After Lockwood left the Heights, Catherine Linton was placid. Like always. This wasn't how the story started with her in the Heights, but this was how she had to become due to what she had to endure. It wasn't that nothing new had happened which pushed her into amuse, but that nothing how amusing seemed to amuse her anymore. Seventeen, was she just, yet every bone of her, and every limb of her, told more stories than a seventy with her grannies around a winter's fire.

Yet, we all know of the final straw.

"This place isn't to be held anymore," whimpered she to herself that night. She was in her room that had always been cold even during the days it was supposed to possess warmth; the very room that smells of sickness, in the very house that smells of death.

She placed the old book with leather bounding on the table and grasped her late father's locket that she had made Nellie sneak for her. The watch had stopped ticking long ago, augmenting the emptiness of the air more for little Cathy. That was all she had left in her hand from her father after she had him whole and sole for her. Alas! How painful it's when your most precious vanishes in the snap of a finger, leaving you all alone in a valley of dagger-teethed wolves.

"I live in the house of nuts, father. Oh, my dear father, I wish I had listened to you when you told me not to leave the Grange. I wish you had just locked me up in that place. I have it all lost. My mama I never got to see, and her memorial even in my innocence sources my misery. You're now out of my reach, and all I have of you is a locket and a book. And even Linton who I fancied once has left me alone."

"Catherine, get down and make me some tea, you *******," Heathcliff called from outside the door in his drunk voice. He was treating her like a servant or less. Who she was didn't matter for him. In his eyes, that she was the daughter of Edgar Linton and the girl Catherine Earnshaw passed away after delivering was enough of reason for him to turn her life into an actual hell.

"I'm coming now," called Cathy, struggling to keep her tone low. As a matter of fact, her tone was never amiable to anyone in the house after Linton's death; however, who could blame her for that? "If only I had a way to get rid of him," gibbered she to herself after rising to hide her locket and go make his tea. "If only I had a way to get out of this house, I would be just fine. I'm ready for any price for that. I just want a way."

She took her book and descended down into the kitchen. It was a cold night, and the wind was weathering outside the Heights. It was a late hour, and rain was falling in cascades. When she had just placed the pot on fire, Hareton Earnshaw entered the kitchen from the stable.

"A bloody night out there," said he while hanging his wet coat behind the door. Cathy didn't bother even raising her head for answering, for despite their very similar positions- he being the descendant and inheritor of the Earnshaw and she of the Linton who both ended subjected to Heathcliff due to their parents' faults- Cathy's brain refused to accept their equality. She took a seat by the kitchen's table and commenced reading her book. Silently, Hareton approached to view the book she was reading. It wasn't that he fathomed its words, but he always looked out for the colored pictures that brightened him with their tales in the book.

He was still as a statue and quiet as a mouse while his eyes pondered the pages, but his very presence that reminded her of what things had come down to her, the mistress of Thrushcross Grange, was enough to bother her. Suddenly, she shut off the book and looked up at him with the surliest look she had, "What do you want?" she hissed. Hareton didn't answer and just turned to go away.

"Will you leave me alone, for God's sake, Hareton?" cried she as she went to check the pot.

"I was just looking," whispered he lowly while getting down the tray for the master.

"Well, then keep your looking away," gibbered she as she took out the tea cup from the cupboard.

"What did I ever do to you?!" thundered he back. "Is it just because you are-"

"I don't like you," shouted she back. "All of you are just some bloody- I would rather spend the night as a stray dog than to spend one more night in this house with all of you. Just leave me alone. I've had enough."

"As if we're any better with you, Catherine Linton," raged he back. "So, stop acting as the brat of this house."

"What?!"

"Will you two rats stop with your bloody gossip and get me that bloody tea," shouted Heathcliff from his study across.

"You heard it," answered he firmly yet in a slightly shivering voice. His look was straight into her eyes that were flaming fire at him. "It's in the mutual good then," she replied.

"Oh, dear; dearie, dearie, dear. What lovely words those are for me to hear," laughed a thin, queer voice out of nowhere. In surprise, both of them turned to view the man that appeared from nowhere by the table. His yellowish eyes were wide like fish, and his greenish skin was like reptiles. His leathery costume seemed from a different era, and his greasy hair was over his shoulders. Out of the shock, Cathy dropped the cup in her hand, and its edge broke.

"A chipped cup; you can have that as a souvenir from this day," said the crocodile-skinned man as he took the cup to contemplate it.

"Who are you? How did you enter?!" hissed Hareton. Unconsciously, his arm had stretched to shield Cathy behind him when he saw him. Cathy herself was frozen, but after contemplating the man and his speech for a while, her brain lightened.

"Y-you are Rumpelstiltskin. From the book. But how is this possible?! You are just a character... from a book!" exclaimed Cathy.

"Said Catherine Linton who is living in Wuthering Heights. Hehe! You see, dearie, the future- it has lots of irony in it."

"What do you want, Rumple whatever?" questioned Hareton.

"Oh. I'm just here for a deal."

"We don't want your bloody deals," answered Hareton fiercely.

"Oh, really? You don't want those slippers that can transport you anywhere you want?"

"I said-"

"Name your price, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Cathy!"

"Hareton, please?"

"I say you should listen to the lady, sir," laughed Rumple in his squeaky, thin voice. He placed the chipped cup on the table and approached her. "All I need is... your apron, and this will be all yours."

"My apron?!"

"You won't need it where you're going, dearie."

"Alright. I accept then."

After Cathy took off her apron and handed it to Rumple, she swiped the few fallen strands of hair behind her ear and pushed Hareton aside to step forward. In a flash, the slippers were on Cathy's feat. "Here you go, dearie. But, remember, everything comes with a price."

Cathy took one last deep breath. She closed her eyes and, 'tick-tick-tick.' What happened then, Hareton's eyes couldn't believe. There was no flash, sound, or smoke, and there was none.

No Catherine.

No Rumple.

No one.

"Where is that bloody tea, you idiots?" thundered Heathcliff after he burst into the kitchen, where all he found was just a dazed Hareton and a whistling pot.

"Where is that bloody rat Catherine? Catherine?!" questioned Heathcliff. "Hareton, Do I need to box your ears to wake you up?"

"She was feeling ill, so she went up to her room, sir," answered Hareton, still unable to believe all that just happened. Heathcliff looked at him with an unbelieving gesture.

"Just get that tea to my study."

"Now, sir."

~~~

Three days passed. Queerly, no one during that period sensed or cared for Cathy's absence... except for one. Hareton couldn't believe his senses during the following period. He tried to convince himself that what he saw was just a mere daydream he had after working long in the cold and wet weather; however, something in the air sensed wrong for him.

The most thing that surprised him was Heathcliff's nonchalance. Anyways, a different color was beginning to show on the master. His manners appeared to be sharper, yet his dazes were more frequent. His appetite was falling, and his eyes were more restless. Heathcliff was heading to something.

Hareton was aware of that. And despite Heathcliff's abysmal treatment to Hareton ever since he was little, Hareton grew to love that diabolic beast like a father, and thus, rising his own concerns and worries for him. Asking the master what bothered him was out of the question, for Hareton was good enough to understand that despite his love for the master, the master did not fancy him much and would rather have him out of sight when not in need, and so, Hareton's concern wasn't shared; however, notice was still taken.

Hareton had been noticing that Heathcliff had been frequenting somewhere out in the moor. He didn't know what it was, which aroused his doubts; however, he never really gave it his concern... well, until that day.

Heathcliff was out of town on a matter of business, which gave Hareton less tasks and more time to do his will. The snow was beginning to melt, and a ride on the moors was a pleasure. Thus, after he finished his work late at noon, he took his horse and headed to the moors. Hareton was a good rider, and that horse, the last thing he had from his father due to it being the calf of his late father's steed, was probably his very only pal in that cold and haunted place.

The air was icy, and it had slivers of frost in it. The night seemed to fall dark earlier than usual on that day, for by the time Hareton finally found what he wanted, it was ink dark over him. The place looked like an old cottage just like the ones in Cathy's book. Its lumber was weathered, and its roof was almost down. The windows had wood panels instead of glass, and bashes of dust and straw were filling the myriad cracks. There was no way to see what was in from outside, but that tinge of curiosity inside Hareton wouldn't quieten, thus, he took his lantern, gathered all the guts he had, and with small but firm strength, he turned the handle to enter that eerie place.

Sinister bells rattled when he entered, and the door shut close by the whistling wind right after he entered. He raised his lantern to look around. "Hello! Is there anyone here?" he called, but there was no answer, and there was no sound but the moor's violent wind hitting the old and weak panels. The place looked cozy. It was no larger than a small room. An oil lantern was hanging in the ceiling, but for some reason Hareton dared not lighten it. He paced a little on that ground furnished with straw. There were few cupboards tenanted by nothing but cobwebs. He looked further until he found a trap door. It was sealed, but what drove his surprise was that there wasn't a lock. He looked again and again, surveying every inch of the floor, but there was no lock. Nothing.

Whelmed by despair and creep, finally Hareton sat on the ground for some rest when something cold and thin like a thread touched his palm. He turned to look at it. It shined, reflecting the little light present. Hareton took it between his fingers to examine it more. He couldn't deny that. It was gold.

Hareton couldn't believe his eyes. He traced it. It was coming from a crack in the trap door. He pulled it, and more of that thread of gold came out. He pulled more and more until there was about a meter of it. When the weather outside the cottage began to outrage, Hareton knew he must return. He took a knife from his pocket, cut the thread, coiled it around the handle, placed it in his pocket, and, hurriedly, ran outside the cottage and rode back to the Heights.

In the light of his small candle in his little room in the Height, Hareton checked the thread of gold he found. It was gold for sure, for it had the same brightness of the golden rings Heathcliff wore. Hareton then took the brown book that Cathy was reading before the weird man showed. He turned the pages. The colors in the drawing seemed to lose their brightness for him since the day she left; however, he was pretty sure that the book could give him an answer.

After turning quite many pages, Hareton finally found an answer. It was the picture of a woman dressed in a lavish red ballgown sitting by a weaving spindle, and out of that spindle came a golden thread just like the one he had on the table next to him. He studied the picture for good five minutes when he found by the side the man with the-

"Hareton, still up?" called Heathcliff after pounding on the door with his fest.

"Yes," answered Hareton while shoving the thread in his pocket and hiding the book under the bed. After that, he unlocked the door. Heathcliff was standing there. For some reason, Hareton was on the inside trembling as if he were caught stealing. "Anything, sir?" he asked.

Heathcliff went past him into the room. "No; nothing," he answered while checking a locket watch. "Just wondering why you weren't there when I returned."

"I had a ride over the moor today and was tired when I returned," answered Hareton.

Heathcliff stayed quiet for a while, then looked up at him and asked, "Hareton, do you think I am a villain?"

"No."

"Good then; villains never get happy endings. Is there anything you want, Hareton?"

"No."

"Aha. Alright. If you're tired, go to bed then. I've few things to check myself too. And... ah, yes. As Catherine is nowhere to be found, you're to take her things out of here tomorrow. Zella shall clear her room. One less thing to waste money on. That's all for now. Good night."

After Heathcliff went out, Hareton closed the door.

~~~

"Here's everything," said Zella as she placed the last bag for Hareton to take out. "Poor thing. She didn't have much here and didn't take anything with her. I wonder where she might've gone."

"To hell for all I care," answered Hareton coldly. "And you better not remember her, Zella, for Heathcliff wouldn't want her name to be mentioned ever again in this house." Hareton then took the luggage down to the stable to load them. Heathcliff didn't specify anything on where to take the things, but Hareton had an idea of delivering them to the orphanage in the nearby town. Hareton couldn't believe what he was doing. A part of him refused to believe that Cathy was gone, that he had to erase her last trace in the house, that he had to treat her as if she had never existed. As a matter of fact, she didn't exist for him just few years ago, but a lot can happen in not just in a year, but a day, or even a second.

When he finished loading and was just about to sit in the driver's seat and take the bridle, suddenly, a man appeared out of nowhere. "Sir, are you Hareton Earnshaw?" the man asked hurriedly. His clothing seemed from a different era, and his accent sounded foreign. Astounded, Hareton drew out his knife and answered, "Aye. Who are you?"

"It's hard to explain. We need you now. Do you know a girl by the name Catherine Linton?"

The name fired Hareton's brain. "What's with her?" he answered firmly.

"She needs you now. She's in a chief danger."

"Where's she?"

"She's in the Enchanted Forest, enslaved in the queen's castle. She needs you now."

"Enchanted Forest?" snickered Hareton. "Do I look like a bloody fool for you?!"

"Isn't this her locket?" answered the man, holding out a locket. "She handed it to me and said that you'd know it at once."

"Take me to her," answered Hareton while tightening his grip on his knife. The stranger man then grasped his arm, threw a bean on the floor to open a portal, and pulled him to jump in.

~~~

When Hareton opened his eyes, he was in a dark place lighted only by torches. It looked like a coven somewhere underground. Hareton stood up and cleared himself when a voice out of nowhere-

"Hareton!"

"Cathy?"

He located the sound from a cell at the end of the path. He ran to her. Her pearl-white, dusted face peeped from behind the bars. Her golden locks were out of shape. Her clothes looked shabby, torn, and filthy. Her dark eyes that were just like his own were glistening in the little light there. Her face was submerged in tears, and awe glimmered in her eyes. "Hareton, you came?" she asked, her question muffled by sobs.

"It's alright, Cath. I'll get you out now. We'll find a way out."

"No, please, don't, Hareton. Go back where you came from. You can't help me."

"Cathy, it's alright. They can't get to you now."

"Hareton, you don't understand. You've just killed yourself."

"Cathy, what are you talking ab-"

"Hareton? Hareton! Hareton, please, can you hear me? Hareton, answer me, please. You, beast! W-why did you that? What did we ever do to you?!"

"And this is how you end a love story for two bloody rats," laughed Heathcliff, dropping his steel down next Hareton's unconscious body.

~~~

When Hareton opened his eyes, he was lying in a capacious hall. His brain was dizzy, and it took him a while to recap his full consciousness. When he stood up, he found three people royally dressed standing on the side, all wearing looks of discomfort and fear. Cathy was with them. Her eyes were sunk in dark bags, and her little frame was shivering; however, there was something queer about her: she was so still that she almost looked like a statue. That flared fear inside Hareton. "Cathy!" he called out for her in the loudest voice he could, but she didn't seem to hear him. He tried to rise and go to her, but he felt stunted inside a bubble.

"Oh, look who's up," smirked Heathcliff with his icy cold voice. "What a great jolly that is! What are you trying to say? Ah, right. What an awkward situation. I forgot about that."

The barrier was removed, and Hareton was freed. His eyes were blinded in fire, and his heart was thumping loud that it muffled his ears. His blood was pumping hot to his limbs. When he rose to get to that fiend, ropes like snakes tied him.

"Na-a-ah," smirked Heathcliff. "Not so fast, my dear."

"You demon! Fight me if you were a man!"

"Oh! That's a bit harsh to say. Isn't it, Hareton? After all that I've done to you?" Heathcliff then with steady steps approached to Hareton. His look was cold and surly, and Hareton only felt disgust for the nearing of his breath. "You know, Hareton? I could've left you to die out there, kick you out of the house. As you know, your father was never in his true mind, yet I did him a favor in keeping you in and looking after you. How ungrateful it's of you now to say that to someone who loved you?!"

"You made me a servant. My father should've-"

Heathcliff took hang of Hareton's jaw in hard grip while looking at him in serpent eyes. "Your father took from me everything, and hers all I cared for. And you know what, you both look very much like them; very much like them that your very presence reminds me of them. That's why I swore to destroy your happiness even if it was the last thing I do."

"Hey! That's my line," shouted a woman from the crowd.

"Slim it, Regina. Back to what I was saying. I can't ever describe the delight I've in seeing you a filthy outcast just like he made me. No one shall ever love you, Hareton, for you are no more than a filthy, plagued rat. You see this, Hareton? Do you know what it is? It's a heart. This is what I like very much about this realm. Where you live, you can only kill a man by guns, poison... or great sorrow. Anyways, I wonder whose heart this may be."

Heathcliff then squeezed the glowing, red heart in his hand in front of Hareton's eyes, and suddenly, Cathy was moaning on the floor in pain as if a spirit suddenly struck her.

"Leave her alone!" thundered Hareton while he struggled to free himself, but it all was of no use. Heathcliff just watched him with a menace smirk. "Leave her. Just leave her," cried Hareton in the most thundering yet broken voice he ever had. His eyes were red, but he couldn't let anything fall. "Kill me instead and take your bloody revenge! Let her go!"

"Oh! You're ready to die for her? I wonder if she'd do the same for you. Do you have any say in that, Catherine?"

On the floor, still bending in pain, Cathy looked up at Hareton, and in a look that broke him, she mouthed, "Please, don't do it. Leave me."

"What a sad story we've here!" laughed Heathcliff. "Shakespeare might throw 'Romeo and Juliet' in fire if he sees this. Anyways, back to what we were talking about. So, you would like to take her place, Hareton?"

Hareton sat his teeth and answered, "Yes. But in one term. I want to tell her goodbye."

Heathcliff frowned his thick brows. And after a long silence, he answered, "Just to know that I'm noble enough, I'll let you do that. Anyways, as you now know my secret here and in the little weaving cottage at home, where most of my fortune came from, I believe the secret should stay with you. But remember not to play any tricks, for I have this with-"

"And I have this with me too," answered Hareton with a cold, powerful, and scorning look while staring back at Heathcliff. Heathcliff suddenly lost his strength, and in Hareton's hand was an ossified rock that was black as coal with faint red glowing in its core. It was Heathcliff's heart.

"You, filthy rat!" moaned Heathcliff while swaying in pain, his hand tightening on Cathy's heart unconsciously, and Cathy's sobs getting louder. "Hareton, stop!" she cried.

Hareton then looked again at Heathcliff with a scornful look and hissed, "You think I'm a fool. Don't you? Well, after your short visit to my room last night, I made my plan, and I made a deal with Rumple for a silly price to get the ability to snatch just one heart, for that's all I needed. I wasn't sure when I'd take my chance, but when you showed up disguised, I knew that my time had come."

"Well, you might have my heart, but you still don't have hers," groaned Heathcliff.

"But I can still do this," answered Hareton with a daring, boyish smile while squeezing Heathcliff's heart again.

Suddenly, Cathy's moans stopped, and loud cries shrieked from the crowd with her while they tried uselessly to call out her name. Heathcliff let go of his palm a pile of pale of ash.

"Cathy!" groaned Hareton. His fist then tightened on the heart with him. He turned to Heathcliff with his mad look and wild flare, and he let go a pile of ash too. Suddenly, all the forces holding everyone back vanished.

Hareton didn't mind the carcass that fell on Earth and hurried to Catherine. He didn't cry. He kneeled next to Catherine and whispered her name, but there was no response. He took her little cold hand in his and looked up at the people. "Isn't there anything we can do?" he asked, aching to muffle his red eyes. A woman and a man looked at each other, mumbling few things to the third woman- Regina. After that, Regina stepped out. "There's one thing only, but it's dangerous," she answered.

"Anything for her," answered Hareton, holding Cathy's hand tighter.

Regina kneeled next to him. "It might kill you both," she mumbled again.

"Do what you have to do."

She took a heavy breath, placed her hand on his chest, and snatched his heart out. Hareton felt all his strength ripped out of him, even from the hand that was tight on the girl's beside him. She then turned the heart and broke it in half. Finally, she placed a half in each one of them.

A long moment passed, everyone looking at the two by the floor. Finally, a breath of life came out.

"W-what happened?!" exclaimed Catherine in a confused voice while looking at the ones up. "Where's Heathcliff?"

"It's alright, Cathy," answered Hareton gently. "He's gone now."

"No more Heathcliff?" she asked. Hareton nodded. "But my heart. He stole it some way," she asked.

"We... returned it from him," answered Hareton.

"So, we can go home now?" she asked him.

"If it's what you want."

"And you need to get that carcass with you too, I'm afraid," said Regina. "I can't have this in my castle. Yes, I mean our castle, Snow."

"I think him too," replied Catherine smiling disgustedly. "Queen Regina, Princess Snow, Prince David, thank you very much for all you did."

"You mean those are the actual Snow White and Evil Queen?" asked Hareton in a surprised voice.

"I do have a name, Hareton," answered Regina while rolling her eyes. "And we've got over our conflicts."

"Just keep away of the dark one," said David finally.

Cathy laughed and nodded. After that, she took Hareton's warm hand and Heathcliff's cold one. After that...

~~~

The two placed Heathcliff in his room and then sneaked out before anyone could notice them. Before going out, Cathy stretched her hand in Heathcliff's pocket, snatched out a locket, and followed Hareton out. There was some glee for Cathy's return, and some inquiries about Hareton's absence, but no one truly minded them.

At night, Hareton sneaked to see Heathcliff for last time. He looked at him for a while: venerable, weak, and quiet. Hareton thought how this master was the one no one ever dared to oppose in this house. "You've got what you deserve," whispered Hareton then. He then couldn't help, and for the first time, a tear escaped him, followed by more. Nelle then entered, and saddened for his look over the old master, she drew him out. No words were said. And that was the last night for Heathcliff in the Heights.

Catherine Linton was named legally the master of the house after Heathcliff's death. She frequented the Grange several times, but never stayed for the night as it wasn't her property; however, in her brain, a piece of her always lived there.

One month after it all was settled, Catherine went out on a walk on the moors. The weather was pleasant, and the sun was to sit. She was enjoying a moment of piece when she heard a sound behind. When she looked, she found Hareton hurrying to catch up with her. She paused for him and waited. Despite that Hareton's place in this house was raised, he still preferred to work like before. As Cathy saw that it was what pleased him, she left him his way.

When he saw her quiet when he reached, just contemplating the distance, he stayed quiet too; however, Cathy didn't need to look to see his twitching lips. She smiled and took out her father's locket from her pocket, turning it in her fingers.

"It's using this how Heathcliff found me," she commented after a while, drawing Hareton's attention. "It's the last thing I have of father. I made it my concern for no one to take it from me. It's the most precious thing I have."

"You should look for it then," answered Hareton.

"I did. By the way, there's something I still don't understand: how did you know it was mine when Heathcliff showed it to you?"

"It has your family's mark, and I saw it in Heathcliff's hand the night before the incident. I didn't think he was interested in that form of property. Also... I noticed it in your pocket once."

"You've seen it earlier?"

"It wasn't my concern, Catherine."

"Then why did you follow Heathcliff when he showed it to you?"

Hareton tightened his brows. "Because... you're my father's niece after all."

"Just?"

Hareton tightened his lips. "Just."

Catherine laughed. "You know you can't really lie to me, Hareton."

"Why do you think I'm lying?"

Catherine smiled and looked up at him. "Because I know that Heathcliff never returned my heart that day, and I know whose heart is inside me."

...

The End