by MAllard

In this time of peace, Barnabas was walking Julia home.

The walks of late were never long enough, and on this night the two walked particularly slow, making time wait impatiently for them. They talked of everyday things for them, although not so everyday for others. Did she ever wonder if Judah was really gone? Did he wonder if Quentin's staircase was still there, somewhere? And in cheerful debate, and conversation, they wondered and talked and laughed.

Julia tripped on a root, nothing to take notice of, on an ordinary night. But somehow this night, with its not full moon, was not ordinary. Barnabas stopped, his arm preventing her from falling. She quickly straightened up, with his help.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"It was nothing." she answered.

They stood for a moment and looked at each other. Barnabas' face was lost in the shadows, as he looked down into hers, lit by the moon. Barnabas looked at the uplifted face, at the lips parted in a smile. Julia looked like a woman waiting to be kissed, and he wanted to indulge her. The thought of what he was tempted to do stunned him. This was Julia, his friend. It seemed so wrong... and yet as he looked at her inviting smile...

The owl screeched as it flew by, breaking the spell. Barnabas tucked her arm into his, a little closer and tighter this time. Together they finished the walk in comfortable silence

As he opened the door for her, Barnabas leaned down and gave Julia the customary kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight, my Dear." he said,

"Goodnight, Barnabas." She answered, and they each went their own way. Julia to dream, Barnabas to think.

* * *

Only a few days later, Barnabas was ill. Very ill. "Let me go get Julia, Barnabas." Willie begged.

"I don't need Julia. Besides, she wouldn't want to come here. It's late, and she's too tired." Barnabas voice rasped, hoarse. "You know she's been helping out with the influenza epidemic in town."

"And she should be busy with one case right here." Willie was worried. Barnabas had been shivering for what seemed to be hours, and his color looked bad. They had been through something similar before. Julia said it was because Barnabas had little immunity to diseases of the modern times. "Julia'll come if you need her."

"Why should she come?" Barnabas demanded.

"You sure are blind." Willie said, shaking his head.

"You're speaking that nonsense again. How many times do I have to tell you, Julia and I are just friends."

"Now who's speaking nonsense. You've said that to yourself so many times, you believe it. Open your eyes, you love her. And she loves you."

"Willie, you've let your imagination run away with you."

Willie looked at Barnabas. "You can deny it all you want, but it won't change things. You care a lot more for Julia, than you want to admit. And I'm gonna go get her."

"Willie don't you dare." Barnabas tried to yell, but it came out as a croak.

Willie was already outside the door in the hall, and yelled back into the room, "I'll be back in a couple'a minutes."

Barnabas fell into an uneasy sleep, before Willie was out of the front door.

When Barnabas woke up, Julia was sitting on the bed beside him, holding his hand. She had a file of papers on her lap, and was reading from it. He felt better, but was so sleepy. His nightclothes and sheets had been changed, and from the equipment on the table, he knew she had inoculated him with something. She must have been here for some time. He looked at her face, concerned, tired, and definitely not looking its best. So why was he so glad to see her? He thought of the other night when he was tempted to kiss her. Was Willie correct? Was this love? But did she really love him?

"Julia?" he rasped.

Julia smiled, the smile lighting her tired face. "You're feeling better." She said, letting go of his hand and feeling his forehead. "You're cooler." She tucked the blankets around him. "I'll stay until morning, but I think you're on the mend. Next time send Willie for me sooner. Promise."

Barnabas closed his eyes, promising nothing, feeling the loss of her hand, and wanting it to hold his again. "Do you love me?" he asked.

Julia was taken by surprise. "Why Barnabas? Why do you want to know?"

"Willie says you do." He answered.

Willie was too observant, and much too ready to talk, Julia thought. What should she say? She looked down at Barnabas almost asleep, alone in his bed. He would think her mad, if he knew his 'best friend' wished to climb in with him, hold him until he was well and not at all because she was a doctor. How shocked he would be, if she told him the love she felt for him was so deep, so much a part of her, it slept in her bones. She studied Barnabas' pale face, so very human. She was as ashamed of her love as he had been of his curse. In a strange way, it made her feel closer to him, as though he was a part of her.

She felt Barnabas' forehead, cool now. He was asleep, his breathing deep and even. Safe from shocking him, she leaned over and kissed his forehead, telling him, "Yes, I love you. You silly thing." She knew he wouldn't ask her again in the morning. Questions like that weren't asked in the light of day. She blew out the candle and left him in the dark.

* * *

Julia entered the Old House. Odd Barnabas hadn't met her at the door. From what Willie had told her when he gave her the message, Barnabas was determined she should come at this time. She looked in the drawing room. No one was there, although a fire was burning cheerfully in the fireplace. "Hello." She called. "Barnabas? Willie?"

She heard music playing. It was soft and drew her. She dropped her purse and coat on a chair, and out of curiosity, followed the sound. The song was familiar, teasing her memory, yet she was sure she had never heard it before. The music grew louder as she went deeper into the house, coming from the old music room that Barnabas and Willie hadn't finished when they were first redoing the house. Uneasy about intruding, she waited outside the closed door, but the music did not stop, merely began to repeat. Her curiosity overcame her wish not to interrupt, so she knocked. Barnabas' familiar growl called, "Come in, Julia."

Julia entered the room. Barnabas, as always, claimed her attention, just by being there. He sat at a harpsichord, playing with joy on his face and precision in his fingers. Candelabra on the instrument lit both the keyboard and his face, casting shadows, making him look almost like a stranger. Julia was surprised at his musical abilities, then wondered at her surprise. Many men of his time learned to play an instrument. She slipped into a nearby chair. Reluctantly she took her gaze from Barnabas' face, and looked around the room.

Willie said that Barnabas had a surprise for her. And this room certainly was that. So this is what Barnabas had been up to, the last few weeks. The room was beautiful, decorated in rich greens and golds, with brocade-covered furniture, and paintings of people too happy to be Collins' on the walls. Although night had not yet fallen, the heavy drapes were drawn and the candles were lit, the room's colors and candlelight bringing out the red fire of Julia's hair.

Barnabas, who had not looked up since she came into the room, continued to play, and she closed her eyes, feeling the music. It was old fashioned and felt bitter-sweet and full of love. As Barnabas stopped playing, she opened her eyes, and looked at him. His eyes were glowing. "Did you like it?" He asked.

"It's beautiful." She answered softly. "Somehow familiar. Who wrote it?"

"It is a love song, composed by a man to describe the woman he loved." He said. Lucky woman, Julia thought, wistfully.

Satisfied at her reaction to the music he had written, he turned back to the harpsichord and played other men's music, keeping his secret for a few more minutes. Secrets, he smiled. That night that Julia left his bedside he wasn't asleep, as she had thought.

When he finished playing, he turned on the little stool, and looked at Julia, no longer disguising the love he felt for her. She looked at him, her heart pounding in her throat. He stood and came over to her, pulling her up into his arms. She looked into his face, his eyes dark, and searching her own. As he lowered his head, coming so close, she closed her eyes, waiting. His lips touched hers lightly, the kiss, tender and chaste. Barnabas drew back, looking at Julia, her face flushed with happiness, the flame in her eyes echoing the one in his. She leaned ever so slightly toward him, and he pulled her to him again. She pressed herself close to him, as they again pressed lips together, moist and warm. As her lips moved, tasting his, the kiss deepened. Tongues touching lips, teasing, darting, meeting, until the two reluctantly pulled away from each other, ending the sweet unity of lips and spirits.

Julia rested her head on his shoulder. Barnabas kissed the top of her head, then rested his own upon hers. Later they would speak of love and the future, but for now they stood in the comfort of each other's arms, neither of them wishing to break the fragile thread of magic that had somehow at last bound them together.

THE BEGINNING

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