MY LOVER'S EYES
by Elaine Mills
Seeing Meaghan hovering over him, trying to fluff up his
pillows, Vincent cast his mind back to the first time he could
remember seeing her . . . really seeing her for the woman she
was. She had seemed to be a shy thing, when she first came down
to the Tunnels for she had only spoken when someone spoke to her
first and she had been very hesitant in speaking to him at all
for months after she arrived. Her shyness though had soon proven
to be a false assumption on his part. It was as if she had been
evaluating her new situation, trying to fit into a niche of her
own within the community before she could truly feel at home. It
had not been long before Meaghan was often to show that she was a
very capable and intelligent woman. Many times she had
demonstrated a knowledge of various subjects so that now, others
looked towards her for her valued opinions.
He remembered coming upon her one day, kneeling in the
dust of a tunnel. She was cradling one of the small children who
had hurt themselves while playing in an area where they should
not have been. With infinite patience she had comforted the
child and tried to explain, once again, the dangerous reason for
it. He had felt intrigued by this contrary woman. With the
children, she could be boisterous, inventive and so very loving.
Even the children themselves had said she was fun to be with.
Vincent had hung back. Unnoticed in the shadows, he
watched them both as it was very unusual to see Meaghan so
dishevelled. She was usually impeccably coiffured and dressed,
even with the limited choice of the tunnel attire. The usually
meticulously styled coronet of her hair had somehow come awry and
the great thick length of the plait lay over one shoulder,
resting against her breast and the child was slowly twirling the
end of it around his finger. Over and over, he twirled it and
Vincent could remember being mesmerised by the motion.
Not knowing why, he could recall wondering how that
beautiful auburn hair would feel in his own great hands.
Uncommonly, he wanted to touch it himself and, unable to deal
with the desire he felt, had left the vicinity. Uncomfortable
with the alien feelings that had arisen within him at the sight
of Meaghan sitting there with her hair cascading down, his only
thought was to escape the sensation and leave the discomfort of
it behind. Really, he had wanted to stay and find the real woman
behind the mask that Meaghan revealed to everyone but the
children. But his need to escape proved greater.
Back in his familiar bed, his thoughts turned back to the
here and now. He had recently succumbed to a virus that had
swept through the tunnels. Out of all the viruses, in all the
years, this had proved the most virulent. His unique immune
system had kept him virtually free of the innumerable diseases
and illnesses that usually plagued the common man but, for some
unknown reason, this one had succeeded where all others had
failed.
In one of his few lucid moments, as now, he could remember
Meaghan explaining why she was now looking after him. Mary had
also fallen ill with the virus. Jacob had demonstrated by his
excellent health, to be impervious to the sickness and was
staying, alternately with Mouse or Jamie who had both already
recovered from it. He could not help thinking at the time, which
was the most worrisome. The strangeness of actually falling ill
. . . or his son in Mouse's care.
......................
Meaghan had no such concerns. Both Mouse and Jamie had
surprisingly proven to be excellent choices for Jacob's care.
Especially Mouse with Jacob. The two of them were getting on so
well that she had to go and try to find them at the end of each
day to make sure Jacob got to bed on time. At times she did
worry about the trouble they may be getting into but, so far,
everyone's concerns had turned out to be groundless. Vincent
though, was another matter. He had been hallucinating and
delirious a few times and both she and Father were worried. Even
though he revived and was coherent quite often, he did not seem
to be getting any better. At times he acted as if he knew her
well, when in fact she had thought he had never really noticed
her at all in the time she had lived Below. Father said this was
nothing really to worry about as it would only be an example of
Vincent's extremely good manners. He would not want her
offended. Meaghan was not sure this was the case at all. Still,
she could only accept Father's opinion as he had known Vincent
all his life, whereas she had only known of his existence when
she had first come Below. Her father had been a helper who had
passed away a few years ago. When they had found out she was
about to be evicted and had nowhere else to go, the people Below
had voted unanimously, in honour of her father, to ask Meaghan to
live in their community. She had been forever thankful to them
and had tried her hardest to be of benefit to one and all.
......................
Father shifted uncomfortably in his bed and tried to
dislodge the heaviness he felt on his legs. Sleepily, he thought
it to be Mouse's raccoon Arthur come to visit again. That animal
surely was beginning to be a pest. For some unknown reason a few
months ago, it had started to ingratiate itself into Father's
domain.
Just at that moment in his thoughts, something that was
quite sharp poked his shins above the blankets and woke him up,
well and good. This time, the raccoon had gone too far.
"Listen Arthur," Father stated before he even opened his
eyes, "This cannot continue any longer."
Fully awake now, Father opened his eyes to look at the
offending weight on his bed. Finding it hard to believe what he
saw and thinking that it must be a dream, he rubbed his eyes but
the vision that confronted him was still there.
Vincent, with shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, hairy
chest in plain sight and a sharply tipped claw, tapping away at
the top of the covers, glowered at him from the end of the bed.
"Vincent . . . " Father was just about to ask him what he was
doing getting around half dressed like that, when he was rudely
interrupted.
"Let's get one thing straight, right up front. I am not
Vincent."
"Now Vincent! You have been quite ill, perhaps you should .
. ." Again Father was interrupted.
"Listen, old man. The name is not Vincent. Get that
straight! Perhaps, you know me best by the name . . . Beast?
Does that ring a bell? Ah, I see by your expression that it
does. Surprise, surprise! You know, I could quite get use to
being a part of this little haven under the earth. Yes, I should
seriously think of moving - permanently. How would you like that
. . . mm?" The Beast asked jeeringly.
"Where's Vincent? What have you done to him?" Father
asked in concern.
"Me, I've done nothing to the bookworm. Why should I? I
mean - really. He keeps me bound by his high ideals. He hardly
ever lets me out to have a life of my own and yet . . . he wont
even contemplate a compromise. Don't I rate a life for myself?
Well don't I?" He said, thumping the bedclothes with his fist.
"Yes, yes. Of course you do." Father said to placate him.
He could see the Beast was likely to erupt in fury any minute.
He may even take out his anger on Vincent himself.
Guessing the reason for Father's worried expression, the
Beast remarked scathingly. "Oh, you don't have to worry. I'm
not going to hurt your little boy. After all, if I hurt him, I
hurt myself. No, I think playing these little games, will hurt
him just as if I had physically attacked him. I tried that
before and it didn't work. He still can't or won't realise the
truth."
"What games? What truth?" Father begged for an answer.
"The games wont hurt anyone Old Man. I love, I care." The Beast
jabbed himself in the chest with his claw as he spoke, attesting
to the great emotion he felt. "Even though you, Vincent and the
rest of the population who know of my existence are certain of my
cruel tendencies . . . you don't really know me at all. You
probably never will if HE doesn't get the message." As he said
the denigrating HE, the Beast gestured towards Vincent's chamber.
"And what message is that? Tell me." Father wanted to
know.
"While he insists on keeping us apart. There will always
be two of us. Two distinct personalities. We could never make
one complete whole. We have to merge . . . to become one. He is
afraid of becoming some kind of animal, if he allows my side of
himself to come to the fore. When, if the truth were known, it
is only that on the rare times he has set me free . . . it has
been to protect, to kill or destroy. I am instinct. When I am
faced with situations such as these - that mean life or death . .
. acting with the animal instinct within me, is the only chance
of survival. If Vincent and I join, my frenzy, my killing
abilities would be tempered by his reasoning, his knowledge of
what harms and what kills. I am not given the luxury of time
that would enable me to reason out my actions before I am called
upon to act. But he can't see it. He won't see it. He is
afraid of what he will become. The thing is, if I am willing . .
. more than willing to lose that part of myself, maybe even all
of myself, why can't he be as well? He would never admit it, but
Jacob is as much my son as he is Vincent's. It was I who saved
him, Vincent I mean, from going over the edge by reacting to
Catherine's overtures. She was so beautiful and, even though it
is one more thing he would deny but never be able to escape, she
loved me just as much as she loved him."
Stunned at the articulateness of the Beast's explanation,
Father could only sit and contemplate the person in front of him.
He had no idea the Beast could be so . . . human. Animal
ferocity, had been his sole experience of this facet of Vincent.
He could still only think in terms of the one being. The Beast
was a stranger to him still. A stranger he had thought of as
dangerous to all those in his vicinity. Seeing now, the tears in
the Beast's eyes, Father realised he had judged wrong. As had
Vincent himself. He had always feared this part of his being and
like the Beast said, keeping the two personalities apart and
separate - was wrong.
Before Father could say anything to reassure the Beast, he
got up and said as he left. "It's just no use. You have just as
much a closed mind as he. I'll do what I have to do to make him
see the way it was always meant to be. Well, cheerio Old Man -
and just so that you know, there is no need for worry, you will
be seeing me again."
"Wait a minute." Father called, trying to stop him from
leaving. Exasperated and more than a little bemused, he could
only watch as the Beast sauntered out with an, 'I'm looking for
trouble,' expression written all over his face. After what the
Beast had said to him, Father was not concerned for the safety of
others in the community. The Beast had shown, albeit in a
self-serving way, his compassion and caring for others. He was
positive, the Beast would not physically hurt anyone. He just
thought it would be wise to follow him anyway.
......................
As the Beast ambled along the sandy walkway, he ran the
pads of his fingertips along the rough textured wall - feeling
pleasure in the unfamiliar sensation. He was contemplating what
other mischief he could get up to when he spied the fair and
lovely Meaghan coming along the tunnel. Maybe he could have some
fun with her, he thought.
Meaghan also saw, who she thought was Vincent coming
towards her. But, it was certainly a different Vincent who
confronted her now. His tousled, untidy image appeared
inordinately unusual for him but worse than that, he should not
have even been there. "Vincent, what are you doing out of bed?
You know you shouldn't exert yourself like this."
The Beast took stock of the woman coming towards him and
found he liked what he saw . . . liked it very much. "I could
exert myself no end for you woman."
"Vincent, what on earth are you on about?" Meaghan
exclaimed as they neared one another. Eyeing him warily, she was
forced to turn around on her heel to keep eye contact with him as
he slowly circled her, touching her dress here, her hair there.
She was perplexed by his odd behaviour and found to her
displeasure that she did not trust him. She felt it best to wait
for him to say something first.
"Ah, the fair Meaghan." He stopped and ever so slowly,
advanced until she drew back against the wall behind her.
Entrapped by his outstretched arms leaning against the wall
on either side of her head, Meaghan asked, "Vincent, what are you
doing?" She was getting agitated. Not only was he acting
unusual but she could have sworn he was deliberately flaunting
his sexual arousal, in order to shock her. It certainly worked.
Her senses were shocked by the intensity of it.
"Something that has needed to be done since we first met."
One of his hands wandered down to draw hers into the opening of
his shirt. He held her palm against the tantalising curl of fur
covering his chest. "Mm, nice," he murmured with his eyes
closed, savouring the unexpected jolt of electricity the touch of
her small hand produced in him.
"Please, let me go?" Meaghan begged, not understanding
anything that was happening. She couldn't comprehend why he was
doing this. Her heart raced. Her body seemed to be subliminally
awakening to his innate sensualness.
"Vincent had wanted to do this ever since he saw you one
day, kneeling on the tunnel floor. But of course, he wouldn't
ever act on his instincts." So saying, his hand let go of hers
and adroitly released the coronet of braids encircling her head.
Briefly she wondered why he spoke his name, as if in the third
person, but his touch soon distracted her from her thoughts. She
was unaware that her hand still lay upon his heart and the Beast,
with a deft twist of his talon-like claw, easily unbound her hair
until her braid came tumbling down. The thick coil of her hair
seemed to sigh it's release as it unfurled upon her breast and
lay in a blazing sheet of living silk.
"So beautiful," he murmured as he touched the prize
before him. His eyes travelled to her mouth and Meaghan, knowing
what his next action was going to be, burst into denial.
"Vincent no. No!" Her objection was ignored. The Beast's
mouth claimed her own. His hands, once again on the wall on
either side of her head, easily forestalled her attempt to evade
him.
At first, she struggled to be free but gradually, the
persistent passion of his kiss permeated through her and melted
her resistance. How could she react to his invasion like this?
She thought to herself. She couldn't seem to help her response
to him. All she wanted to do was drown in this yearning she
felt. It was like he had ignited a hidden desire within her.
Her mouth opened willingly beneath his and invited his tongue in
to explore. As their lips entwined even more deeply, the rough
texture of his thrusting tongue, drove her on to explore him
herself. A part of her could feel his shaking. The knowledge
that his reaction to her was as much a shock to him, as her own
response had been, vindicated the guilt she had felt.
Before they could further investigate their newfound
feelings for one another, Father appeared around the corner of
the passage and thundered. "Stop . . . stop! Please don't hurt
her?"
Primal instinct took over and the Beast, baring fangs,
roared his challenge at the intruder. This was his domain - his
territory, the invader had no right to try and intervene. Sense
soon prevailed when he saw it was Father and reluctantly, he
moved, only slightly, away from the wall but still close enough
to keep Meaghan by his side. His instantaneous reaction to
protect her from possible hurt, had him momentarily baffled as to
why. Then, with wonder at his need to shield this woman, he
looked searchingly into her eyes. His puzzled look, mirrored
hers. Their unexpectedly strong feelings for each other could
not be voiced aloud but both were undeniably aware that they
existed. The passion of their encounter was still shining in her
eyes . . . as it was in his own.
Still with one hand on the wall, he turned his head to
confront Father and said, with all sincerity. "I would never
hurt Meaghan." Turning towards her he repeated, as he willed his
heartfelt sincerity to reach her, "Never!" Unwillingly, he moved
completely away from her. As he did so, Meaghan observed a
shuttered look that appeared to obscure his expressive eyes, just
before he dropped his arms and turned away.
"Well then folks, this must be Au-revoir for now. Till we
meet again, as I'm sure we will." Bowing first to Meaghan then
to Father, he turned and left with a spring in his step that
Meaghan felt sure, was contrived. Somehow she knew his cavalier
attitude was a mask he wore so Father could not be aware of his
true feelings.
With concern, Father pleaded, "Meaghan, are you alright?"
Heart still pounding, she assured him, "Yes, yes . . .
I'm fine. He didn't hurt me but what has happened to him Father?
As far as I know, he's never been like this before."
Not knowing what to say to her without revealing too much,
Father said the only thing he could think of. "He's not himself
Meaghan. His illness must have affected him in ways we cannot
understand."
"Obviously." Meaghan stated.
"Just so long as you are well." Father remarked. "Come,
let us adjourn to my chamber. We can talk about what happened
there."
"I'm sorry Father but I was on my way to check another
patient when all this took place. I'm needed elsewhere."
"I see. Well, in that case, I am going to see if I can
find um . . . Vincent." Father said hesitantly.
As he limped away, Meaghan heard Father muttering something
to himself. Something about not understanding how HE could look
so healthy while Vincent was so ill.
After she had seen to her patient and had finished her
duties, she had gone back to her own chambers. She still felt
quite distracted and to calm herself she sat on her bad and idly
brushed out her hair. Meaghan still found herself wondering who
He was that Father had mentioned and what HE had to do with all
that had happened.
What frightened her the most though was her response to
Vincent's blatant overtures and her feelings towards him now.
Vincent had always fascinated her, as he did with many others.
But her fascination had never been of a sexual nature before. At
least, she had thought not. When she had first come Below,
Vincent's very existence enthralled her. She had even felt
tongue-tied in his presence wanting, all the while, to ask
questions but deathly afraid of asking the wrong ones. Most had
been answered by others who had been just as curious as herself
at one time or another and by this, they knew how great her own
curiosity must be on encountering their very special loved one.
Now, this unnamed desire she felt for him prayed on her emotions.
It raced through her so that she fought with herself to bring it
under control. The more she tried, the angrier she got - angry
at Vincent's arrogant toying with her. Granted, towards the end
of their brief encounter, she was sure it had not been a game to
him any longer but it still did not alleviate her fury. Finally,
Meaghan knew she could no longer hold it all inside. He wasn't
going to get away with it.
......................
Wearily, Vincent rose from his bed. Padding over to the
bureau, he was concerned to find his feet were bare, his shirt
was undone to his navel and the top fastener on his trousers was
completely gone. He knew he had been sick but he would never
allow himself to be in this condition unless he was incapable of
doing otherwise.
Just then, Meaghan, like a tiny virago of anger, stormed
into his chamber and marched straight up to where he was
standing. He did not even see her open hand coming before it
cracked across his furred cheek.
"I don't care who you are, nobody ever treats me like that
and gets away with it. You obviously need to sort yourself out
and you had better do it soon before you hurt anyone else . . .
or I will!" She then turned and promptly marched straight out
again.
To say he was stunned was an understatement indeed. Not
only because of the slap but her whole outburst had been so
uncharacteristic of Meaghan. He could count on one hand the
times she had initiated a conversation with him since she had
come to the tunnels over two years ago. It was not a case of her
being frightened of him, he knew. It was just that she was
usually a very quiet, serene person towards everyone. Of course,
with the children in her care, she could be so different. Her
manner of trust and buoyancy of spirit became evident and the
children loved her all the more for those qualities. Meaghan
hardly ever spoke a harsh word to anyone. Be they adult or
child. When she had to reprimand or correct someone, it had
always been softly modulated and well mannered. What on earth
could have happened to make her react so? And her hair! He
hadn't ever seen it down, except for that time in the tunnel.
Then, it had been so long and thick. He had wondered what it
would look like newly brushed, surrounding her features. He had
never expected the cloud of wondrous life she had now shown him.
With her eyes flashing and hair down, she was truly beautiful.
Why had he not noticed it before? He must find out the cause of
her anger towards him.
......................
Meaghan, still pacing outside the chamber, suddenly
stopped. There had been something different about Vincent in his
chamber. He had not been the same arrogantly over confident
person who had accosted her in the corridor. The full onslaught
of her actions suddenly coalesced in her mind. She had slapped
Vincent! He had acted like he had not known what she was talking
about. What if he had been in another one of his delirious
states? Good heavens! What was she going to do now? There was
only one thing to do. She walked back into the chamber and saw
Vincent walking with his head down, doing up his buttons. As he
wasn't looking where he was going, Meaghan had to step forward to
halt him by gripping his arms.
He looked up in surprise and when he realised who he had
nearly stumbled into, he instinctively stepped backwards out of
her reach.
"Vincent"
"Meaghan." They both said simultaneously. Vincent waited
for Meaghan to speak first.
"Vincent, I'm sorry for my behaviour just now. Even with
provocation, I should never have acted as I did towards you. No
matter what you did, it never warranted the violence I just
displayed. Please forgive me?"
Wondering what Meaghan was talking about, he could only
offer her what she asked. "If I knew what to forgive you for,
gladly would I give you that forgiveness. For what reason did
you have to strike me so?"
"Why, what happened out there in the tunnel between you
and I, of course," she said indignantly.
"I'm sorry Meaghan, I have no knowledge of what you speak."
Dumbfounded for a moment, Meaghan at first thought Vincent
was trying to make light of the situation and deny the
consequences of his actions, but his total confusion could not be
feigned. The only explanation for his lapse in memory, she
thought was the possibility that he was still suffering
hallucinations or delusions from his illness. She found this
reasoning difficult to understand but still, she seated herself
and explained exactly what had happened in the tunnels.
As she did so, Vincent became silent. Growing more
mortified every minute, by her words. Shamed, he turned away
from her and listened to the full story, unable to face her while
doing so. When she came to the part of Father's appearance, he
couldn't help but ask what Father's reaction had been. After
learning he had not apprised Meaghan of his other self, Vincent
knew Father had done so deliberately, leaving the explanation up
to him.
When Meaghan had finished and was silent once more,
Vincent turned back to her and shamefully told her of his other
self and his loss of control over that part of him he called the
Beast - or his darker side. There was no excuse for the Beast's
behaviour. How could he apologise for something he could not
have prevented, in his delirium. Still he tried.
"I am so sorry Meaghan. Please forgive me. I had no way
to control him in the state I was in."
"Him?" Meaghan asked. " You talk as if it was someone other
than yourself."
Vincent, with his head bowed and hair hanging forward to
hide his features, continued. "In a way it is." He went on to
explain who the Beast was exactly.
Meaghan sat there in amazement after Vincent's story.
Surely, this so called Beast and Vincent were one and the same.
The man who accosted her . . . this Beast, had not been violent.
He had been angry when Father intruded on them, but he had not
been hurtful. If the Beast was separate from Vincent, then who
was it she felt attracted to? The more she thought about it, the
more disturbed she became. His or the Beast's actions in the
hallway were no longer her main concern. It was the fact that
she had been and still was, attracted to, who she had thought was
Vincent. To herself, she had been able to justify her desire for
him. After all, she had known him and been near him all this
time. He had always attracted her in ways she couldn't explain.
But to find out she desired another . . . practically a virtual
stranger who possessed Vincent's features, was inconceivable.
There was no justifying that. It made her feel, well . . .
loose. Like she had parcelled out her favours to a passer by.
Vincent could see he had hurt her with his words and
longed to take her in his arms. The possibility that what he
wanted to do, was only what the Beast wanted him to do, acted as
a deterrent. He found he was unable soothe her or offer any
comfort to her, for fear of freeing the Beast once again. He did
not know, and couldn't know the full extent of her hurt. He felt
he had lost any kind regard she may have held for him through the
Beast's behaviour and thought it best to leave her in peace.
When he got up to leave to go and search for Father, he knew she
was unaware of his departure . . . her pain being so great. As
was his own.
He could not find Father anywhere but still he searched.
He would have to be somewhere near but his usual sense of
knowing, had left him. He now had to rely on what the people he
met, could tell him of Father's whereabouts or by the messages
being relayed on the pipes. Unfortunately, neither method proved
successful. Pascal had only heard the customary informative
tunnel talk that was usual for the time of the day. Nothing
concerning Father had been passed by the pipes at all. All
Vincent could do was wait until he came home on his own or was
found by someone else. By now, nearly everyone in the community
knew he was looking for Father and would soon let him know when
he appeared.
......................
Meaghan sat there for sometime and it was only when she
felt another's presence that she looked up to find the Beast in
the doorway. Just looking in his eyes, she recognised straight
away who had now found her. Why couldn't she have seen who had
confronted her so easily before? Now she could identify, just by
looking in his eyes, which was the Beast and which was Vincent.
She jumped back when the Beast rushed forward, expecting
him to collide with her. She was stunned when all he did was
kneel at her feet and beg her forgiveness for his previous
actions towards her. In near overblown emotion, he laid his
great head on her lap, trying to explain and reason with her why
he had acted so. She couldn't resist fondling his long hair and
was surprised to feel his tears seeping through her skirt. Not
being able to handle the emotion he was displaying, she abruptly
stood and apologised before she hastily retreated. When he moved
to follow, Meaghan could only beg him not to. She needed time
alone.
Some hours later, she realised that she had to speak to
someone. The only other person she could think of, one who would
know of this other being . . . was Father and this time she would
demand a full accounting. But as she approached his chamber, she
could hear Father talking to someone. As she turned to leave,
she heard him speak of the Beast and she knew who that someone
was that he now spoke to. She unashamedly listened in on their
conversation and heard Father explaining what he had seen between
herself and the Beast. About the Beast's midnight visit that had
precipitated his actions and was now the cause of all the anguish
among the three of them. She didn't hesitate to keep on
listening as it did not look like anyone was going to explain to
her what was going on, even though she was the one this Beast had
set his eye on.
Father continued. "I was surprised myself Vincent. The
only times I have witnessed this other self, he has been bestial
in the extreme. Displaying the intensity of a primitive. But,
when he spoke to me about his feelings, I was amazed - almost to
the point of disbelief. For a moment I actually thought it was
you playing some kind of prank. He is so much like you."
Vincent shook his head in absolute denial but Father once
again tried to speak of his own experience with Vincent's darker
side.
"No. Do not, shake your head without listening to all I
have to say, Vincent. He is . . . well, to put it bluntly . . .
the half of yourself that you are missing. I know you do not
want to believe what I am saying but he is correct when he
suggests that you must somehow . . . unite. Neither personality
will ever be complete without it." Father tried to stress.
"So, you believe that I am two distinct personalities . . .
only half a man?" Vincent asked, wanting to shake Father's
confidence in the madness he was begging him to now believe.
"I never thought so - until now. Your recent illness has
allowed the Beast the freedom to show himself to his full extent.
Much like yourself. You are the one usually in control and you
keep a tight reign on him, but lately, you have been unable to do
so. He is human, just like yourself. He is not the animal you
and I both thought him to be."
Vincent couldn't take in this wild notion Father would
have him believe. "Then who was it that stopped Meaghan in the
hall? Who was that who accosted her? If you had not come along
when you did, what else could he have done?"
"Only what you, yourself would have done. Yes, Vincent!
I have seen how you have often looked at Meaghan, for months now.
You have fallen in love again."
Vincent again shook his head. This time, not in abject
denial, but in concern that Father had picked up on feelings he
thought he had been able to keep hidden.
Father continued, "I know you have held back, as you did
with Catherine all those years ago. I do not think Meaghan has
even noticed your true feelings. Vincent, please understand?
The Beast is YOU. YOU are the Beast. These feelings you each
have do not come from one or the other. They come from that part
which is in both. It is only that you have two very strong
personalities and to become a whole man, these personalities must
both join. Only one of course, will dominate in the end.
"What if that one is not I, Father? What then?" Vincent
all but growled.
"Tell me Son, which one has remained in control all your
life? Even the Beast has recognised this. When you think about
it, he believes he is sacrificing what little life you allow him,
for an unknown one - just on the possibility of becoming complete
. . . and he may very well be right. Please think on what I say.
I honestly think this is right. I do not say it to hurt you, my
Son." Father pleaded for his understanding.
Vincent stood, not being able to absorb all Father's words,
he walked swiftly from the chamber, on the way to his own.
......................
Meaghan, giving away the fact that she had been
eavesdropping on their conversation, reached out a restraining
arm to stop Vincent's headlong flight from Father's chamber.
"Vincent, you must know that, who you call the Beast, was gentle
with me. He would never have hurt me. Just as I know you would
never hurt me." She tried to tell him.
"Listen Vincent, I know that you feel the Beast is a
separate entity from yourself. I believe he would never have
done anything that really distressed me. He loves the same
people as you Vincent. He cares for them the same as you do.
Father and he, are right. You must join to become one whole
person. At the moment he can at times, govern your actions as
you have always been able to control his . . . when you are
yourself of course. All your problems stem from him and he from
you. He is all passion, whereas you are controlled, orderly.
Everything you do is thought out and weighed upon before you act.
He is denied a life, except in the most extreme of situations.
To obtain a life for himself, he needs you to join with him. I
don't know how it could be accomplished but please think about
it. He is not bad or evil Vincent. In fact he is quite
childlike. You need that side of him to be complete yourself. I
know he exceeds beyond civilised actions when you are confronted
by an enemy but, if the two were to became one, those extreme
reactions would be no more. I'm sure of that."
"But you can't be sure. Just as I cannot be certain."
Vincent's hopelessness was evident and a part of Meaghan died.
She realised, that nothing she could say would change his mind.
Something would have to happen before he would act.
Vincent stood immobile as Meaghan stood on tip-toe to
place a gentle kiss upon his mouth. He held his breath. So many
times he had wanted to do the same to her. Unable to stop
himself, he reached out to touch her hair. It had fascinated him
for so long. In the process, he subconsciously held her to him,
prolonging the exquisite torture of her lips. "Meaghan," he
whispered, incapable of holding back her name as they drew
apart.
Slowly, not really wanting to, she disengaged from his
embrace. "Listen to Father Vincent. I cannot tell you how to
proceed but if you need to talk to someone who understands, I am
here for you."
Vincent watched Meaghan walk away and regretted his
inaction. She was one of the few who had actually met the Beast
and liked him. Longing to go with her but knowing he wouldn't,
his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a whirlwind. A
whirlwind otherwise known as Jacob, to be precise. His son came
hurtling around the last corner of the tunnel and, as soon as he
saw his father before him, said with panting breath. "Dad, I've
been looking for you everywhere."
"Hello son." Vincent greeted him.
"Can I stay at Lessie's for a few days?" he pleaded.
"If you have her father's permission, you may stay for two
nights. But mind Jacob, only the two nights. No more." Vincent
told him. Usually, if he did not stipulate exactly what Jacob
was allowed, he would somehow find a way to twist whatever it was
one did not say, to his benefit. While Vincent was thankful for
the time his son's absence would allow him to collect his
thoughts - and hopefully sort out his problems, he would still
miss the bundle of energy that was Jacob. He had certainly come
out of his shell since meeting a topsider his own age by the name
of Lessie . . . and her father Ian.
Giving his father a quick hug, Jacob flew off in the
direction of their chamber, yelling over his shoulder, at the top
of his lungs, that after he got his, 'stuff,' Mouse would take
him up top to meet Lessie and her father. He did not have to
worry about taking him, himself. Vincent was happy that his son
was now insistent on being so independent. It had not always
been so.
.......................
In the wee small hours of deepest night, the Beast found
himself prowling the corridors and passages of the world below .
. . once more exalting in his escape. He found Meaghan was
constantly on his mind and, unusually so for him, feared hurting
her. Not physically in any way, but emotionally. He worried
that he would never know if he, the Beast could be there for her
if she ever needed him. Finally, confronting the inevitable, he
stopped . . . only to find himself facing Meaghan's doorway, as
if he had been led there. Never would he know if he had been
unable or just unwilling to escape the compulsion to go to her.
The Beast cursed the fact that, because Meaghan was a
single woman, she had the privacy of a door that barred his
entrance to her chamber. He needed somehow to get her attention
and yet, even when he knew how he would go about achieving it, he
still hesitated before running one claw down the ornate panel
work on the door. Half of him hoped that this mere scratch would
be inaudible to Meaghan. The other half willed her to open the
door and invite him, not Vincent, into her home.
When a full minute had gone by and there was still no
answer at the door, he couldn't help himself and quietly entered
her chamber to stand at the foot of her bed. He gazed down at
her sleeping form and, to him, she looked so alone with her long
thick braid that lay out of the bedcovers. It spilled over the
edge of the bed and impulsively, he rounded the edge of her
sleeping platform to kneel down and fondle the end of her hair.
Holding it to his furred nose, he inhaled her scent that clung to
the velvety strands within his clasp. Not surprisingly, Meaghan
awoke to find herself nose to nose with the face that had been in
so many of her dreams lately.
Startled out of her wits, she backed up until she was
sitting against the headboard behind her. "What on earth are you
doing in my chamber?" she demanded.
He ignored her question and feeling a tug on her plait,
she looked down, only to find it enclosed within his sizeable
hands. "I just couldn't resist this, my pretty Meaghan."
For a minute, neither said or did anything but stare at
each other. Meaghan was the first to speak. Certain of her
answer, she asked in a low voice. "Your not Vincent are you?"
Thinking he knew what her reaction was going to be at his
negative answer, he tentatively shook his head.
"What are you doing here?" she asked calmly, even though
her heart was racing. She wanted so many things from this man,
who she knew to be Vincent . . . even if he didn't. She just did
not know if he wanted the same.
Still contemplating the hair in his hands, he tried to
explain the unexplainable as he effortlessly undid the annoying
braid she insisted on imprisoning her hair in. "When I stopped
you in the tunnel the other day, it wasn't just a game to me.
Well, that's not really true. It was at first." He admitted
with a mischievous chuckle. "But, after . . . it wasn't. Not at
all. I can't explain it. Not even why I'm here. None of it
makes sense to me. All these feelings raging inside of me and
all I can think of is you. It's like, you've brought something
out in me that I have never felt before." He got up and started
pacing in front of her. Up and down. Two steps this way, two
steps that way.
Meaghan knew what he was trying so hard to tell her. She
had the same thoughts as he and yet, they were both hesitant to
proceed. Neither wanted to be hurt. Neither wanted to be the
first to admit their desire for the other. She knew if they
truly wanted the same thing, she was going to have to be the
first one to make a move. "I know why you have come," Meaghan
stated as she opened her arms wide, hoping he would take that
first step to her.
As he stepped forward and into her embrace, he knew he
would have to make sure she realised what her invitation meant.
"I can't do this to you fair Meaghan. You don't know what you
are getting yourself into. I can't be here for you when you need
me. Really, there is only half of me to give you at all." But
as he was trying to explain, he was also raining kisses over her
face. He found he could not help himself. He ached for her.
Trying to speak in between his eager kisses, Meaghan could
only murmur in persuasion, "I know exactly what I am getting
myself into. Stop talking and kiss me properly." She wished
that what she said was the truth. She wanted this man she knew
as Vincent, anyway she could have him and if this was the only
way then - so be it. The tortuous desire she felt for him since
their first encounter had ignited a dormant overpowering ardour
that she had been unable to escape.
The Beast brought Meaghan fully into his arms and
succumbed to her willing embrace. How could he have ever missed
this beautiful woman. He, the Beast, could never have been just
a friend to this fiery little butterfly. Meaghan did not know
and did not find out until much later that, for the very first
time, the Beast had done exactly what he was told to do . . .
without complaint. He kissed her properly and more, the whole
night through.
......................
In the first sweet light of morning, the Beast lay within
his lover's arms and knew he would have to leave soon. He had
stayed too long already, watching Meaghan sleep. Trying hard to
rise without awakening the woman he loved, he found he was not
successful. At his first slight movement, she awoke instantly,
as if she had been waiting for him to make just such a move.
Meaghan knew he had to go and that it would probably be
this way now and any other time they may be together. She knew
that he worried he would not be the one to wake beside her. That
the Vincent side of him could enact his control whenever he
wished. She also knew that if she kept him here for a short
time, there would be a greater chance that this, in fact, could
happen. Not being able to help herself, she asked, "You're
going?"
"Yes love. I'm sorry it has to be this way. I will come
whenever I can."
"I'm not sorry. Not in the least. I would rather it were
this way than no way at all. Remember that." She told him.
What she really wanted to say, was that she knew he and Vincent
were one person, one being and that whichever one was beside her,
she would love just the same because of that. But she did not,
for fear that he would not wish to hear those words from her.
She was still so unsure how to proceed. All she knew was that
she loved a man who, for some unknown and unfathomable reason,
believed he had two completely separate sides to himself. Sides
that she loved in equal strength. Sides that she knew
complimented the other, but which were so unacceptable to either.
The Beast could not help himself and stayed, for what he
promised himself would be just a short while, within the confines
of his Meaghan's arms. Gradually his contentment and
peacefulness calmed him to the point where he slept and Meaghan,
sensing his inner peace, soon followed him into a fitful doze.
......................
It was not long before Meaghan woke and when she looked at
the magnificent man who lay beside her, she could see an aura of
innocence that radiated from his being. Knowing this was one
thing the Beast could never portray, she realised that the man
who now lay with her was not the man she had made love to last
evening. The Beast's presence had gone and now, Vincent lay in
his place. He slept on peacefully but Meaghan had the foresight
to know, this would soon change when he woke and discovered where
he was. He would be quick to make his exit, all the while trying
to spare her feelings and pretend he was still the same one she
had made love to.
Meaghan knew she would have to do something to prevent him
from leaving. She knew if she wanted to have one man, it would
mean having the other as well and she found that she wanted the
whole complex person that these two personalities encompassed.
Feeling Vincent begin to stir, Meaghan began her
deception. It would not be an act, for she loved him so and
desiring the one you love comes naturally. She rose to lean on
her elbow and let her hand drift amongst the coarse hair on his
chest. Gradually she worked her way down . . . her lips
following. Down to his bare navel and beyond. This man she
loved was so overwhelming - his physique compelling. She wanted
to explore and remember the lover she had. Laying there in all
his nakedness, passion arose once more to consume her. Her act
was forgotten amongst the fervent anticipation she felt for his
possession of her. His arousal became evident as her hands
became bolder. She lowered the covers so that she could see all
of him.
Vincent awoke to feel a slick wetness traversing up his
torso, settling on one of his nipples. His audible gasp of
unexpected arousal only fuelled Meaghan onwards.
"Love me. Please, make love to me again?" She begged.
Vincent tensed, prepared to flee but soon found that he
could not help his reactions to what Meaghan was doing. Touching
and loving him as she was, entrapped him. To awake with the one
he loved - loving him, only fed the longing he held for her. Her
beauty and the curtain of her hair as it fell across his taut
body, acted like a net. Sealing him to the fate that awaited.
As her lips came closer to his own, he could not help but claim
them in open mouthed hunger. Her lips ravaged his and their
tongues repeatedly met, entwined and retreated. Their mutual
need for one another could not be denied and he gently nudged her
neck to nibble it's beguiling curve. Meaghan arose fully and
straddled his hips. His erection touched the moistness of her
inner thighs and instinct guided them both to the natural
fulfilment their positions demanded. As she lowered herself
fully onto his manhood, his eyes shot open at the ecstatic feel
of her silky flesh enclosing and accepting his own. Never did he
think he would ever feel like this again. A rhythm, old as time
ensued, overtaking them both . . . bringing forth an explosive
pinnacle to their mutual climax.
Afterwards, all was quiet. Each did not know how to
express their highly emotional feelings to the other or even what
suitable words to say. Vincent little realised the sensualness
Meaghan felt by his touch, as he gently brushed his fingernails
feathersoft upon her arm. Not regretting what had happened
between them, but still not at all sure he had acted
appropriately by not declaring his true identity, Vincent said
tenderly in repentance, "I must go Meaghan." He thought she had
believed he was the Beast and, so that he would not hurt her, he
tried not to destroy the illusion for her.
"Yes, I know you do Vincent." Meaghan said softly.
Vincent was stunned. "All the time. You knew it was I?"
he asked.
"Of course, I knew," she said.
"But why did you not say something before we . . .?" He
left his sentence unfinished, amazed with the feeling of rejoice
that her words had given him.
"Oh Vincent. Don't you know? Can you not feel my love for
you . . . my desire for you?"
"The Beast, Meaghan - last night?" Vincent wanted to know
if she had known it was not him the night before.
"Listen Vincent. The only way I am going to survive the
feelings I have for you, is to think of you as one man. Your
side and the Beast's side . . . are one man. If I thought
anything else, I don't know what I would do." Meaghan tried to
explain, wanting to convince herself in the process.
"I do not think that is so Meaghan." Vincent said
quietly. He had to reveal the truth to her . . . that he loved
her. But he was afraid to tell her so.
"Then I am lost," she murmured. "If I cannot have you as
the man I know you could be, I must somehow live with what I have
done and try to move onwards without that man." So saying, she
rose from the bed to dress in the robe she had flung to the floor
the night previously. The sight of her naked form propelled
Vincent from the bed and he hurriedly dressed, not looking to see
if Meaghan was watching.
She wasn't. Meaghan had moved away, so that Vincent could
have a moment of privacy, and shed a silent tear as she heard him
leave her chamber. What was she to do? In a matter of days, her
life had been turned upside down. Despondently, she sat on the
side of the bed he had just departed. The scent of him assailed
her senses and she lifted the pillow that had cushioned his head,
and held it to her face. Tears ran down her cheeks to soak into
the fabric. How was she to live with what she had done? Doing
so for love, did not offer her any comfort. It only made her
feel worse to think she had tried to justify her actions in this
way.
......................
After leaving Meaghan, Vincent's self-contempt was
paramount. He had to do something. It had all gotten out of
hand. He did not know if it was himself or the Beast that
Meaghan was attracted to. He was in love with her, he had to
admit it now and the thought that she may prefer his other side,
his darker side . . . hurt him. He was far from certain of her
love. The only way to repair and hopefully, improve the
situation between them was for he and the Beast to finally come
to terms with one another. There was only one person he could
think of who could possibly help him. He would go there and
maybe something could be done, to remedy the whole situation.
......................
Twenty-four hours later Vincent stood at the entrance to a
chamber, not many had ever seen and waited for permission to
enter.
"Come in. Come in child," Narcissa entreated. Her blind
eyes were no hindrance to a woman who relied on her intuitiveness
alone to survive. "I have been expecting your visit for many
days now Vincent. I had hoped you would know to come to Narcissa
sooner."
"Yes, I should have realised before this that you were the
one to come to for help, dear Narcissa."
"Yes, yes child. Come!" She gestured to him to seat
himself on her divan which was strewn with memorabilia, scarves
and small things he found he did not want to look too closely at.
Just as he did not want to find out what some of the things were
that she had hanging from the roof of her chamber. Their scent
alone told him that he really did not need to know. For once, he
wished his phenomenal sense of smell was not so acute. He sat,
at her invitation on the very edge of her sofa. With one expert
sweep of her arm, all the assorted items and paraphernalia, were
swept into an untidy heap on the floor.
"I am in love once again, Narcissa," he admitted to her.
"This, Narcissa already knows child. But you are not
certain, who she loves in return. I feel this one has hesitated
to make her feelings known to you . . . as you have, her. Is
this not so, my proud one."
"Yes, Narcissa. Once again, I hesitate to tell this woman
of my love, because of my darker side. I am not to know if
Meaghan loves me - or him." He tried to explain in a way that
was clear to himself as well as to this discerning woman.
"She loves both of you. For you see child, both are one.
She is as confused as you Vincent. Maybe more so, for she has
only recently been introduced to this other side.. It is hard
for both you and your love, to know that you - and the one you
unjustly call Beast, are two sides of the same man. Fair Meaghan
finds this so very hard to understand, so she runs away from the
love she has for you. She cannot accept loving, what she has
been told, are two separate people. Of course, she is wrong but
who, besides yourself, can tell her so she would believe. You
could not do so now for you, yourself do not believe. Narcissa
will show you the true way of it, soon. But Vincent, your love
is not the only thing that should concern you now. Your lady
Meaghan, will soon flee the Tunnels. Shortly, she will be beyond
your reach. Also, there is the possibility of a child . . . your
child."
Vincent's astonishment at her pronouncement was more than
evident but as he got up to leave, Narcissa insisted he seat
himself once again. "You can do nothing for now. We will be
finished in time, hopefully, for you to stop her. Our work must
be completed before she will accept your love. Your child is but
a mere flicker of life that may still, not take hold. She is
unaware of it herself and it will be many days before she will
be. If she knew, I believe she would not try to flee at all. To
go to her and be able to offer your love, you must do what is
necessary. What we do here now, must be done. It has been too
long in coming."
"Tell me Narcissa . . . is it my child she carries . . .
or his?" Vincent was afraid of the answer he may receive.
"You have not been listening, child. His - yours. There
is no division. You are one. He is you. You are he." Narcissa
would repeat herself over and over, if it meant he would come to
know the truth.
Chagrined, Vincent knew that despite what Narcissa said,
he would always think himself separate from the darker side. Any
other thought he believed, would lead to eventual madness. "You
cannot hide your thoughts Vincent. Narcissa knows you as if you
were her flesh and blood. Come, lie down upon this old resting
platform and we will begin. Your time of renewal is upon us."
Narcissa said mysteriously.
"Renewal?" Vincent queried.
"It is your own mind that stops you from accepting your
true place in the scheme of life . . . your other self, if that
is how you wish to think of it. This process is not really
necessary for me or anyone but yourself child." Narcissa bent
down and all that Vincent could remember seeing before she blew a
fine powder in his face, was her startling white opaque eyes,
staring into his own eyes of blue . . . as if she could truly see
into them.
......................
Vincent lapsed into a dream state, but one that he found he
could not wake from. Visions flashed across his mind like a
maelstrom of images. Gradually though, the visions slowed until
he could eventually make out what was being shown to him.
Meaghan's image was the first that focused clearly and he
could make out his own form standing off to one side, but still
in front of her. On the other side was an image that he could
not make out visually, no matter how hard he tried. Yet, somehow
he knew that the other form was his darker side. Meaghan looked
first to him, then to the other. Vincent wanted to reach out to
her, to draw her attention to him and him only, but he was unable
to move within the fantasy he was experiencing. With tears
falling down her cheeks, Meaghan reached out to both but, unable
to touch either, her hand fell despondently to her side. She
walked forward, only to pass, as if invisible and with no
apparent substance, through himself and the other still standing
close beside.
After her presence had gone from his senses, Vincent
turned to his counterpart and faced a shadow form. Even though
he could not make out features, he could feel the other's
thoughts as though they were his own. Not an extension, as they
had been before, but his own thoughts coming from himself.
Sadness encompassed him, matching his own. Love . . . something
he thought the Beast incapable of feeling, poured into him.
Anguish, regret - they all hit him like a fist. Slamming into
him with a force that finally awoke him to the fact that his
other self felt the same feelings and sensations as he. The
Beast was not, and never had been a separate being or another
part of himself. That part of him he had always thought of as
his darker side, had the same feelings he possessed. Like Father
had tried to explain to him, it was only that the Beast had felt
those strong emotions to a greater degree than he.
Vincent felt tears form in his eyes at the injustice he had
endowed to what he had thought, was a being deserving of it.
Only now, he found he had done so to a part that was only himself
- virtually adding to the sense of aloneness and separation that
he had felt nearly all his life. He had thereby created, a
totally false sense of his own unworthiness. Thinking back, he
couldn't even remember when his very first instance of sensing
the Beast within his own frame, had been. It had always appeared
as if that other had been there from his very first breath.
Gradually, Vincent felt himself begin to spin . . .
steadily gaining speed until he was spiralling more and more
rapidly. The shadow that Vincent now felt was only a vacant
shell, followed. Moving so swiftly, he could not comprehend
speed, he and the shadow drew closer, then closer again. Vincent
reached out and felt nothing. No sense of another or of the
shadow anymore. Though a dream, Vincent knew that in this one
dimension, what he was experiencing - was reality.
Mindlessly he continued to spin. Just him alone.
Spiralling continually upwards, he realised he and the shadow had
merged, becoming one within the vortex - and surprisingly, he
felt wondrously happy. It could have taken hours or just the
blink of an eye, before his previously constant movement, ceased.
Now he could see, in truth, there was no shadow. No feeling of
another existed and Vincent knew, never would again. He was
exuberant and he reached up to the sky he knew was there, looking
down upon the tonnes of rock and sediment above him. With arms
outstretched in profound thanks, he roared his triumph - his
completeness. The sound of his bellow went on and on, echoing
amongst the chasms and caverns. He followed the echo with his
keen hearing, well after anyone else could have. Afterwards, the
silence stretched out and Vincent found himself basking in it.
He could have stood there forever and soaked in the sensations
that surrounded him. Some sensations he had never felt before.
Wanting these joyous feelings to go on forever, it took sometime
before he remembered he could not afford the luxury. Meaghan was
probably, even now, making her way out of his world.
He opened his eyes and found himself in a cavern he had
never been in before. Stalactites, stalagmites were visible all
around him. Water trickling somewhere reached his hearing and
the maze of the various formations, were beautiful. It was a
cave of such magnitude, he marvelled that in all his wanderings
amongst the lower tunnel area, it could exist unbeknownst to him.
He made a vow to himself that he would bring Meaghan to the
place of his true awakening. It was only then, Vincent spied
Narcissa on a ledge that jutted out of the far wall. She pointed
in the direction he felt to be the way out. Thanking her
profusely for all her help, he hastily made his way out of the
intricate configurations of natural rock on his trek to
hopefully, waylay Meaghan before she could leave his life
forever.
......................
"Meaghan . . . Thank God I found you!" Vincent exclaimed as
he rushed towards her.
"Listen, what do you want?" Meaghan was anxious at being
discovered, especially by him.
"I'm so glad I caught up with you." He wrapped his arms
around her, pleasure radiating from him at finding her in time.
"I'm sorry . . . so sorry for the anguish the Beast and I have
given you."
"Vincent, is that you?"
"Me and no other, fair Meaghan." He assured her.
Meaghan took a good long look at him. When he had used the
words, 'Fair Meaghan,' he had sounded like the Beast. Even his
speech was different. Not like Vincent's precise words at all.
He was smiling a full-mouthed grin . . . fangs bared, but in
mirth. He was touching her, holding her as if he would never let
her go. "You're not your usual reserved self . . . um, Vincent.
The look in his eyes was different again. Neither the Beast nor
Vincent's usual countenance shone from them. Now, there was . .
. well, a look of fun or merriment really. Something she had
never witnessed in either of their expressions before.
"That's because I'm not my usual self," he cryptically
explained. "Narcissa helped me to see the way it should be. The
way, the part of myself that I called the Beast, always tried to
tell me it should have been. We are now one. We both exist, but
as one. I have his memories and he has mine. I feel so free."
He wanted to shout it to the world but most especially to the
small beautiful woman in front of him now.
"Meaghan, please come home with me. Live with me and my
son. Be my wife. Please! You are my life, fair Meaghan." So
saying, he held out his hands in hopeful invitation.
Meaghan stood in indecision. Her heart was telling her to
stay but her head was telling her different. She was so afraid
that Vincent's transformation may not be complete. That someday
he would revert back to his dual identity. But, if she had any
chance of happiness, she felt she must take this chance of love
before losing it forever. Once again, she gazed into his eyes
and was staggered at what she saw. A look of absolute love for
her, blazed in his eyes and it was all the answer she could ever
want or need. Meaghan now knew that she would never question his
love for her. She loved Vincent and Jacob with all her heart and
she didn't want to live without them.
Vincent, with his hands still reaching out to her, was so
afraid she would leave when suddenly, the most gloriously radiant
smile he had ever seen appeared on her face. He knew then that
she would come to him.
Enfolding her once again in his embrace, he kissed her
with all his pent-up longing released.
He vowed to not make the same mistakes he had done with
Catherine. She had been his first full love but he had placed
her on a pedestal, like a goddess. When truly, she had only
been - and had only ever wanted to be treated as the normal,
healthy woman that she was. One with ordinary needs and wants.
Things like home, family, love and children had been all she
wanted from him, once they had admitted their love. His own
nature then, had held back the possibility of a complete loving
relationship until, when he finally realised the depth of their
devotion, it had been too late. At first, after Catherine's
death, he had been devastated by the guilt he felt at not being
able to save her. But then the gift she left, the gift that was
Jacob, was her message to him that her love had been total. She
had loved him . . . with all his faults and inhibitions. He
promised himself that it would never happen again.
He loved Meaghan with all that he now was and all that
could ever be. Without Catherine's love, he would never have
known it's present reality.
Still keeping one arm around Meaghan, he lead her back to
the home they would now share together. Moments later, Mouse and
Jacob, who had proved to be near inseparable after the illness
had run it's course, charged around a corner in the tunnel ahead.
"Jacob!" Vincent called excitedly.
"Hi Dad. Hi Meaghan." Jacob shouted as he spotted them.
He rushed towards them only to stop, just as he came abreast of
his father. When Vincent exuberantly lifted him up into his
arms, and twirled him around, Jacob was stunned. His father had
not expressed his love so, since he had been a very small child.
Vincent had let his precious hold on Meaghan go for a moment, so
that he could cuddle his son. A son who squirmed at the
discomfort of an embrace he thought he was too old for. Vincent
realised Jacob was now nearing nine and he would have to explain
to him about the sudden change in his behaviour. But right now,
there were more immediate matters to discuss.
"Son," said Vincent. "I have an announcement to make.
Jacob, meet your new mother-to-be." He gestured towards Meaghan.
Seeing his son's understandably confused look, he
explained more fully. "Meaghan and I are going to be married."
Jacob looked at them both in wonderment, then suddenly
yelled a heartfelt, "Yippee!" In the process, he drowned out
Meaghan's gasp of surprise to all but Vincent and his
extraordinary hearing. If anyone was going to marry his dad and
be his mother, Meaghan was the only person he could have ever
wanted . . . besides his real mum of course.
After he quickly hugged his dad, then Meaghan, Jacob
scrambled out of his father's arms and raced off, with a still
astonished Mouse, to share the news with all his friends.
Once they left, Vincent turned back to Meaghan with a
sheepish look on his face. Knowing he had blundered badly by
telling his son and Mouse before he had even asked Meaghan, he
stood there shuffling one foot in the sand. He fought for words
to explain his presumptuousness but when he couldn't think of
any, remained silent.
Meaghan stood with her arms folded, foot tapping and a
stern look on her face. "We are, are we?" she asked in mock
severity.
"Well . . ." Vincent spluttered, hanging his head. What
could he say?
Meaghan laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck,
kissing him soundly. "Gotcha!" she exclaimed, enjoying her
moment of retribution. Laughing together, they leisurely made
their way back home, not realising their news had preceded them
and chaos awaited.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
About the Author
In 1994 Elaine Mills of Australia produced her Fanzine "Idylls of
The Beast". Elaine is an all seasons Beauty and the Beast Fan,
and is still faithful to her love of the Series. Should anyone
reading her stories care to write to her, regarding them, Elaine
can be contacted at:
Elaine Mills
14 Wilga Street
MADDINGTON
WESTERN AUSTRALIA
AUSTRALIA 6109