by Terry S. Bowers

Clearing his mind of all but the pattern before him, Barnabas concentrated - on the hexagram, on the door, on it opening and on himself moving through it. He again experienced the odd sensation of entering his own body and watching helplessly while his hand reached out toward the switch. Again he silently screamed to himself to stop, to abort the action before it was begun, but again he was too late. The explosion followed and he felt himself being propelled backward, to land against the wall. This time he was not jolted from himself until moments later, when he once more held Julia as she died, until he once more cried out to her, feeling her life leave her body and with it all he valued so dearly.

"No... Julia,... no..."

Barnabas opened his eyes and found himself back in the drawing room, the I-Ching spread before him. He bowed his head, the tears falling anew, his grief more raw, more bitter and more deep than before, because he had been unable to prevent her death, had seen and held her and felt her die yet again.

".... Julia..."

Stokes entered the Old House, then the drawing room, to find Barnabas sitting in his chair beside a cold hearth. The fire had long since died out, but Barnabas did not seem to know it. There was a far distant look in his eyes, new lines of pain on his face. Eliot closed the distance and reached out a hesitant hand to touch Barnabas' shoulder. The man blinked and slowly looked up to meet the professor's gaze.

"Barnabas..."

"Oh, Eliot."

"Did you rest at all?"

Barnabas only shook his head, his gaze resting on the table across the room. He knew why Eliot had come back, but could he stand to endure all that again? Could he survive seeing Julia taken from him another time? No. And yet... he must, for this time might bring him success. He might arrive in time to prevent himself from activating that switch.

"Thank you for returning, Eliot."

"I gave you my word, Barnabas."

Collins nodded, then stood, crossing to sit at the table with the I-Ching wands.

"Are you up to this, Barnabas? You look exhausted."

"I ... am fine, Eliot."

"Very well."

Stokes stood silently by while Barnabas turned his concentration to the wands before him. Having done this before, it did not take Barnabas long to enter the trance and allow his astral self to move through time, to move backward in the stream of events to a point in time before the accident which took Julia's life occurred.

That event had been nothing more - an accident, even though Barnabas insisted on blaming himself. The police investigation cleared Barnabas of any responsibility, citing a fault in the equipment. Barnabas could hardly be held responsible for that, but in his grief and guilt, he could not see nor accept that. As Eliot watched the body of the man whose spirit was now elsewhere, he sighed heavily. Unfortunately the only person who might have been able to help Barnabas see the truth, the one person he would truly listen to, was the one who had been killed by the explosion; the one he was trying to save. Julia Hoffman.

Suddenly an agonized scream was torn from Barnabas and he slumped in the chair, scattering the wands, gasping desperately for breath. Stokes hurried to his side, easing Barnabas back, away from the table. He waited until Collins opened his eyes, and knew then he had failed. The anguish in Barnabas' eyes was beyond description.

"I have... failed, Eliot. Each time I arrive too late to prevent Julia's death. I ... cannot bear to experience that death yet again."

"Perhaps you should wait a day or two, Barnabas, then try for a third time."

"I... have already made my third attempt, Eliot. Last night, I could not rest, could not sleep, could not face returning to Collinwood. I attempted it on my own... the results were the same.... This method will not help me. I cannot save Julia this way."

Stokes held his tongue, refused to say what he thought, would not voice his belief that perhaps Barnabas had met with repeated failure because it was Julia's fate - her destiny - to die at this time, in this manner. He would not say it because Barnabas was not ready to hear it, even though it was likely the truth. Instead Eliot placed a comforting hand on Barnabas' shoulder.

"I am sorry, Barnabas."

"I know you are, Eliot. And I thank you."

"Is there anything I might do for you, Barnabas? Anything I might get for you?"

"... No."

"Then I shall leave you alone. Try to rest, Barnabas."

Collins simply nodded and closed his eyes, sitting in the chair near the fireplace again. Stokes let himself out, wishing he could do more for Barnabas, yet knowing that help would have to come from within Barnabas himself.

Rain had begun to fall shortly after Barnabas left the Old House, and had he been aware of his own conditions and surroundings, he would have realized he was soaked to the skin and beginning to shiver. He could easily make himself sick if he did not get out of the cold rain, but none of the practical, logical actions he should take made sense to him. He ignored it all as he stood beside Julia's Hoffman's grave, staring at but not seeing the newly erected head stone. Once before he had stood thus - staring at her grave marker. It was when they'd been separated by decades - she in 1840 and he in 1970. In his desperation to prevent her death then, he had found a way to go back through time and possess himself and stop himself from killing her. He had used the I-Ching, but they were not the answer this time. He could not control the time differential enough to assure his arrival before the accident.

"Julia... I am sorry. I never wanted ... any of this... never expected to lose you. I always believed... you would be with me... forever..."

"Barnabas..."

He looked up slowly, to find his cousin Elizabeth standing not far away. She had an umbrella and a look of compassion on her face. She moved forward until the umbrella covered Barnabas as well.

"Eliot told me I might find you here."

"I feel.... so lost and empty without her, Elizabeth. I do not know what to do nor where to turn."

"I wish I could tell you that I understand, or that - in time - it will get better, the hurt, pain and loneliness you are feeling will lessen, but ... I don't know that it will."

"She was so much a part of my life. There is ... so much more I wanted to tell her, to share with her,... to ask of her."

Elizabeth glanced sharply at her cousin, then reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm, giving it a comforting squeeze. Then she frowned.

"Barnabas, you are shivering. Come with me, you must get out of this cold and wet or you'll surely... become very ill."

Collins said nothing but allowed Elizabeth to lead him away and back to the waiting car. He would do as she told him, because he had no will to argue or fight. That too had been taken from him with Julia's death.

Unable to sleep, feeling very confined by the room in which he was staying while at Collinwood, Barnabas paced the floor restlessly. Finally he gave up and left, hearing the foyer clock strike the early morning hour of 3:00. He doubted anyone else was still awake, but he did not feel like being with anyone anyway. He quietly wandered the upper hallways, finding himself stopping before a certain door. It had been Julia's room. Hesitantly he reached out and turned the knob. It opened easily and Barnabas slipped through into her bedroom. He had not been there often - only once or twice in all the years Julia had lived at Collinwood, but he could see touches which helped identify it as Julia's room. Boxes were now piled in one corner, prior to having the room cleaned out, Julia's things packed away and stored, eventually forgotten until someone - at some future point - came across them and, out of curiosity, went through the boxes, perhaps in search of a 'costume' for some party.

"No, Julia, not that. I cannot let you become simply a name on a collection of cartons."

Turning, he left the room and hurried through the halls, until he finally stopped before the linen closet which had been the access point for Quentin Collins' stairway through time. Desmond was to have destroyed it after he, Stokes, and... Julia returned to the present from that era, but perhaps.... Holding his breath, Barnabas concentrated on the target date and reached to open the door. For a moment he could not make his eyes focus, until he realized it was the objects before him which were slightly blurry, and not his eyes. The stairway slowly took on solid form, and Barnabas moved forward, climbing the stairs to the door at the top. He opened it, to find a multi-colored, almost iridescent kaleidoscope of light on the other side. He did not stop to think, to hesitate, to consider, but stepped through and closed the door behind him.

* * * * *

Barnabas stepped from the stairway and closed the door behind him. It was still night, a storm growing off in the distance. He glanced around to be certain no one had seen him or was nearby, suddenly realizing - if he were successful and had returned to a few days ago - he stood a very good chance of encountering himself. He would have to use extreme caution. But first he had to find out at what point in the time line he had arrived. Moving quietly, Barnabas headed back toward the main section of the house.

Unable to prevent himself, Barnabas stopped outside the door to Julia's room. He listened hard and glanced toward the floor. There was no noise, no light shining under the door. Carefully he reached for the knob and turned it slowly, hearing the latch click back, allowing the door to open. Barnabas paused, then pushed the hinged, wooden barrier ajar far enough to allow him to peak inside.

He saw someone in bed, breathing gently, sound asleep. A flash of lightening brightened the room enough to let him see auburn hair, the profile he knew so well. Checking his urge to hurry in, wake her and warn her, Barnabas instead watched Julia sleeping for several long moments, then retreated to the hallway, closing the door behind him. He could not make contact with her until he knew when it was. Perhaps even then he could not directly see and talk with Julia, but find other ways to influence her, to prevent the accident which would claim her life.

Moving quietly and carefully through the huge house, Barnabas made his way to the ground floor and into the drawing room. He dared not turn on a light, but lit a candle and looked around. He found a newspaper folded on the table beside a chair, the crossword puzzle nearly done. He glanced at the date - two days before the accident. But how recent was the paper? Returning the candle and holder to where he had found them, extinguishing the flame, Barnabas moved from the drawing room down the hallway to the study. He carefully checked to be sure Roger wasn't working late, then entered.

Barnabas crossed to Roger's desk, daring to turn on the lamp. It cast a dim glow across the surface of the well ordered desk, and touched the daily calendar. Its date reflecting one day later than that of the newspaper, and Barnabas' hopes rose slightly. He had less than twenty four hours in which to find some way to prevent the accident, but at least he wasn't too late. Julia was still alive, sleeping peacefully upstairs.

Returning the study to the way he'd found it, Barnabas left, climbed the stairs and made his way to one of the unused guest rooms at the far end of the hall. He needed a place where he would be undetected to recall all he had done during those twenty odd hours. In those memories would be a way to save Julia and avoid meeting himself.

Wanting to prevent being seen by anyone, Barnabas left Collinwood before dawn and made his way to the Old House while it was still dark. He knew he had left the house about ten that morning, and would wait in one of the out buildings until he was certain the house was empty.

True to his memory, he caught a glimpse of himself heading toward Collinwood just after ten a.m., and waited a few moments before leaving his hiding place and making his way into the house. He went directly to the cellar and to the generator - the source of the explosion.

Kneeling beside it, Barnabas bent close to examine the mechanism which had begun the chain of events leading to the explosion. He hoped he would be able to see something obvious, but was disappointed when he found it appeared to be in perfect working order. He was the first to admit he knew nothing of the workings which permitted the devise to create the electricity the modern world depended on so stubbornly. Barnabas had no clue as to what should be done to make the generator safe for use, nor even where to begin looking for something which might not be right about it.

Sighing heavily, he stood and looked about the cellar room, his memory vividly providing the details of what it would look like in so very short a time. He looked again at the generator, briefly considering the possibility of moving it, of hiding it someplace where it could not be easily found, but realized that was a task he could not accomplish himself. He clearly recalled Willie Loomis grumbling about having to move it down there alone, pointing out it was quite heavy and he was lucky he hadn't hurt himself while doing it.

Yet Barnabas was not ready to give up. There had to be some way to prevent the use of that generator and therefore the accident. Again he studied the contraption, considering the removal of a part or two. He was about to reach out and unscrew a cap of some sort located on the back of the generator when he stopped. What if his interference with the generator - his removal of something - was what caused the explosion in the first place? He had no memory of ever having done this before, but if he had - if he'd forgotten as a result of his injuries. Second guessing one's self was always a dangerous practice. He would not be caught up in its trap, and Barnabas lowered his hand. He would find some other way to prevent Julia's death.

Distantly hearing the mantle clock in the drawing room strike the three quarter hour, Barnabas realized he'd met Julia there at 11:15, and while he longed to see her, he knew it best that he not make contact with her if he could possibly avoid it. There would be less confusion - now and when he returned to the future - his present. Turning he left the cellar room and climbed the stairs, gently closing the cellar door behind him.

Barnabas had crossed the foyer and opened the front door when he heard movement in the drawing room. He tensed, and was about to hurry out when Julia Hoffman came around the corner, glancing up from the notebook, open in her hands.

"Barnabas, you're early. Good. I found what I think may be a helpful passage, but... Barnabas, are you all right?"

"Yes,... yes, I'm fine, Julia. I'm just ... surprised to see you."

"I told you I'd be here about 11:00 when we spoke at Collinwood earlier."

"I must have lost track of the time."

Julia gave him a curious look, then turned and walked back into the drawing room, expecting Barnabas to follow. He had no choice but to do so, and hesitantly followed behind Julia, finding her standing by the desk. He knew he had no memory of this ever having happened before, for when he - his other self - returned from Collinwood, she would be sitting in the chair, reading the notebook she was now flipping through.

Aware Barnabas was standing only a few feet away, his gaze studying her intently, Julia looked up, puzzled and concerned by his expression. Something was troubling him deeply. She closed the notebook and moved to stand closer to him, alarmed when that seemed to bother him.

"Barnabas, something is very wrong. Tell me."

He glanced down at his hands and sadly shook his head. A sudden intake of breath from Julia caused him to look up and meet her startled, worried gaze. She reached out to gently touch the healing cuts on his face, neck and hands.

"Barnabas, ... what happened? These wounds are several days old, and don't tell me you got them shaving.... When did you change your suit, you were wearing your.... Barnabas...."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him closely.

"Barnabas, ... are you here from the past, or the future, or ... some parallel reality?"

"I had hoped to avoid a direct meeting, Julia, even though I longed to see you again, talk with you again... be with you again. I ... am here from the future, from five days into the future. I used the stairway through time."

"Why?"

"Julia...."

"Why are you here, Barnabas? What happens? How are you injured?"

"... In an explosion, in the cellar. The generator malfunctions.... I am injured, but you.... you are killed. I came back hoping to prevent your death."

"Why?"

He met her gaze tenderly, wanting to reach out and take her hand but not daring to. He shook his head as he answered.

"Need you ask?"

"Yes, Barnabas, I do."

He met her gaze and studied her face for a long moment, then glanced down and turned away. He couldn't face her when he told her, even though he knew he should.

"... You died in my arms, Julia, and I could do nothing to help you. Only then did I realize - admit - my true feelings for you. As I stood by your grave I vowed I would - somehow - change things so we can truly be together. I care very deeply for you, Julia, I need you in my life, I need ... to love you as much as you have always loved me."

A soft gasp from her caused Barnabas to turn back toward her. Julia's eyes were closed, tears on her cheeks and she was trembling, her hand resting at the base of her throat. He crossed to stand beside her, reaching out to touch her cheek.

"Julia..."

She shook her head and took a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes.

"Oh, Barnabas..."

"This was not how I had hoped to tell you, not how I wanted to share this with you."

"Barnabas... do you know what you have done?"

"I ... have tried to prevent a terrible accident which claims your life."

"Yes, and by doing so, you have changed the ... stimulus which caused you to realize your feelings for me."

"I do not understand, Julia."

"Without my death, you have no reason, no cause to admit... what you have just told me. Without my death, you will not need to travel back in time to prevent it, and yet... you leave me with the memory of this conversation, this meeting. I will face my future knowing you love me, but in that line of events, you may never come to realize it or admit it ... or tell me."

"No, Julia, I will not allow that. I will never forget my love for you. I will carry it with me the rest of my days, even when I return to the future, return to find you alive and well."

"How can you be so certain, Barnabas?"

"We have not forgotten past events when we used the stairway before."

"But... it did not impact our lives so directly before. What if that changes now, Barnabas?"

"I hope it will not, but if it should... I want your word you will tell me this, Julia. Promise me you will tell me of this meeting, this conversation."

"And watch you turn from me in disbelief - in continued denial? I've never told you of my feelings openly before because ... it seemed to make you uncomfortable, because you were not ready to accept what I will so gladly give you. Will that change simply because I tell you of this meeting?"

Her eyes were pleading, the pain of long contained feelings lining her face, touching her voice. Barnabas took her hands and held them tightly, meeting her eyes levelly.

"Yes, Julia, it will."

She shook her head and turned away, unable to believe his words. She had lived with his denial too long. Julia felt his hands on her upper arms, turning her back to face him, but she did not look up to meet his gaze.

"Have I been so... unfeeling and dispassionate all this time so as to cause these feelings of doubt in you? Are you unable to believe me when I tell you... I shall not allow this to continue?"

"I believe you now, Barnabas, but the future... I could not live with the knowledge of what you've told me, wondering if you can - or will - remember, and accept."

"Do not say that, Julia."

"I can't help it, Barnabas."
"How can I convince you, how can I persuade you?"

She shook her head, eyes closed, swallowing hard. Barnabas released a deep gasp as the full realization of what he'd been doing to Julia all these years struck him; how deeply and completely he had hurt her without a thought. And she had taken it all silently, accepting this emotional pain continually, always hoping he might - someday - admit what he just had to her. And now, because of the circumstances, she could not - dared not - believe him.

Slowly he turned away from Julia, his eyes downcast as his hands clasped together at his waist. He had never wanted - intended - to hurt her so deeply. And what if she were right? What if he did not or could not remember this and treated her informing him of it with the same cold disdain and detachment as he'd always displayed toward her feelings of love for him in the past? He could not allow it. He could not continue to hurt Julia so.

Glancing across the room at her, Barnabas moved to the desk in the corner and sat. He found paper and pen, quickly writing a letter - to himself. Perhaps he would believe his own handwriting.

Folding the single sheet of paper, Barnabas sealed the envelope, writing his own name on the front. He looked at it a long moment then stood and silently crossed the room to where Julia stood by the fireplace.

"Julia..."

She raised her head but did not turn around, unable to face him.

"Julia, please.... look at me."

Hesitantly she did so. His gaze was different - needing of her forgiveness. She swallowed as her fists tightened at her side.

"Julia.... I have written myself a letter - telling myself all that you fear I may forget. If that should happen ... give it to me. Insist I read it in your presence. Force me to realize all I have told you this morning."

"Barnabas..."

"Your word, Julia."

He pressed the envelope into her hand and met her gaze. Slowly she nodded.

"All right, Barnabas, I promise. I will give it to you."

The clock on the mantle struck the quarter hour and Barnabas glanced up.

"I must go before I meet myself. Promise me, Julia, that you will not go to the cellar this afternoon, and that you will cause me to recall all of what we have said and done this morning."

"I ... promise, Barnabas."

"You will not regret it, Julia. Know I do love you."

He bent close and kissed her gently, tenderly, then hurried from the room and toward the back of the house. Julia looked down at the sealed envelope in her hand, then slipped it into her dress pocket, glancing up when she heard the front door open.

"Julia?"

She swallowed hard and shook her head. She had to do this.

"In here, Barnabas."

He entered, smiling when he saw her, but the smile faded slowly.

"Julia, you look troubled. Are you all right?"

"I'm... suddenly not feeling well, Barnabas. Would you mind if we postponed our plans until another time?"

"No, of course not. Can I get you anything? Would you like to lie down?"

"I... think I should go back to Collinwood."

"Of course. Allow me to accompany you."

"... No, I'll be all right."

She was having a hard time meeting Barnabas' gaze and knew she had to get away from him. He - this Barnabas, at this point in time - had not yet realized what the Barnabas of the future had.

"I do not like your being alone if you are feeling ill. I cannot allow you to return to Collinwood by yourself."

She turned pain filled eyes on him, knowing he was puzzled and concerned. If she protested further, he would demand an explanation, and she couldn't give him that.

"... Maybe you're right, Barnabas."

"Of course I am, Julia. Come. I will see you safely back to Collinwood."

She nodded and allowed Barnabas to escort her. She glanced up at him and smiled sadly. Knowing what she now did, Julia was certain she would not be in the cellar later that day and the explosion would not happen. She had to risk facing the future with the knowledge she now possessed; had to chance that Barnabas would - somehow - remember. She couldn't face herself if she did not have faith in him.

* * * * *

Barnabas reached for the door knob and glanced over his shoulder, up the stairway which had brought him back to - he hoped - the time he'd left and the woman he loved. The stairway began to fade and Barnabas opened the door, stepping into the hallway. The door closed behind him and he glanced to his left, out the window. It was dark beyond the glass, just as it had been when he left. He could hear the clock strike the hour - the same hour as when he'd ascended the stairs.

Panic and anxiety rushed over him. He wanted to know if he had been successful in changing the future - his present - and yet, if he had not... Taking a deep breath, Barnabas left the hallway and made his way back to the main part of the house.

He once more went directly to Julia Hoffman's room. Slowly, quietly, carefully, he eased the door open. No one was there, but the packing boxes were gone, the touches Julia had added to the room to make it hers were still evident. Then where could she be at this hour of the night? He smiled slowly.

"Julia."

Turning, Barnabas closed the door and hurried from the house. He knew where she was.

A dim light illuminated the drawing room windows of the Old House as Barnabas entered the front door. He stepped quietly into the drawing room, relief flooding over him when his gaze rested on Julia, asleep in the chair, book open on her lap. She'd been trying to wait up for him, wanting to know if her fears would be confirmed.

Barnabas crossed to her side and reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Julia..."

She started awake, taking a deep breath as she realized he was standing beside her. Julia closed her book and rose slowly, her eyes meeting his.

"Barnabas..."

He reached out and took her hands, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I remember, Julia... everything. You won't need to give me that letter."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, a soft gasp escaping her as relief flooded through her as well. When she opened her eyes, she found Barnabas' gaze still on her, a gentle smile on his lips. She bit her lower lip and nodded once, happily going into Barnabas' embrace as his arms slipped about her waist and he held her close.

"Stay with me always, Julia."

"I will, Barnabas, I will."

He met her gaze again, then bent close and kissed her tenderly.

* * * * *
* * * * *


Terry S. Bowers
May 25, 1995

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