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

Forgotten Seas

-by Angie

Nothing is wasted, nothing is in vain:
The seas roll over but the rocks remain.

- A.P Herbert

It was quiet Below when Vincent awoke. It was still very early and Catherine, beside him, was breathing softly. For a wonder, they were not touching, which meant that he might be able to extract himself without awakening her.

A memory nagged him. Last night, Catherine had been remembering visits to Connecticut and Massachusetts beaches, the soft sand, the salty waves. She had sounded wistful – as well she might, since she would never be able to go there again. Well, she could, but not with him. He, of course, had never seen such places, although he had a good imagination; his dreams had been of warm seas rolling over him. Now it was many hours until dawn and he couldn’t sleep. He had an idea and a long-ago memory to follow up. He might as well do it now.

He slid carefully from the bed and stood for a moment, naked in the dim light of the stained-glass window. It was summer, so even now there was some light – and it was warmer than usual too. He had found lately that he didn’t need the many layers he had worn traditionally. His body hair, more like fur in places, kept him warm if he relied on it and let his body adapt. Catherine had changed that in him too. Like her, he didn’t want to be burdened with clothes that were difficult to remove at appropriate times. Just thinking about those times made him warm.

He sighed softly and found a sweat suit on his trunk that was his favourite lounging outfit these days. It was a slim line, but stretchy and comfortable. It would be perfect for his purposes. He slipped it on and then a pair of soft boots before looking around. What else? He did not plan to be gone long, but one of William’s waybars was hard to resist. He put it into a pocket, then on impulse added a small bright flashlight Catherine used occasionally. He left through the privacy curtain without a sound.

Catherine watched Vincent as he covered his nakedness, trying hard not to get aroused at the sight. He didn’t turn to her, so it must have worked – or he was distracted with his plan. She wondered where he was going, but had been well-aware that he had not slept as soundly as he did usually. Something they had discussed had made him restless. She did not have to think long to conclude what that was. The ocean! Vincent obviously had an idea – but she hoped it was one that would get him back before breakfast. He never missed a meal if he could help it, so she was reasonably sure he would be back in time.

She opened her side of the bond completely, realizing as she did so that Vincent was not trying to mask his excitement or hide anything. She relaxed and let herself follow her big lover on his journey, a silent partner. It was one of the joys of their bond.

Vincent ran up the spiral staircase to a tunnel not far below the surface and jogged for some miles along the wider passages. This was an area of the world Below he seldom visited. He waved at the last sentry and entered a section where he was alone but for the local vermin. He cast his mind back to the day he had watched a seaman jump from a ship and swim to shore. The Russian sailor had been ill and died suddenly, just as he seemed to be improving. He had left behind a plague that had taken the life of Ellie, a child he and Catherine had rescued. It was a painful memory, a reminder that they did not know all the dangers of the world Above – and that an act of kindness could have devastating results.

But there was something else about that day. He had been in tunnels that night he seldom traveled. He knew the smell of the sea, because even in New York, the ocean could not be ignored. There had been violent Atlantic storms which had flooded those distant tunnels, and some of the seawater had penetrated even his own world. It made sense, then, that there might be a hidden pool somewhere in the mass of tunnels he hadn’t explored, the ones under or near the ocean. He might be able to find something by following his nose.

Catherine allowed her mind to wander. Vincent was very much absorbed in his running, so she could take the opportunity to mull on her favourite subject … who else? She could do it now because he was distracted and not likely to pick up her more subtle emotions. She glanced over at the portrait Kristopher had given her and its one oddity got her thinking.

Vincent’s hands! Surely they were one of the most wonderful parts of a man she loved beyond all others. In the portrait, Vincent was portrayed wearing gloves. Those gloves were ones he had worn on that wonderful Hallowe’en night so long ago. But how had Kristopher known? Vincent had certainly not been wearing them in the warehouse. More to the point, why had he put gloves on Vincent in the portrait? Had he been afraid of distracting the viewer from the message of enduring love that was being conveyed so eloquently? The gloves didn’t even hint at Vincent’s long nails. A impartial viewer might wonder why Vincent wore those velvet gloves, but since their colour almost matched her dress, might suppose they were going out for an evening of entertainment.

Catherine knew that Vincent was, a least nominally, left-handed. She glanced at the shelf next to the bed, were a growing row of journals resided, a couple more added every year. He did not write in them as often as he had once, but when he did, he wrote for at least a couple of hours. She supposed she should be grateful that a typewriter held no attraction for him, although the picture he would make typing on an old Remington would be something she would love to see.

He always wrote in his journals here in his chamber. He never did so in their brownstone. He had a beautiful writing hand, one that she treasured in the books he had given her, always with an apt dedication. She had never read his journals, had not even asked to. Even between loving couples, some privacy was important. If he wanted her to see them, he would tell her.

She concentrated on thinking of his hands as he traveled away from her.

Vincent reached the tunnel he remembered, the one which had a manhole leading to the port area. He had fallen down this one after that memorable night where he had saved Catherine and Elliott – and cut his hand on a thug’s long blade. That scar was with him still. He felt it every time he clutched something with his left hand.

Memories! They were distracting him. Vincent pushed them aside and found the small tunnel he remembered passing so long ago, the one with the strong salty scent wafting from it. He had not followed it then or since. There had been no reason to. Now he was curious.

It was almost a drainage culvert, and several times he had to bend down to avoid banging his head. He was grateful he had not worn his cloak with its wide shoulders. The passage floor was very damp in places too.

Then the salty smell became stronger. Soon, he reached a downward section and it became noticeably colder. He must be under the harbour now! It was dim, but not completely dark, for which he was grateful. There was some phosphorescent lichen on the walls. He had not brought a lantern, but he could see well in dim light. If there was none at all, he was as blind as everyone else. No one could see where there was no light source at all. That was a myth he had had to disabuse people of.

He traveled as quickly as he could, keeping one hand on the walls and using his nose as much as his eyes. Finally, he found another tunnel, this one running parallel to the now distant shore, and actually heading back in the direction of the habitable tunnels.

Vincent was now very intrigued. He knew he had never been in this section before. The light was slightly better and he moved quickly. At least he was going towards breakfast, not away from it. He rounded a corner into light. What he saw stopped him dead.

He stood at the entrance to a vast chamber whose walls seemed to be pulsing with glittering ripples. He looked around and spotted the source of the reflections, a pool on the far side. He wondered how this cave had come to be, and realized at once that it had an attraction important to ancient peoples. Salt! It was everywhere, blocks, crystals and mounds of it. It was also a lot warmer than the tunnel he had just left.

Vincent padded across the chamber and marveled at a place so colourful, even in the dim light. The light source seemed to be coming from different places. He looked up at one bright spot and realized it was like a tiny porthole. He must be seeing the water through a quartz crystal window. This might even be an extension of the crystal cave where he had found Catherine’s crystal. The salt had come from a different eon to the quartz and finding them together was a miracle. He shook his head in disbelief. Obviously there were still wonders to discover in their underground world!

Every facet of the salt crystals seemed to magnify the light. It was magical. This source of salt would interest Father. There might be some trace minerals of use to the tunnel community as well. He picked up a few crystalline samples of different colours and put them in his pocket to take back, Trace elements were something the community Below needed to keep healthy. Father had written treatises on the effect of a life underground on the human body.

Vincent stood looking down at the pool. It was surrounded by white sand, salt undoubtedly, but seemed deep and clean. He bent over to dip his finger in it and found it cool but not cold. He tasted it and sensed nothing but salt. This pool was probably as saline as the Dead Sea!

Without further ado, Vincent stripped off his clothes and settled into the water. Yes indeed, he could float almost on the top, without thought or movement. Glorious! He let himself relax. Then realized belatedly that he had an audience of sorts. Catherine! He sent a shiver of love and happiness down the bond.

Catherine felt Vincent’s amazement and pleasure at whatever he had discovered and was a bit envious. She immediately gave up her own reminiscences. He was enjoying himself and she wanted to enjoy whatever it was with him. She felt him realize she was hitch-hiking and basked in the love he sent her, while sending him a blast of her own. He felt very relaxed, floating almost. He was! He had found a place to swim! Now she really was jealous! She wanted to hear all about it when he returned.

As if on cue, she felt him realize he had better return. Good. But where was he? She got up from bed and put on a housecoat, then sat in his big chair. She could sense that he wasn’t far away, although that puzzled her. He had gone off in quite a different direction. Her sense of their whereabouts wasn’t as good as his, but she knew had gone one way and was now a lot closer, although long way below her.

Vincent left the pool and gathered up his clothes. He was too wet to put them on, but it wasn’t cold in the chamber. He looked around, trying to find an exit other than the one he had entered. He hated retracing his steps and this time it would take a long time. His stomach was reminding him it was almost time for breakfast. He could sense that he was not far from the home tunnels if he could find another way back. Catherine seemed almost close, compared to earlier. He found a possible exit on the shore side of the chamber. It was logical there might be several ways in if this had been a popular source of salt for the ancients. He hoped the route was safe and had not collapsed in the interim.

He moved quickly to the opening and saw that it seemed to lead inward and upwards, both directions he wanted now. He took the route cautiously at first, wanting to let his eyes adapt to the relative darkness again. But the tunnel walls were good solid bedrock, albeit with hints of quartz crystals in them. He was now convinced he would eventually emerge somewhere he knew, although he couldn’t imagine how he could have missed a tunnel like this anywhere near the hub. He’d bet even Mouse didn’t know of this one. He’d have been sure to tell everyone. The entrance must be very well hidden indeed.

Gradually he became aware of the sound of rushing water. He quickened his pace, daring to hope. He knew only one place with that sound. After a couple of tight squeezes and a hairpin bend, he had to bend down. He emerged from behind a large rock and into daylight. He looked up. Sure enough, he was just to one side and far below the big waterfall. He could look across and up at the ledge he and Catherine often sat upon. Big rocks on both sides of the tunnel hid it completely. He felt dwarfed by them. They were the size of houses! He had never been here, but the route across the chasm to the habitable tunnels was one he knew. He and other boys had often jumped from rock to rock to get below the waterfall, to fish in the pool there. Somehow, they had missed this opening. Well, the rocks were large, smooth verticals and seemed welded to the cliff and each other. There was no way even he could have climbed them.

Vincent stood for a while, letting the breeze generated by the waterfall dry him. Then he got dressed again and found the rock path. His legs were longer now and jumping from rock to rock was relatively easy. Soon he was just below the viewing ledge. He climbed up and stood there for a minute, gazing back over at where he guessed the new tunnel entrance was. There wasn’t a hint of it and it would certainly be a challenge to reach in any normal way. Not everyone would want to jump boulders to do so. Maybe they could construct a kind of stone causeway part way across. The salt would make that undertaking worthwhile. He’d have to talk to Father - later.

He moved swiftly down the tunnels to his chamber. Catherine was sitting on his chair, obviously waiting impatiently for his story. He grinned at her, and then realized he was feeling very uncomfortable. His body was beginning to itch so ferociously that he was distracted from the amorous emotions tickling him along their bond.

With a grunt, he removed his boots and sweatsuit, carefully putting the salt crystals on the table before looking at himself – quite aware that Catherine was enjoying the sight. Had he developed a rash from all that salt? No, but he seemed to be coated in white powder. Salt! Of course! He looked over at Catherine, who was chuckling.

"I see you found a saltwater swimming hole. Ah Vincent, in all my talk of the ocean, I forgot to mention one thing. After a swim, everyone needs to have a fresh water shower. The salt is nice to swim in, but unpleasant to wear."

"Then it’s a good thing that the route to it starts and ends in the Chamber of the Falls," he told her, trying not to scratch himself.

"Does it? But you went the opposite way. That must have been quite a journey. I want to hear all about it."

"It was an interesting trip, but all steps lead home, it seems, Catherine. But the next few are going to take me to our bath chamber. I have to get this stuff off me. Care to join me?"

She did.

END