Subj: Second Chances Part 4
Date: 2/14/00 2:10:22 AM Central Standard Time
From: ReAnne Moreau

Pandemonium reigned at Collinwood. Angelique was under the credenza, covered in mud, hissing at anything that moved. Julia and Quentin sat on the ugly green couch, also muddy and wrapped in blankets. Everyone seemed to be talking at the same time.

Elizabeth and Roger had been seated by the fire, thoroughly enjoying their argument when Julia had come stumbling into the room from the terrace, half carrying a dazed Quentin. They were both shivering and looked like they had just been through hell. By the time Mrs. Johnson brought blankets and Roger distributed large glasses of brandy, the children had come from the family room to see what all the commotion was about.

Everyone fell silent as Carolyn appeared in the doorway, white faced. "I can feel her out there, in the garden. She's frightened and confused - and very angry."

"Will someone *please* explain what's going on here?" Roger wore a petulant expression, as if all of this were being done deliberately to confound him.

"Its simple, Roger." Quentin took another swig of brandy. "We have another ghost at Collinwood and she just tried to kill Julia and me."

"No, you're wrong. She wasn't trying to kill me."

Everyone turned to look at Julia. Despite the fire and the blanket, she was still shivering, but her voice was steady.

"When I tried to pull you away from her, she pushed me aside. The contact was only for a few seconds, but in that time I saw how she died. No, I ... I *experienced* her death, just the way she did."

The hand holding her drink shook so hard she couldn't raise the glass to her lips. Quentin gently covered her hand with his own, helping her to take a sip. Mrs. Johnson bundled the children off to their rooms while Julia told the others what she had seen.

"We didn't exactly communicate. The woman, whoever she is, has lost a good deal of her sense of self. All she can remember is her death, and she keeps reliving that over and over again." She shuddered, clutching Quentin's hand even harder, unaware that she had been holding it for some time.

"I don't understand. Why would she attack Quentin? And why now? No one has ever reported seeing anything in that part of the garden before." Elizabeth wished she could pretend that Quentin
and Julia had imagined the whole thing.

Quentin raised an eyebrow at the woman next to him. "Well, Julia? I for one would like to know why your friend decided that *I* needed drowning."

Everyone gazed expectantly at Julia. She cringed inwardly, knowing that she was about to confess to extreme silliness. "Remember what we were doing before she appeared? You chased me down the garden path and pretended you were going to throw me in the fountain. She thought you were trying to hurt me. That may be what provoked her."

"There wasn't any *water* in the fountain. Besides, when she grabbed me I was kissing you, not drowning you."

Julia narrowed her eyes at him. "I've observed that being dead tends to upset one's mental balance." Quentin shut his mouth immediately. From what he'd been told, he hadn't exactly been a model of sanity as a ghost himself.

The sudden silence in the room was deafening. All eyes were on the couple on the couch. Carolyn was smiling like a Cheshire cat; she would want all the details later. Roger looked faintly embarrassed, as if he had actually caught them in some indiscretion. Elizabeth was well-bred enough to pretend she hadn't heard the last few minutes of the conversation, but her eyes sparkled with lively interest.

Quentin cleared his throat self-consciously. "Since she died in the fountain, breaking it up must have gotten her attention somehow. Then when she thought I was going to throw Julia in she started remembering what happened to her." He squeezed Julia's hand again. "Next time I kiss you, remind me to wear body armor."

"I'm glad you all seem to find this so amusing," Roger blustered, "but we have to do something about that homicidal spirit!"

"Roger, if that woman was murdered on Collins property we have an obligation to help her find peace. The only way to do that may be to find out who she was and who is responsible for her death." Elizabeth's tone of voice brooked no argument from her brother.

"The fountain may give us a clue," Quentin volunteered. "It..." He stopped himself before saying that it hadn't been there in 1897. "It doesn't look very old."

"It isn't, at least compared to the rest of the grounds," Elizabeth replied. "That section of the garden was created in 1940 as a wedding present for our sister, Rachel. She and her new husband were to have a suite of rooms overlooking it."

Seeing their incredulous faces, Roger clarified things for Quentin and Julia. "There hasn't been reason to speak of her in years. Neither Elizabeth nor I ever met her. Rachel was our half-sister, actually, the child of Father's first marriage. Her mother died in childbirth. Rachel disgraced the entire family by eloping with the gardener's son the night of her engagement party."

"Roger! From everything I've been able to find out, Robbie McCallum was a fine young man. Poverty is not a character flaw."

Roger harumphed and subsided into his brandy. Liz continued the story, blushing a bit. "When I was a girl I thought the story was terribly romantic, so I tried to find out as much as possible. Robbie and Rachel grew up together. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Parker, was a maid here when they were children. She said that they were inseparable when they were little." Liz glared at her brother. "And that Robbie was as intelligent and well-mannered as any boy she knew." The "including you" went unsaid.

"Mother, could the ghost be Aunt Rachel?" Carolyn still looked rattled. She wasn't yet completely comfortable with her psychic powers.

"I don't see how that could be possible. She wrote a note the night she left Collinwood. Father saw it and recognized her handwriting; so did several other people. It was definitely written by Rachel."

"Maybe this Robbie decided at the last minute that he didn't want to take your sister with him," Quentin suggested. "They might have had a fight and he killed her in a fit of temper."

"No." Liz shook her head. "As I recall, he left Collinwood about a month before Rachel, I presume to find a job and a place to live. Her note said that she was going to join him."

Roger spoke up again. "We could settle this quite easily if we only had a picture of the girl. Father destroyed all of her pictures and ordered the servants to remove her things." He looked at Elizabeth's startled face. "You aren't the only one who was curious about our sister."

"What about the man Rachel was supposed to marry?" Everyone turned toward Julia, realizing that she had been uncharacteristically silent during the conversation.

Elizabeth frowned. "I can't recall his name. He was the son of one of Father's business acquaintances. I believe it was an arranged marriage."

Julia looked horrified and she and Elizabeth exchanged sympathetic glances. "Rachel was 18. She refused to go away to college and Father refused to let her work in the family business. He probably considered marriage the only other alternative." Her expression hardened. "He knew better than to try that sort of thing with me. From what I've heard, Rachel agreed, or at least didn't object, probably because she knew there would never be a wedding."

"So we're fairly certain the ghost isn't Rachel Collins, but we're no closer to finding out who she was." Julia was still huddled deep in her blanket, her eyes haunted by another woman's memories.

"Julia, are you all right?" Quentin put his arm around her shoulders.

"No." She leaned her head on his shoulder, strain and exhaustion evident in her face.

Quentin stood, his arm tucked around Julia's waist. "That woman out there has been dead for maybe 60 years; she'll still be dead tomorrow. What you need now is a hot shower and something to eat. I'll ask Mrs. Johnson to send a tray up to your room." What he really wanted to do was strip them both of their muddy clothes and wrap himself around her in that big, warm bed upstairs.

Carolyn couldn't help smiling to herself. If Julia were feeling better she would be giving Quentin hell for fussing over her, but somebody had to keep the woman from running herself into the ground. Carolyn took Julia's arm and led her toward the stairs. "Come on, I'll run you a hot bath and you can tell me what Quentin was doing chasing you around the garden." She looked over her shoulder at her cousin. "And what happened when he caught you."

-----------------------

Carolyn tapped on Julia's door before opening it and peeking inside. The older woman stood at one of the windows, staring sightlessly out into the night. Carolyn was glad the windows overlooked the front lawn and drive instead of the garden. She had made sure her friend took a hot bath and laid down for a nap. The dinner tray sat on a table, the plate empty.

She knocked louder and called Julia's name to get her attention. "So where is Little Miss Hiss? I looked under the credenza, but she was gone."

Julia smiled. "Amy and I coaxed her out and got her washed up. I tucked them in bed together; they were both still a little frightened."

"You seem to be feeling better." Carolyn perched on the end of the bed, surveying her friend critically. Julia was wrapped snugly in a white terry robe, her feet bare on the thick carpet. "How is Quentin doing?"

"I don't know." A shadow flickered across her face, gone too quickly to be identified.

"You haven't been to see him?" Carolyn was surprised. She had seen their growing closeness over the past months and this afternoon had confirmed what she suspected. "Why on earth not?"

Julia couldn't help smiling at Carolyn's characteristic bluntness. Putting aside her natural reticence, she answered just as bluntly. "Because if I see him now I won't be able to stop myself from falling into his arms." She began pacing, her arms folded protectively across her chest. "Every instinct is telling me to go to him. It's all I can do not to run down the hall and throw myself at him - I'm just so grateful that he's alive and safe ..." She stopped, aware that she was babbling and revealing more than she'd intended.

"Then why don't you?"

"Carolyn!" Her exasperation was plain. "I'm still not sure of my feelings for Quentin, or whether his interest in me is more than a passing fancy. How can I ...?"

"And what if you spend the night with him and things don't work out? What will you have lost?" Carolyn crossed the room and took Julia's hands. It broke her heart to see her friend so desperately in need of comfort and unable to allow herself to take it. "Julia, could that thing have killed Quentin?"

Julia took a deep breath. Carolyn was a perceptive woman and knew more about the supernatural goings on at Collinwood than she sometimes let on. How much did she know about Quentin? Julia had been contemplating the same question Carolyn had asked. The portrait protected Quentin from physical harm and from the curse of the werewolf, but whether it could prevent damage from another supernatural source was still unknown. She gave the only answer she could. "I don't know."

Carolyn didn't press the issue. She squeezed Julia's hands, looking up at her earnestly. "I don't know if Jeb and I could have made our marriage work after everything that happened, but I don't regret a moment that we shared together. He was taken away from me too soon, but at least I have the memories of the time we *did* have. Julia, none of us know how long we have; don't be so cautious that you miss the chance to show him how much you care."

It was obvious that speaking of Jeb Hawkes had reopened wounds that were still not completely healed. Julia spend a few more minutes talking to Carolyn before the younger woman left to go to her own room. She resumed pacing, ending up in front of a window with a clear view of the formal lawn rolling down to the gate of the estate, but the pleasant vista went unnoticed.

It wasn't caution that kept her from going to Quentin; it was fear. She had no particular moral problem with making love to a man before they had fully committed to each other. After all, there was a time when she would have accepted Barnabas on any terms. It was fear of rejection that kept her in her room. This afternoon had shown her that her feelings for Quentin ran deeper than she was ready to admit. To be found inadequate by him now would be more than she could stand.

Quentin had always surrounded himself with beautiful, voluptuous women. Young women. Julia's heart twisted. Even when she was young she hadn't been good enough. Not for her husband at least. Ben's resentment of her grew as she was accepted to one medical school after another, while he was rejected. Their fights grew more bitter and closer to violence. After a while he could barely bring himself to touch her, then it was perfunctory and as humiliating as he could possibly make it. And there were other women, even before things had gotten really bad. Julia pretended for a long time that she didn't know.

The two men she had loved most had both found her lacking. Barnabas had hurt her even more deeply, perhaps because she saw him as her last chance to be loved. Every now and then she had seen something in his manner, a warmth and concern that gave her hope. Then she would walk into a room and see his eyes light up with anticipation, only to see the light go out again when he realized it was Julia and not Vicki or Maggie or Roxanne or finally, Angelique.

Angelique. She had named the kitten after her old enemy in a fit of ironic mirth, when the little creature threw a temper tantrum. It was amazing how fond Julia had become of the little scrap of fur with its squeaky voice and adoring green eyes. She remembered the flush of embarrassment and pleasure when he walked into the classroom and presented it to her. Then this afternoon ... Her skin still burned where his hands had touched, the naked vulnerability and desire in his eyes still imprinted on her memory.

Julia was opening the door to her room before she realized what she was doing.

By the time she reached Quentin's room, Julia's resolve was beginning to flag. His door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open before her nerve failed. Quentin was sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of a roaring fire, staring into the flames. He was dressed only in a pair of white pajama bottoms, hair still mussed from the shower. She stepped into the room, calling his name and shut the door behind her.

"Julia!" His face lit up with a smile. "How are you? I went to check on you a while ago, but you were in the shower."

Somehow she found herself across the room and in his arms. It was only as she was lifted off the ground in a bear hug that it occurred to her that she was wearing no makeup at all and a warm, but hopelessly practical robe.

For a few minutes they simply clung to each other. Julia felt herself shaking slightly as the tension of the last few hours drained from her body. She hadn't realized how badly she needed to be held.

Gradually she became aware of being clasped against Quentin's bare chest. He was ridiculously tall; her head came only up to his chin, and although he was slim, Quentin's frame was powerfully muscled. She inhaled his warm, clean scent, feeling a pleasant tingle begin to spread through her body.

Reluctantly, Quentin loosened his hold enough to be able to look at her. She seemed fine. In fact, she was lovely. Without makeup her own delicate coloring shaded that remarkable face in tones of subtle peach and the finest cream. He had appreciated its beauty when they first met, but only distantly, the way he would admire a fine painting or sculpture. Seeing her now with a faint flush in her cheeks, exotic eyes shining, he realized the incredible sensuality he'd missed before. Always impeccably dressed, there was something provocative about Julia with her hair slightly disheveled, her robe rumpled from his embrace and open farther than she probably knew. \\Barnabas Collins, you are quite possibly the greatest fool I've ever known.\\

"Penny for your thoughts." Julia was smiling up at him, more relaxed than she would have thought possible.

"You'd have to slap me if I told you."

Quentin flopped back into his chair pulling a willing doctor along with him. She curled up in his lap, gently stroking his dark hair into place. She knew there was something bothering him, despite his light tone. He looked at her, his expression suddenly
serious. "Julia, promise me you won't ever put yourself in danger again because of me." There were depths of terror in his eyes that she hadn't seen earlier. "For all you knew, that thing in the garden could have wanted to kill us both."

Julia's breath caught in her throat. For all his sarcasm, Quentin was remarkably vulnerable, in unexpected and touching ways. She wondered if he had been sitting here imagining her death at the hands of the ghost. Probably; brooding was a fine old Collins tradition. He had covered his fear well in front of the family, but then it was typical of the man to pretend indifference to the things that really mattered to him.

"I can't promise that, Quentin." Before he could protest, she laid her fingers lightly over his lips. "People who care about each other protect each other. We don't know the limits of the protection your portrait gives you and I'm not willing to find out by waiting to see if something kills you before I intervene."

There was a tone in her voice that said she was not going to be argued with. Her lower lip protruded belligerently, a sure sign that she was not giving in. This whole encounter wasn't going as she'd hoped. In the brief pause outside Quentin's door, Julia had imagined falling passionately into his arms. Instead she'd barged in wearing a frumpy bathrobe and gotten into an argument. At least she could win the argument. Her thoughts were interrupted as Quentin pounced, kissing her with
remarkable thoroughness, sucking and gnawing at her lower lip

"I'm giving you fair warning, lady. If you stick that lip out at me you're going to get kissed, no matter how mad we are."

She laughed breathlessly. "Remind me to argue with you more often."

She kissed him again, lightly. It built in intensity as her tongue slowly explored Quentin's mouth, until he moaned into the kiss,
looking up at her with hungry eyes. He'd managed to open the lower part of her robe to reveal long, smooth legs, elegantly muscled from her recent devotion to running. The hand that caressed them paused midway up a slim thigh.

"Julia, if I didn't know better I'd think you wanted ..."

"You. I want to stay with you tonight, Quentin."

The wind outside wailed, lashing the windows with rain. In front of the fire the lovers were lost in each other, warm in their embrace. Julia was surprised by how right it felt to be with Quentin like this.

"You're sure about this?" Quentin nearly kicked himself for asking. Julia Hoffman, half naked in his lap, offering herself to him. Who could ask for more?

"I'm sure, Quentin. I can't make any promises about the future, but this is where I belong tonight. I only wish I'd met you when I was younger." The apparent difference in their ages still bothered her a little, although Julia knew the younger' man was old enough to be her grandfather.

"You almost did."

Julia found it difficult to latch onto his words. He was running fingertips lightly up the insides of her thighs, a light tickling touch, so light it almost wasn't there. It was maddening. She couldn't decide whether to beg him never to stop doing that or to *hurry* and move his hand to where she really wanted to be touched. After a moment his remark penetrated the pleasantly erotic fog around her brain.

"What do you mean, I almost did?"

"I tracked you down several years ago when you were in college. You must have been about twenty." His hand had stopped moving for a moment; a light slap encouraged it to resume course. "I was lonely. I just wanted to see you for a few minutes, maybe talk to you, even if you didn't know who I was." He'd known that waking Barnabas for a chat would have been a bad idea.

"I stood on the street until you came out of your dorm ...ummm ...Julia, I can't talk with your tongue in my ear."

Unrepentant, Julia shifted her attentions to his neck while her fingers played with the light covering of hair on his chest. A
pleasant hardness was beginning to press into her thigh.

"You were carrying a huge stack of books and I almost offered to help you with them." The memory came back to him clearly. It was a crisp, sunny Fall day, the trees ablaze with color. Julia's small frame was wrapped in an oversized wool sweater and a long skirt, ponytail bouncing jauntily along behind her. She stopped at the curb to wait for the traffic light. Quentin was about to approach her when another girl came hurrying along the sidewalk toward her, calling her name. The two young women began talking, laughing at something one of them had said. The light changed and they both rushed away, leaving him behind, unnoticed.

Quentin had wrapped his arms around her as he talked. "You were so," he paused, grasping for words, "innocent. I couldn't bring myself to spoil that by dragging you into my personal mess."

"I was never all that innocent, Quentin." She looked pleased and faintly embarrassed by his solicitude.

"You were innocent of the kinds of things that happen at Collinwood. Besides, I knew it would be a mistake to talk to you; you weren't my Julia yet." He had realized that he couldn't expect the young woman just beginning her adult life to be the same resourceful, fearless creature who would become his friend twenty years later.

\\My Julia.\\ The words sent a delightful shiver down her spine. She grasped his hand, nuzzling the palm. "I'm your Julia now."

He never broke their lazily intense kiss as he rose from the chair, carrying her to the bed. Setting her down gently on the mattress he watched as she reclined on her elbows. Quentin ran his eyes slowly up those long, elegant legs, catching a glimpse of light blue panties and flat stomach where the robe fell open. It was held closed only at the knot of its belt. Up, past the belt, to the creamy valley between her breasts, their mounds just visible where the white material gaped. Farther still to the
sculpted hollows at the base of her throat and the graceful column of her neck. Her face was relaxed, unguarded; she trusted him. Something electric passed between them when their eyes met.

Julia licked her lips, feeling a slow wave of heat flow through her body and settle between her legs. She wondered if Quentin had any idea of how badly she wanted him. He stood there looking at her with a wicked smile on his face, the firelight gilding his fair skin. She wanted to taste that skin, to trace the outlines of his muscles with her tongue, take him in her mouth and hear him moan her name.

"You're staring at me, Quentin" A mischievous smile played at the corners of her mouth.

He leaned over her, hands planted on either side of her body, and whispered, "I'm trying to decide what I want to do to you first."

"What makes you think that you get to decide?" Her eyes narrowed speculatively. "I have a few ideas of my own."

"Indulge me, I've had a rough day."

Quentin found himself suddenly pulled down to the bed. They tussled briefly until he finally pinned Julia, laughing, to the mattress. He suspected he'd won largely because she wanted him to.

"Julia, are you going to take that damn robe off or do I have to tear it off?" Something in the low growl of his voice promised he would do just that. He moved to let her stand up.

Slowly, she unknotted the belt, slipping her panties to the floor before sliding the robe over her shoulders, back still to the bed and the man she knew was watching her intently. To tell the truth, part of her wanted him to take the lead, tell her what he wanted. As much as she wanted him, now that it was time to go through with it she couldn't quiet the voices of her insecurities. They whispered all the hurtful things Ben had ever said to her, reminded her of the indifference in Barnabas' eyes.

"Julia, is something wrong?"

He must have seen the tension in her shoulders. Julia let the robe fall to the floor and turned around, pasting on a reassuring
smile. "Just a case of nerves. It's been awhile; I'm afraid I might be out of practice." True enough, if not the entire truth.

Quentin was sitting on the edge of the bed; blue eyes drank her in hungrily as she turned. He stretched out a hand toward her, then stopped as if afraid to actually touch her. "Julia." He caressed her face, sliding the palm of his hand slowly down her body, brushing the outside of one breast before settling it on her hip and pulling her closer. "My beautiful Julia."

He brushed light kisses over her collarbone, feeling her shiver with pleasure. "If there's anything you've forgotten I'll be glad to
remind you." Quentin smiled into the curve of her neck, noting the way she relaxed when his arms went around her.

She awakened emotions in him that he'd thought had died long ago, with Beth. He wanted to blurt out his feelings, but was afraid of how she would react. Instead he crawled back into the bed, pulling Julia into his arms. She snuggled against his chest, sighing as he slowly stroked her back.

"I need you, Quentin." The ache for him was soul-deep, for his body, for the longing in his eyes, for the gentleness he gave her every day.

She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feel of his bare skin against hers. She felt warm and safe in his arms. It was an unfamiliar sensation: that she had found shelter here from the world, that she was cherished. The strength of her feelings for Quentin frightened her a little; she wasn't ready to examine them yet.

Mischief danced in Quentin's eyes as he drew a finger slowly up her spine. "I've got something that'll make you feel wonderful. Close your eyes." It took a short argument, but Julia finally complied. He reached into the nightstand next to the bed.

Julia heard him rummaging around in the drawer, felt his weight shift as he leaned over her again. There was a soft pop as of a cork being removed from a bottle. Something was passed beneath her nose. The aroma was wonderful. A rich, creamy vanilla, heavy and sensual, relieved by the light, fresh scent of peach. She opened her eyes to see Quentin holding a small glass vial filled with clear liquid.

"Massage oil. I bought it on impulse; the scent reminded me of you." He dribbled a few drops in the valley between her breasts, licking it up slowly. Julia forgot to breathe. "I planned to spring it on you one of these days when you came in all tired and sore from a run and needed some relief." There was more than a hint of wolf in his smile.

The idea that he had actually planned to seduce her excited Julia. She ran the scene in her head, imagining the possibilities. Languidly, she stretched up to kiss Quentin, delving her tongue into his mouth to taste the echoes of peaches and cream. "I'm definitely in need of relief tonight."

--------------------

Julia felt her heartbeat returning to normal as she let the cool air in the room evaporate the sweat from her body. She stretched languidly, draping one leg over Quentin's as she settled against him.

"Quentin, that was ..."

"You can say that again." He was grinning like an idiot.

They lay together, murmuring quietly, until Julia insisted on showering the massage oil from her body and changing the sheets.
Grumbling all the way, Quentin complied, although he very much enjoyed the shower.

He climbed back into the clean bed, propping himself up on one elbow to watch Julia as she came back from stuffing the oil-covered bedding into the bathroom hamper. She walked naked back to the bed and fished her robe out from underneath.

"Mrs. Johnson is going to kill me if that oil doesn't come out." He watched his lover anxiously as she shook her robe out and located her underwear. She deposited both neatly on a nearby chair and joined him on the bed. "You're staying?"

In reply, Julia burrowed into his chest and was immediately wrapped in warm, strong arms. Something in the tone of Quentin's voice when he thought she might leave touched a deep reservoir of emotion that their lovemaking had brought close the surface.

Quentin felt a slight wetness on his chest and looked down to see her blinking away more tears. "Julia, are you alright?"

She smiled and kissed his shoulder, loving the warmth of him against her, the feel of his heart beating. "Better than I've been in a long time." Her free arm slipped around him. "Just hold me close and don't let go."

He was more than happy to do as she asked, pulling the blankets up to cover them. They dozed, wrapped in each other, both rerunning in their minds the details of what they had just shared.

Just as she was about to fall into a deep, contented sleep, Julia's eyes popped open.

"Quentin, was I hallucinating earlier or did you *growl*?"

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