Disclaimer: What can I say? You've read it all, the no monetary gain, and how I don't own the characters, by the way Dan Curtis Productions does, that I don't want this story to be printed, posted, shared or altered without my permission, so just fill in the blanks…The idea and title for the story came from the Toby Keith song, "Rock You Baby".

By Mary-Lynn Allard

Eliot looked at his watch. He had fifteen minutes to get to his meeting at the Historical Center, more than enough time to take a detour past the one and only good restaurant in Collinsport, Le Petite Cafe. Trying to tell himself that he was only killing time until his appointment and not acting like a love-sick school boy, he peered through the restaurant window. With only a single candle at each table and muted lights hanging on the wall, the room was dimly lit, the patrons barely visible. But even if it had been darker, he knew that he would find her. Her face would be softly lit both by the candle's flame and the smile she would be wearing for him, and even though he knew that smile would pierce his heart, he kept looking until he found her. Sitting at the far table. Alone.

Eliot frowned. Barnabas must be late. And then he saw the table for two, set for one. He seldom allowed anger to touch him, let alone overwhelm him, but in that moment, seeing Julia's face, wistful in the candlelight, he could have hit Barnabas Collins.

"Hello, Julia."

She looked up to find him standing over her table. She smiled up at him, all traces of her earlier sadness hidden from all but the most discerning eye, and Eliot's eye was that. Her voice was husky as she greeted him. "Hello, Eliot. Are you meeting someone?"

Eliot wanted to laugh. Yes, he was meeting someone. In fact, several people were waiting for him in a dreary room on the third floor of the Historical Center. He raised an eyebrow at the empty chair across from her. "I was going to ask you the same thing. Might I sit down?"

Julia nodded and a waiter scurried over to set a place for him. He gave Julia a wink. "Monsieur was able to come after all?"

Julia's cheeks reddened and he continued, "I'll have a menu for you right away, Sir."

Eliot waved away the menu. "I've eaten here so many times, I have it memorized."

He gave his order and the waiter left. "So you were waiting for someone. Barnabas?"

"He…he wasn't able to come."

"But you came anyway?"

Julia gave up any pretense of eating. It was a mistake to come. It was a show of bravado and she regretted it. But she had come, and so would the questions from friends and family sooner or later, so she might as well start answering them now. Without realizing it, she lifted her chin. "I suppose you heard that Barnabas and I were going to announce our engagement? I'm here, celebrating."

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone. I'm celebrating Barnabas Collins' engagement…to Faith."

Eliot's eyebrows knit together in an angry way that made Julia feel better and yet worse at the same time. Pushing through the tightness in her throat, she continued, "He told me that I'd have his eternal gratitude for introducing them to each other."

Eliot waved toward the waiter. "Let's go."

"No. Please. Not yet."

Eliot looked at her and the angry look faded into something gentle that she wasn't sure she wanted to see. But all he said was, "Always the brave front."

The waiter hurried to Eliot's side, but understanding what it meant to her to stay, instead of asking for the check, Eliot ordered a bottle of wine, and if she wasn't mistaken, an expensive one.

"Such bravery deserves a reward… but not champagne. Unlike you I won't be celebrating Barnabas' behavior…although maybe I should."

Julia wondered what he meant by that, but before she could ask, he leaned toward her. She braced herself for the questions he would ask, but all he said was, "I hope you slapped his face, good and hard."

During dinner they talked quietly about the difficulties of teaching, of the hardships of running Wyndcliffe. How pretty Collinsport was in the fall. They even talked about the past of 1840, carefully skirting around any but the most trivial mention of Barnabas. Julia relaxed. It was like those days when Barnabas had traveled by I-Ching to 1897. She and Eliot had spent many hours together, and most of them pleasant.

"Talk to me."

His words startled her. "Where were you?" he asked.

"I was remembering when Barnabas…" Eliot stiffened slightly at her words, but relaxed as she went on…"when Barnabas went back to the past. Those evenings of discussion…"

"And debate?"

Julia smiled. "And debate, about time and the parallel lives we were living. You were right about time, and the parallel lives." She held up her glass, letting the candle glow in the blood red liquid. "It was brandy that you gave me then. And we sat in front of the fire."

He smiled at her, waiting for her to say more, but she shook her head.

"Dance with me," he said as he stood and held out his hand to her.

The music was soft and slow and she moved from holding his hand to being in his arms. She had danced with Barnabas only once, and he had held her gently like a fragile piece of glass. It made her feel like something precious. But when Eliot took her in his arms, and held her warm and secure, she felt like a woman. He didn't dance with the perfection that Barnabas did, but his steps matched hers as though they had done this many times before. She looked up into his face, puzzled.

He looked into her eyes. "Talk to me."

She knew what he wanted her to say. He wanted her to tell him about Barnabas, but she couldn't. Not yet. She shook her head slightly. The music ended and she crossed back to their table. But instead of pulling out her chair for her, Eliot handed her her purse. "We're the last ones here. Let's let them close."

Eliot ushered her toward the door, "I'll walk you to your car."

"It's in the shop. I'm going home by cab." She turned and put out her hand. "Thank you, Eliot, for dinner but most of all for your company."

He took her hand and pulled it through his arm. "There's no need to call a cab."

He guided her into the passenger side of his car. As he drove, he kept up a steady stream of talk, all of it small and none of it requiring any response of her. When he came to a fork in the road, without hesitation he chose the road home, his home not hers.

It wasn't until he pulled into his usual parking spot that Julia woke to where she was, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I don't think I'll be very good company, Eliot. Maybe you could take me home."

Eliot took his key out of the ignition and opened his door. "I am home."

He shut his door behind him and without going to Julia's door to help her out, strode toward the house.

Angry, Julia opened her door and followed him. "Eliot, I demand you take me home, my home, right now."

Eliot stood back to let her precede him into the house. "That sounds more like you. I was wondering when you'd get your spirit back. Now take off your coat and I'll make coffee."

Julia stood still. "I'm not staying. I'm leaving now if I have to walk."

"A long walk will be good for you. You look pale. Are you sure you won't have coffee first?" His voice became gentle, "I haven't abducted you. If you want to go home, I'll take you. It's just that I had to do something to snap you out of that air of helplessness you were wearing. It doesn't suit you."

Julia stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She couldn't look at him. "You don't understand."

Eliot's voice was right behind her. "I want to."

He helped her off with her coat and walked away to hang it up. She began to shake as if she was cold, and then she whispered, "I loved him."

Suddenly she began to sob. She was barely aware that Eliot had returned to her, or that he had wrapped his arms around her and was holding her against his ample chest. At first all she could feel was the misery inside.

His hands smoothed her hair, and he held her close. "Get it all out." He said softly into her ear. Slowly the warmth of his touch, the strength of his body as he held her up, and of his words as he comforted her, began to melt the cold ache that had settled around her heart when Barnabas had told her that it was over between them.

Quieted, she knew that she should pull away from him, should thank him for being a friend when she needed one, but his arms felt so right. Without thought, she nestled closer into his shoulder and sighed. His hand stilled for a moment and then the motion changed. Still comforting, the light strokes began to awaken feelings that even her love for Barnabas had never touched.

The phone rang and Julia tensed, but Eliot was in no hurry to pull away from her, and after one last touch, a hug, and a kiss on the top of her head, he let her go to answer it.

Julia sat on the couch, her shoes cast off on the floor, her legs folded beneath her. Her eyes were red, but her spirit more at peace.

Eliot brought in a tray with a coffee pot and cups, and poured Julia hers, adding cream and sugar to make it sweet and light like she liked it. He gave her a cup before making one for himself, and then sat down on the other end of the sofa.

"I missed a meeting this evening. Luckily they were able to decide on a color for the men's room without me, but my secretary wanted to make sure that I was all right."

They drank for a moment in companionable silence until Eliot broke it again. "Talk to me."

Julia leaned back against the sofa. She was quiet so long he was about to change the subject when she began to talk.

"After we returned from 1840, Barnabas decided to put the past behind him. He said he cared for me, that he loved me…"

She reached over and put her hand on Eliot's. Her eyes were soft. "You look angry, but he does love me… and I love him. But we're not in love with each other." She looked out of half-closed eyelids at Eliot.

He took her cup from her and pulled her toward him. She resisted and then relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. "You were dating?" he asked.

Julia smiled with the memories of their short courtship. "Yes. He began to talk of our future and took me out a few times, concerts, dinners…"

At her prolonged silence, Eliot prompted her. "And?"

"And then I introduced him to Faith. You know Barnabas, polite to everyone, but always after the silly young things. If Faith had been beautiful or young… She made him laugh. Looking back at the way he was able to relax with her, I should have known that it was over between us. Maybe I did know. Perhaps he felt he owed it to me, and perhaps I felt it was my last chance at that parallel life with the husband and children I could have chosen, but we kept on with our plans. Tonight we were supposed to officially become engaged.

"This afternoon, he came to see me. He said that he couldn't go through with it. They aren't going to announce it yet, but he's going to marry Faith. He said that he'd always love me, but that she's the woman who could make him forget the past. And the funny thing is that he's right. He's happy in a way that I have never seen him. His curse is gone. If he married me, he'd always be reminded of it."

Eliot's hand moved up and down her back, heavy and calming.

"He said something else, that I didn't understand at the time, but I think I'm beginning to."

"What did he tell you?"

"First, I want to ask you a question. Why, Eliot?"

His hand stilled, and under her ear, she could hear his heartbeat quicken. "Why what?"

"Don't pretend not to understand me. Why?"

His hand began to move again, this time gently caressing the nape of her neck, and then caressing her cheek and the line of her jaw. "The first time I met you, I felt as though I had always known you… It was so strong that I expected you to feel it too, but you didn't. You were so wrapped up in Barnabas' problems. So while you were breaking your heart over Barnabas…"

Julia pulled away. The truth of his words was in his face and in his eyes. She whispered, "And were you breaking your heart over me?"

Eliot laughed. "Let's just say, I was standing aside and waiting. I know this must sound odd, but I was waiting for you to come back to me.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, neither wanting to break the breathless expectancy that had suddenly come between them.

Eliot asked, “What else did Barnabas say to you?”

“He said that he had never been meant to be in this time, and that he could see that his presence had kept me from my destiny. Then he asked me whom I went to for help when he wasn’t there. It’s you.”

Eliot raised his hands and warm and solid they cupped her face. He stared into her eyes and she seemed to give her permission, so he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss demanded nothing from her, and yet she felt it sing through her body. His lips moved to her eyes, and her nose and then in a butterfly trail moved back to her lips.

Her eyes were still closed when he drew back. Her emotions were a jumble. Just this evening she was crying for Barnabas, and now, Eliot moving mere inches away from her made her feel lost.

"Julia, tell me, that being in my arms doesn't feel right. Or that you don't want my touch as much as I want yours." Her eyes opened, green with emotion. With that smile, smug and sure, that he wore when he had defeated a difficult opponent in chess, Eliot asked, "Have you come back to me?"

Julia didn't answer, but leaned into him to continue the kiss.

"Do you take this woman…"

Julia barely listened to the words the minister was saying. She didn't care if the groom took his bride or not. It wasn't the happiest day of her life, that had happened several weeks ago, but it was a happy day. A day to hold onto and remember, and she was wrapped up in her own world. She looked over at Eliot. Not just her world, their world. She put her hand down on her stomach, and then watched his face grow smug. They were still debating whether they should even try to have children when Julia began to suspect that the decision had already been made. And this morning her doctor had confirmed it.

She put out her hand wearing the still nearly new wedding ring, and Eliot took it in his and squeezed it, and then they turned their attention back to the front of the church where Barnabas Collins was getting married.

@}->-- (9/24/2003)