Categories > TV > Beauty and the Beast > A New Bond
"Vincent, you believe her?"
"Father, it explains the bond between us. And the other similarities as well."
They were in Father's library, the three of them. Vincent had told Father what had happened when he encountered Elena and the older man was shocked. He'd been standing, leaning on his cane, but now he sat down in his favorite chair. He looked at Vincent, then at Elena, then back at Vincent again.
"As I've told you before, I've never understood this empathic ability of yours, but I accept it. But now you tell me that this woman says you two are brother and sister. How on earth can I believe this? And what happens next?" He turned to Elena. "What do you want, young lady?"
Elena looked troubled again. "I don't really know, sir. Answers, I guess. I understand your skepticism; I still find it hard to believe, myself. It somehow never occurred to me that I might have family somewhere. I came here to find out why I was feeling a pull to do so. I've been terrified of this city for as long as I can remember."
She sighed. "It doesn't make any sense. I've been in many large cities - Chicago, Los Angeles, New Orleans - and never felt any fear about going there or being there. Why New York? Then this pull grew strong enough to overcome it and enable me to come here. Maybe I will find my past, and some peace."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. I hope I'll still be able to write - I'm an author," she added as she turned to Vincent.
"An author?" he asked. "Elena . . . Elena Kingston?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember how long ago you started feeling this pull that brought you here?"
Elena thought for a few minutes. "About two-and-a-half years ago. Why?"
Vincent hurried out of the library and was back a few minutes later. He had a book in his hand. "This was given to me by a helper - that's what we call people who live above but assist us with food, clothing and other necessities. It was a gift and he inscribed it." He handed her the book.
She took it and noticed it was her third book. She opened it and found the inscription. It was dated two years and seven months previously. She looked up at him in astonishment.
"That's when I first became aware of you. That's when our bond began to form."
She shook her head in disbelief. "All this time. You've been here, I've been in Kingston, and only now do we find out about each other. Why did this happen to us?" Tears formed in her eyes as she began to realize what she had been deprived of.
Father's face softened, and he stood up and moved over to her, putting a hand on her arm. "You can't change the past, Elena, but you can move on. You both are still fairly young. You have many years ahead of you in which to get to know each other. But you must understand that Vincent must live here, and his existence can't be revealed to the public at large."
"I understand that, but it will be hard, especially if I start to get more memories of my previous life," she replied, looking at Vincent. Suddenly her eyes widened, and she started to grin. She looked down, putting her hand over her mouth.
"What is it?" Vincent asked.
A mischievous look appeared in her eyes as she answered, "I just had a longer flashback relating to the one where I saw the baby."
When she paused, he prompted, "Go on."
"I was looking at the baby and a man - our father, I think - asked, 'What shall we name him?'"
"Is that all?"
Her grin widened as she continued. "Not quite. Apparently I was very young when this happened. I replied, 'Fluffy!' I guess I thought he was a kitten, and," she grew thoughtful, "I seem to remember telling my parents that I wanted one instead of a baby brother or sister."
Father laughed as Vincent stared at her in shock. "Well, I don't think you should spread that story around. He has a reputation to maintain, you know."
Elena chuckled. "I won't, but it's nice to know I have a happy memory of him." She grew solemn. "Even if it is my only one."
"So, where do we go from here?" Vincent asked as the merriment died down.
"I guess I should do some research, " she replied. "But I need a starting point. Father," she asked, turning to him, "do you remember the date Vincent was brought here?"
"Of course I do, Elena." He told her and she thought about it for a few minutes.
"Thirty three years ago. Then I was probably about four years old when it happened, whatever it was. Where was Vincent found?"
"By St. Vincent's Hospital, which is where we got his name. That man who told you he was dead; was he a relative?"
"N-no," she replied, wincing as her headache returned. "In the memory, I didn't know who he was. And thinking about him is physically painful. I suspect he is the key, the reason for our parents' death and our separation."
"What if he should come looking for you? There could be all sorts of problems then."
"No, Father. He won't come looking for me or anyone else. I don't know how I know this, but I'm sure he's dead." She stopped and looked from one man to the other. "I killed him."
"Father, it explains the bond between us. And the other similarities as well."
They were in Father's library, the three of them. Vincent had told Father what had happened when he encountered Elena and the older man was shocked. He'd been standing, leaning on his cane, but now he sat down in his favorite chair. He looked at Vincent, then at Elena, then back at Vincent again.
"As I've told you before, I've never understood this empathic ability of yours, but I accept it. But now you tell me that this woman says you two are brother and sister. How on earth can I believe this? And what happens next?" He turned to Elena. "What do you want, young lady?"
Elena looked troubled again. "I don't really know, sir. Answers, I guess. I understand your skepticism; I still find it hard to believe, myself. It somehow never occurred to me that I might have family somewhere. I came here to find out why I was feeling a pull to do so. I've been terrified of this city for as long as I can remember."
She sighed. "It doesn't make any sense. I've been in many large cities - Chicago, Los Angeles, New Orleans - and never felt any fear about going there or being there. Why New York? Then this pull grew strong enough to overcome it and enable me to come here. Maybe I will find my past, and some peace."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. I hope I'll still be able to write - I'm an author," she added as she turned to Vincent.
"An author?" he asked. "Elena . . . Elena Kingston?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember how long ago you started feeling this pull that brought you here?"
Elena thought for a few minutes. "About two-and-a-half years ago. Why?"
Vincent hurried out of the library and was back a few minutes later. He had a book in his hand. "This was given to me by a helper - that's what we call people who live above but assist us with food, clothing and other necessities. It was a gift and he inscribed it." He handed her the book.
She took it and noticed it was her third book. She opened it and found the inscription. It was dated two years and seven months previously. She looked up at him in astonishment.
"That's when I first became aware of you. That's when our bond began to form."
She shook her head in disbelief. "All this time. You've been here, I've been in Kingston, and only now do we find out about each other. Why did this happen to us?" Tears formed in her eyes as she began to realize what she had been deprived of.
Father's face softened, and he stood up and moved over to her, putting a hand on her arm. "You can't change the past, Elena, but you can move on. You both are still fairly young. You have many years ahead of you in which to get to know each other. But you must understand that Vincent must live here, and his existence can't be revealed to the public at large."
"I understand that, but it will be hard, especially if I start to get more memories of my previous life," she replied, looking at Vincent. Suddenly her eyes widened, and she started to grin. She looked down, putting her hand over her mouth.
"What is it?" Vincent asked.
A mischievous look appeared in her eyes as she answered, "I just had a longer flashback relating to the one where I saw the baby."
When she paused, he prompted, "Go on."
"I was looking at the baby and a man - our father, I think - asked, 'What shall we name him?'"
"Is that all?"
Her grin widened as she continued. "Not quite. Apparently I was very young when this happened. I replied, 'Fluffy!' I guess I thought he was a kitten, and," she grew thoughtful, "I seem to remember telling my parents that I wanted one instead of a baby brother or sister."
Father laughed as Vincent stared at her in shock. "Well, I don't think you should spread that story around. He has a reputation to maintain, you know."
Elena chuckled. "I won't, but it's nice to know I have a happy memory of him." She grew solemn. "Even if it is my only one."
"So, where do we go from here?" Vincent asked as the merriment died down.
"I guess I should do some research, " she replied. "But I need a starting point. Father," she asked, turning to him, "do you remember the date Vincent was brought here?"
"Of course I do, Elena." He told her and she thought about it for a few minutes.
"Thirty three years ago. Then I was probably about four years old when it happened, whatever it was. Where was Vincent found?"
"By St. Vincent's Hospital, which is where we got his name. That man who told you he was dead; was he a relative?"
"N-no," she replied, wincing as her headache returned. "In the memory, I didn't know who he was. And thinking about him is physically painful. I suspect he is the key, the reason for our parents' death and our separation."
"What if he should come looking for you? There could be all sorts of problems then."
"No, Father. He won't come looking for me or anyone else. I don't know how I know this, but I'm sure he's dead." She stopped and looked from one man to the other. "I killed him."
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