Meet Me In The Forest

by Michelle

The late September rain was gently falling, making the tree leaves and still-lush green grass rustle all around. A perfect day for a walk, he thought, enjoying the moist air as he breathed it in deeply; even the slightly damp feel of his long cloak couldn’t deter him from moving on, one soft step after another. 

The sudden crunch on his left side made him stop and jerk, not out of fear but of curiosity. His eyes skimmed the area, his sharp ears trying to detect any more clues as to its origin. Were it nighttime, he would have assumed it was an owl taking off a branch, ready for its regular hunt. However, it was a guessing game for him now - he was still learning.

He sneaked to the nearest tree, as quietly as he could, looking for a safe hiding place to watch and reveal more. The hood on his head, shading most of his face, didn’t obscure his vision; his whole cloak made him blend with the tree almost as if he had always been a part of it. The brief crunching sound repeated, and this time, he was lucky:  seeing a familiar face emerge from behind the thick trunk of a tall oak tree, he smiled. Still remembering the first time he saw the same face, he couldn’t help but feel the same thrill spreading in his veins. The oblong head shape, the shiny, short, chestnut fur, the always-alert ears, the piercing, black doe eyes… 

“Hello, Bambi,” he whispered and, unhurried, he made a few careful steps toward the usually shy animal. “How are you today?”
The doe dared to walk out of its hideaway and meet the tall, veiled man ahead. His gloved hand reached for the cool and soft muzzle, gently caressing it. The animal seemed to enjoy the warm touch and tender ministrations.
“I didn’t see you yesterday. I hope you didn’t get into any trouble.”

The rain kept filling the crisp air with moisture, and the man and his forest companion continued enjoying their little encounter: the doe listening, and the man not expecting any answers – he felt them even without words. As his hand slowly traced the length of the doe’s back, another crunching sound disturbed both. The deer immediately ran off, leaving only a waft of its woodsy scent behind.

“I’m so sorry,” Catherine apologised softly from behind the same tree where Vincent stood only a few moments earlier. “I got a cramp in my foot and had to move,” she explained.
Vincent chuckled and walked to meet her. “How long have you been there?” he asked.
“Long enough to appreciate getting soaked in the lovely autumn rain,” she replied, smiling. 
She inhaled deeply, briefly closing her eyes. The expression on her face was that of pure bliss. Vincent remembered the first time he saw her in the rain – the same joy, the same excitement, the same beauty.

“I didn’t expect you to come so early,” he said, a gentle smile still lingering on his face.  “Did you finish The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin with the boys?”  He tenderly pushed a slightly damp strand of hair from her glowing face.
“I did,” Catherine confirmed. “You’d expect that after having it read with them for like twenty times, they would get less excited about it, but I guess I was wrong.” She raised her eyebrows, amused. “I guess I know who they get that from.”
Vincent’s smile widened; there were many traits his children inherited from their mother, but probably even more that they did from their father, especially their love of literature, even in their still tender age of six and four. 

“I’m glad Jamie shares their enthusiasm,” Catherine said as they started walking down the forest path not far from the Chandlers’ lake cottage, hand in hand.
“I’m glad she agreed to come with us,” Vincent added. “Connecticut is beautiful this time of year. Last night, she told me how much she loves it here. She is very grateful that you offered her to join us on this trip.”
Catherine’s smile slightly turned into one touched by guilt. “I’m afraid I thought less of Jamie enjoying this place than seeing the chance to steal a lovely walk like this with you alone.”
Vincent chuckled. “I can assure you she doesn’t mind it at all. You gave her a chance to get out of New York and see a completely different place, a place of beauty that no books can convey to her.”

Catherine stopped and looked into his eyes.
“Then I know exactly how she feels, for I felt like that the first time you took me for a walk around your world,” she said dreamily. 
He reached for her cheek and wiped a few raindrops from it. “Our world,” he corrected her.
His eyes wandered around, absorbing the magic of the changing colours of the leaves on the many and various trees, reaching for the sky painted with grey clouds; each of them could surely tell a story from a long time ago, Vincent thought. 

“I will never be able to thank you enough for taking me here for the first time, and every year since then.” His gravelly voice was softer than usual, quite moved. “The risk that you took… that you have taken every time we come here…”
“… has been worth it, every time,” Catherine interrupted him, with a deep conviction in her voice.  
Water stood in his eyes, just as every time she made him see and feel how much this meant to her. 
“To have shared this with you for the first time was a dream come true, but to share it with our boys now is beyond any words I could ever find to describe the feeling, “ she said, swallowing a tear. 
“Then we shall leave the words to the poets and enjoy the feeling in blessed silence,” Vincent replied before pressing a warm kiss on her forehead. 

Catherine sighed, yet again, feeling the ground beneath her shift, a feeling that didn’t seem to diminish even after the years they had been together. They started walking again; this time, she hung on his arm to get even more of his nearness, especially as he wordlessly offered her cover from the lingering light rain under the wing of his cloak.

“I hope Bambi won’t feel offended that I interrupted you so rudely,” she teased. 
Vincent smiled. “Animals have a much deeper understanding of the truth that we imagine.”
“And what was that truth in this case?” Catherine was genuinely interested.
“That you wished to join me so much that your body subconsciously made it happen earlier than planned,” her husband replied, amused.
Catherine laughed, her spirits high. “Very true. And you wished for the same thing.”

Vincent looked at her, his look playful. “And how did you know that?” 
She stopped again, pulling down his hood to see his face in full glory. She pressed her lips against his, then spoke with a wide smile. 
“I heard your voice whispering into my heart. It said, ‘Meet me in the forest…’”

Brigit: To Walk Among the Enemies - Beauty and the Beast fan video

In memory of a lovely lady :)

 

You Are Not Alone

by Michelle

Note: Some dialogue was used from the season 01 episode 'The Heart of the Jungle', written by Giacomo Bisanti.

The cruel yet somehow subdued splashing sound of water hit him like a well-aimed dagger into his heart... again... The sea swallowed the body of the deceased in a rather dignified and solemn way, just like the woman who had just sunk to its bottom was all her life. Yanez was right - life wasn’t kind to Nur, and yet it allowed her to become a mother and raise a son who may not have been hers in the physical sense, but whose bond of deep love with her transcended any laws of biology.

This is not how you deserved to die, ibu... And it’s all my fault...

The floor in front of his eyes was swimming due to the tears that refused to stop streaming like waterfalls from his devastated eyes. The sob he was stifling throughout the whole ceremony was dangerously demanding to be released from its prison in his throat. In the last moment, he shook himself off and turned around. He had to leave the deck, right now, or he knew he wouldn’t manage to keep it together.

Nobody said a word as all the eyes on deck followed their Captain as he retreated to the hold.
“Somebody should go to him,” Emilio said quietly. His worry, stemming from his admiration and love for the man guiding them, coloured his gentle voice.
“There’s nothing any of us can do,” Yanez remarked, fighting his own urge to console his best friend and the dearest person to him in the world. “This is something he has to process alone.”

As the silence swallowed any more possible remarks, and everyone slowly walked away to focus on their duties again, no one noticed that someone had decided to follow the Captain. Marianne was already closing the door leading below deck as her sad eyes met Yanez’s worried look in the last moment. Those few seconds were enough for a mutual understanding.

Marianne’s footsteps were light and slow, even though something deep inside her was willing her to move as fast as she could. What if he finds it an intrusion into his privacy? I’m only his hostage, after all, she contemplated. And yet, she couldn’t stand the thought of Sandokan locked up in his cabin alone, hurting and broken. She had been there too, standing at the mental abyss and staring into its seemingly never-ending depth, as black as the darkest Borneo night. The memory of her mother’s death still subtly lingered in the back of her mind. And then, another memory appeared, the one of standing on the cliff edge and thinking how easy it would be to just make the final step and escape the inevitable golden cage of her future life back in London. She didn’t have time to ponder more on the subject back then, because her eyes caught the attention of the body, unmistakably washed out by the sea, lying on the beach below her. She hadn’t thought about it before, but Sandokan became her lifeline that day - unexpected and mysterious, yet intriguing and special at the same time.

Despite everything that had happened since then, she couldn’t fight the fact that she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and not just physically. This was not just an ordinary pirate, that was for sure. His interaction with people, his manners and versatile skills, his intelligence spanning from trade to Shakespeare, and especially the kind, caring and protective side toward his injured friend Yanez, his mother and all her girls in Singapore... These colourful mosaic pieces created the extraordinary image of a man who made that little something inside Marianne’s heart, which she couldn’t define, grow bigger as time went on. That night when Nur told her about Sandokan’s successful effort to make her and all the girls’ lives dignified and happy again, Marianne spent long hours contemplating her impression of him. She realised even more that there were many layers to every human being, and no one can judge another before truly getting to know them. Yes, Sandokan kidnapped her, but if she was honest with herself, she knew he had no other choice. It was her own fault that she had left her room and gone looking for Sani, finding the incapacitated soldier in the yard and running into Sandokan and his escaping friends. Had she stayed in bed, none of this would have happened. Perhaps, she would have been on her way to London by now, facing a long and dreary high society life. Or perhaps, she would have been lying at the bottom of the sea, escaping the very same fate...

Today was the first chance she could repay Sandokan for pulling her out of her misery and opening the door in her soul to let light in again, and Marianne was not going to let her uncertainty stop her from doing so.

The knuckles of her hand rather hesitantly probed the door leading to his cabin. There was no response. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, steadying herself from... She didn’t really know what, only guessed. Pushing the door open, the image before her almost made her heart break.

Bent over, with his strong but elegant hands cradling his head, and breathing heavily, the man Marianne knew as an epitome of strength, confidence and courage seemed lost - in himself and in his grief. His self-control was falling into pieces, threatening to crumble under the weight of his personal loss with any next breath as he was still trying hard to stifle the sobs building up in his chest...

Marianne walked quietly over to him, and her arms mercifully surrounded his perfectly sculpted frame, offering him something solid to lean on. Sandokan didn’t even attempt to pull back; he rather surrendered completely, knowing that all his physical reserves were depleted.
Let it out... Just let it all out and breathe...

Marianne was willing him to listen merely by the way her hands gently caressed his head and back, over and over... like a mother desperately wanting to soothe her hurting child, although it wasn’t motherly feelings that were the source of Marianne’s compassion, nor her empathic nature towards all those who suffer.

Sandokan had stepped into the darkness yet again, but at that moment, he didn’t know how to look beyond it. The feeling of guilt kept gnawing at him with every laboured breath he took. And then he heard the unfamiliar sounds bursting out of his chest -  the suppressed pain finally receiving an outlet...

Marianne didn’t know how long they were standing there, their bodies blending seamlessly into one figure, as if they were made for each other. Suddenly, she felt Sandokan pulling back a little, and she followed suit. Seeing his face glistening with the shed tears, her hands reached out and tenderly wiped away as much as she could with her thumbs. She had no idea where she got the courage for such an intimate touch, but it didn’t matter to her.

Sandokan obviously didn’t mind. In fact, after taking a deep breath, he exhaled loudly and closed his eyes the moment he felt the gentle touch of her hands on his skin. Only briefly, but his personal boundaries were weakened, and resistance was a forgotten word that night. However, he quickly regained his control and shook his head apologetically, shame forcing him to lower his eyes.

”I’m sorry...” he whispered with a strained voice, feeling the salty taste of the last tear on his lips.
”Don’t be,” Marianne countered softly, still inadvertently holding his hands. Her intense gaze willed him to look at her again, as if feeling its heat. “Nothing seems right at this moment... You blame yourself... You just want to cry, and scream, and hit something and....” She exhaled to steady the rush of her own memories that threatened to overwhelm her. ”I know people often say it just to comfort someone,” she went on, “but you know I really mean it when I say... I know how you feel...”

It was the first time since Nur’s death that she saw a smile on his tortured face. It was a sad one, without the usual sparks in his eyes that usually appeared there, but she was still grateful to see it.
”Yes, I know,” Sandokan acknowledged softly, which earned him a smile in return and a light squeeze of her hands.
Their eyes remained connected for a while before Marianne blinked and swallowed, briefly lowering her eyes and finally releasing his hands, as warm as his dark gaze.
”You should rest,” she said and smiled at him. “It’s been... a long day.”
A deep sigh tore from Sandokan’s chest, then he nodded.

Marianne slowly turned around, ready to leave, but before she reached the cabin door, his mellow voice stopped her.
”Marianne...”
She turned around, her mouth half-opened and her heart thumping in her chest.
”Thank you.”

He was incapable of saying anything more that night, but he needed… wanted her to know how much he appreciated her honest care. And so he used the last of his remaining energy to convey everything in those two words. In other circumstances, he would have wanted to tell her so much more... but either way, he saw no way how what he had been feeling more and more every day could change anything. Their loss might have been the same, but their worlds were not. That truth had been eating him inside almost from the day she spoke to him first, but he would have to learn to live with the reality somehow...

Marianne watched the array of emotions play out on his face, fascinated by the display and at the same time touched by his words that warmed her more than an open fire on a cold night. She smiled at him again and then, slowly and very reluctantly, left him alone, closing the door behind her. Immediately, she felt bereft of his nearness, but it seemed there was nothing she could do about it: she was the daughter of the Labuan Consul; he was a pirate. Their two worlds couldn’t have been further apart and yet... For some inexplicable reason, she felt closer to him than she had ever felt to anyone, apart from her mother.

Hope can be the sweetest torture sometimes, but if it lacks courage, it often amounts to nothing. At that moment, Marianne felt her courage, otherwise so prevalent in her nature, was sleeping. What would it take for it to awaken? That was the question she was clueless to answer, for even the bravest ones know fear - especially if it is fear of a possible rejection...

※※※

Sandokan unhurriedly walked down the steps leading to the hold. His eyes landed on the figure of the woman lying in the hammock, cradled by the gliding movement of the prahu. She was asleep, and the pirate hesitated for a moment, unwilling to interrupt her rest.

The memory of her face during his talk to Yanez last night emerged in his mind again – where once there was anger and obstinacy in her face, now there was uncertainty, and he could swear fear, as well, but not of him, nor of being thrown to the fish; that was one thing Sandokan was sure of. What did she fear then?
Hope whispered one thing to him: Perhaps she’s afraid of leaving you…
He frowned, inwardly scolding himself for his silly dream. He swallowed hard before speaking softly.
“Marianne...”

She opened her eyes and sleepily regarded the dim outline of the man standing above her.
“Get ready,” he continued. “We are going ashore.”
Marianne accepted the help of his hands to get up from the hammock.
“Ashore?” she repeated incredulously, her worst fear creeping into her mind again. “Why?” she asked while he released her hands. Despite her discomfort at the looming reality, it didn’t go unnoticed by her, though, that he did it slowly, using the brief moment to trace the smooth skin on her fingers.
“It’s time to go home,” Sandokan said, his face sad.

There… This is really it…

“You’re freeing me??”
Her frowning face made Sandokan smile in amusement. “Did you expect to be my hostage forever?”
“No… of course, not,” Marianne forced a weak smile, briefly lowering her eyes. “I… just didn’t expect it to end like this.”
“Your father kept his promise, now it’s my turn,” the pirate tried to sound casual.
“But…”

Shyness swallowed the rest of Marianne’s sentence. How many times had silence spoken more than words? Her throat was burning, dying to speak, as she kept gazing at him, searching in those warm, dark eyes the understanding of what she wanted but didn’t have the courage to say.  The desperate plea in her own eyes projected it clearly, and as she suddenly found it difficult to breathe, she had only one thought.

I don’t want to leave… I don’t want to go anywhere where you are not…

Sandokan patiently waited, willing her to continue but not letting himself get carried away with what he still regarded as a fantasy. He had a mission to fulfil, something greater than the deepest desire that was dangerously growing in his heart.

“Where will you leave me?” Marianne asked hastily after blinking to regain her composure.
“Near the mines. The Sultan is friends with your father. They’ll take you home from there.”  
“What about you?”
“I’ll look for my parents.”

One more lingering look into her eyes, and then Sandokan reluctantly turned on his heel, returning to the deck the same way he came down, leaving behind what he desired the most – love.
Marianne’s eyes followed him until his impressive figure disappeared at the top of the steps. Her heart was pounding, her brain overloaded with thoughts beyond her control.
Is this really how it’s going to end? How we are going to end?

There were times in the past few days she had wished none of it had happened, that she was still in Labuan chasing spiders and getting ready for her trip to England. Times when anger and frustration overrode her reason and all the good that came with the man who (although forced to it) kidnapped her.
However, this time, she wished he would return and tell her he had changed his mind. This time, all she wanted was to stay by his side, relish in his calming presence, explore his intelligent mind and feel the warmth of his touch and his eyes on hers - forever…

 ※※※

 

Marianne put the last piece of her modest belongings into a sack; it was the night gown she had on that night when Sandokan took her away from the safety of Labuan, and she became his hostage.

How strange it all seemed to her now, a hostage! In only a few days, so much had happened and so much had changed... Despite her unfavourable status, Sandokan was her protector, never allowing anyone to harm her and treating her with appropriate respect. She watched with keen interest his interactions with women in his adoptive mother’s house, those women who used to be treated as the lowest creatures without heart or soul once. They all behaved warmly to Sandokan, not wanting to charm him, but projecting a genuine affection characteristic of siblings. He didn’t see them as goods to be sold to whoever paid more. For Sandokan, women truly were sacred, just as one of his laws on the ship said, and Marianne couldn’t help but be impressed by it. In her world, which boasted to be civilised, women were treated more like a decoration in a purely man’s world, making her question more and more which world she had experienced was more civilised in reality.

A sudden sound of footsteps behind her brought her back to the present, and she turned around. Against her will, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man she had just been thinking about.
“We are ready to leave,” Sandokan said, his voice coloured with traces of... something she couldn’t be sure about.
”Me too,” Marianne replied quietly, her eyes pinned to his, glowing in the semi-darkness of the hold. In fact, I am not...

He nodded, seemingly unable to break their eye contact. After a beat that seemed like eternity, he spoke again.
”Thank you for last night.” Sandokan’s mellow voice was quiet again. “I...” He sighed, briefly lowering his eyes, as dark as coal in the faded light of the hold. “It was very kind of you.”
Marianne smiled softly. “From a hostage, I know.”
He chuckled, then his smile faded, and the light in his eyes spoke of something coming from the depths of his heart. “You are not my hostage any more...”

He didn’t dare to add the rest of his thought, for he was sure it would be pointless. He didn’t say that he couldn’t imagine a new day without seeing her inquisitive face, hearing her thoughts, or at least being near her. His heart was crying out to let her know, but his reason fought it with all its weakening power. However, he was unable to hide the warmth radiating from his gaze as he silently regarded her.

What am I to you if not a hostage? Marianne thought, desperately fighting the urge to ask him for real. The memory of their first dance back in Labuan overwhelmed her senses. Back then, Sandokan revealed his gentle, romantic side to her, guiding her through the waltz with great skill, but also care and deep focus on her. The sensation intensified when she remembered their next dance in Singapore, where his softness gave way to the bold yet still respectful intensity, even more awaking feelings in her that no other man had ever managed - euphoria, thrill, and unexpected, all-consuming passion...

I can’t do this... I don’t have the strength...

She mentally shook herself off and brought them back to his initial thought.
”Losing someone we love is a journey everyone must take alone at some point, but...” She paused for a moment, then spoke from her heart. “I just wanted you to know that you are not.”

It was Sandokan’s turn to smile, with that tender and warming smile making everything seem better. Then it slowly faded as he tilted his head and visibly thought about something.
”Would you have jumped? Back then on the cliff?” he inquired with genuine interest.
Marianne was taken aback by his question, but then she blinked, still holding his affectionate gaze.
”I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, frowning, “I was so confused… but... I’m glad you were there... so I didn’t have to decide.”
”Me too,” was his quiet answer.

The smiles returned to both their faces, acknowledging the importance of their presence in each other’s lives. For some unknown reason, fate brought them together at the time of facing their personal storms. And neither of them could deny the fact that the impact of their encounter would influence the course of their future forever.

 

“Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can;

And common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.”

- William Faulkner -

Beyond Victory, Beyond Defeat

by Michelle

 1.

LAURA

Another Monday, another day stuck here, selling papers and pretending I am a part of the great big world. Working during the days, fulfilling my Helper’s duties at weekends. Mr. Wise has been good to me, I have to give him that... But even after seven months, it’s still not working... I still don’t feel like I belong, quite the opposite, I feel like a bird’s egg that had been put in the wrong nest...

When I was leaving the Tunnels, I was scared and excited at the same time. I didn’t know what the world Above would offer me, but I was thrilled to open a new page and see everything I had only read and dreamed about down Below. All the colours, scents, sights, people... I may not have been born with the gift of hearing, but all my other senses work perfectly like a Swiss clock! Not that I have ever seen one, working one, that is, apart from the broken wristwatch Mouse found on some trash site.

After Vincent saved me from that horrible man who tried to kill me, I didn’t have much faith in New York Above at first. Then he and Catherine told me that evil exists everywhere, Above and Below, but that there is even more goodness and beauty in both places. We only have to open our hearts and minds to accept and appreciate it. And so I did leave the Tunnels after all, like many children do once they grow up there. There are many of those who decide to stay Below, but I’ve always felt that I was missing something down there.

My parents abandoned me in Central Park when I was barely four, probably because they couldn’t cope with an imperfect child. I couldn’t speak, nor sign, every interaction I had had until then was one of rejection or pity. I didn’t know what love was, for all I got was indifference. One of the Helpers found me sitting near the Carousel that evening and brought me to the Tunnels. He’s a policeman and kept checking the missing children lists for a few weeks, but no one ever reported me missing. So I stayed Below.

I was frightened at first. The closed, narrow and mostly dark spaces confused me. However, Father, Rebecca and Mary, in fact, everyone else were always very kind to me. They brought one of the Helpers, a sign language teacher, to teach me sign. Once I could express myself, everything seemed much easier. Vincent always said I learned to sign much quicker than he did...

Vincent... I miss him; I wish he were here... I wish he would tell me that this feeling of uncertainty in my heart is just temporary, and that I will find my place in this world and love it one day, it just takes some time... He was my teacher, my closest and kindest friend, someone I always looked up to. Even when I saw him for the first time, only a few weeks after I was brought to the Tunnels, I don’t remember being scared of his face. Maybe because for the first time in my life, I saw someone else who was different from others, just like me...

Vincent... What should I do? I want to fit in here, but I am suffocating...

Stop daydreaming, Laura. We have newspapers to sell, Mr. Wise signs to me, bringing me back to my senses. I sign my reassuring reply to him and turn back to my duties.

That tall, young man at the end of the newsstand... He’s watching me… but not in an uncomfortable way. Mr. Wise is selling a magazine to someone, so I have to serve the young man. I approach him and catch myself observing his face for a moment - it’s a good, kind, handsome face, with warm and gentle dark eyes that smile at me...

I’ll take this one, please, he signs... He signs!! Oh, I can’t believe it!
Are you all right? he asks me, probably because I’m staring at him with my mouth half-open. He’s still smiling though...
I’m fine, thank you, I quickly sign back to him, barely managing to prevent my hands from shaking. I feel the blood rising to my cheeks, and I smile nervously back at him. That’s thirty-five cents, please.

He takes a few coins out of his jeans pocket and passes them to me, then folds his Times and puts them under his arm. He’s still smiling at me, and I don’t know why I suddenly feel so hot... Maybe it’s the tenderness of his gaze or the way he seems not wanting to leave, maybe because no man has ever looked at me that way...

Are you here every day? he asks suddenly, and I find myself nodding like in a trance. My grin must look funny because he chuckles, then smiles even more widely, revealing his perfectly white teeth. There is definitely something warm in his eyes, like the candles that used to fill my room in the Tunnels...

Then, I’ll see you again, he says, and I smile in return. He slowly turns to leave, then stops and looks back at me. I’m Jerry, he signs.
Laura, I reveal my name to him and can’t stop smiling. The coins in my hand feel like hot embers for some reason.
’Till tomorrow then, Laura...

I barely manage to react when he turns for good this time, crosses the road and disappears from my sight.
The customers, Laura, Mr.Wise points out to me more insistently. I turn my attention to a middle-aged and impatient man in a funny hat and sell him his daily newspaper.

More people come and go, and I serve them as well as I can. Still, the heat from my cheeks hasn’t disappeared, and my head can’t forget that face and that name: Jerry...

※※※

2.

VINCENT 

 

I enter the large study quietly as always; I have no wish to interrupt Father’s regular reading of his medical journals abruptly. Peter has been truly generous in supplying him, and I know how much staying in touch with his former profession means to Father. It is the only reminder of his past that he happily dwells on, not only for practical reasons and the advantage of everyone living in the Tunnels.

He notices my presence and acknowledges it by closing the magazine in his hands and taking off his spectacles.
”Vincent,” he says, with that warm, joyful smile that has greeted me so often in my life. “Is it time for our chess game yet?” He glances at his pocket watch, knitting his brows.
”Not yet, Father,” I say, smiling too.
He regards my face, the frown on his forehead an unmistakable sign of his deep focus. “Is something the matter?” he inquires.

I walk over and join him at the table he has been reading at.
”Laura has run away... She hasn’t been seen in four days.”
My words shake him more than even I expected. “Why?” he breathes, his voice filled with genuine incomprehension and sorrow.
I shake my head before replying. “I’m not sure. Gregory said she had been restless and unhappy with the work for some time now. She had some bad experiences with people being rude to her because she didn’t react quickly enough, due to not hearing them. It seemed to have upset her greatly. The same happened on the day she ran off.”

Father sighs and absently runs his hand through his grey hair. “I sensed she might have problems adapting to the world Above. As I have experienced on my own, it is a fast world, where patience is more often an unknown term, and someone like Laura needs a lot of patience.”
”She is a very bright girl,” I say, then correct myself, “woman.”
”A very young woman,” Father remarks.
”Still, a woman, facing a world she had never known. There are surely feelings within her that add to her confusion.”

Father seems more worried by the minute. He frowns again.
“Do you think she... ran away with... someone?”
”I don’t know,” I answer truthfully, “but anything is possible. Gregory said a young man come to the newsstand every day to get his newspaper, but mainly to talk to Laura. He uses sign language as well. They started meeting after work as well.”
”I guess that’s why she has missed out on her duties as a Helper recently.” Father shakes his head. I recall his face every time someone told him our friend hadn’t shown up with supplies as agreed.
”Laura knows our lives depend on the support of all the Helpers. I’m sure she will see her reason in the end. If she found someone who she feels understands her and makes her happy, who are we to judge her? She had suffered enough since the day she was born.”

Father looks deep into my eyes, mulling over my words. “Let’s hope you are right,” he says then. “Mainly, let’s hope she’s all right.”
I nod. “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tune without words - and never stops at all.” [1]

Father finally smiles, and he covers my hand with his. “It will never cease to amaze me how you do it.”
”Do what?” I ask.
”Make me believe that everything is going to be all right.”

I can’t suppress a smile as well, but I don’t speak; there is no need to. I slowly rise from my chair.
”I will be back soon for our chess game,” I reassure him, as if giving him a more pleasant way out of the sad topic, even though we both know it will only be a temporary one.
”Yes... I’m looking forward to it,” Father replies with a quick smile, then a grey cloud settles on his face again.

“I’ll have the children check a few areas while they’re out,” I say, feeling his worry, mirroring mine. “Perhaps someone will see her somewhere.”
Father nods and smiles gratefully, reaching for his spectacles once more.
“Thank you,” he says before disappearing into his magazine again.
I smile at the image, so dear to my heart, then I take my leave.

I walk the Tunnels as I have hundreds of times before, but I cannot focus on their warm, dim glow, nor the shades of brown and grey of their walls. My mind is on Laura…

I see her as a child, still barely ten years old, collecting every piece of shiny stone or shard, admiring their colours and shapes, putting them together into the most creative and striking images. I remember all her clocks, scattered around her chamber, with all their ticking, creating a peculiar myriad of sounds night and day… I see her glowing face when she found the first one on a scavenger hunt with Mouse. She was so happy...

Where is she? Is she well? Did we let her out of her safe nest too early, not prepared enough, and uncertain? Have we failed her somehow, so much that she refuses to seek our help? Father was right; she is only nineteen years old, and still so fragile… I realise my questions might remain unanswered for some time, perhaps forever (I shudder at that thought).

No... I’m certain that if she needed a sanctuary, she would return to us, knowing she would surely find it here. After all, this is still her home... Yes, I must hold on to hope and its wings, the hope that never stops at all...

※※※

3. 

JERRY

God, forgive me, but I can’t keep it inside any more... I don’t want her to get hurt; she’s so precious, the most precious thing I have ever had in my life...

Laura, I wish I had the strength to tell you the truth! I should have told you right from the start, even before I found out you knew the members of this damned gang! I want to tell you so badly, but how? How to tell someone you love you’ve been pretending to be someone you’re not? How should I tell you that I am not deaf, and most of all, that the reason why I became a member of this community was to spy and gather evidence on Lincoln? How could I have known you were one of them, too?

I should never have let you leave your safe place. You had a job, a home... What do you have now? A pretence-life with someone who is everything Lincoln orders you to hate...

I felt the restlessness, rage and confusion in you from the moment we met. Despite it all, there was also sweetness, kindness and gentleness as well, shining from you, just like that charming curiosity that never leaves you. All the time, you have been angry with the world that condemns you. You think you have found a community where you can be yourself and live without the judgment of the people outside of it. But how? How can you find peace among violence and acceptance among self-proclaimed division? This world is full of prejudices, I know it, for my parents were deaf and they too had to find their way in it. However, Lincoln's community is not free of them either. Why is it that people can't sit down and talk about their differences instead of throwing knives or shooting at each other? Sticks and stones may indeed break my bones, but words will never hurt me...

When I was assigned to this mission, I could not have predicted that you would cross my path. Even less could I have predicted that I would fall in love with you, so deeply and hopelessly that I’m afraid to mess it up just because I’m terrified Lincoln or someone else from the gang might hurt you... I wish I could tell you I didn’t want any of this to happen, but I will also never regret meeting you, despite the circumstances, for it’s the best thing that ever happened to me in the twenty-five years of my life... 

Being a detective is not an easy job, and I’m still only a beginner, learning something new every day. But the one thing no one can teach you there is how to stay impersonal when so many times, your heart and humanity can’t just step aside and make way for duty. This is the first time in my career I’ve been really struggling with it, for on one hand, I want to do my job properly and bring justice to those who deserve it, but on the other hand, I’m afraid of the personal loss it might cost me, even more, the physical harm and emotional blow you might suffer from it...

Do you remember our first date, Laura? I took you to that cosy little café round the corner near your work… We had burgers with fries and a milkshake, and suddenly, you started laughing… with that almost soundless but sweetest laugh I can imagine, making your whole face light up like a hundred candles - you said I had a milkshake moustache. I smiled and took another sip of my shake, making the moustache even bigger. Then I crossed my eyes and made a funny face. You laughed even more, and at that moment, I never wanted to do anything else but make you laugh for the rest of my life… I wanted to wipe the shake away, but your small hand stopped me and took the napkin from my hand. Slowly, very slowly, you erased all traces of my earlier silliness, while still smiling. I couldn’t focus on anything but your eyes, large, warm and dark, sparkling like diamonds in the night, and your full lips, inviting, tempting…

I had loving parents – God rest their souls, for they died too young - and I’ve met some great people in my life, but no one has ever shown me so much tenderness, care and love as you do, Laura… You have become the reason why I want to live and breathe every day as if it were the last thing in my life. We have only known each other for three months, but you have given my life a real purpose. I have seen you in good and bad: in times when you were joyful and carefree, in others when you were giving, gentle and considerate, and in those when you let loose your anger and hate at the world that has treated you unjustly. I hate seeing you in pain, and it’s tearing me even more to know that I will add to your pain once you find out the truth…

Will you be able to forgive me? Will you understand that despite hiding my true identity, I have never lied to you about my feelings for you and that I am my true self only when I’m with you? In your innocence and genuine nature, in your love, I have found my happiness, and you have become my soul mate…

Catherine says I can’t come near you because of the danger I pose to you… but how? I can’t remain silent… I need to get you out of that deceiving and toxic den, take you far away where no one could harm you, and we could live free and happy!

Will you come with me? Can we escape the threat looming over us? Can I tear you away from the community, which you say you finally fit in, although you do anything but? Is that the right thing to do? I don’t know… I only know one thing: I will not rest easily until I try at least, whatever the danger…

※※※ 

4.

CATHERINE

That was close… really close. What if Vincent appeared just a moment after he did? Laura would be dead now, and Jerry probably too. Oh, Laura… How much she had suffered already! How was any of us to know what would lie ahead of her when she left the Tunnels last year?

I guess she had to learn her lesson the hard way; maybe we all have to. She thought the world was against her and that by joining a deaf community and building a wall around herself, letting only Jerry into her private sphere, she would find safety, understanding and happiness. Now she knows that we can’t be guided only by first impressions. We must face our problems and let in those who love us, because they just might show us the side of the story we need to hear.

“Thank you,” Jerry says quietly, lifting his hand from the hospital bed and reaching for mine.
“Thank Laura,” I reply, with a knowing smile. “The police came because of her.” I can’t tell him she rushed to Gregory only to get Vincent’s help. Mercifully, the boy was probably too beaten and sore to look up and spot him. Would he even believe me that a fantastical being came to his and Laura’s rescue, risking his exposure and life again?

He turns his face to her – she’s sitting by his other side, watching him with worried eyes, and I’m sure I can see guilt in them too.
“Thank you,” Jerry whispers and slowly signs at the same time.

Laura smiles, a tear running down her shaken face. She grabs his hand and presses it to her cheek as if afraid he might disappear from her sight. All the anger and resentment from his - what she saw as - betrayal seems gone from her; she looks so fragile, like a frightened bird that flew through a big storm and managed to survive only by sheer will.

I silently retreat from the bedside, respectfully giving them privacy. I was pretty harsh on Jerry just yesterday, but remembering his sincere words about what Laura means to him and seeing the genuine love and devotion in his eyes as he regards her, I cannot help but feel sorry for him. I have known him only for a few months, but I know that his heart is pure and honest. He didn’t plan this scenario, but like so many unpredictable events in our lives, it happened. I should know about it very well… And maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe these two souls, each lonely in their own way, were meant to cross paths and find themselves in each other. Exactly like Vincent and I did…

“I’ll see you later, Jerry,” I say quietly, feeling bad for interrupting such a tender moment between them. “We’ll need your statement.”
“I’ll try to write everything down… before you come,” he says with some effort, affected by the painkillers.
“No rush,” I counter, shaking my head, then smiling. “Get better first.”

I nod and smile at both of them, intending to leave, but before I open the room’s door, I feel Laura’s hand reaching for my arm. I turn around and see her sign something to Jerry.
“She wants me to translate,” Jerry says, watching her.
“What is it, Laura?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She looks at me before signing again, not leaving my eyes.

"Please… thank him for me,” Jerry says again. His voice suggests he’s a little confused, but he doesn’t inquire further. Maybe he thinks she means Gregory. “And tell him I’m sorry,” he adds her last words.
I smile at Laura, seeing the anxiety in her eyes. I don’t need an explanation, for I know exactly who she means and how she feels.
“You can tell him yourself tomorrow,” I encourage her and lightly squeeze her arm.
Finally, she smiles as well and lets me go. After one last glance at Jerry, I leave them alone.

As I walk down the hospital corridors, I feel tired, and yet I can’t stop thinking. So much has happened so quickly... When I saw Laura at the break-in that night, all I could think of was, Where did we go wrong? I know Vincent has been worried; his sense of responsibility is overpowering his rational thinking. But no matter how much we love someone, we are not responsible for all their actions. Laura made her choice and had to pay with a distressing experience to learn from it.

Still, her choice somehow brought Jerry into her life, and that’s the beauty of it. It seems that darkness is always followed by light, no matter how much we suffer.
I smile, my thoughts travelling to Vincent again.
I found my light in you, Vincent, never to fear darkness again.

The thought puts a spring into my step, my feet inevitably carrying me to the one destination I long to be right now. It’s late, but my mind is set on the Tunnels. I need to tell Vincent that Laura is and will be all right, that everything is going to turn out all right in the end. Life is not always a walk in the park, but sometimes, it blesses us with the most beautiful roses...

"Holding anger is a poison... It eats you from inside...
We think that by hating someone we hurt them...
But hatred is a curved blade... and the harm we do to others...

we also do to ourselves."

- Mitch Albom: The Five People You Meet In Heaven - 

---

[1] Emily Dickinson: Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

 HOW CURIOSITY DIDN'T KILL THE CAT

by Michelle

The shrill sound of his alarm clock ripped through the quiet early Sunday morning. Isaac Stubbs groaned and groped for the clock in an attempt to kill its piercing beeping - successfully, and he turned to his back, covering his face with his arm. He sighed.

"Why do I always forget to turn you off for Sunday?" he spoke with annoyance, inwardly cursing his forgetfulness. 
Sundays were the only proper resting days for the renowned self-defence teacher, and despite always being woken up at 6.45 in the morning, he always gladly went back to slumber, enjoying a lie-in. However, his brain was wide awake that morning, immediately recalling the events from the previous night.

He had no idea what he was letting himself into when Catherine Chandler called him and asked for his help. She sounded desperate, talking about a missing person she needed to find as soon as possible. He liked Catherine; she was one of his favourite students, and he would have never turned her down. Or would he? Isaac thought for a moment, pondering if he would have reacted differently had he known who the person was. Or what...

He glimpsed the face only for a few seconds before Catherine insisted he leave, but his head was buzzing with the image embedded in his memory. Isaac was not a man of prejudice; considering his own descent, it would have been not only illogical but also hypocritical. And yet, he had to wonder what was hiding behind those peculiar features, and how their owner and Catherine crossed paths. Cathy obviously felt sad in his presence; that much was clear from the way she didn't hesitate to embrace him as if he were her dearest friend who had risen from the dead. And from the brief moment Isaac saw and heard this almost otherworldly creature, he couldn't help but feel enthralled by the vision and the voice.

Isaac kicked the duvet aside and decided it was time for his morning coffee. He made it to the small kitchen and mechanically filled the kettle with water before putting it on the stove. After he put two heaped teaspoons of instant coffee into his mug (he had been thinking of getting a filter coffee machine for years but never had the time to buy one), he looked absently out of the kitchen window. 
Catherine said she owed him her life, he thought, but how? Could she have meant the day she was attacked and left to die in Central Park?
It had to be at night, Isaac decided. Someone with such a face would surely find it difficult to walk in the streets without causing a stir at least. Where did he live? What did he do to survive? What was he to Cathy?

He shook his head. Whatever the truth, it was none of his business. His friend trusted him enough to ask for his help, so there was nothing he would do to break their friendship and mutual respect. And yet, that unfathomable face stood before his mind's eye like a stubborn question mark, a riddle wanting to be solved.

The hissing of the kettle brought him back to the present. He filled his mug with the hot liquid, stirred the coffee, the pleasant aroma of the steaming drink already reviving his spirit. He put a small pan on the stove, heated it up and cracked two eggs into it. Grabbing two slices of bread and popping them into his ancient toaster, Isaac tried to focus on preparing his breakfast and enjoying the fact that he had a whole day for himself. He missed his twelve-year-old daughter, with whom he would usually spend every other Saturday night and Sunday. However, his daughter was on vacation in Los Angeles with her mother and her new stepfather. Isaac snorted, shaking his head in disdain.
The furthest you ever took them was to Cape May...

It wasn't for the lack of love, interest, or money; his self-defence centre had been a success right from its opening. However, the long hours Isaac put in to keep it running took an expensive toll - his wife realised she wanted more than just an occasional husband, and filed for divorce. It didn't take her long to find a new one either, a college teacher who not only swept her from her feet, but also had way more time to spend with her and the girl. Isaac wasn't even surprised when he heard the news. At least he could spend time with Jessie fortnightly, he consoled himself.

I bet I would score some points if I told her what I saw last night! He chuckled, then reprimanded himself fr even thinking of using someone else's misfortune for his own benefit.

"Damn!" he cursed, noticing the eggs on the pan had almost turned to charcoal. He pulled the smoking pan away from the ring and ran water over it. "Thank God I still didn't have time to fix the smoke alarm," he mumbled, imagining his grumpy neighbour upstairs banging on his front door.

Another sound caught his interest, though - the ringing of his phone. Still busy with the unsalvageable morning meal, he let it go to the answering machine.
"Hi, Isaac, it's me, Catherine... Sorry for calling so early, I just thought I could get you some breakfast, the least I can do for you after..."
Isaac waited with bated breath for the next words, his hands frozen over the sink. He heard a nervous sigh before Catherine's soft voice continued.
"Could you meet me at the Carousel in Central Park in about an hour< Even if you don't hear this immediately... I can't stay long, but I'll wait there until 10.30... Thanks."

Isaac barely heard the last few words, for he quickly turned off the stove and hurried back to his bedroom to get dressed. One thought occupied his mind: Breakfast might be saved after all.

※※※

Catherine Chandler was anxiously pacing there and back, not far from the Central Park carousel. A handful of parents with their children were already there, enjoying their early morning fun. The February morning air was crisp, biting her cheeks, as she blew some heat on her hands; when leaving home last night, she had forgotten to take her gloves. Her mind drifted to the Tunnels, deep below the bustling New York City, the city that never sleeps. She knitted her brows, doing her utmost to reach that unusual bond binding her to the man she willingly tied her fate to. 

Vincent... How are you?
Her hands went up to her temples, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Argh, it's no use! I don't have the gift that Vincent has...

Frustrated, Catherine took a deep breath, trying to focus on the reason why she was standing in the cold Above instead of keeping watch over Vincent by his bed. She had only left less than two hours ago, but already felt restless. What if he needed her< He had a few nightmares throughout the night, and Catherine did everything she could to chase them away, holding his hand and wiping his feverish forehead with a wet cloth. Both she and Father knew that his recovery would take time, and she was set on being present as much as possible throughout it. If it meant working in the office during the day and watching over Vincent at evenings and nights, then so be it; there was nothing she wouldn't do for him, as nothing else was more important to her. However, there was no way she could postpone or ignore the conversation with Isaac, even though she trusted him completely to remain silent about what he had witnessed the night before. Vincent agreed with her, and only one question remained: How much could she reveal to him?

"How did you know I've just burned my fried eggs?" A familiar, cheerful voice made her turn around.
"Isaac..." Catherine said with a relieved smile. She wasn't sure before how their first meeting since the extraordinary events they experienced together would be, but her instinct was correct - there was no hint of awkwardness transpiring from her former self-defence teacher, only the kind and easy-going expression on his face. It was undeniable, though, that there was something more, however hard Isaac tried to hide it - curiosity.
"Cathy," he replied and hugged her. "Please, tell me we can get some breakfast... I'm starving."
She laughed, the constant stress, marked by the tension in her muscles, easing a little.
"Sure," she said. "As I said, my treat."

※

"Damn, this was excellent," Isaac stated and leaned back against his chair, patting his belly.

They were sitting in a quiet café Catherine led them to after they talked things over on their walk through Central Park. She didn't tell her friend all the details about the world Below, only the few necessary ones, about Vincent having been found and looked after by a man living underground with him, and some other people. While Catherine was talking (always very conscious of the environment and potential listeners), Isaac was deeply focused on her every word, silently pondering the implications of everything he had heard. All he did after Catherine finished her narrative was nod several times and then suddenly change the expression on his face and say, 'I think I need a second portion.'

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who enjoys it here," his former student remarked, laughing.
Isaac grinned. "In some strange way, it makes sense."
Catherine was nonplussed. "Meaning...?"
"Meaning you are a gorgeous, young, and successful high-society woman."
"Not exactly any more," she corrected him, chuckling.
"Yeah, I know, but you know what I mean," her friend said. "So something had to happen to you to test your real worth. And he is the outcome of your transformation."
Catherine pondered his words before speaking. "Maybe, but you have one thing wrong. He is the reason for my transformation. I found myself because of him."

Isaace smiled knowingly, and his eyes lingered on hers, his facial expression a deeply focused one again.
"It will take some digesting," he said finally, and his tone revealed to Catherine he wasn't talking about food. Her smile faded a little.
"I know... but I hope you can manage anyway... quietly. His safety... his life depends on it," she added, whispering.
The self-defence master briefly lowered his eyes, before looking up again - to her relief, a genuine, warm smile lit up his face.
"You have put your trust in me, Cathy, and you know I would never do anything to prove I am unworthy of it." He leaned a bit forward and whispered. "Will I ever see him again?"

Catherine watched the childlike awe on his face and couldn't suppress a little laugh. Of course, she knew he was trustworthy. She knew that right from the start when he took her under his wing with honesty, care, and encouragement, and now, she found it almost incredible she had had even the slightest doubt about his possible reaction.
"I don't know," she said then truthfully, with a shrug. "It doesn't depend on me."
Isaac straightened himself up on his chair again, nodding. "Well, you can be sure of one thing: if you ever need help again, you know where to look for it."

Catherine's beaming smile and glistening eyes were her only response. For Isaac, it was more than enough.

※※※

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

It was past ten in the evening as Vincent leisurely made his way through the in-darkness-obscured alleys of Manhattan, enjoying the relative freedom provided by the merciful disguise of his long, dark cloak, flailing around him like bat's wings. The streets were less busy than usual at this time of night, probably caused by the sudden, brief return of winter in the early spring city. The thermometer plummeted to numbers much more regular in January than in late March.

Vincent didn't mind the chilly bite of the air at all. The cold gave him extra protection on top of the darkness, so he could wander off deeper into the city. Always vigilant, though, he had just eyed the area around him before wanting to return to one of the hidden tunnel entrances when his sensitive ears caught some noise coming from around the corner. He jumped deeper into the shadow and, with gingerly, silent steps of a wild cat, he walked in that direction.

The sounds were getting louder and clearer, and Vincent recognised voices - two teenagers cornered a man in his late forties, harassing him.

'Look, guys, I told you I don't have much money on me, if that's what you want," the man said calmly. "If you want it, it's yours, but I'm sure it would be better for you if you earned it in a more decent way than robbing an ageing man on his way back from work."
"Of course, we want the money!" a boy of not more than eighteen years shouted, clad all in denim and black leather with a sea of silver buckles. He held his head high, his whole body oozing threat, albeit a not exactly convincing one. Vincent spotted his lifted arm, pointed against the cornered man - the hand held a small knife.
"And anything valuable!" his friend added, another teenager, looking almost identical; it appeared the boys were brothers.
"Money is all I have," the older man replied, still surprisingly calm. It seemed he had been in a similar situation before. He raised his eyebrows, seemingly resigned. "If you want it, get it yourself."
"Get on with it! Now!" the first boy exclaimed, his knife dangerously close to the man's face.

The man lifted his arms, still inviting the rascals to help themselves, but just as the boy with the knife lost his nerve and wanted to attack the man, Vincent, who just stepped out of the shadow to intervene, saw the man suddenly block his attacker, with unexpected speed and ease. He sent the boy down to the ground unconscious with two more expertly executed self-defence moves, kicking the knife out of his hand and not giving him the slightest chance to retaliate. However, right after, he felt surprisingly strong hands close around his neck as the second teenager threw himself on his back. For the second time that night, he felt the steel-cold presence of a knife at his face. He struggled with the boy's grip for a few seconds, and just as he was about to perform another defence move, he heard a soft growl behind them. It was barely audible, but his neck was suddenly free, and he heard a thud. He did a quick U-turn and gasped, not so much at the sight of the other teenager lying on the ground unmoving, but by the apparition standing calmly above him - a tall figure veiled in a black cloak from head to toe. His mouth went wide open as the figure stepped closer to him, the light of a street lamp gradually revealing his face...

"It's you...!" the man breathed in awe, his lips curling into an incredulous smile.
"Hello, Isaac," Vincent's soft, gravelly baritone made the self-defence teacher relive that brief moment from a few months ago. The magic of that sound hit him immediately.
"How... I mean... How did you know who I was?" Isaac asked, knitting his brows. The only time they fleetingly crossed paths, the maned man was practically blind.
Vincent's small smile softened his animal features. "Catherine," he replied. "She showed me the newspaper clipping last month."

Isaac laughed. "And to imagine I hated being photographed at that event!" he exclaimed, remembering the occasion. His club competed in a regional self-defence contest - and won. The photograph showed the team with their proud, although slightly out-of-place-looking couch. "I know it's good promotion for my business, but I've never liked the press attention. I just wanna do my job and help people. My face wasn't made for the whole world to stare at it."

Seeing the flash of sadness in Vincent's deep-set eyes, Isaac understood the inappropriateness of his remark. He was still stunned at this surreal encounter and transfixed by the extraordinary face before him, but he didn't wish to cause the man who helped him any discomfort. It was time to change the topic. He looked down at the boy at Vincent's feet.

"Is he...?"
"He'll wake up soon," Vincent replied, correctly guessing Isaac's train of thought - the self-defence master was intelligent enough to realise there was extraordinary strength beneath the majestic exterior. "He's unharmed." Vincent glanced at the other boy lying at Isaac's feet. "Catherine was right. You are a brilliant teacher."
Isaac chuckled. "It's kind of a necessity around here, as you see."
"More often than I would like," Vincent added sorrowfully.

The sound of the police car passing by on the main street interrupted the moment of pondering between them.
"You'd better get going," Isaac remarked, his eyes glancing toward the main street, "before someone walks by... and before these two wake up."
Vincent nodded, then outstretched his gloved hand. Isaac felt a wave of inexplicable thrill wash over him before he accepted it, impressed by its strong grip.
"Thank you," Vincent said softly, with genuine gratitude. "For helping Catherine, not just while looking after me."
"Some people are worth it," Isaac said, with a knowing smile.

The two men released each other's hands, and Vincent, as quietly and inconspicuously as he came, disappeared in the shadows.
Isaac's eyes followed him and remained at the spot where he vanished out of sight. All the questions he would have asked Vincent - the most intriguing one being how come he happened to stroll the New York City nights so unafraid - remained forgotten and irrelevant in his realisation of how much courage it must have cost Vincent to reveal himself like this. Now he could at least partly understand the appeal this man had on Catherine, apart from owing him her life. He sincerely hoped they would meet again sometime, preferably under more pleasant circumstances.

Isaac was quickly brought back to reality by the renewed sound of the police siren nearby. The quiet moan of one of the boys, still lying on the pavement but slowly waking up, made him realise it was time to leave this place. He pulled up the lapels on his jacket and started walking home.

As he was taking long strides, he dug his hands deep into his pockets to keep them warm. It crossed his mind that sometimes it wasn't bad to work longer hours on Fridays...

TELL ME NOW (WHAT YOU SEE) -

Sandokan TV series fan video  

Growing up with the original 1976 TV version of this Emilio Salgari's classic, I wasn't sure what to expect of this new version, but boy... I was hooked right from the beginning, a masterpiece in all aspects! And my love for Sandokan and Marianne has grown even more with the two magical leads 💖

I was thinking about an appropriate song for them, and as I rewatched 'King Arthur' the other day, it just hit me - thank you to the glorious Hans Zimmer and the magical Moya Brennan for providing the perfect musical flavour for this story!

I own nothing but editing.