Beauty and the Beast TUNNELKIDS – BOOK TWO NOR IRON BARS A CAGE A Novelization by Zara Wilder April 2015 Based on the Beauty and the Beast television series (1987-1990) created by Ron Koslow “Nor Iron Bars a Cage” Season One, Episode 7 Story by Alex Gansa, Howard Gordon, and Ron Perlman Teleplay by Alex Gansa and Howard Gordon Originally aired on November 13, 1987 Note: This novelization has been created for non-commercial entertainment purposes only. It is offered as a personal homage to a great story, and is freely made available online solely for the enjoyment of fellow dreamers and admirers of the urban fairy tale. No infringement of copyrights (or artistic insult) is intended. ….. This is where the wealthy and the powerful rule. It is her world. A world apart from mine. Her name is Catherine. From the moment I saw her, she captured my heart—with her beauty, her warmth, and her courage. I knew then, as I know now, she would change my life, forever. ~*~ He comes from a secret place, far Below the city streets. Hiding his face from Strangers, safe from hate and harm. He brought me there to save my life. And now, wherever I go, he is with me in spirit. For we have a bond stronger than friendship or love. And although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart. In memory of M.K.C. 1979-2011 Because we need heroes who can teach us how to be bravely unwell, how to be honest about every kind of death, and how to live generously in the meantime. CONTENTS PART ONE: TO SPEAK OF DREAMS Chapter One: Gifts of the Night Chapter Two: Choices Chapter Three: Hand of Providence Chapter Four: Dreams Denied, Dreams Attained Chapter Five: Revelations Chapter Six: Second Thoughts PART TWO: UNCOMMON DEFINITIONS Chapter Seven: Serpent and Bee Chapter Eight: No Such Liberty Chapter Nine: Scientific Progress Chapter Ten: Conclusive Evidence Chapter Eleven: Leave to Go from Hence PART THREE: QUALITIES OF MERCY Chapter Twelve: Unconfinèd Wings Chapter Thirteen: Tunnelkids Chapter Fourteen: Crash Landing Chapter Fifteen: Phantoms PART FOUR: SEASONAL CONSTELLATIONS Chapter Sixteen: Many Hands Chapter Seventeen: Treasures Chapter Eighteen: Angels Above AUTHOR'S NOTE ABOUT THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST TIMELINE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS WORKS REFERENCED PART ONE: TO SPEAK OF DREAMS CHAPTER ONE: GIFTS OF THE NIGHT I 18 March 1987 Wednesday Night The gracious dark invited many secrets to venture out of hiding. Dream-bearers cruised the streets, and dream-seekers with them. The clouded sky stretched out above the city. People flocked to the pulsing heart of New York from all five boroughs and beyond. One among the multitude had already acquired his bit of dream-come-true. He traveled homeward through the night to share his prize with others. The tall hooded figure strode alone through the shadows of Central Park. As he walked, Vincent, silent as the shadows that masked his passage, glanced up toward the white brick building where his beloved friend Catherine lived, feeling her amusement sparkle inside him. He smiled. He sensed she kept company with a friend tonight, and they were laughing together. He felt glad for Catherine. On the street below Catherine’s apartment someone drove along Central Park West, their car stereo blaring a synthpop rendition of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly. A breathless female voice sang: “Un bel dì, vedremo / levarsi un fil di fumo...” The woman’s voice levitated above a rollicking drum track and throbbing bass line. Vincent hadn’t known that aria could be blared. The music merged into the more ordinary sounds of distant traffic as the car passed beyond the range of even Vincent’s keen ears. He shifted the load he carried from one shoulder to the other. His sense of Catherine’s pleasure relieved many of his worries for her. Lately, rage and sadness often weighed down her thoughts, sending dark ripples along the emotional connection between them. There were other feelings too, other concerns that burdened her. Catherine’s work provoked some of her feelings, Vincent knew—her work to resolve the many difficult cases that claimed her time. And some of her troubled feelings had to do with him. He found this knowledge harder to bear, although he did so willingly, never losing sight of the greater graces Catherine brought into his life. Catherine’s confidence in their love enriched him. He felt privileged to witness each stage of her growth and healing. It’s a time of recapitulation for her, Vincent thought. Almost a year has passed since the night those men attacked Catherine in the street. Such anniversaries can be painful. Vincent knew from experience the pain—the setbacks and indignities—inherent to the process of rebuilding a shattered life. He grieved that Catherine must make such a journey. At the same time, he beheld her courage with profound respect. She was choosing a path of compassion as she struggled to restore her sense of self. Last year’s chilling April night had not defeated her. Turning his face up to the cloudy sky, Vincent thought, And dark though it was, for both of us, that night also sent Catherine into my life. Vincent remembered following the scent of blood through the park, traveling almost the same route he took now. How his soul had ached for her—and with her—when he found the 1 woman discarded in the damp grass, lying dangerously near the threshold into Vincent’s world. As he knelt to help her, Vincent had been surprised by his instantaneous intimate sense of the woman, a Stranger who was somehow not a stranger. He recognized some indefinable quality inside her heart, heard her soul crying out to his. She broadcasted a powerful longing for life. Vincent’s empathy for the woman’s inner battle mirrored his own shadowed contentions. Her pain sheared through the shroud of secret despair that had woven itself around him during his previous long days—and his even longer nights. At the midnight moment when Vincent found Catherine, he had found himself suddenly unwilling to surrender his life to the stifling shadow of his fate, when this wounded woman had not surrendered to her own ending. Vincent felt that his silent pain was nothing in light of hers. He wanted to see her clean, dressed in warm clothes that were not torn, as the young woman’s heavy velvet coat and burgundy evening gown were torn. He wanted to see her cared for, and comforted. He wanted her to live. And because he wanted these things, he found new reasons to embrace his own life. The woman needed help from him that only he could give. Vincent broke all but one law of his community, and of his own code of communal security, to bring an adult Stranger directly into his home for medical care. He had obeyed his chief imperative to help someone in need and he knew no other way to give her aid as quickly as she must receive it. Her face and left forearm were badly cut, her body cruelly beaten. She was losing too much blood. The nearest Topside hospital was too far away. So Vincent carried the Stranger into the Tunnels beneath the city. Vincent’s swift response, and his father’s surgical expertise, saved the woman’s life. Tending Catherine as she slowly regained her strength, Vincent came to know her—and to love her. He knew many things about Catherine now, and it pleased him to ponder his knowledge, day by day, night by night. Vincent loved being a part of Catherine’s life. He marveled that he had now become an undeniable part of Catherine, and she the most liberated part of him. He could feel Catherine’s gratitude for his intervention that first night, and on many subsequent nights thereafter. He knew she was fiercely determined to live a full and noble life in her perilous, wondrous world. He knew, too, that even as she tried to fulfill her dreams, Catherine often felt overwhelmed by the work she’d undertaken at the New York County District Attorney’s office. Catherine’s difficult investigations fueled her fear that she might fail to help other survivors of violent crimes. She struggled to trust that Good remained active in the world—and that an unquenchable hope in Light could prevail in the end. She believed that justice was worth any sacrifice. She had told Vincent so several times, and whenever she spoke of this matter, he felt her fear of loveless judgment, her quiet anger with the labels others tried to impose upon her —names like Débutante and Victim. Vincent knew her desire to feel safe, and to be loved for who she was. Catherine looked to him to love her in that way. That she should need this from him truly puzzled Vincent, for he did not know any other way to love someone. It always shocked him to observe the many tactics people from Catherine’s world used to manipulate one another. They sought to engender gainful change by granting or withholding favor, calling such payments and privations “love.” It made no sense. Catherine had turned away from men who tried to treat her in this way, all of them wealthy suitors from a sunlit realm Vincent had only read about in books— The sound of voices nearby interrupted Vincent’s thoughts. Instinctively, he ducked his hooded head. He knew his eyes reflected light in the darkness and he did not want to draw the attention of Strangers.