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

Two Solitudes

by Angie

It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion;
it is easy in solitude to live after our own.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

MacGyver had decided to go for a walk around New York while awaiting the final details on a job for the Phoenix Foundation. He seldom came here – did not like cities as a rule - but was always fascinated by New York, a city so complex, so multi-layered, that it was almost dreamlike.

He walked without any particular goal, just to feel the pavement beneath his feet and mingle with the crowds. He wore sunglasses and his clothing was "street-casual" – his boss would have said rumpled. He needed a haircut too, as usual. He walked quickly, knowing full well that anyone suspected of being a tourist could become a target. He did not want to get into a street fight.

His mind wandered and he had not been paying much attention to his surroundings when he came up short. It seemed he had subconsciously entered a quieter area. He seemed to be on the perimeter of a vast construction site but didn’t remember passing any warning signs. He looked around. Well, he could just head left down that street up there – he hated retracing his steps – and be back with the crowds in a few minutes. He turned down a street which seemed empty of life. He looked up and realized the windows had no glass and it was spookily silent. Not even an abandoned car. That meant that the whole section was probably slated for demolition – and very soon. Fortunately, he could see no indication it was happening today. His boss would never let him live that down!

With a sigh he marched on. At the next street, he would turn left again. By then he would have done three sides of a square and theoretically should be close to where he had entered this zone. At the next corner, he looked left and saw what looked like cars and people at the far end. He turned and walked swiftly towards the distant activity.

Suddenly he stumbled and shifting to catch himself, suddenly found himself sinking through the road amid a tumble of old planks. He tried to catch the edges of the hole, but the entire mess suddenly gave way and he found himself careening down some kind of metal slide. He came to rest, far below the street, in a mud puddle with his feet against a brick wall, dust filtering down on him. He was lying on the floor of a tunnel running at right angles to the slide. Above him there was a metallic snick as if a trap door had re-set.

MacGyver could hear tapping and struggled to his feet, shaking off some of the debris and wincing at the sharp pain in his left foot. He looked up. There was no way he could climb back up the way he had come down. The shaft’s sides were smooth and there was no light at the top. His trusty penknife would not get him out of this one. He didn’t have a piece of string in his pocket - and he wasn’t even wearing a belt.

He looked both ways down the tunnel and was relieved when he saw two people come towards him – one a small, casually but well-dressed woman, and the other a large man in a voluminous black cloak. MacGyver felt uncharacteristically disoriented. What where these people doing here? As they got closer, he realized there was something odd about the caped figure’s face. He stiffened.

Catherine and Vincent were strolling around the perimeter tunnels, something they often did now to escape the hustle and bustle of the hub Below while their children were in classes. There was virtually no danger since most of the old entries had been decommissioned. Doors into the world Below were now strictly controlled from shop fronts and the two brownstones owned by Catherine and Vincent. Getting rid of the danger represented by uncontrolled street entries had made life easier on sentries and safer for everyone else.

A message suddenly sounded over the pipes and both stopped to listen, then looked at each other.

"Mouse trap?" Catherine asked. "What on earth does that mean?"

Vincent grunted. "It means that one of Mouse’s old man traps has caught an intruder. I told him to close them off properly, but someone has evidently fallen through one in a construction zone. We’d better make sure they aren’t hurt and help them back out. We’re the closest. I’ll keep my hood up."

Vincent wore his cloak, even on these excursions. He felt undressed without it, he told Catherine. She loved that garment the way she loved what was inside it - and she understood his fears. They were hers as well. It was best to be safe.

They rounded a tunnel curve and saw the intruder, who looked somewhat the worse for wear, but at least was on his feet, if a little askew. Catherine moved in front of Vincent and approached the man, who was tall, raggedly blonde and good-looking in a weather-beaten kind of way.

"Hello. My name is Catherine and we’re here to help you. I’m afraid you’ve fallen afoul of an old security device. Come with us."

Catherine extended her hand and the man shook it, glancing at her, but positively staring at Vincent. Even with his hood close around his face, she knew the man would sense something unusual.

"My name is MacGyver." the man said slowly. He seemed stunned. Catherine’s mouth quirked.

Vincent, well aware of what even a glimpse of his face could engender in the initiated, decided it was better now than later. With a careful flick that kept his hand hidden, his hood fell back. He looked at the man expressionlessly, but spoke quietly.

"My name is Vincent, Mr MacGyver. We just happened to be closest. We owe you an apology at the very least."

MacGyver was uncertain which was the more shocking – the fully-revealed appearance of Vincent, or the fact that he could talk – and so well. Or maybe it was the beautiful woman who had returned to snuggle under the spreading arm of the enormous cloak, her whole demeanor expressing her connection to him. What mysterious world had he had fallen into? He almost wondered if he was dreaming, but a sudden pain in his foot as he shifted disabused him of that. He spoke quietly, aware that his voice echoed a little in the empty tunnels.

"I … I think I twisted my ankle - I swallowed about a quart of dust. Could I trouble you for a drink of water?"

The two people looked at each other. Catherine spoke.

"Of course you may, Mr MacGyver. We owe you some hospitality and an explanation."

"Please call me Mac."

Catherine nodded. "We’d better give you a hand ... um ..Mac."

Vincent approached him and he felt a strong hand under his arm. He tried not to flinch at the sight of long hairy fingers tipped with sharp nails. He felt Vincent quiver and knew that he had felt that slight cringe. MacGyver felt suddenly guilty and straightened. After all, the man was trying to help him. He gave Vincent a polite ‘thank you’ and waited.

Catherine meanwhile, picked up a brick shard and tapped on a nearby pipe. She waited until a series of distant taps sounded then looked at Vincent.

"Let’s go," she declared for MacGyver’s benefit.

They wound along a number of brick-lined and then rock-hewn tunnels, all obviously very old, but dry and clean, Catherine moving quickly ahead of them and then out of sight. When they met up with her, she stood next to a door in the tunnel wall. Vincent helped him through, then walked behind him up a set of wooden stairs and along a corridor. They emerged into a bright hallway and the unmistakable smell of antiseptics. MacGyver was ushered into a clean-looking clinic, where a tall man in a white coat awaited them.

"Thank you for coming, Peter," Vincent rumbled. "Good thing you were nearby.

"Mr MacGyver, this is Dr. Alcott, a good friend and our family physician."

Peter approached MacGyver and shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you. I hear you had an accident. Please take off your shirt and that shoe and sit on this table. I’ll take a good look at you."

MacGyver did as he was told and the doctor examined his foot closely. It hurt when it was moved, but did not seems swollen, he was glad to see. The doctor wrapped a length of elastic bandage around it, and MacGyver was surprised how much better that felt. However, now that his back was exposed to the air, it felt as if it had been flayed.

Peter finished with the foot and then moved to examine his back.

"Yes, there are some abrasions. Catherine, can you bring me the antiseptic and some cotton balls. I’ll have to clean this."

Catherine did so and then sat down next to Vincent. MacGyver winced as Peter began to clean his back.

Vincent, meanwhile, had removed his cloak completely and sat on a chair on the far side of the small room. MacGyver regarded him, realizing he did not look nearly so scary in this context. In fact, his face was almost noble, now he could see it properly. There was intelligence in the deep-set blue eyes and the voice was soft and cultured. Vincent was obviously aware of his attention and MacGyver relaxed a bit. Vincent was the least of his problems. He would have some explaining to do when he got back to the office. What would his boss say if he learned that his best operative had fallen down a hole?

However, his curiosity was soon more acute than his discomfort. He asked the question uppermost in his mind. Nothing about the past half hour made any sense to him – at least in the world that he thought he knew.

"Can you tell me who you are, what all this is?" He looked at Vincent as he said this and saw the big man drop his head.

Catherine looked over at Vincent, who looked at her and nodded. She spoke quietly and carefully.

"Mr MacGyver, we are part of a community which few people know about. We are secretive because we must be, for Vincent’s sake, as well as for the many others we help and protect. We live apart. Our world would be destroyed were it to be discovered.

"You represent an extreme danger to us, but I think you’re an intelligent man. I feel we can trust you. I must ask that you do not tell anyone what happened to you or what you have seen – or will see - today. Can you do this?"

MacGyver regarded Catherine and smiled. She smiled in return. So, his charm had not left him yet. That was some consolation after his embarrassing fall.

"My apologies for my curiosity," he said at last. "I was stupid to walk into a construction zone. My boss would have me demoted to the lost and found department. I don’t know where I am, but your secret is safe with me. I’d like to be your friend."

Vincent spoke then.

"Mr MacGyver, you are the victim of one of our community’s more brilliant but errant souls. Our apologies are insufficient recompense for what you have gone through. However, Catherine is correct. We are all endangered by the presence of a stranger who is not one of us. If you wish to become a friend – we call them helpers - we would be honoured, but you must understand that this comes with great responsibility. You would never be able to tell anyone about us, or visit us other than secretly. We can show you how to do that safely, but you must always come alone."

MacGyver nodded and saw the three others relax. He began to realize that there was far more at stake than their words indicated. He wondered what more there could be.

"I am grateful that you found me and rescued me. It was unexpected and more than I deserve for daydreaming. If I did that on the job, I’d be dead. But I’d like to see more of your world, if I could - and this errant soul of yours. I suspect we have something in common. That was the most unusual hole I’ve ever fallen down."

Peter spoke gravely, but his eyes twinkled.

"Mr MacGyver, you are lucky to have nothing worse than a few scrapes. Your foot isn’t broken, just sprained. Just walk carefully for a few days and keep on that elastic bandage. As for a visit Below, I’m sure that can be arranged. You’ll be surprised. But that foot will mean you can’t see some of the more unusual sights." He looked at Vincent as he said this and received a nod of agreement in return.

"Thank you, Doctor." MacGyver shook Peter’s hand and stood up, and began to put his shirt back on. It was dirty and torn, although his jeans were tough and merely dirty. He grimaced.

As if reading his mind, Vincent spoke up.

"Mr MacGyver, your clothing has been damaged. If you’ll wait a few minutes, I’ll get you something else to wear. You and I are about the same height."

He left and MacGyver looked at Peter and Catherine.

"I … I’ve never seen anyone like Vincent," he said, unnecessarily.

"There is no one else exactly like Vincent," Peter declared, looking at Catherine and then at his watch. "He’s the heart and soul of our community, and Catherine’s husband. They have three children. I’m telling you this because I think you’ll be meeting them shortly."

There was a sudden clatter in the hallway outside and three children burst into the room, pushing the door so that it hid MacGyver, still standing near the examining table. One child seemed to be about 10 or 11 years old and the twins two or three years old.

Catherine rose and spoke sharply.

"Jacob, Jennifer, Joseph! How dare you burst into the clinic like this. Where are your manners?"

Jacob spoke up. Obviously excited.

"I’m sorry, Mom, but Mouse made us this and I had to show you." He waved around a complex wire construction that defied description. MacGyver’s thought it most resembled an oversized fishing lure. Several parts were in constant movement and there was something like a windmill on one end. Jacob whirled around and the device buzzed, clattered and pinged. The twins were chuckling as they ducked the device, revealing small canines.

Vincent came into the room carrying a handful of clothes and almost shouted. MacGyver saw a set of much larger teeth revealed in full and held in his surprise with difficulty.

"Jacob, stop that immediately. This is a clinic, not a gymnasium!"

Jacob stopped abruptly half way round a twirl and hung his head. The twins started to giggle – until Vincent gave them a look which made them stand straight and drop their eyes.

Jacob looked up, spotted MacGyver and stood stock still, the device forgotten in his hand. The twins, also abruptly realizing there was a stranger, froze.

MacGyver saw that Jacob resembled his mother, but that the twins had a definite resemblance to Vincent. He shook his head in amazement.

Catherine addressed MacGyver.

"Mr … Mac … I’m sorry for this interruption. I thought we had raised more polite children. I’m afraid they’ll have to come with us back to the tunnels, but if they don’t behave, we’ll send them to Father to recite the times tables."

All three children, MacGyver noticed, now looked at their mother. They said nothing, but looked contrite. He suspected they had been taught to be wary of strangers too. Small wonder.

Vincent gave MacGyver the clothes he had brought.

"Mr MacGyver, here’s some clothes, including a bulky sweater – and a bag for your own clothes. It will be chilly in the tunnels, so you’ll need something extra. We’ll wait for you in the den down the hall."

The shirt was a soft flannelette with patched elbows. It was amply large. He and Vincent might be of similar height, but there was no doubt as to who was the larger. He folded his clothing into the cloth bag and joined the others, whereupon they all trudged downstairs again into the tunnels.

This time, their route led steadily downwards and indeed became a great deal colder. His foot gave him only minor twinges, for which he was grateful, especially when they headed down what seemed like an endless steel staircase. All along the route, there was the sound of tapping, the same kind of code Catherine had used. Ingenious to use existing pipes – and ones that presumably had been long derelict. Errant breezes seemed to hint at mysterious ventilation he wished he could explore further

When they reached what Vincent termed "the Hub", MacGyver had to remind himself to close his mouth, which kept dropping open in astonishment. It was a world he could not have imagined, even in his dreams. The fact of it was incredible, but the organization require to make it livable was even more so, as was the obvious sense of community evident everyone they met.

Vincent gave the tour, while Catherine held onto the twins, who were now bouncing around as if on springs. Jacob trailed behind. Eventually, she tapped on a nearby pipe and was obviously relieved when an older woman took the three children in tow with a smile.

"I’m sorry … Mac. Our children do not see many strangers. Mary is our den mother."

MacGyver nodded, somewhat overwhelmed by what he had seen already. These people were living full, rich lives – despite their underground, off-the-grid, existence.

When he met the man they called Father, in a cavern lined with books, MacGyver suddenly realized that he had been on parole until that point. Father smiled at him and welcomed him to the community. MacGyver had no trouble sensing the air of command and responsibility which seemed to hang about the patriarch. He had learned to spot that in his work. He made a point of being polite and for the next few minutes was given a encapsulated history of the community. He was sure there was a lot more – but what he heard told him that this community had had its social as well as physical challenges.

When he was introduced to Mouse’s chamber, MacGyver, for the first time, felt the presence of a kindred spirit. Quite obviously the man was a mechanical genius – but quite undisciplined and probably untutored as well. As he looked around, he ached to pick up things he saw and examine them more closely. He did pick up a tiny, steel pipe wrench, the kind that used to be sold as toys. It looked old – and the screw adjustment worked smoothly. The table where he put it back was piled with enough gizmos and oddments to build almost anything - but the owner seemed to be absent. Someday, MacGyver thought, he’d like to spend a day here with him.

Vincent made a sound of frustration.

"Mouse seems to have gone into hiding, Mr MacGyver. But not for long, I assure you. He has an apology to make before you leave."

The tour ended in Vincent’s chamber and the three of them sat in his chamber, talking. MacGyver express his amazement and was gratified to see his two hosts smile with pride.

MacGyver now had just one large matter of curiosity - Vincent and Catherine themselves. She was obviously not from the tunnels, and just as obviously someone special to the community. He looked at them and saw their recognition of the unspoken question.

Vincent spoke. "I’m sure you’re curious about us, Mr MacGyver. We met one night 12 years ago. Catherine was attacked and left for dead in the park. I found her and brought her here."

"I fell in love with his voice before I saw him," Catherine said softly. "No woman could be more fortunate. I have a wonderful lover, husband and father to our children. He is all that I am, all that I can hope to be. We are one."

Catherine’s look as she said this made MacGyver envious. Vincent continued.

"And Catherine changed my life - is my life. I would be nothing without her."

MacGyver noticed that they were again looking at each other as if they had no need of words. Perhaps they didn’t. He spoke softly, feeling more like an intruder than ever.

"I’m afraid I’m a confirmed bachelor. My job doesn’t allow me the luxury of long term relationships. I … uh … solve problems of the more dangerous kind."

Neither said anything to this disclosure, or asked for more. He suddenly noticed that a tapping had started and his hosts smiled at him.

"Would you care to join us for lunch," Mr MacGyver?"

He thanked them and accepted, grateful that no one would be looking for him. Peter had offered to make sure a message reached his boss. He had kept it vague enough that there would be no awkward questions when he returned.

Lunch proved to be as much of a surprise as the rest. It was superb – a thick home-made vegetable and bean soup with lots of fresh bread. Dessert was custard tarts – and they were better than any he had ever tasted. MacGyver didn’t tell them he was a vegetarian, but he suspected that he had not consumed meat anyway. For once, he didn’t care. He sighed in contentment after the meal then looked at Vincent and Catherine. They too seemed relaxed and replete. With such a cook, he would not mind living in this place.

"Thank you for a most enlightening tour. I hope you won’t mind if I visit again when I’m in town. And I don’t think I’ve been better fed in my life."

"Mr MacGyver, you would be welcome," Vincent declared, smiling.

MacGyver was amazed to realize he no longer thought of Vincent as strange. He had learned a lot about the unusual man during the tour, including the fact that he could quote classical literature like a scholar and had a grasp of the physical sciences that rivaled his own.

A disruption across the chamber suddenly distracted everyone’s attention. A hunched, scruffy, tow-headed man was being held by the collar and almost transported across the room by the burly cook – William, if he remembered correctly. When they reached where MacGyver was sitting, William let the man touch the floor, but held him firmly by the thick and rather eclectic jacket he was wearing.

William rumbled a warning to the miscreant and looked at the guest.

"This is Mouse, Mr MacGyver. He has something to say."

The man stuttered and grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry. Lots of signs up top saying keep out. Lots of buildings blown up soon. Crazy to go there. Forgot about trap. Had other work to do. Mouse will plug it up." He hung his head, sagged when William let him go, then straightened.

"Here." Mouse pushed an item into MacGyver’s hand, then looked around with a sideways grin and skittered away.

"Going to fix it right now," he flung over his shoulder.

MacGyver chuckled and was joined by the others, including several at nearby tables.

MacGyver looked at what Mouse had given him. It was the tiny steel wrench he had picked up in his chamber. That meant the man must have been hiding and watching. He looked at Vincent and saw the same knowledge in his eyes. Vincent shrugged.

"You can have no idea how perfect this is for me, in my line of work," MacGyver declared. "Please thank Mouse for me. Now I think I’d better return to my hotel before my boss thinks I’ve defected."

No one queried that remark either, for which he was grateful. Not the smartest thing he could have said, but he guessed that curiosity was not something the tunnel dwellers indulged in – except perhaps Mouse.

"I’ll guide you back," Catherine offered, with a look at Vincent.

Seeing that look, and guessing its reason with a shock, MacGyver suddenly felt grateful that he had nothing worse to contend with than a little excitement now and again. So far he had come out alive. There were worse things – like being unable to walk the streets in daylight. The tunnels, fantastic as they were, were a still prison to someone like Vincent.

He took Catherine’s arm and let her lead him away from a world he might never see again. At least he knew it existed. That might be useful one day. He liked the feeling of welcome. He had been alone most of his life, having lost his parents and his grandmother in a car accident when he was a boy. His grandfather had tried to fill the missing roles, but that big lonely space around his heart had never quite closed. MacGyver suspected that Vincent had known something of that loneliness before he met Catherine.

He fingered the tiny wrench Mouse had given him. It sure beat trying to use a belt buckle and felt comfortable in his pocket with his penknife. It was almost the same size. One day perhaps, he would bring it back with him – and stay.

END