He was there. Outside, he was there.

Cathy's senses were on overdrive. She saw everything, the shadows, the light, the things hidden, the things in view. Through her window she could see out over the Yorkshire Moors. Wuthering Heights was but a rundown building now. It was listed, so nothing could be done to it, but it was different now. It wasn't the grand house it had once been. Over 200 years had passed but the memories, the regrets, the mistakes hadn't left her. Neither she nor Heathcliff had been to Wuthering Heaths in that time. Since her 'death' she hadn't dared return, until now. She hadn't wanted to see Heathcliff again, she had forced herself not to watch her child growing old and dying without a Mother.

She hadn't seen Heathcliff since he dug her out of the ground in the late 1700s. It was now the early 21st century and the whole world had changed beyond comprehension. Wuthering Heights hadn't though, the beautiful and haunting rooms remained untouched. Electricity didn't run through. It was unoccupied. Just a mysterious house on my Moors. Untouched by time as Cathy and Heathcliff were.

She remembered a time, when she was a teenager, a human teenage, and she had a dream. She remembered speak to Nelly - God bless, Nelly, the voice of reason amongst the madness - and telling her that she had no right to be in Heaven. Well, whether or not that was true at that point, it was definitely the case now. Heathcliff had stolen not only her heart but her soul. The world, England was not ruled and controlled by religion any longer, but Cathy still thought on it. If she were to die now what would happen to her? Did he know? Was he still the mad wild gypsy she had once loved and feared with equal measure?

A black veil covered over the moor, the moonlight shone almost directly onto the tree that Heathcliff stood beside, like a spotlight. As though she needed the light to tell her, he was there. No, she always knew when he was close. In changing her, in taking her soul, in giving her this gift, this curse, he had gained a part of her. She needed him that's why she had kept herself distant for the past two centuries. She knew the horrors that unfolded when the two of them were together. The lives lost, the pain caused. They destroyed each other. They practically killed each other and yet they were both still alive.

Heathcliff would've known she was looking out at him. He would've seen her even from that distance. Their senses worked on overdrive. She saw his long, dark, out of control hair, she saw the way, like her, his clothes told of the time he came from. She saw the look on his face, reserved, quiet, but longing, desperate. Why was he there? After all this time, why return to Wuthering Heights? She could ask the same question of herself. What good would it do to reopened barely healed wounds? Yet her heart and mind called out for him. He was there, she should go to him. She may not get this opportunity again.

Moving back from window, she returned to the shadows of the room. She need not need a candle or torch to see. Darkness was a friend not a foe to those like her and Heathcliff. Hesitant and slow, she moved out of the room, down the stairs and to the front door. She did not open it for a long time. Why must she go to him? Why could he not come to her? Of course she knew the reason. She had to be the one to make contact; she had been the one to break it.


Heathcliff's voice as in her mind as she reached for the handle. Could she do this? After all this time?

"You can't just leave like this. After everything I went through to be here with you. You can't be alone with this."

"Being alone would be better than being with you." She had told him.

It had been a lie then, she knew it, but she had been scared. Fear had always stopped her from being with Heathcliff. Perhaps it was time to stop being scared. She opened the door. Had she had a beating heart, it probably would've been racing against her chest. Had she had breath, it probably would've been heavy and laboured. Since she had neither though it was not a problem.

Stepping outside, Cathy moved at a human speed out of the grounds of Wuthering Heights. She walked towards him. He didn't move except to stand up straight. When she reached him, he spoke. One simple word.


The word seemed to cut through her. Catherine. He had never called her by her full name before, it had always been Cathy. She met his cold, black eyes with her own glassy brown ones. She nodded, slightly.

"Heathcliff," she replied, voice as blank as his was.

"It has been a long time," Heathcliff commented.

With another nodded, Cathy agreed. "Yes, it has."

"I see time has not touched you," Heathcliff said. He reached a hand out and touched her cheek with the back of it gently. Cathy couldn't help but shiver slightly as he did so, but automatically, she leaned into the touch. She needed him as much now as she ever did. "Still so beautiful, my Cathy," he told her.

She closed her eyes, feeling his touch. It had been a long time, but she felt a warmth run through her at his touch. It felt so wrong and so right at the same time. She opened her eyes again, her voice soft now, "I could say the same of you," she said quietly, gladly.

"Why have you returned now?" Heathcliff asked.

"It felt like the right time," Cathy replied simply.

Heathcliff smiled slightly, retracting his hand. "You're right, my Cathy, it is the right time. It is about to begin."