewed passion.
Reluctantly, he released her hand, committing the feel of it to memory. Before he could say anything else, the door in the hallway buzzed, so he stood up and walked back to his bunk. One man had walked to the pod, but a different one had returned.
He slid under his cover and closed his eyes. He thought about his therapist and how he always said "See you later, Big Guy." For some reason the words swirled around in his head. They meant something to him. He could feel it, but his mind wouldn't recall it. He concentrated hard as the words ran through his mind, over and over, until he saw his therapist's face, only he wasn't his therapist, he was his best friend, JT.
Uncontrollable tears streamed down his cheeks as his past life flooded into his mind. Everything became crystal clear to him. His friend had been working at the prison under an alias, trying to help him get his memory back. His persistence made sense now. Big guy was JT's nickname for him. His friend had been feeding him trigger words for years, trying to assist him in retrieving his memory. The magnitude of JT's loyalty and sacrifice washed over him and more silent tears flowed. But even as he wallowed in sadness and emotional pain, he knew he wanted to fight to live. To fight to be free. And like a flash of lightning, his mind revealed the truth of what happened that fateful night, in absolute clarity. Ten years of being alone. Of being lonely. All because he had been framed.
A/N: Thank you for reading and taking this journey with me and Vincat. I hope you enjoyed, if so, leave me a review.