AN ALTERNATE POSSIBILITY

by ChicagoTunnelKid

Author’s Note: Portions of dialogue from the pilot episode, Once Upon A Time, are used in this retelling of Vincent and Catherine’s beginning.

________________

The work seemed endless. Swing the pick axe. Feel the shock wave in the handle. Watch the rock pieces fall about your feet until they reach your knees. Stop and shovel the pieces into buckets. Feel the strain in your shoulders as you haul the teeming buckets of rock detritus to the Abyss. Dump them. Stand with your head bowed as you muster the energy to walk back. Start again, and again, and again. Grunt work. Physical labor. Mind-numbing repetition.

Vincent let his thoughts wander on days like this. Any number of topics would feed his mind so that he didn’t think of the soreness of his muscles and the amount of time spent on the Sisyphean task.

The topic of the day: if he had been a man, a normal man, would he have even met Catherine, let alone have her love? In this particular rumination, his favorite, he imagined himself living Above, just as normal as any other man. In this daydream, Vincent imagined himself as a Helper to Below, established after meeting a young cast-away boy named Geoffrey in Central Park who asked him to go somewhere special with him. Once Below, he knew he had found a special place where he felt at home, and pledged his support and his silence about their secret.

How this Vincent would meet Catherine would be his starting point in today’s daydream. Would he have found her in the park after her assault? Would she have wanted to see him again?

At least, Father would not be warning him off of love to the degree he had done. Other than enduring a broken heart as Father experienced with Margaret, there would be no basis for a warning. He supposed Father could be concerned that falling in love with a woman from Above would entice him to leave, yet, in his mind, his allegiance was Below. That was probably because he didn’t have enough personal experience with life Above. What he did know came from those who had lived Above long ago, and still visited occasionally, and from Catherine. His forays Above were always in the dead of night and in the darkest alleys, hardly a fair picture of life Above. What would an average day be, if he could walk around like anyone else? What would his purpose be, if not to guard the community Below?

That got him thinking: What could he do?

He was mulling over that very question when a particularly large piece of rock cascaded down after his mighty swing of the pickaxe. Too deep in thought, his reaction was too slow, and it glanced against the side of his head, knocking him out and pinning his legs to the ground. A shower of smaller stones rained down, covering him in dust and little mounds of pebbles.

Vincent had been working alone for the day, having sent the others on a break to rest and see loved ones. It had been a week since the crew had started, and besides the rest, fresh supplies were needed. It would be a couple of days, however, before anyone returned. He lay trapped amidst the rubble, but his mind separated from his reality.

* * *

The traffic noise assaulted his ears as he hurried to pick up the items needed by the community Below. His tunnel entrance was a culvert in the park, and he used it on his way to drop off the supplies. Vincent went to the kitchen to deliver the foodstuffs to William. A pleasant evening was spent playing chess with the patriarch of the community, Father. There was something about him; Vincent immediately felt a strong understanding with the man. He enjoyed not only playing chess, but also their many talks on literature. The old man could have been the professor of literature instead of Vincent, so knowledgeable was he on the subject.

He stayed later than usual, but on this particular April night, the weather was especially mild, and the walk home would be pleasant. Vincent headed across the park when he saw a strange form lying on a berm of grass. As he got closer, it became recognizable as a figure of a woman. He ran to her, kneeling in what later he would realize was her blood. Her severely slashed face led to her nearly bleeding to death.

He scooped her up and in a moment’s hesitation, debated where to take her. The bleeding was profuse, and Below won for nearness. Plus, Father was a physician and could at least save her life.

He was panting from the exertion as he laid her on the table in the hospital chamber. Father had been called by pipe message. He was not pleased that Vincent had brought her down, but worked on her to save her life. He stabilized her, and later took her to a guest chamber to recuperate until strong enough to leave. He had bandaged her entire head, partially for medical need but more for keeping the secret of Below.

Vincent accompanied her to the chamber. Father was making arrangements with Mary to look in on her.

“I’ll stay with her, Father.  Isn’t there a saying that if you save someone’s life, you are responsible for them?”

“Aren’t you responsible to the University?” Father enquired, one eyebrow raised.

“We just started Spring Break, so I have time on my hands. I now have a purpose for that time.”

* * *

Over the next ten days, Vincent watched over the woman. She looked … broken, lying there on the chamber bed. His bed, or at least it was on nights that he stayed over. There was something exciting about sharing his room, his bed with this woman. Why should that be?

At first, she slept soundly, mostly from the morphine Father had given her for the pain. As Father switched to less potent pain relief, she began stirring, often moaning as she shifted her head and disturbed her stitches.

She awoke and must have heard him moving about the chamber.

“Who’s here? Who are you?” she asked.

He told her his name, Vincent, and tried to reassure her.

“Father treated your injuries. You have broken ribs. You need to be still.”

She began to react to her injuries fearful they were much worse. He sensed panic beginning to rise up within her.

“Where am I?”

“Where no one can hurt you.” He wanted so much for her to feel safe after what she had gone through.

“My face hurts.”

To distract her, he said, “Tell me your name.”

“Catherine.”

“Catherine,” he echoed, almost to himself. “Try to rest. If you need anything, I’ll be close by. Don’t be afraid. Please, don’t be afraid.”

And bravely, she answered, “I’ll try.”

That’s when he knew she was courageous. Plopped down in the middle of a perplexing circumstance, yet she vowed to try and be brave. He felt her courage in a way he never had before with anyone else. In fact, he knew her in essential ways after barely a handful of sentences in conversation with her.

Over the passing days, he found out her name was Catherine Chandler, and she worked for her father as a lawyer in his firm. Mary had returned her mended gown and he could tell it was expensive. Everything about her screamed that she came from money. But she wasn’t a snob about it, nor demanding. She rarely complained, and only then about small matters.

Not that impressive to her to be a college professor, he thought, as she still didn’t know much about him. Still, she seemed to enjoy him reading to her, talking with her, and he tried his best to allay her fears. She naturally was afraid of being in strange surroundings among strangers, yet she acted bravely, trying to contain her visible fear.

He was feeding her one of William’s hearty soups when she finally asked about where she was.

“Do you like it?” It wasn’t haute cuisine, but he hoped she would find it flavorful and filling.

“It’s good soup.” She swallowed another spoonful. “Vincent, tell me … where are we?” She cocked her head at one of the many tunnel noises. “Somewhere there’s an elevated train … Brooklyn? Queens?”

“No, not Brooklyn or Queens.”

“Am I still in New York? Vincent, please, tell me! Where are we?” There was panic in her voice.

His mind raced. Father had warned him not to speak about where she was. Yet, he knew he could trust her, and that she needed to know to have some degree of control back while completely blind from the bandages.

“I have to keep it as a secret.”

“Why?”

“Because a lot of good people depend on this place for safety.”

“I’ll keep your secret.”

So he explained about Below, and how the people lived, the community they had formed, the city below the city. He may have made it sound as if he lived Below, and he thought that was best. It was safer for the community that she couldn’t contact him or follow him to discover her underground place of healing. And, being neither handsome nor rich, he had no delusions that she would look twice at him as a romantic partner and did not need that proven because she wouldn’t want anything to do with him when they were Above.

She continued her convalescence, complete with her bandaged head. But she was improving. He both felt it, and saw it.

He knew she was getting restless. He watched her from a distance stand up and slowly move forward, her arms extended as her eyes. Her shin hit the coffee table next to the bed. She maneuvered around it, and then suddenly straightened and stood still.

“I know you’re there. You can come in.”

“I’ll read to you.” That usually kept her occupied for at least a little while.

“It won’t help.”

Clearly, she was growing more anxious about her imposed sick role.

“It might. We can finish “Great Expectations.” Do you remember how it ends?”

She gave up all pretext of caring. “Vincent, I’m frightened, I’m worried …”

“I know … I can feel it. You’re getting your strength back.” He knew he would be taking her back very soon. “I’ll get you some tea, the herb tea you liked.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

He left to send a runner to Mr. Wong’s shop. He closed his eyes after Kipper left, and asked – no prayed – for a few more days.

Days later, she was strong enough to go back up. He heard her cry out, and ran into the chamber. She had taken off the bandages to look at herself in a cracked mirror. She had cried out in despair. He’d never felt so self-conscious about his looks before as he did then. His face was elongated, with high cheekbones and a broad brow. Never had he been described as handsome, a heart-stopper. His hair was in disarray, as he most often forgot completely about it. His trousers had seen better days; indeed, the sheen indicated he had held onto them beyond their wear date. A wrinkled shirt loosely held together with a tie that was best described as a Christmas gift prank finished off his appearance. His heart sank. He had planned on wearing his best suit, albeit an outdated one, at her unveiling.

“Are you Vincent?”

He nodded.

“How can you look at me?” She crumbled down to a settee.

“Tell me it’s a nightmare, that it didn’t happen, that it can’t be…”

He sat beside her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. His heart went out to her.

“It’s not a nightmare. It happened – and you’re alive. Catherine, you survived! And what you endured will make you stronger and better.”

“I don’t have your strength. I don’t know how to do it …”

“You have the strength, Catherine, you do. I know you.”

She looked at him, surprised by his words. He handed her the dress, and stepped outside for her to change.

When he re-entered, he explained about using a blindfold, and she accepted it as the price for being shown back to her life. She held his arm as he guided her a considerable distance. He wondered if she knew just how far she had walked.

He removed the blindfold after they reached a point where she wouldn’t be able to retrace her way back. Her eyes needed little adjustment to the darker tunnels. She looked around as she walked, fascinated by this world where these people, and supposedly he, lived. He could see questions in her eyes that she wasn’t asking. Finally, they stopped.

“Where are we?” she asked..

“The basement of your apartment building.”

“We are?” She laughed, hardly believing it.

She looked at him, gratitude plainly showing on her face. “Your secret is safe with me. I would never betray your trust.”

“I know – I knew that from the beginning, when you trusted me.”

She stepped in to give him a hug that he had not expected, and which touched him deeply. He hesitantly wrapped his arm loosely around her back. It feels so right, he thought. Then she covered her head with the hood of her evening wrap, and was gone.

There goes my happiness. Vincent struggled with the thought. But it was time for him to get back to the university, and for her to get back to her life.

* * *

As weeks turned into months, Vincent thought often of Catherine, wondering how she was faring. He never seemed to get through a day without sparing at least one thought of her. Her world might be a privileged one, but it would be unforgiving of scarred faces.

He and Father had a conversation about her shortly after she left. He felt bereft, and sought Father’s guidance. He had never fallen for a woman like he had with Catherine. Actually, he had never fallen for a woman, if that was what he was experiencing. Teaching his classes was torture – every poem, every story was filled with allegories of Catherine. Colleagues noted his absent stares, his discontent with his well-practiced routine.

Father was not the support he expected.

“She can only bring you unhappiness.”

Vincent’s head came up sharply as his gaze bore into Father. “Then I’ll be unhappy – but I can’t forget her.”

Father sat slowly, shaking his head in disbelief or wonder, Vincent wasn’t sure which.

“She was so brave, returning to her world when I knew all she wanted to do was hide away… You have said the world Above is cruel and hard. She could probably use a friend about now.”

“Vincent, your concern for her has only heightened this feeling. Don’t let your act of kindness destroy you.”

Vincent stood defiantly. “Maybe I have no choice.”

These feelings of his were beginning to get out of hand. He resolved to go see her, and get her out of his system once and for all.

He stopped at the desk in the lobby. He explained his purpose in the building and was about to be announced before he stopped the building concierge by telling him he wanted to surprise Miss Chandler. Apparently, George was a romantic at heart, and let him proceed unannounced.

He knocked lightly on her door, half hoping she wasn’t home, and dreading that she wouldn’t be. He didn’t think he had the nerve to go through all this again. He had just started to turn away when the door opened.

“Vincent! How good to see you!” She launched herself at him to give him a hug. He was bereft of speech.

He stepped back. “I shouldn’t be here. Disturbing you, I mean. I just wanted to see how you were.” With this thought expressed, he looked at her, and saw her face was beautiful once again. “Your face ….”

“They fixed it.” She stated the obvious.

“I have to go now,” before I’m forever lost in those eyes, he finished the thought only in his mind.

“Won’t you come in and at least let me get you some wine, or coffee. Or tea!” She brightened at the last. “I’ve started drinking it myself since I got back. You converted me.” She smiled.

She indicated for him to sit on her couch and she passed by into her kitchen. He sat gingerly, his rather large frame making the small couch seem even smaller. His eyes darted about the room, taking everything in: the art on the walls, the egg collection in the étagère, and everything spotless. There were stacks of papers on her dining table, and another, shorter stack on her coffee table. He suspected he would find one more stack next to her bed.

“I wanted to see you. There are so many things I wanted to tell you …” Vincent wasn’t sure how, just that he needed to explain his connection to her.

“I have so many things to tell you! I’m working at the DA’s office now,” she told him, setting a tray with tea service on the coffee table. She busied herself pouring out two cups of tea.

“It hasn’t been easy. In fact, it sometimes is very hard.” A slight smile appeared. “I’m learning to be strong.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and plunged on before losing his nerve. “Catherine, I can see the change in you. More than your face, I mean.”

Her quizzical look told him of her disbelief. “How do you mean?”

“Those ten days gave me time to get to know you in a way that is quite different than normal encounters. I saw the struggle in you to keep control of your fear. I see the strength in you now that contains your fear.” Her look was very uncertain. Time to make a graceful exit. “I came here because I wanted to see that you were well, and because I wanted to see you one last time.” He had no delusions. He stood up.

“I’ll never see you again?” She seemed disappointed, not relieved.

He gestured about him. “I’ve seen your world. There’s no place for me in it.  I know what I am.” He pointed to his elbow patch on his suit coat. “My patches have patches, and I’m no Tom Cruise.” His shoulders slumped.

“I thought that was the required uniform of all literature professors,” she said in jest. “Besides, my world isn’t so different from yours, and I’m working to make it less so every day.”

“I’m not blind, Catherine, I read the newspapers, I see the pictures of you with big city moguls and politicians. I don’t even own a tux, I don’t come from, or have, a lot of money. You would walk right by me on the street and never even see me.”

“Do you think so little of me after those ten days we spent together?” She looked peeved. “My grandmother had a saying: handsome is as handsome does. By that or any measure, you are one handsome man!”

He fidgeted, embarrassed.

“Vincent, change is hard enough on the person making it, but for others, they often prefer you stayed the same.” She looked at him. “I had not counted on you expecting that, too.”

She was right. He had encouraged her to find her strength, and then assumed it wouldn’t change her. “I’m sorry.” He sat down. “Your father?” Vincent asked.

She nodded, and added “And some old colleagues and acquaintances. Their view of me just can’t expand to the new me.”

“I’m sorry.” He was apologizing a lot. He probably lacked the charm of her other male friends.

“I’m not.” She smiled. “My close college friends are cheering for me, and those are the friends who count.”

He smiled in agreement. “I should be going. I’m sure you have things to do that my unannounced visit interrupted.” Vincent started to stand.

“Please don’t go!” She reached out to stop his progress. “You just got here. Besides, you never did finish Great Expectations, and I couldn’t bring myself to read it. I wanted to hear it read in your voice.” She looked hopefully at him.

“The last chapter, then.” He settled down, took the book from her, and began reading. He, too, would make the most of this time.

* * *

It was quite late before they were ready to end the evening. He treasured every moment she gave him, and she seemed to think up ways to extend his stay.

“Thank you for such a pleasant evening,” he said. How lame can you get! he thought.

“I don’t think I’ve really thanked you for saving my life. And I don’t just mean finding me before I bled to death. You gave me the confidence to do what I should have done years ago. Thank you.”

He shook his head. “No, it was your choice, your commitment, and your effort. I just listened.”

“In my world, people rarely do. Listen, I mean.”

“Be happy, Catherine.” He turned to go to the door.

“Wait!” she implored, a hand on his forearm accompanied the command. “Those men you read about in the papers have never interested me. I go out just to get out, and to support various charities.”

She walked over to him as he stood by the door. She placed one hand on his lapel and another on his hand over the doorknob.

“If I’ve thought of you once since my assault, I’ve thought of you one hundred times. I was filled with sadness that I would never see you again. And yet, here you are. I don’t want it to end. Please.”

He hid the war going on inside him. He lost. “There’s a concert in the park on Thursday. Grieg, I believe. Would you like to go? Perhaps a picnic supper?” He held his breath unconsciously.

“I would love to!” She threw her arms around him in a hug. The woman did love to hug. He was quickly finding out that he did, too!

“Until then.”

“Until then,” she echoed.

* * *

Several concerts in the park later, along with two evening dinners at a Helper’s Chinese restaurant, Vincent could scarcely believe it was his life he was living. He was certain he was in love with Catherine, and he thought she at least held him in high regard. Yet, a part of him kept waiting for it all to fall apart.

He journeyed down Below to talk with Father.

“Has she expressed her feelings toward you?”

“Not in so many words, but I know she cares.”

“Vincent, you deserve love, real love. Perhaps this woman is meant to be nothing more than a friend.”

“Is this your experience with Margaret talking?” Vincent saw Father’s wince. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Father held up his hand, dismissing it. “I’m too cautious, I know. Perhaps it is time to ask for her feelings. Better to know now than to let it go and be deeply hurt.”

Vincent nodded. It was time. “Father, I’d like to bring her Below.” Now it was he who raised his hand to forestall Father. “You know she’s trustworthy. She hasn’t said anything to anyone about the ten days she spent here. In fact, it’s one of New York’s big mysteries: where was Catherine Chandler during those ten days?”

“Yes, she has kept silent.”

“She would be so good with the children. And, in case of emergencies, she could help out with supplies. She wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I won’t cultivate a Helper based on money!” Father admonished.

“You aren’t! But we have limits on resources, and she would gladly help if she could. That is who she is!”

Father twirled his knight with his fingers as he debated.

“Besides, Below is such a big part of my life, I feel dishonest keeping it from her.” Vincent paused. “I want her to know me, all of me.”

Father sighed and sat back in gracious defeat. “I’ll take it to the Council.”

* * *

Catherine became a Helper. And, as Vincent predicted, she loved the children and started some classes for them in ways for them to express their creativity, and have fun. They loved her. He loved her.

Below, they were Vincent and Catherine. It was assumed they were a couple. Vincent knew it wasn’t quite true. They were close, but Vincent lacked the courage to confront where they were in the relationship. He had told her how courageous she was, but he was a coward. He was afraid to ruin it.

They scheduled a picnic in the park on a Saturday that was predicted to be sunny and warm. He was looking forward to it. Actually, he fantasized about kissing her for the first time. He couldn’t quite understand why it had taken this long. Usually, by the second date he at least kissed the woman good night. But with Catherine – he hesitated for a reason he didn’t know. But he was tired of waiting, and thought she must be wondering why he wouldn’t kiss her.

The day lived up to the weatherman’s predictions. Vincent had the blanket spread out, the picnic basket open, wine glasses ready, and was setting out the food when Catherine approached. She was walking in sunshine, smiling and happy, and his breath stopped. She dropped down to the blanket on her knees.

“I’m so glad we planned this! The weather is perfect!” She spread her arms wide, encompassing the day.

“Yes,” was all he could manage in reply. Inspired by her exuberance, he rose to his knees and lifted his hand to her cheek. Her green eyes widened in surprise as his hand lightly stroked her face. In an instant, he thought how her face was the loveliest he had ever beheld, slashed or whole, and in her eyes he saw his future and hers, their lives entwined. He slowly drew her forward for his kiss, hesitating just in the last few millimeters before making contact. Her lips were soft …

* * *

“Vincent! Vincent!”

Loud voices were echoing in his head. Catherine, wait! Catherine! He was losing something. He was sure of it. He felt hands grab his shoulders and heard grunts as his body was pulled, inch-by-inch, from under the heavy rock fragment.

He was found although he felt lost. He must have been unconscious nearly the entire time. Yet, he was dissatisfied at being rescued.  He shook his head as if that would clear his fuzzy mind.

Although dehydrated and very sore, he otherwise checked out okay, according to Father. He was ordered to bed to rest for 24 hours, with plenty of fluids and William’s soup to replace lost nourishment.

Father had sent a runner to Catherine to let her know Vincent was back. She would no doubt be coming down as soon as she could to see for herself that he was all right.

* * *

She walked in, sat on the side of his bed, leaned down and hugged him. He winced a bit as he enclosed her with his arms, but he wouldn’t miss the chance to hug her.

“I was so worried,” she murmured into his chest.

“I wasn’t. I was dreaming. About you.”

‘About me?” She sat up. “Do tell!”

“I was a Professor of Literature.”

“That wouldn’t be a stretch.”

“And I lived Above.”

“A .. Above?”

“Because I was a perfectly normal human man.”

“Okay.” She glanced downward. Vincent watched her absorb the premise of his dream, curious as to how it would play out.

“So how was I in this dream?”

“You were you.” He fell silent, deciding whether to tell her everything. “Whenever I have taxing physical labor to do, I let my mind wander. It keeps me working without realizing how difficult it is or how tired I am. And on this occasion, I had just wondered: if I was a normal man, would I have met you, and would you love me?”

“Do you really wish that you were normal? Do you think that is what I wish?” In a flash, he recalled every instance she ever told him how she thought of him as beautiful, inside and out. He knew his answer.

He shook his head. “No, to both. I accepted what I am years ago. And I know you accepted me before you even left the tunnels that first time.”

She visibly relaxed. “So how did your dream turn out?”

“Well, some parts were the same. I still found you after your assault. I did come see you several months later. And we both felt a draw to one another and kept seeing each other.”

“Was there nothing else different?” Her voice sounded a hopeful note that something else would be different, and he could even guess what the something was.

“We were out on a picnic, enjoying the sunshine, when I leaned over to kiss you for the very first time.”

“Yes?” She smiled, clearly enjoying this part.

“I had just noticed how soft your lips were when … I was found.” He looked down and fussed with a fold in his blanket. “I never got to finish the kiss.”

“Maybe we could do something about that.” She placed her palm against his left cheek raising his face to hers, and leaned down to softly kiss him. “Like that?” she asked, drawing back slightly. In answer, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head and brought her back to deepen the kiss.

She reluctantly pulled away after a very satisfying kiss. His eyes locked onto hers, conveying the love and promise he could not speak. Catherine sighed, breaking their connection.

“Father said you should rest. You should nap … and perhaps … dream some more.” She smiled in suggestion.

“Perhaps I will,” he answered in a rare show of bravado.

She stood. “I’ll stop in later to see how you are.” As she reached the tunnel entrance, she turned to him. “I look forward to your next dream.” She winked, and strode briskly away.

How I love that sassiness in her! Vincent thought as he settled back in his bed and closed his eyes. He wondered if it was possible to conjure up a prior dream and continue it – with an amendment: this time, he would be himself. Maybe his dream would become a roadmap for the future of their relationship. Maybe it would show him how to …

Soft snores filled his chamber, as a slight smile settled onto his mouth.