BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

The music was wonderful, the strings swirling and weaving their magic, building up to the piano section.

They sat close together, Catherine half leaning, half sitting, with her head resting against his massive shoulder, fitting just nicely under his chin.

The evening had developed a chill wind, so he had drawn his cloak about her, and now they were snug and cozy, eyes closed, lost in the music.

Or at least Vincent was.

Catherine sat very still, very tense, hardly daring to breathe. Every muscle in her body was protesting at the way that she was very carefully holding herself, because if she relaxed, she just knew that she was going to disgrace herself by being violently sick all over herself and Vincent.

The stitch was back in her side, only now it was much worse, a searing pain that she had to concentrate very hard on blotting out, because she knew that Vincent would feel it too, and worry.

She had put him through enough worry lately.

Her doubts a while ago.

Her dissatisfaction, her need for more, that had almost driven a wedge between them.

Then, her Dad dying.

He had been her strength during that dark time.

And she knew that it had been harder on him, than on her self.

He had had to be the strong one.

Letting her go back to her life Above.

If she could only get through the end of this concert, his seeing her safely home ...

She would take an aspirin and stay in bed for a week!

And if she was sensible, she would call Peter, her doctor, and get herself checked out!

It was probably just a physical reaction to all her emotional turmoil of late.

But, at that moment, the pain was very real.

And it was getting worse.

She shifted her position, gingerly, moving slightly away from Vincent's warm body.

"Catherine?" His soft voice cut into the swirl of the music, the piano section coming to its crescendo now.

"Mm?" She could not speak for the pain now.

Vincent suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain on his lower right side, and winced, drawing up his knee to try to relieve the discomfort, whilst trying to hide his pain from Catherine.

The stitch in his side had been getting worse since dinner, although he had the strangest feeling that it wasn't really him who was in pain.

Although, at that moment, he could not deny that the physical discomfort was real enough, taking his breath away, in fact.

As soon as the music ended, Catherine scrambled to her feet, and was heading out into the connecting tunnels.

Vincent followed her with a frown, almost barreling into her back, as she suddenly stopped, bending forward, breathing hard.

"Catherine ..." Vincent's tone of voice was edged with concern.

"I'm all right ..." She protested, but swayed alarmingly as she straightened up, her face ashen, eyes wide with fear and pain, and Vincent suddenly realized that it was Catherine's pain that he had been experiencing all this time. "It's just a stitch ..."

"No Catherine, it is more than that. You cannot hide it from me."

He stood before her now, hands on her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed alarmingly once more.

"The pain is here ..." He took his right hand from her shoulder, and placed it low on his right side, close to his hip. "It is sharp, intermittent ... You have had it since lunch time, and it is getting worse."

"Yes ..." She replied in a small voice, perspiration beading on her forehead again as she stared at him in disbelief. "But it will pass ..." She mumbled, trying to reassure him, when in reality she was terrified, panting as she placing a warm hand against the corresponding point on her body, to try to ease the pain.

"No Catherine, I feel it. I have felt it all afternoon, but I didn't know it was you ..."

What was happening to her?

Another pain gripped her and she felt her stomach roil.

Catherine pulled away from him suddenly, and staggered down the tunnel, one hand reaching out, fingers trailing against the cement wall for support, as she suddenly bent double, heaving and retching violently.

"Catherine ..."

Vincent was beside her in an instant, his face full of fear, mirroring her own expression, his deep lapis lazuli eyes filled with pain and concern for her.

"I'm sorry, Vincent ..." Her voice was tight with shame and unshed tears and embarrassment.

"It's all right, Catherine, let me help you. Let me take you to Father ..."

"Yes ..." She said in a very small, sad little voice. "Oh yes Vincent, take me to Father ..."

Vincent scooped her up easily into his arms, and with the greatest care, hurried back towards the golden candle and kerosene lantern glow of the home tunnels.

Catherine clung to him desperately, and he could feel her pain increasing in strength, and her fear too, her arms fastened tightly around his neck, breathing hard, tiny sobs of pain and anguish coming from her lips, her beautiful hair matted and clinging to her forehead and cheeks.

Breathing hard himself, from exertion and driven on by her pain and anguish, Vincent hurried through the home tunnels, towards the hospital chamber, shouting out anxiously for Father in his loudest voice.

Jacob Wells was just about to retire for the evening when he heard a message over the pipes, containing Vincent and Catherine's names, and then he heard the rumpus in a nearby tunnel and his son's anxious voice calling for him.

Pulling on a robe as he went, he followed the sound of Vincent's anguished voice down the familiar route to the hospital chamber, and arrived just in time to see Vincent lay Catherine Chandler down on a small, narrow cot, and turn around quickly, almost knocking Jacob off his feet.

"Father ..."

"Calm down, Vincent," Father placated. "And tell me what happened ..." He instructed.

"Catherine is unwell," Vincent panted.

"I can see that, Vincent, and you don't look one hundred percent yourself ..." Father observed.

"I am all right," Vincent dismissed his concern roughly, his worries all for the woman that he loved. "But Catherine is in pain ... Here ..." Vincent indicated with his large hand to his own lower right side.

"I see ..."

"The pain is acute, and getting worse, a burning sensation, and she is nauseous ..." Vincent explained, still breathless.

"Catherine, did you vomit?" Father asked the almost insensate young woman on the narrow cot, taking her wrist very gently in his right hand and counting out her rapid, thready pulse, noting the fine beads of perspiration on her brow, and her drawn up knees as she lay curled up on her side on the cot.

"Yes," Vincent answered for her.

"Thank you, Vincent. Will you hurry along and get Mary for me …." Father asked his son, knowing that in this agitated condition, he was going to be more of a hindrance than a help if he stayed.

Mary wouldn't be able to do much either, but at least it would get Vincent out from under his feet while he examined Catherine more closely.

"Don't just stand there! She'll be all right with me, Vincent ..." The older man assured. "Go!"

Vincent reluctantly strode out of the hospital chamber, seeking the community's midwife and nurse, Mary.

After Vincent had departed, Jacob leaned close over Catherine and smiled reassuringly.

"Catherine, tell me ... could you be ... pregnant?"

"No ..." Came the firm reply. "We haven't ... not yet ..." She mumbled, blinking rapidly.

"No dear, I don't mean ... you and Vincent ..."

He hid his surprise well, not sure whether to rejoice for his son that this woman could even be contemplating a union in the physical sense, with Vincent, or to be terrified of the consequences, both physical and mental, to both of them, of such a union, Jacob had merely asked the question because he needed to know, and knew that she had had other relationships. He had to be sure that she wasn't still involved with a man from the world Above, and had become pregnant ...

"No."

"I'm sorry my dear, but I had to know. You do understand, don't you?"

He had been trying to eliminate the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy, or even a miscarriage. That at least narrowed down the possibilities for his diagnosis.

"I will try not to hurt you," he warned, reaching down to her lower right abdomen, and applying a gently pressure.

Immediately, Catherine tried to curl up tighter, drawing her knees up into her chest, a moan of pain and fear ripping forth from her lips.

"I'm sorry Catherine ... so sorry ..."

"What is it? " Catherine gasped, shocked and shaken by just how quickly her condition had deteriorated. "What is wrong with me?" She demanded. "Please Father ... help me ... help me ..." She implored.

"Catherine, I cannot ..." Jacob told her firmly, just at the precise instant that Vincent and Mary rushed into the hospital chamber.

"Father? What is it?" Vincent demanded, taking in the shocked, wide eyed expression on Catherine's face, and Jacob's own reticence.

"Jacob, why can't you help me?" Catherine panted, clutching at her side as she tried in vain, to sit up.

"Catherine, please, be still. Look, my dear, I cannot help you, not here. Not now. You must understand. Vincent will have to take you Above. You have to get to a hospital ... right away ... Vincent ..."

"Why can't you help me!" Catherine screamed.

"Father, please!" Vincent beseeched.

"Vincent, I can't."

"Why not!" Vincent roared, unable to believe what Father was saying.

"Vincent, she has appendicitis. She needs immediate surgery. We can't waste any time." Father tried to reason.

"Then you do it."

Vincent grabbed two large handfuls of Father's loose robes and pulled him roughly against him, so that they were face to face.

"You're a surgeon. You operate!"

"It's not as simple as that, Vincent," Jacob tried to be calm.

"Yes it is. You operated on Mouse when Cullen stabbed him! Why can't you operate on Catherine? If you don't, she could die!" Vincent's anger was a terrible thing to behold, fire in his eyes, his breath coming in short, rasping gasps.

"There is your answer, Vincent. Think about it," Father again tried to reason. "How would Catherine explain to the world Above, how and where she had her appendix removed? It was all right for me to stitch up her face, Vincent but this is major surgery! It is too risky ..."

"Oh God, somebody help me!" Catherine moaned in anguish, as she writhed in agony on the cot.

"Father," Mary, alarmed by the murderous expression on Vincent's face came to stand beside Jacob now. "She needs our help ..."

"And the only help we can give her is to get her to the surface as quickly as we can, and from there, to a hospital." Jacob explained. "There is no other option ..."

"Then you won't operate?" Vincent seethed.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Vincent, I just can't ..."

Vincent let go of Father's disheveled clothes and began to pace back and forth across the hospital chamber, his head in his hands as he tried to think.

"Vincent, there would be too many questions that Catherine would not be able to reasonably answer. Would you put her on the spot like that? Would you endanger all of us? You know that there would be speculation, questions. They would not let it alone, Vincent, you know that ... Catherine ..."

Father turned sad, sapphire blue eyes on the young woman in obvious distress, his own pain at his inability to help her obvious in his eyes, as they implored her to help him make Vincent see reason.

"You know that I would help you, if I could my dear ..."

"Yes Father, it's all right. I understand, and you are right, of course," she gasped. "Vincent, take me Above. Please," she looked at him appealingly. "Take me to Peter., He'll know what to do. He'll call an ambulance. Father is right. Too many questions ... No answers. Someone would be suspicious ..."

"Vincent, they're both right," Mary lent her voice to the proceedings now.

"And we don't have time for further debate!" Father put in.

With a look that was pure venom, Vincent scowled at Father and said: "I will never forgive you for this ..."

"Fine. Kill me when you get back," Jacob sighed deeply. "Now get going. I'll get word to Peter ..."

Vincent scooped Catherine carefully up into his secure arms, then, and hurried out of the hospital chamber.

"I'll take care of everything, Vincent," Father called after his son, not wanting to dwell on his previous scathing words. "Don't worry, Catherine, all will be well ..."

"No thanks to you!" Vincent muttered darkly as he hurried down the tunnel way with Catherine in his arms.

"Oh Mary, what else was I to do?" Father asked forlornly.

"He's very upset, Father ..."

"I know ..."

"He didn't mean it, any of it ..."

"Yes, he did," Father sighed sadly. "And if it had been anyone else, I probably would have operated, but ..."

"Father, you have the whole community to consider. Right now, Vincent is just thinking about Catherine and himself. The woman that he loves is in pain and he is afraid ..."

"He came to me for help, Mary, and I turned him away," Jacob muttered. "What have I done?"

"The only thing that you could do, Father," Mary assured. "And keep us all safe."

She rested a warm hand on his arm, drawing his pained, sapphire gaze.

"I am sure that when she is well again, Catherine will help Vincent to see your side of the dilemma ..."

"I hope so Mary, I hope so ..."