"Quentin, I've enjoyed these last two weeks very much, but I have to know: why are you doing this?"

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Julia looked down at her lap. Her hands were clasped tightly together to keep them from fidgeting. "I know you feel responsible for Barnabas leaving the way he did. I don't want you to think ..."

"Damn it, Julia, do you really think I'm pursuing you out of guilt?" Quentin jumped to his feet and began pacing, running a hand through his hair. He was trying very hard not to shout. It was his cousin he was angry with, for hurting Julia so deeply by his constant rejection that she doubted *anyone* could want her. Getting a grip on his temper, he took Julia's hands, drawing her to her feet.

"Look, I honestly wanted things to work out between you and Barnabas; that's why I pulled that crazy stunt." He grimaced. "Afterwards, when I thought about the two of you being together ... well, it made me a little crazy. That's when I realized how much I'd started to care for you. And the more time we spend together the more I want to be with you." Quentin took a deep breath. "What I need to know now is if you think you can feel something for me."

Julia's thoughts were spinning so fast she felt dizzy. These last couple of weeks had been exhilarating. Being the object of Quentin's interest had made her feel beautiful and desirable; any woman would have been flattered. It was impossible not to respond to his attentions, to flirt back, even let her imagination run wild with the possibilities. Looking into those compelling blue eyes, she knew it was more than friendship she felt.

She reached a hand behind Quentin's neck, drawing him down for a kiss. His lips were soft and sweet and caressed hers tenderly. After a moment she laid her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

"I'm not sure of anything right now, but I do care about you. And I'm willing to find out how far we can take this, but we have to go slowly, Quentin, very slowly." She didn't know if the feelings she had for Quentin could turn into love, but for now this was enough.

"Fair enough. But I think there is something you should know."

The light of mischief glinting in his eyes, Quentin tilted Julia's chin up. His mouth met hers again, warm and sensual. Julia gave herself up to the pleasure of his touch as Quentin teased her lips open with his own, welcomed the probing tongue that danced with hers and explored the wet heat of her mouth. She was intensely aware of his hand on the small of her back under the sweater, its warmth sinking into her skin.

After long moments, Julia gave up the sweetness of Quentin's mouth to kiss a trail across his jaw to the tender spot behind his ear. His hands were taking liberties she knew shouldn't be allowed, but their touch awakened her body with a shiver of electricity. Quentin moaned, pressing their bodies even closer; she could feel him growing hard against her thigh. The sound of his voice brought them both to their senses.

They separated reluctantly, Julia leaning against the tree behind her. She closed her eyes , trying to regain some sense of equilibrium, grateful for the cool spring air. Behind her closed lids, she willingly sank to the ground with him, yielding to her body's hunger.

She opened her eyes, shaking her head to clear it of the image and sank to the bench beside Quentin, who tucked her neatly into the crook of his arm. Laughing, she looked up into rather disconcerted blue eyes.

"I think you've proven your point, Quentin. But just because we have ..." She paused, embarrassed.

"Heat. What we have, my dear Julia, is heat." \\My god, that woman can kiss.\\ The sheer force of his desire for her had taken him by surprise. Her passionate response had his imagination running wild.

Quentin made a playful attempt to kiss her again and was laughingly pushed away, but not too far away.

"Quentin, that doesn't mean that we can ignore the potential problems."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you aren't aging and I am." This was the last thing Julia wanted to be talking about now, but she knew they had to discuss it before things went any further between them. "Even if you were the age you appear to be it would be a problem. If things work out between us, what happens ten or twenty years from now?"

The laughter went out of Quentin's eyes. He held Julia closer, burying his face in her hair. "I don't have all the answers, Julia. The idea of losing you some day scares the hell out of me."

He released her, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground as if answers could be found among the new blades of grass.

"Since I left Collinsport I haven't exactly lacked for female companionship. But then, I never stayed in one place long enough to get serious about anyone. I was afraid that people would start to notice that I wasn't getting any older. There was no point in getting attached to somebody I was going to have to leave anyway. Besides, I loved Beth and look where that got her."

Quentin ran a hand through his hair. Julia was coming to recognize it as a sign that he was feeling lost or overwhelmed.

"Don't get me wrong, I've had a hell of a good time, but its not enough anymore, Julia. It may have taken me the better part of a century, but I think I've finally outgrown my adolescence. I want someone who will share my life, no matter how crazy it gets. Somebody I can trust with the truth about what I really am. The alternative is spending the rest of eternity alone or having one meaningless fling after another."

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "God knows you deserve better than me, but I'll do my best to make you happy for as much time as we have together."

Julia nuzzled his palm for a moment, her eyes closed. Quentin had never offered her anything but respect and affection. Their friendship had become a refuge from the pain of Barnabas' rejection; now there was a possibility it could be so much more. She was faintly surprised to realize that she trusted Quentin, despite his past. If she knew all his secrets, he had learned hers - the terrible things she had done to protect Barnabas and the rest of the family. It was a relief to have someone she could be open with. On the other hand, he was dangerous and impulsive and would probably get her into trouble on a regular basis.

Feeling a little like she was jumping off a cliff, Julia let a slow smile spread across her face. She leaned close to Quentin, whispering in his ear.

"I always have had a weakness for older men." She sprang gracefully to her feet and danced away from Quentin's grasp.

"I'll show you who's an old man." He began stalking her down the garden path. Angelique gave up her exploration of the lovely muddy flower beds to participate in the chase.

Julia found herself cornered at the end of the path with Quentin advancing on her slowly, a wicked gleam in his eye. She didn't want to go any farther; beyond where the iron fence once stood was the old section of garden that Elizabeth was having cleared. She had no desire to get her shoes muddy, and to tell the truth, didn't at all mind being caught.

Quentin swooped down on her, scooping her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. Heedless of the mud, he carried her over to the wreck of a large fountain or reflecting pool. The workmen had already removed the hideous cherub from the center and begun smashing up the base. The morning's rain had left a muddy scum at the bottom.

"Care for a little mud bath, Julia?"

"Quentin Collins, put me down this instant."

"What'll you give me if I do?" He was smirking.

With a wriggle, Julia extricated herself from his arms, her shoes sinking into the mud, and kissed the smirk right off Quentin's face. And went on kissing him until they were both out of breath. Quentin looked down at her with a slightly dazed expression.

"Well, all right, but you get to wash the cat." Angelique, her legs and belly covered in mud, was preparing to pounce on a clump of dead leaves.

Julia wound her arms more firmly around Quentin's neck, stretching her body languidly against his. She was prepared to negotiate that task. Before she could begin, something caught her eye. A sort of mist was rising from the ruined fountain, but it wasn't behaving like normal fog. It seemed to be
moving rapidly towards them.

There was something eerie about the way a tendril reached out in their direction. Julia shivered. The temperature had suddenly dropped. She stepped back out of reach of the mist, trying to pull Quentin with her.

"Quentin, be careful. There's something strange ..." He wasn't moving with her. The fog had wound itself around his body and was *holding* him in place.

Julia looked on in horror as the apparition solidified. The form of a woman took shape in the fog. A young woman with long, dark hair, her arm outstretched toward Quentin. Where her hand should have been, a band of mist encircled her victim's throat. Rage illuminated her face as she lifted Quentin off his feet to dangle by his neck.

He had a clear view of her as she floated slightly above him. Dark eyes were set in a fine-boned face. She might have been beautiful if not for the snarl that contorted her expression. As Quentin stared at her, gasping for breath, heart pounding, he could see the bone beneath the 'skin,' a hollow-eyed skull grinning at him.

Quentin had no time to contemplate what he was seeing. Her grip was choking the breath out of him. A panicked memory flashed through his mind as the world faded to black: himself at ten years old, sinking beneath the ocean waves, unable to swim for shore because of the cramp in his leg. He had nearly drowned before Edward saved him. He wasn't being choked to death by the apparition, he was being drowned.

The last thing he heard was Julia's voice screaming at the creature to let him go. She sounded terrified and furious. He tried to warn her to stay away, but blackness engulfed him.

She saw Quentin's body go limp. Rushing forward, Julia tried to wrench him away from the ghostly woman.

"No! Let go of him!"

A transparent arm reached out to push her away. Like the one that held Quentin, it ended in a tendril of mist that wrapped itself around Julia. She gasped as memories that were not hers flooded into her mind.

---------

She was kneeling on the hard, dry ground, trying desperately to hold her breath. The cold night air penetrated the thin material of her dress. The man holding her down straddled her thighs, his erection pressing against her buttocks as he held her head under the water. In her confused state, she couldn't remember who he was, only that she hated him with all her being. He was muttering things as he struggled with her, vile, terrible things.

The edge of the fountain ground painfully into her stomach. The water was clear and bone-chilling cold as it burbled down from the mouth of the cherub at the center. For a few precious seconds she managed to raise her head and gulp fresh air, but there was already water in her lungs and her face was quickly immersed again.

The man had a grip on her hair, which had come loose from its pins to hang in dark tatters around her face. With a sickening crack, the arm he had wrenched behind her back broke. The pain was so intense it made her stomach heave, but at the same time it was impersonal.

She felt herself drifting farther and farther way from the pain. She knew that her mouth and nose were filled with water, that her lungs burned from lack of oxygen and blood pounded in her ears, but she wasn't afraid any more. The fear was replaced by rage and confusion. She could no longer remember her own name or the name of the man who was killing her. Everything seemed to be receding into a white haze, pulling her toward something she couldn't yet see. The only thing she had to hold on to was her fury that this terrible thing was being done to her and an absolute need to destroy her murderer.

Finally, she looked down from some distance and saw her own body, black hair drifting on the water. A dark figure rose to his feet with difficulty and stood over her. The all was darkness.

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.