Catherine sat on her balcony, the morning sun warming her face. She had just finished a muffin from the basket of food William had sent up. They had been taking care of her for weeks and she was so grateful, though every bite she took reminded her of him. Everything reminded her of him.
For the past two weeks, she had been at home, on leave from work. She had gone back to work almost immediately after the mugging, but Joe had discovered her crying at her desk late one night and insisted she take as much time as she needed to feel better. She had been embarrassed then, but not nearly as embarrassed as she would have been had she continued working. She could barely function.
Her pain and sadness from before had only grown. She missed him. She needed him, especially after being hurt and scared. Any other time, he would have been at her side the moment she opened her eyes. He would have smiled at her, his eyes filled with tears of relief and joy. He would have made her feel safe again. To think she had lost that ... it was unbearable.
Every day, all day, she would sit on the balcony. Sometimes she would read, most often she would sit and stare, replaying the events in her mind. The children from Below would bring her food and talk uncomfortably around the topic of Vincent. One night Mary had come. Catherine had immediately burst into tears when she opened the door and saw her. Without a word, Mary walked her over to the couch, sat her down, took out some tissues, and held Catherine as she sobbed herself to sleep. When she awoke, she found a note on her coffee table—It will be okay. But it wasn't ...
Catherine was about to pick up Wuthering Heights, its darkness a surprising comfort, when she heard a knock on the door. She thought about ignoring it, but a second knock came insistently. She pulled her robe around her, stepped inside, and went to the door.
When she saw who it was, she opened the door.
"Father?" Catherine asked, surprised.
Father stepped in quickly. "Yes, my dear."
Catherine took his coat and then led him into the living room. They sat on opposite couches.
"Can I get you anything? Some tea?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No, thank you."
Catherine nodded, avoiding looking at him.
"My child, you look terrible. The children tell me your condition has not improved. I see they are right."
Catherine flushed and dropped her head, humiliated. How weak he must think she was. Vincent would be so disappointed in her.
Father immediately rushed over to her side, reassuring her.
"I did not mean in quite like that. I'm sorry," he told her.
"It's true. I'm pathetic. I just can't find my way around this, Father. I miss him so much," she cried.
"That son of mine!" Father suddenly stood up with his cane and started pacing.
Catherine was surprised. He seemed ... angry.
"What a fool he is! To leave you like this ... it's unconscionable. He is a stubborn fool, his behavior is appalling!" Father said, indeed angry.
"But Father, you don't know what happened ..."
"Don't you dare defend him, dear," he continued. "I know what happened!"
"He told you?"
"Yes, just after you were hurt. He thought you were lost to him; I made him tell me everything."
"He couldn't feel me through the Bond ..." she said, almost to herself.
"No, he couldn't. He was ... well, obviously, he was inconsolable. It's still no excuse ..."
"Oh Father, it was terrible!" she told him. "We were having such a beautiful night—the music, everything. It was the best night of my life. And for it all to be gone because of a misunderstanding ... if only that noise had happened a few seconds earlier, or later ..."
"What noise?" Father asked, confused.
"What noise? The loud crashing noise from above; it sounded like something heavy fell onto the stage ... that's what made me jump and that's when he scratched me ..."
"Catherine, Vincent never mentioned a noise to me. From what I understand, the ..."
"He never mentioned the noise? I don't understand ... if he didn't hear it, then he must have thought ..."
"He thought you were repulsed by him ... after your ... er ... contact," Father finished, uncomfortably.
Catherine was shaking her head in disbelief.
"Could he have blocked it out?" she asked.
"The situation was traumatic for him; it's certainly possible."
"I didn't think this could get worse," Catherine replied, as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "To know that he thinks that ... it's awful."
Father sighed and came back over, this time sitting beside her. He put his arm around her.
"Yes, this misunderstanding is terrible. He is ashamed of what he called 'his body's betrayal.' He is horrified for harming you. And this latest disappearance—he blames himself for not being there when you were attacked ..."
"It would have been impossible, Father! It happened so fast ..."
"I know, but to him, it's just one long nightmare. I think he believes that something is lost between you two, something that will never be found again. Catherine, I have never seen him like this—he has lost so much weight, he is actually weak. The only reason he came back was because of an emergency in the lower tunnels that blocked some chambers. He could barely do the work—it was a terrible sight."
"And then he left again?"
Father nodded. "As soon as we knew you were okay, he left."
"Did he say anything?"
"Yes."
Catherine looked at him, beseeching.
"Catherine," he started. "He said he had destroyed the most important thing in his life. He said he hurt you. And ..."
He looked away uncomfortably.
"And what?" she demanded.
He looked at her again. "My dear," he said softly. "He loves you ... but he feels he does not deserve you."
Catherine was crestfallen. It took a moment before she went on.
"Do you know where he is?"
"When Vincent doesn't want to be found, he won't be found. Mouse has kept tabs on him—looking for clues in the way stations, but Vincent is barely eating or drinking anything, and he certainly isn't stopping to sleep or take a blanket. There is barely a trace of him."
Catherine shook her head—would she ever see him again?
"He did promise to come if we needed him, so he has to be someplace where he can hear the pipes, but that doesn't narrow it down much. Vincent is clever—he might have rigged something to transfer the signal to a place where the pipes don't even reach."
"I haven't seen him in over three months! How could this have happened? It's so cruel—and unfair! He shouldn't be alone right now ..."
"And neither should you, my dear. Please, you should come stay Below with us. You are going to need your strength for ..."
"For what?" Catherine interrupted. "For a life without him? What if he never comes back? What if he never wants to see me again?"
"That's impossible—he won't stay away forever," Father told her.
"How do you know? He hasn't done any of this before! He's never stayed away this long!
Catherine broke down crying again; Father wrapped his arms around her, wishing he could be of more comfort.
"If only he knew what really happened! If only he knew how I really felt that night. Father, it was so beautiful and wonderful and innocent ... to see it twisted like this ..."
"I know, I know," he murmured. "Please come Below, Catherine. You should be with family at a time like this."
"No, I won't go where I am not wanted."
"Don't be silly—of course you are wanted."
"He doesn't want me there. He has intentionally placed himself as far away from me as possible. It's his home, I can't ..."
"He has abandoned you, his home, everything! He is behaving selfishly and without honor—the tunnels are your home, too," Father reasoned with her.
"I can't, Father, I'm sorry," she said, softly.
"I can't convince you?"
She shook her head.
Father stood up. "I should be leaving then—you need your rest."
Catherine got up, walked him to the door, and handed him his coat.
"Please, Catherine. Take care of yourself. We'll keep sending up food—don't even try to talk me out of that."
She gave him a small smile.
"Goodbye, Catherine. Be well," Father said, opening the door.
Catherine was watching him walk away before she said, "Father ... if you hear anything ..."
He turned around and tipped his hat. "You will be the first to know, my dear."
She shut the door and locked it before returning to the balcony. The bright sun was at odds with how she felt. She felt even worse than before Father showed up, something she would have sworn impossible.
She sat down in the chair and opened her book again. She didn't even make it through a paragraph before she was consumed with tears again.
Vincent, please come back. Please, Vincent.
When Father got back to his chamber, he immediately summoned Pascal. When he arrived, Father sat him down, not even saying hello.
"Father, what is it?" he asked.
"I need to get a message to Vincent, this instant!"
"Are you sure he's somewhere he can hear it?"
"Let's hope he hasn't completely lost his mind. Regardless, we will repeat the message until he heeds it."
"What do you want to say, Father?"
Father closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"You're not going to like it; neither is he for that matter. But drastic times call for drastic measures."
Pascal nodded.
"However, I will afford him some respect by not having the whole community aware of what I am doing. How many still know the early code we used when Paracelsus was still a part of us?"
Pascal thought for a moment. "We used it so briefly, and it was so long ago. It's the first my father taught me, but it was already being phased out when I learned it. I would say that possibly Mary is the only one who knows it."
"Vincent knows it, yes?"
"Yes, Father. He and I would use it when we were younger to pass secret messages, but Devin, Rebecca, and the others didn't know it."
"Excellent. Off to the pipe chamber, then," Father said, picking up his cane.
When they arrived, Pascal offered Father a chair, which he accepted gratefully.
"What is the message, Father?"
Father sighed.
"I want you to tell Vincent to return immediately. Let him know that if he doesn't, I will set out to find him, and I won't stop until I do. Tell him that if he wants to make it easier on this old man's bones, he will come at once. Tell him I will meet him at the Mirror Pool tomorrow midday. If he is not there, then I will gather Mouse and a search party and we will not stop until we find him."
Pascal looked at him wide-eyed. "Are you sure, Father? He can be very stubborn and he ..."
"I'm quite sure I'm beyond caring what Vincent wants. He is destroying a young woman who has only ever loved him and he is turning his back on the people who care for him. This has gone on long enough."
Pascal nodded. He first sent out an all quiet and then began tapping out the message. When he was finished, they waited ... and waited. One of the children brought them lunch a few hours later. Every twenty minutes, they would repeat the message, but they heard nothing in return. Hours later, Father was dozing in his chair, when he felt Pascal's hand upon his shoulder.
"Yes? Did he reply?"
"Yes, Father. He said he detests the tactic, but he will honor the request."
Father grabbed his cane and stood up. "He most certainly will ... it's the least he can do," he grumbled.