Work Text:
The Song of the Birds and the Bees
By
Pheebee
"Barnabas, you should show Julia..." Willie said."Ya really should."
"It's nothing," Barnabas insisted. "Besides, Julia has been at Wyndecliffe every day this week. She said she would not be home until late tonight. Plus, I do not need to be running to Julia for assistance for every little thing."
"Well, uh, no, but--"
"Enough, Willie, do you hear?" Barnabas demanded as he thrust himself to a standing position, an imperious note in his voice. It would have been more impressive if he hadn't teetered and nearly fallen.
"Barnabas!" Willie exclaimed, grabbing onto him and steadying him then withdrawing his support when the other hissed. "Aww, Barnabas--ya gotta do somethin..."
"I am going to do something, Willie. I am going to rest. Now kindly leave me alone."
Arms crossed in front of him, a disapproving frown marring his youthful features, Willie just shook his head as the other walked slowly away.
* * *
It was two forty-thee when Willie woke to the sound of footsteps in the corridor. "Damn," he muttered, but he rolled over, determined to ignore the footsteps, determined to go back to sleep. He'd been warned off earlier. No way was he going to confront Barnabas. Not now, anyhow. Morning would be soon enough. That decided, he pulled the sheet higher on his shoulders and wished that he'd left the heavier blankets on the bed--the temperature had fallen sharply--and closed his eyes. Tightly.
Except he couldn't just go back to sleep. His conscience wouldn't permit it, any more than the unsteadiness of the footsteps in the recently installed bathroom would.
"Damn," he muttered again as he tossed back the sheets and pulled on his robe over his skivvies with a shiver.
In the corridor he encountered Barnabas, walking shakily like the two-hundred year old man he truly was.
"Dammit, Barnabas--"
"Not another word, Willie. I'm fine. Go back to bed."
"Oh, yeah, y're fine. Uh-huh. Just fine and dandy. Yup. That's why y're usin' the wall like a handrail. Uh-huh." He moved closer, put out a supporting hand. "Here, lemme help you."
"Be careful--"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Willie answered. "C'mon now."
Together the two men made their halting way back to Barnabas' room.
* * *
Willie had helped him into bed, built up the fire--who'd have thought it could be so chilly after today's balmy temperatures--then pressing his lips tightly together so as not to let even one of the things he'd like to say slip out, turned and headed back to his own bed with nothing more than a muttered, "G'night, Barnabas. Try t'get some sleep, kay?"
Once in his own room he threw himself down on the disturbed bed then pulled the covers over him. He should take matters into his own hands, go over to Collinwood, wake Julia.
Except he knew that Barnabas was right--Julia had been working crazy hours all week and she'd looked exhausted last night when he ran into her in the new convenience store in town. Still...
He tossed the covers back once more and thrust himself to his feet. There was no way he was gonna get any sleep this way.
* * *
The door knob rattled as Willie reached the level of the foyer. Startled, he froze then, creeping forward, snatched Barnabas' wolf's head cane from the elegant rack he'd recently acquired. Holding the cane at the ready, Willie grabbed the doorknob, twisted, pulled back--and was confronted by a startled Julia Hoffman.
"Willlie!" Her voice wasn't loud, but it seemed loud in the dark and silent house.
"Geeze, Julia, wouldja keep it down?" he hissed. "What are ya doin' here, anyhow?"
She shook her head. "What am I doing--I might ask you the same thing, Willie. Also, I might ask that you lower that cane."
"Wha--oh, sorry." He lowered the cane, returned it to the rack. "I thought--well, I don' know exactly what I thought, but after all the stuff that's gone on in this joint through the years..."
She nodded, stepped into the foyer. "Do you know what time it is? Were you planning on going out? If not, I'd suggest closing the door. It's rather chilly out there, you know."
"Yeah, I noticed," he replied, closing and locking the door once more. "And no, I'm not goin' out. Least not any more, I ain't. An' yeah, I do know what time it is. I was wonderin' if you knew--it's kinda late to be wanderin' around in the dark, Julia."
"Sauce for the goose," she commented lightly, then she studied him for a moment before saying simply, "Willie?"
"I was goin' t'drive over t'Collinwood, see if you was there."
"I knew it," she said.
"Knew what?" he asked.
She shook her head, took a step toward the stairs. "That something was wrong."
* * *
"Barnabas?" She stepped closer to the bed. "Dear God, Barnabas..."
"Julia? What--what are you doing here?" Barnabas whispered through chattering teeth. "I told Willie not to--"
"What am I doing here?" she interrupted. "I--well, it appears I'm about to begin tending to your medical needs, Barnabas." She shook her head, taking in the way he trembled, the reddened glow of his bare chest and arms against the white sheets, the water-filled blisters--each must be larger than a Kennedy half dollar, she thought--on his shoulders. Sitting gingerly next to him on the edge of the bed, she said, "Willie told me that you appeared to be shaky--dizzy."
He nodded then closed his eyes against the room spinning around him.
She placed a hand lightly on his forehead, sighed, removed the hand, checked his pulse. He heard her rummaging in her bag then there was a soft clicking sound. "Open your mouth, Barnabas, and hold this under your tongue."
He complied, never opening his eyes.
She pressed a stethoscope to his chest, noting with satisfaction the way he recoiled when the cool surface touched his skin. "Keep your lips closed," she said sternly.
He nodded.
A minute later she removed the thermometer from his mouth. "Lovely," she commented, her irritation held tightly in rein. "Just lovely. Willie--"
"Uh, yeah, Julia?" the handyman responded from his place near the door.
"I'm going to need your assistance. We need a basin of water--not hot, not cold, sort of in between. And cloths--washcloths, tea towels, something light and soft. And something for him to drink. Bring that first. Not cold," she warned.
"Okay," he turned to go.
"Wait--in my room, on the vanity, there's a bottle of lotion. Bring that, too." Of Barnabas, she asked, "Does your head ache?"
He nodded mutely.
"Nausea?"
Another nod.
She shook her head, fully aware that he couldn't see it with his eyes closed. "At your age," she began, then decided it wasn't worth the effort. Once again she rummaged in her bag, retrieved a small bottle, shook out a couple of tablets. "Here, Willie will be back in a moment with something for you to swallow these with. They'll ease the pain, reduce the fever."
Yet another nod as his fingers closed carefully around the tablets she'd placed in his palm.
"What about your back--is it as bad as your shoulders?"
He grimaced, his high cheekbones standing out under the tight skin. "Worse, I fear."
"Damn," she muttered, once again nearly permitting words of reprimand to burst forth from her lips but Willie was back bearing a sturdy mug in his hands.
"It's just water--I hadn' emptied the kettle yet so it's kinda warmish..."
"Perfect," she replied, taking the mug from him. "Barnabas, can you sit up just a little? Willie--do you have another pillow to put behind him?"
"Yeah, sure," Willie responded, hurrying to the chest where he stored the clean linens and retrieving a pillow and pillowcase. Hastily, he thrust the pillow into the covering. "Here ya, go, Julia."
"Slide it in behind him--be careful. Try not to rub his back," she cautioned as she helped Barnabas to sit up. Handing him the mug, but keeping her own hands close, she said, "Here Barnabas. Put the pills in your mouth and wash them down with the water. They're just acetominophen--Tylenol--but they should make you feel a little more comfortable."
He nodded faintly, placed the two white tablets on his tongue, then allowing her to guide him, lifted the mug to his lips and drank. "Thank you," he murmured, his dark eyes seeking hers in the glow of the firelight.
* * *
Working together, she and Willie placed the tea towels and washcloths he'd retrieved in the basin of water then, wringing them out, layered them on Barnabas' shoulders and chest. She dabbed at his face with one of the soft washcloths, then telling him to close his eyes, arranged it on his forehead.
"Are you feeling any better," she inquired softly. She'd been angry--furious--with him initially, but the anger had seeped out while she dealt with his injuries. She shouldn't be surprised, after all. His need was almost pathological...
"Yes. Thank you, Julia."
She smiled slightly. "Don't thank me yet, Barnabas. We really need to deal with your back as well. Do you think you can turn over?"
"Yes. Of course."
There was no "of course" involved. There was pain, dizziness and disorientation, then finally he was resting on his stomach, his damaged back exposed. She frowned, wondered if she should have insisted on transporting him to the hospital, decided no, it would have been too difficult, too upsetting for him emotionally. She could watch over him here. She'd have Willie pick up some juices, some Gatorade or one of those other "sports drinks" to help replace lost fluids. It would suffice.
Once again, she dipped the cloths in the tepid water, wrung them out, laid them on Barnabas' bare shoulders and back. Willie had placed a couple of pieces of wood on the dying fire before she sent him off to seek his own bed. In a few hours it would be warm, not hot as yesterday, but warm. Now, however, the air was still chill despite the first beams of sunlight glinting through the lace curtains shielding the windows. Her patient appeared to have fallen at last into an uneasy doze.
She drew a deep breath as she studied him. "What on earth were you thinking, Barnabas," she whispered.
He grunted, startling her. "Of the song of the birds, Julia, and the buzz of the bees."
She frowned but, since he was awake-- "Whatever do you mean by that," she questioned.
"I was working in the garden. The day was hot. I grew warm. I took off my shirt, then my undershirt. The warmth of the sun on my skin--it felt wonderful, Julia. Glorious. I finished the work I had set out to do. I was weary. That too felt glorious. It has been many years since my muscles ached from physical labor. I lay down on the chaise on the terrace. I must have fallen asleep..."
"And when you woke you had one hell of a sunburn," she commented.
"Yes," he replied simply.
"But Barnabas, why didn't you want Willie to get me--I don't understand. Didn't you realize how serious your condition was?"
He picked his head up, made as though to turn over.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, gently restraining him. "No--don't move. I have some lotion to put on your back. It contains aloe vera. It will alleviate some of the burning, help the healing a bit," she told him as she poured a small quantity into her palm then rubbed her hands together to warm it.
He nodded, responded to her question as she began gently applying the lotion to his back. "It was a sunburn, Julia. Nothing more. I was a sailor in my day--I have been sunburned before. There was no reason to expect--"
"No reason!" she exclaimed. "No reason--Barnabas, you have spent 170 years as a vampire. In case you have forgotten, that means you haven't been exposed to sunlight in all that time. You're--you're like white bread held too close to the fire. You won't get lightly toasted, you'll simply burn. In this case you burned so well that you ended up with sun poisoning. Had your fever not responded to the Tylenol, had you appeared disoriented, I'd have hauled you off to the hospital--I almost *did* haul you off to the hospital. Dear God, you don't need a doctor and a handyman, you need a keeper!"
"Are you applying for the position?" he inquired, lifting himself up on his elbows.
"Applying--" she shook her head, wondered again if she shouldn't have Willie pull the car around, take him to Collinsport General... "What *are* you talking about, Barnabas?"
"I'm asking you to be my keeper--my wife."
"Your wife?!!!"
"Then, perhaps, we could listen to the song of the birds and the bees together and you could remind me when it is time to come in out of the noonday sun..."
"You're delirious--"
"I have never been less so. Or perhaps I am delirious, but it is with the pleasure your presence, your touch gives me, not the result of remaining too long in the sun."
She studied him for a long time, her eyes searching his face, his eyes, and finding nothing but honesty and love. "Barnabas--"
"Will you marry me, Julia? Will you spend the rest of your days at my side, listening to the song of the birds and the bees with me? Or perhaps, we could create our own song? I have heard that the dance between man and woman is oft-times referred to as the birds and the bees..."
She shook her head, ignored the innuendo. "Since when have you--"
"Since when have I loved you? Perhaps since always, Julia."
"You hated me--"
"It is said--" He twisted, turned over so that he could sit up, take her in his arms, "that the line between love and hate is a fine one. Perhaps I never hated you, merely feared what I knew to be inevitable."
"Inevitable?" she queried, her eyes captured by his, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Inevitable, Julia," he replied, pulling her to him, his lips meeting hers. "Like sunshine and the song of the birds and the bees...Inevitable."
THE END