Disclaimer: "Beauty and the Beast" and the character Pascal and all the rest belong to Republic Pictures. No infringement is intended. That and all the rest of the legal stuff. Max and her ilk belong to me. 'Nuff said.

Author’s note: This one is for Sara, because she asked. Merry Christmas 2000. Je rêve, j'espère, et j'attends toujours.

©2000 by Kayla Rigney

[email protected]

Lost in the rhythm of the pipes, Pascal let the words flow through him and out into the world beyond. The pipemaster loved Winterfest. The tunnels were full of secrets – and he was privy to all of them. Pascal was the official go-between with the world Above. He was the one who answered and directed Helpers into the realm Below. He relayed messages between lovers. He knew who was giving what to whom. Tonight, the pipes were absolutely alive with anticipation. And for the first time, Pascal had someone to share it all with.

His shift would be over in an hour, but he didn’t want to wait. Almost without thinking, he coded: Max, if you’re listening, please come and keep me company.

Her response was immediate: I’ll be there in a few. I’m just finishing up in the bath.

Pascal counted off the moments until he would feel her sweet touch. When he called for her like this, she always came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He wanted that. He wanted to share his secrets.

Max walked in whistling Moonshine Bandit. She stepped up behind him and slid her arms beneath his vest and hugged him gently. "Hello," she said.

‘Hello," Pascal whispered. He reached for words and relayed them, rocking and swaying to another rhythm now.

Max sighed and pressed her body against his. She smelled of lavender and her breath was warm. Her fingers tapped lightly: So? What you want to talk about?

"Everything."

She laughed and he felt her smile against the back of his neck. "You’re in a good mood tonight."

Pascal smiled and leaned into her embrace. "Yes, I really am," he replied. "I love Winterfest."

Max raised her chin and rested it on his shoulder. "I do, too," she said, kissing him softly. "Outside of our chamber, I’ve never seen you this happy." Her voice was warm and alive, like the pipes. "I can’t get over how the entire community is caught up in the moment. Was Winterfest always like this?"

"No, it wasn’t," he told her. "The first year, it was just Father and Mary, the Paters, and my family and the few Helpers who knew us. But after that, the world grew and grew." Pascal smiled deep inside, because he was no longer alone. "Now, almost everybody has his or her ‘own’ Helper to guide through the ceremony." He lowered his tapper and lightly touched the top of his wife’s head. "You’re my first."

"I don’t believe that," Max replied, laughing.

"Well, it’s true."

The pipemaster felt her palm flatten against his stomach. It slowly began to radiate warmth towards his center.

"Pascal, you don’t mean that," she said, very quietly. "I can’t possibly be the only person you’ve ever brought Below."

He felt deep comfort and impossibly loved. "Yes, Maxine," he replied. "You are."

Her breath was soft and warm against his neck. She inhaled several times before she spoke. "Ben, why?"

"You know I’m not comfortable Above," he told her, gently. He reached and relayed a message from Dr. Alcott to Father. "I just never cultivated any Helper; that’s all." He shrugged. "Before you, I spent most of my time here in the pipe chamber. I even slept here." Pascal pushed away the memories of cold nights spent alone listening to the pipes.

Max was quiet and perfectly still. Her body swayed like a cloak with his and her movements warmed him. Then, you must teach me everything. Walk me through all your traditions from the beginning.

"Oh, I will, Max! You’ll feel as I do," Pascal said, grinning now. "You’ll have the best time. I promise."

"I like your promises," she replied, hugging him close. "You always keep them."

"I try."

Max leaned forward and kissed his earlobe. "You do," she said. Her laughter cascaded over and through him and went singing down the line. "The pipes are so busy tonight!"

"And full of secrets," Pascal added.

"That, too." She stretched and sighed; and her hands slid up to his chest. And are you full of secrets, just Pascal?

"Not with you," he said, quietly. "Never with you." The pipemaster kept nothing from his wife. He often spoke to her late into the night and told her things he never revealed to any one else. Not even to Vincent. And she kept his secrets well.

"Well, I have a secret," Max said, laughing.

Pascal was surprised. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Hmmm," she said. "I don’t know."

She tapped out the lyrics with her fingertips

Taking from the rich of spirit

"Maxine Louise…"

"Yes?"

He was not like them at all

"What’s this secret of yours?"

"I don’t know if I should tell you…"

"I tell you all of mine," Pascal said.

Max laughed. "Don’t you like my song?" she asked.

"I’ve always liked that song," Pascal replied, enjoying the game. "In fact, believe I taught you that song."

Ah, she was not like them at all

"Then you know how the story ends."

The pipemaster laughed aloud. "Yes, I know how it ends."

"How do you suppose he did it?" Max asked. "How do you think a dead man wrote my life?"

"If I remember the story correctly, two dead men wrote your life."

"Yes, but this dead man didn’t even know me. And never will." Max often said, quietly and with great seriousness that Harry Nilsson had somehow written her life. On some level, she probably believed it.

"So are you’re saying I’m your Moonshine Bandit, Max?" Pascal asked.

"Yes."

"Is this your secret?"

"No."

"Pascal, what if I said I lied to you?" she asked, softly.

"I would ask you why?"

"And what if I told you I didn’t mean to lie to you?"

Pascal shifted his weight and relayed a message from Catherine to Vincent. "Then, I would listen" Something told him that this was no longer a game.

"All right, then." Max took a deep breath and said: "Pascal, I lied to you."

The pipemaster’s blood turned cold. He felt like the ground had opened up and dropped out from beneath him and he was suspended in space with nothing but Max’s words to keep him from falling.

"Why?" he asked. He knew his voice sounded harsh.

"Because I thought I was telling you the truth," Max replied. "The doctors all told me the same thing. They said the amount of radiation my body absorbed during time shifts would make it impossible."

Pascal automatically sent another message down the line.

Max held him very tightly and pressed her palms hard against his chest. "I believed them and I told you what they told me."

A voice deep inside Pascal said, Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to tell me, Moxie. He could not bring himself to say it aloud. Instead, he lowered his pipe and touched the back of her hand. "So what was your lie, Max?" he asked, gently.

"I haven’t been across in almost a year, Pascal," she went on as if she hadn’t heard him. Her hands pressed so hard against his chest that he was breathless. "I haven’t been exposed. I thought the effects of radiation poisoning were cumulative. I didn’t even think –"

"Max," he said sharply. " You didn’t think what?"

"I didn’t mean to lie."

Pascal could feel her pounding heartbeat through his vest. "Whatever it is, it’s all right," he said. He wished he did not have to pass other secrets through the pipes; he wished he could turn around and hold her. But he was on shift and had to perform his duty. "What was your lie, my love?"

Max moved her fingers very slowly, as if she were coding through water – or through time itself. I told you I couldn’t have children.

The ground was suddenly solid again beneath his feet. Pascal smiled. "And your secret?"

Her hands were still and very warm. Her heart was beating too fast.

"Moxie, don’t be afraid to tell me," Pascal said, softly. He slowly lowered his hands and let his tappers drop to the ground.

Max said nothing.

The pipemaster gently loosened her arms and turned around to face her. Max silently pleaded with him from the depths of her endless eyes. She looked small and helpless standing there in his too-large robe. Max the not so brave, Pascal thought, smiling.

"Max," he said. "Tell me."

She brought her hands to his face. "You promise to teach me all about Winterfest?" she asked.

"Of course." He turned and softly kissed her palm. "Now what’s your secret?"

She lowered her hands to his shoulders and took a very deep breath. "I’m pregnant," she said.

Pascal wanted to laugh. He wanted to take her in his arms and spin her until room collapsed around them; but he knew that was the wrong approach to take with Max. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her tenderly. "That’s a wonderful secret," he said, quietly. He smiled, but he kept the joy out of his voice.

"You’re not angry?"

"No. Why would I be?"

"Because I lied," Max replied, softly.

"I forgive you for that," Pascal told her, with equal softness.

"Thank you," she said. Her fingertips rested lightly against his shoulder blades.

Pascal rested his forehead against hers and looked into her beautiful eyes. "Is it all right if I express my happiness now, Max?" he said, teasing her gently with his words.

Max broke into a slow, loving grin. "Yes," she said, nodding. "It is."

The pipemaster gathered his wife into his arms and touched her so tenderly, he thought he would break into a million pieces from the effort of holding back. For the first time, he had someone to share Winterfest with; for the first time, his secrets were sweeter than all of theirs combined.

"Are you happy, Max?"

"Very," she whispered. Her breath was soft and delicate against his skin. She kissed him and her lips trembled against his.

Pascal knew what was going to happen next. It was completely against his rules. And he didn’t care. He buried his hands in her soft, clean hair. He kissed her with all that he was. He loved her with his tongue and his lips and his breath; and his hands slid lower and lower until they were lost in the feel of her cool, smooth skin. Her robe fell open and he gasped at the sight of her naked body. The pipemaster had forgotten that she’d come to him straight from the bath; and now she stood before him so beautiful and so clean.

Pascal knew he was not an attractive man. He desperately tried to make up for this fact with tenderness. His touch was gentle, and she liked that. He loved the curve of her small, round breasts. When he brushed his fingertips across her nipples, they hardened instantly and she shuddered. Pascal softly cupped her breasts with his hands.

"They fit inside my touch so perfectly," he marveled.

Max trembled and kissed him tentatively. The tip of her tongue swirled around his, and he knew what she wanted.

Pascal trailed kisses down her neck until his face rested in the cleft between her breasts. In one fluid movement, he turned and took her nipple in his mouth. He sucked gently and swirled his tongue around and over it’s shuddering hardness. And he wondered what it would be like to taste her milk – to partake of her.

Max moaned and pulled away when he began to use his teeth.

The pipemaster looked up at her. Her eyes were half-closed and her lips were parted in a small tender smile. He loved that smile. He alone saw it. It meant she was completely aroused. Pascal stood and kissed her and let his tongue dance softly over her lips. He teased her with the tip of his tongue until she pulled away and said, "Give me a real kiss, my fine bald hobbit."

Pascal answered her with his lips and his tongue and his breath. He deepened the kiss until they both were enflamed with need. I know what’s coming next, he thought. The pipemaster turned and pressed his wife hard against the line. Max cried out with surprise when he lifted her until she was sitting on the lead pipe. He pinned her hand against the wall and coded, Yes, Max. I want you. In fact, I want you more than I have ever wanted.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her. "But Pascal, they will hear us. Everyone will hear us," she whispered.

He kissed her deeply. "Let them," he moaned. "I want them to hear. I want them to know you love me." He pulled open his tunic and pressed his bare chest to hers. "Max…"

She stopped his words with a kiss. Her tongue danced slowly with his as her hands unbuttoned his trousers. "There," she said, softly. "There. You are free to take me as you wish."

Pascal pressed his wife harder and harder against the pipe. He was inside her now – so deep her cries were his own. He lost control immediately and profoundly. He moved through instinct alone. He knew he was probably hurting her, but he couldn’t stop. "I love you, Max," he thought or said and he raised her arms and pinned them against the cold stone wall.

Max was beyond speech. She was beyond thought. Her cries echoed through him and went down the line. He covered her mouth with his and drank in her breath along with her cries. It was all so pleasing.

His need built and built. Pascal felt it’s burning deep inside his sex. He thrust deeper and harder and faster, indulging his desire until the pleasure was almost unbearable. A thought came to him and he instantly knew it was true and real. This is how it’s supposed to be. This is my life and my world.

Max arched and shuddered against him. Her movements were so amazingly tender. She never held on tightly when they made love. She never scratched or tore. Instead, she wrapped herself around him and it was like being surround by her very soul.

The pipemaster held his love firmly against the lead pipe. He was so deep inside her, he could no longer move. He could not thrust. He could only shudder. He’d made the rule so long ago: I’ll never make love in the pipe chamber. And he had not broken it until now.

Max looked deeply into his eyes and he felt her thoughts, and he felt her absolute wonder at what was happening between them. When she smiled, he felt that too. I can’t hold back any longer, Moxie. Take me. Please. Take me.

She drew him into a kiss so deep that he actually went blind. Pascal could no longer see beyond her touch. The pipe chamber became a vague memory. His physical awareness was only of his wife and her touch and her sounds. No longer able to move or speak, Pascal merely held on and let Max pleasure him. Deep inside, she caressed his penis in ways that drove him to the very brink. He moaned and thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting her rich, sensual hunger. Their passion built with such intensity that the pipemaster gave as she took. The lead pipe groaned beneath them but it did not give way. And Pascal would not have been able to stop even if it had.

He came in a wave of pleasure so incredible it bordered on sanctification. He collapsed into her arms. Her embrace kept him from falling.

"Now they know my secret," he whispered, kissing her very softly. He let his words become a caress. "I finally have one to share."

"You always had secrets, just Pascal," Max said, her voice as gentle as her touch. "You were just waiting for the right person to tell."

"I guess so, Max."

The pipemaster was very aware of the time. He knew they would have to dress. Kip would be here to relieve him soon. But he reveled in the feel of Max against the pipes; he drank in the smooth coolness of her skin against his. "I’ve never done this before," he told her. "I’ve never made love in the pipe chamber."

"I know," she replied.

He pressed his body hard against hers. He was still inside her and still very aroused. "I always wanted to… with you," he confessed. "I always wanted to have you like this."

"Oh, Pascal," Max said, softly. "Why didn’t you say something?"

"I was ashamed to tell you. I didn’t know what you would think." He began to thrust slowly and gently. Her body moved with his. The robe slid from her round white shoulders. Her skin seemed to glow. Pascal was very aware of the curves of her body and how they fit against his thinness. He thrust harder. "What do you think, Moxie?"

Max moved with him. She met his thrusts with tenderness and an incredible passion. "This is what I think," she whispered. She kissed him just the way he liked. She drew him into her embrace and into her body and into her mouth. The tip of her tongue brushed against his and her breath danced over his lips.

Pascal moaned as rhythm built again from deep inside his most private self. It pushed upward and outward until he was sobbing with need and his wife was drinking his tears. He came hard and fast. And this time, when he collapsed, he pulled Max to the floor with him. He lay beneath her breathing in her closeness. The time, he thought. My God, the time…

Max helped him to his feet and gently dressed him. Pascal could only look at her helplessly. She closed her robe and tied the belt. And then she picked his tappers up off the floor and handed them to him.

The pipes were going wild.

Max smiled. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. "I like your secret," she said. "Do you like mine?"

"Yes, Max," Pascal replied, quietly. "I do."

"When do we share it?"

"At Winterfest."

"Why then?" she asked.

"Because it’s the right time," Pascal replied. "It’s a celebration of life and thanks."

"I’m thankful now," Max said. Her voice was so kind and so gentle that it echoed his own.

"So am I." The pipemaster could no longer find the words to tell her what he really felt. He knew, though, that she understood why he’d had to share his secret. He’d spent a lifetime listening to other lovers. He drew her into his arms and held her there.

It’s all right, Ben, she coded with light fingers.

Pascal couldn’t stop shaking. He was still shaking and holding Max when Kip finally walked in.

"Go home, Pascal," Kip said, sounding entirely too grown up. "Take your wife and go home."

Kip glared at him and then stepped up to his post and slowly brought the pipes back on line.

Max led Pascal back to their chamber. She lit the lamp on the bedside table and turned back the covers. "Before we go to sleep, I want you to tell me about Winterfest," she said. "All about it."

Pascal sheepishly changed into his pajamas and slid into bed. He was a more than a little embarrassed about what they had done. He watched as Max slid off his robe and pulled one of his old nightshirts over her head. In the low light, her curves cast soft round shadows on the wall. He welcomed her into his arms as he always did, but tonight was special.

"I’ve never had anyone to tell," he said. "I don’t know where to begin."

Max kissed him softly and settled in to his embrace. "Well, why don’t you start with the secrets and just go from there."

For the first time in his life, Benjamin Pascal spoke aloud of the secrets that passed through his hands and of the lives those hands alone connected. He told of years of watching others introduce loved ones into the tunnels at Winterfest and years of longing to be able to do the same. Max listened with quiet understanding. She knew.

"This year, it’s finally my turn to stand in front of the community," Pascal told her. "It’s my time to say, ‘This is my steadfast Helper. This is my wife, Maxine. I want to thank her for saving my life.’" He held his breath.

"You’re going to say that about me?" Max asked tenderly.

"Yes."

"And then what will you say?" Her fingers rested soft against his lips.

Pascal closed his eyes and imagined the Great Hall, beautifully decorated and full of the people he’d known all of his adult life – his family. He brought his hand up and laced his fingers through hers. "Well, after that, I’ll take a really deep breath and say: "And my wife and I would like to welcome a new life into the tunnels.’" He pressed her palm to his lips and softly caressed it with his tongue. He was rewarded with sweet liquid warmth. "Would you like for me to say that, Max?" he whispered. He thrust his tongue again into her palm.

Max lowered their hands and leaned into his kiss. "Yes, Pascal," she murmured. "I would."

"I’m so happy," Pascal said. "And I’m so in love with you."

When she smiled, he felt it with his entire being. "And I’m in love with you, my gentle, beautiful husband." She sighed and blanketed his body with hers.

"Winterfest is my favorite time of year," he told her, slowly running his fingers through her thick curls. "It’s the only time that I’m not bound to the pipe chamber. I’m a council member. I’m a part of everything."

Max smiled. "And I’m a part of you."

"Yes."

Exhaustion crept through his body like the very night itself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard what they were saying about him on the pipes. Finally, they were talking about his sounds and his love. He was no longer embarrassed. He was proud. "Max?"

Yes? Her fingertips flew soft and light against his shoulder.

"How far along are you?"

About two months, I think, she replied.

Pascal silently worried. In spite of her curves, Max was very thin. They all were. Times were hard in the tunnels.

"Don’t worry Ben," she murmured. "I’ll be fine. And the baby will be fine. Besides, it’s time for Winterfest. Everything’s magic at Winterfest."

He gently caressed her back as she fell asleep in his arms. Everything’s magic at Winterfest. "Yes, Maxine Louise, you’ll be fine," he whispered.

Max’s steady breathing was like music to him. Pascal thought, You give me everything. You’re the one who’s rich in spirit. I am the poor of heart.

He relaxed and let go of the day’s physical pain. It grew worse with the passing of every shift. His arms and hands grew weaker. He would have to tell her soon. He would have to say the words. I have post polio syndrome, Max. And he knew Max would smile and tell him: "It’s not the end of the world. We’ll work through it together."

But it would be the end of his world. This would probably be his last Winterfest as pipemaster. By this time next year, he would be too weak to work the line. He would no longer bear their secrets. His hands would no longer connect their lives.

He softly coded her name until she stirred and looked up at him.

Max smiled and said, "What is it, my love?"

"I want this child very much," he said, tracing the outline of her smile with his fingertip. "And I wanted you to know that. This is the single best Solstice gift I’ve ever received."

Her smile deepened and the whole chamber echoed with unmitigated joy. "What a nice thing to say," she whispered.

"And that’s all I have to say," Pascal replied, grinning. "You can go back to sleep now."

Max laughed and kissed him and laughed some more. "This will be the best Winterfest ever," she said.

"Yes, it will be." He held her very close and together they talked of other things that would be. And then Pascal kissed and caressed her hands until she melted against him, relaxed and very happy.

"We make such a good fit," Max sighed. She was fighting sleep and sleep was very obviously winning.

"That we do," the pipemaster replied. He gently rubbed her back and neck until her breathing became slow and steady. He loved the weight of her and the sounds of her – and he especially loved the knowledge that she was carrying his child.

He knew would have to tell her the other secret, but not to today. Today was reserved for happiness. There would be time enough after Winterfest. He thought of the life she had willingly given him – and he honored the life she had given up for him. Lying awake with his wife in his arms, the pipemaster made a very conscious decision: for once in my life, I will be rich of spirit. I will give to you freely.

Lulled by the caress of Max’s steady breathing, Pascal drifted into sleep wrapped in the comfort of good secrets shared.

1 Moonshine Bandit by Harry Nilsson & Danny Kortchmar. @1976 Golden Syrup Music. From the album "That’s the way it is…"