(This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

Faces of Love

Angie

Everything that lives,
Lives not alone, nor for itself

William Blake

 

Catherine had never seen Vincent’s face look so vulnerable – and so beautiful.

When he had shown her Elizabeth’s beautiful painted tunnels and she had felt the tunnel shake from an explosion, she had not connected the dots immediately. It had never occurred to her that anything could affect the physical reality of life Below. It seemed so solid, so unchanging, so safe.

When Vincent told her that Elliot Burch’s huge tower might mean the end of their world, the expression on his face had almost made her miss the import of his words. He had never looked so helpless in front of her. Even those times when he had asked for her assistance, to do what she could, he had not been asking for himself, but for others. He knew she would do her best – and that it might not be enough.

Of all those Below, he would be most affected by the loss of their world, although he would be the last to admit it. She had seen that knowledge in his eyes, after the dust had settled. He had looked at her with an expression she had never seen before, pleading with her to understand what he was not saying.

How could she fail to realize the danger to him? But there was nothing he could ask this time. He knew she was as helpless as himself.

Had he even realized who was behind the blasting and monstrous construction then? If he had, he had said nothing. He knew what she felt about Elliot. His own emotions about the man were not impartial either. He would never have dreamed of asking her to intercede.

Vincent alone could live nowhere else, as he had told her once. It was not something that needed repeating. She was only too aware of what her world would do to him, if he should be discovered. Perhaps he could live Above, somewhere out of sight, but his life would be so confined, so restricted, that he would die a slow death.

Catherine realized with a sudden clarity, that even if Vincent lived with her, their love would not be enough to sustain him for long. He needed his family, Father, the children, his books, his chamber. He would become a caged lion, in a very literal sense.

She had reminded Vincent of some of that logic, later, when she told him she had decided to accept Elliot’s offer of marriage. She was going to sacrifice her happiness for their world and him. Even as she told Vincent that, and seen his reaction, heard his cry of agony, she had known that Elliot might not be willing to halt his dream tower for her.

Elliot wanted to possess her. That was all he wanted, no matter what he said. Love was not something she believed he understood at all, it wasn’t real to him. Monuments to his vanity were the only things he understood. He wanted her and he could have her – but only on one condition.

She could not tell Vincent that she was, in fact, bartering with Elliot. It made her feel horrible to even think of forcing the man to choose in such a way. What would Vincent think of her? But what else could she do? The DA’s office was helpless.

If Elliot refused her demand, what would she do? She had thought about that too. She would give up her job and disappear from sight. She would move Below to be with Vincent, wherever they had to live. Her money might help make that transition easier for everyone – if any amount of money could do that. She didn’t say anything about that either.

She had not told Vincent this final fallback position. How could she? He would not be able to conceive of her doing such a thing for him - and would have done everything he could to dissuade her. She didn’t want him to know until it was done, too late to change.

She loved Vincent. That much she knew. Even marriage to Elliot would not have changed that – but it would have meant Vincent would live only in her dreams. She would never have seen him again. He would not have allowed their relationship to continue under such circumstances – and she would have felt honour-bound to try and make Elliot happy. Happiness for her would have been impossible, but she would have to pretend. She didn’t want to imagine the horror of that life.

If that came to pass, she wasn’t sure she could resist forever the temptation to try and see Vincent again. She didn’t think she would have the strength. Just as surely, she knew he would refuse to see her. His pain would be intense and he would blame himself for making her aware of the danger in the first place. But if he had not, and the community below had suffered, she would never have forgiven herself for her blindness.

Something had happened between them when the tower was halted – fortuitously by an injunction when Elliot’s machinations had been exposed. She felt less guilty where he was concerned now – and her relief was indescribable. She felt as if she’d been given a new lease on life, was walking on air. Nothing could be the same now.

Vincent had taken her to the painted tunnels again, as if to remind them both what had been saved – more than just pipes, chambers, books and a safe haven. A work of art, Elizabeth’s reason for living, had also been rescued from the jaws of destruction.

Elliot, who had made a point of donating a large amount of money to an art gallery, might have understood the satisfaction in such a deed, but he would have had one eye on his own aggrandisement. Vincent wanted nothing for himself and Elizabeth painted out of love. Elliot would not have understood that either. Anything without monetary or publicity value meant nothing to him – even herself. She would have been paraded around as his trophy. The thought made her feel ill now.

When Vincent hugged her to him between those curved, colourful walls, she had felt all the tension and disgust at herself drain away. She felt closer to him than ever before, and not just physically. It was as if their souls had found a common language. She could feel his heat, his relief, as she put her arms around him and leaned against his chest. She would have given him everything, anything, then, if he had asked, not out of desperation now, but for a love whose bounds were limitless.

His face, when she looked up at him, was just as beautiful as it had been at the beginning of the crisis, but something had changed. He knew now that she would do anything for him, even forsake her own happiness. He could no longer pretend not to know that, or keep himself apart from her. He let her feel his joy at her return to him, and he knew she felt the same. He could have pushed his advantage – Elliot would have – but he was not that kind of man. Almost, she wished he was.

And that, thought Catherine at last, was the reason she loved him so. He was so unselfish, so caring. He had saved her life at the risk of his own, given her a reason to live, a goal in life. There was nothing more he could give her, except himself. And he had now done that, she sensed.

She could have asked him for more too, now that she sensed his relief, tried to move their relationship into that realm she dreamed about. But that would have been a violation of this new trust. She would have to be patient.

Whatever happened in the future, she would remember his face, expressing everything he could not put into words. That beautiful, unique face was speaking to her alone. She felt humbled by it.

She hugged him tighter, felt him respond. They stood thus for a long time, defined only by their love – their own ‘eternity in an hour’.

END