Categories > TV > Beauty and the Beast > A New Bond
It wasn't long after Elena made her statement that she and Vincent left the library. After a stunned silence that lasted what seemed like an eternity, Father had asked her if she had killed anyone since. She told him she hadn't, that she had tried to control the impulses and had been successful only to a certain degree. He said he needed time to consider all that she'd said. She took that as a dismissal, and turned to Vincent, who escorted her out of the chamber.
The rest of the day was spent touring the Tunnels, and Vincent introduced Elena to the few people they met. He showed her his favorite place, the Mirror Pool, and they sat together on the edge, talking. He told her about his life underground and she told him about her writing. Finally he showed her the way to an alternate entrance - the one in the drainage ditch in the park near her apartment building. The sun had gone down and the night air was silky and fragrant. She promised to return in a few days, once she had some concrete information, and made her way back to her apartment.
Vincent watched her go, then went back to his quarters, wondering why he hadn't told Elena about Catherine or Jacob. He'd thought about it, but something held him back. ~Could it be that, in spite of this feeling between us, I still don't fully believe that she could be my sister? That I could have a family, blood relatives, of my own?~ He went and sought out his son, and lost himself in the wonder of this child that was his and Catherine's
----------------------------------------
The next morning, Elena sat eating breakfast and making a list of possible places to go to for information. Now that she had a possible lead to her past, she wanted to start finding out about who she really was. She munched on a piece of toast as she looked at what she'd already written:
Police Department
Newspapers
Public Library
She finished her toast and sat back. I certainly have my work cut out for me. I don't think I've ever done any research remotely resembling this before. She went and got the phone directory, and started looking for the numbers and addresses to the businesses and organizations she'd listed. Once that was done, she started making her calls.
Three hours later, she was sitting at a microfiche station at the library, looking through spools of newspaper articles from the week during which Vincent was discovered and taken to the Tunnels. The police had given her little information, saying that the time period she was looking for was so old, it would take time to find what she wanted. The newspapers were more helpful, but told her it would be easier to check the back issues at the library.
Patiently, she went through the spools, searching for stories on couples who had died at the same time, eliminating those who were found to be too old, the wrong race, or other factors. Sighing, she put in the spool for the seventh couple and started for the search again. Suddenly she stopped, as she came across a headline and picture. The headline read, "Chemical Researcher and Author Wife Found Dead After Explosion in Apartment, Daughter Missing." Stunned, she began to read the article.
"George Stewart, head of chemical research at Richland Industries, and his wife, Virginia, author of a number of popular children's books, were found by firefighters in their bedroom. An explosion in their apartment had completely gutted it, and severely damaged other units in the building. Their four-year-old daughter, Elena, was nowhere to be found and an investigation has commenced.
"Neighbors' accounts differ as to whether or not the girl was in the apartment at the time. All agree that they did hear screaming earlier, but no one saw anyone leave or enter the apartment for several hours prior to the explosion. They say that Mrs. Stewart was pregnant, and near her delivery date, but there was no indication of a baby in the room, although the remains of a crib were found."
The picture was grainy and difficult to see on the screen. She studied it for a long time, trying to make out the man and woman in it. Finally, she continued to look for any more articles on this couple's death. She found one, dated a week later. It said that one neighbor, who hadn't been in his apartment at the time of the explosion, had come forward and told police that he had seen a man go to the Stewart's apartment as he was leaving, about two hours prior to the time of the explosion. He had recognized the man as someone who had worked with Mr. Stewart, but had been fired under mysterious circumstances. He said that the man's name was Mark Haskell.
The article went on to say that a search for Mr. Haskell had turned up nothing, that the man had disappeared. All other leads had been followed to dead ends. It was ruled that a gas leak had caused the explosion and that the child, or children, had been completely incinerated. The case had been closed.
Elena took a deep breath. Then let it out. It sounded right; she felt she had found an answer. But now she had more questions. She scrolled back to the first article. ~Richland Industries. If they are still in business, they might have some answers for me.~ She rewound the spool and returned it, along with the others, to the librarian. She left and found a phone booth with an intact directory and looked up the name. They were still there. She wrote down the address and, hailing a cab, headed out to find more information.
The rest of the day was spent touring the Tunnels, and Vincent introduced Elena to the few people they met. He showed her his favorite place, the Mirror Pool, and they sat together on the edge, talking. He told her about his life underground and she told him about her writing. Finally he showed her the way to an alternate entrance - the one in the drainage ditch in the park near her apartment building. The sun had gone down and the night air was silky and fragrant. She promised to return in a few days, once she had some concrete information, and made her way back to her apartment.
Vincent watched her go, then went back to his quarters, wondering why he hadn't told Elena about Catherine or Jacob. He'd thought about it, but something held him back. ~Could it be that, in spite of this feeling between us, I still don't fully believe that she could be my sister? That I could have a family, blood relatives, of my own?~ He went and sought out his son, and lost himself in the wonder of this child that was his and Catherine's
----------------------------------------
The next morning, Elena sat eating breakfast and making a list of possible places to go to for information. Now that she had a possible lead to her past, she wanted to start finding out about who she really was. She munched on a piece of toast as she looked at what she'd already written:
Police Department
Newspapers
Public Library
She finished her toast and sat back. I certainly have my work cut out for me. I don't think I've ever done any research remotely resembling this before. She went and got the phone directory, and started looking for the numbers and addresses to the businesses and organizations she'd listed. Once that was done, she started making her calls.
Three hours later, she was sitting at a microfiche station at the library, looking through spools of newspaper articles from the week during which Vincent was discovered and taken to the Tunnels. The police had given her little information, saying that the time period she was looking for was so old, it would take time to find what she wanted. The newspapers were more helpful, but told her it would be easier to check the back issues at the library.
Patiently, she went through the spools, searching for stories on couples who had died at the same time, eliminating those who were found to be too old, the wrong race, or other factors. Sighing, she put in the spool for the seventh couple and started for the search again. Suddenly she stopped, as she came across a headline and picture. The headline read, "Chemical Researcher and Author Wife Found Dead After Explosion in Apartment, Daughter Missing." Stunned, she began to read the article.
"George Stewart, head of chemical research at Richland Industries, and his wife, Virginia, author of a number of popular children's books, were found by firefighters in their bedroom. An explosion in their apartment had completely gutted it, and severely damaged other units in the building. Their four-year-old daughter, Elena, was nowhere to be found and an investigation has commenced.
"Neighbors' accounts differ as to whether or not the girl was in the apartment at the time. All agree that they did hear screaming earlier, but no one saw anyone leave or enter the apartment for several hours prior to the explosion. They say that Mrs. Stewart was pregnant, and near her delivery date, but there was no indication of a baby in the room, although the remains of a crib were found."
The picture was grainy and difficult to see on the screen. She studied it for a long time, trying to make out the man and woman in it. Finally, she continued to look for any more articles on this couple's death. She found one, dated a week later. It said that one neighbor, who hadn't been in his apartment at the time of the explosion, had come forward and told police that he had seen a man go to the Stewart's apartment as he was leaving, about two hours prior to the time of the explosion. He had recognized the man as someone who had worked with Mr. Stewart, but had been fired under mysterious circumstances. He said that the man's name was Mark Haskell.
The article went on to say that a search for Mr. Haskell had turned up nothing, that the man had disappeared. All other leads had been followed to dead ends. It was ruled that a gas leak had caused the explosion and that the child, or children, had been completely incinerated. The case had been closed.
Elena took a deep breath. Then let it out. It sounded right; she felt she had found an answer. But now she had more questions. She scrolled back to the first article. ~Richland Industries. If they are still in business, they might have some answers for me.~ She rewound the spool and returned it, along with the others, to the librarian. She left and found a phone booth with an intact directory and looked up the name. They were still there. She wrote down the address and, hailing a cab, headed out to find more information.
Sign up to rate and review this story