March 1970 - Page 28

I returned from spending the day at Wyndecliffe, hoping the more complete laboratory facilities there would afford me a better opportunity to thoroughly analyze the serum and ideally discover why it doesn't seem to be helping Barnabas, to learn that not only were Carolyn and Jeb back, but that they'd had their first fight; a fight Jeb - apparently - deliberately instigated. They have since 'made up', but Elizabeth is still concerned about the wisdom of Carolyn's marriage to that brash young man. It seems likes days ago that I descended the stairs, my mind on Barnabas, only to be invited by the groom to join in their wedding toast. How odd to realize it was only yesterday. I allowed Elizabeth to talk as freely as she wished, saying little, but knowing the opportunity to voice her anxieties and concerns to a sympathetic ear would be more beneficial to her than any professional advise I could give her. I suspect Elizabeth won't rest easy about this marriage until she sees Carolyn and Jeb stable, settled and happy -- something that may never happen.

After I had a chance to freshen up, I started toward the Old House, to let Barnabas know I'd made little progress regarding the serum, when I saw something that I'm not quite certain how to handle or what to make of it. As I skirted the edge of the terrace, heading for the back gate, I saw two people on the terrace, entwined, kissing passionately. The moon was nearly full tonight so I was able to clearly see the man was Quentin. Knowing his fondness for the opposite sex, I was about to turn away to give them as much privacy as possible when they broke apart. The woman spoke - it was Maggie Evans! She protested that they had to stop, that Barnabas was waiting for her. Quentin told her it didn't matter. She agreed, and they resumed their heated embrace.

Distracted as they were by each other, I am certain neither of them saw me, and I hurried away as quickly and quietly as I could. All the way to the Old House I wondered what - if anything - I should tell Barnabas. His... infatuation with Maggie concerns me a great deal, and I know he would be deeply hurt if he were to learn of Maggie's dalliance with Quentin. I also have to wonder if he would be better off learning of it now, before he invests any more of his heart in what - to me - is clearly an ill-fated relationship. But am I the one to tell him? His relationships with other women is a very touchy, at times almost taboo subject between us, going back, I'm certain, to his unresolved feelings and beliefs over my motives in that whole Victoria Winters mess. I am still not certain Barnabas has accepted the fact Vicki loved Peter Bradford enough to give up her own century and join him in his, but could not love Barnabas the same way.

So, I told Barnabas nothing of what I had seen between Maggie and Quentin, making some vague excuse when he asked if I knew why Maggie had not met him for their dinner date. Was that cowardly on my part?  Perhaps, but I also did not want to risk tipping the precariously balanced scales that have come to symbolize our changed relationship. Barnabas and I are closer than we have ever been, yet not close enough that I could be the bearer of such news without making him wonder and question my motives, my feelings - again. I have too many other things to worry about without adding that to the mixture. Maggie and Quentin will just have to explain to Barnabas themselves. (Episode 972)

When I returned to Collinwood this evening, I found the house empty, except for a very frightened Jeb Hawkes. He was in the drawing room, sitting in the dark. When I spoke to him he jumped, apparently not having heard me come in, and when I suggested he turn on a light, he grew terrified and nervous, insisting that I leave the lights off. It was almost as if he were afraid of the light; afraid of what it would do or perhaps what the light would bring.

I offered to sit with him - in the dark - and talk, but he turned me down with a rather abrupt, snide comment about not wanting me to go to any trouble for him, knowing as he does how much I dislike and mistrust him. I countered by telling him I made the offer out of professional duty rather than any personal concern, but he insisted he had nothing he wished to discuss with me, personally or professionally, and only wanted to be left alone. I did as he requested and came up to my room, but I am still concerned about him. Jeb Hawkes has never been the most stable - being - I have known, and given his background I suppose it is understandable, but something is deeply troubling him. I hope he shares it with someone before it unbalances him even more.

Jeb was right about one thing, however, I do not like or trust him, even given the fact he saved Carolyn from the fate her father consigned her to 20 years ago. I hold Jeb responsible for Barnabas' current condition, and for that I doubt I will ever forgive him. I don't seek to get even with Jeb, or reciprocate in any way, for that does no one any good. No, my concern for Jeb Hawkes is solely professional. However I do hope that Carolyn is affected by this as little as possible. She deserves every happiness and I somehow feel she will never find it with Jeb. I can do nothing until one of them comes to me for help. I just hope it isn't too late by then. (Episode 973)

Once again I spent the day in the lab at Wyndecliffe, using every approach and variable I could think of to analyze both the serum and my most recent sample of Barnabas' blood. No matter how I look at it, how I approach it, the results are the same. We have just about reached the end of this series of injections and Barnabas is no closer to being cured than when I started them. In fact, he seems to be worse, his need for blood growing stronger, rather than weaker, each night. I believe I know why, I believe I know what may be causing the effect, but am not one hundred percent certain. I may not be certain for another few days. However, if my theory proves correct, I have a new place to begin, and an entirely new set of difficulties.

I did not tell Barnabas of this new complication when I gave him tonight's injection. I did not know how to tell him. I will have no choice but to inform him very soon, for I will be able to give him, at most, one more injection before the toxicity levels reach a critical point. I know I will have to tell him, probably tomorrow night, but I wanted to give him that thin thread of hope for as long as I could. I believe he too suspects something is very wrong. He's hinted at it in his nightly responses when I ask him how he feels. Tonight he met my gaze as I gave him the injection and I had to look away, an attempt to hide the truth from him for one more night. Barnabas sensed something was wrong, but he did not ask. He knows I will tell him when I am ready.

I stayed at the Old House for about an hour, observing Barnabas and discussing what else we might do to help Chris Jennings. Chris resents being locked up at Wyndecliffe each month and I can not say as I blame him. He told me several days ago that he would not be going there this month, that he and Sabrina had something worked out, so I did not seek him out this morning before I left for the hospital. I was however, glad I had driven straight to the Old House upon my return to the estate, for after I had seen Barnabas, as I was getting out of my car at Collinwood, I heard the unmistakable sound of Chris - in his werewolf form - howling. It sounded very near to the path I would have taken had I walked, as I often do.

Whatever Chris and Sabrina had planned for last night was never put to the test. I'd been in my room nearly half an hour, going over my lab notes when Elizabeth knocked on my door, asking my help with a badly shaken Carolyn. She'd been on her way to the carriage house to see Jeb when first Bruno accosted her in the woods, threatening to kill her, then 'that animal' appeared, pushed Carolyn aside and attacked Bruno. I helped Elizabeth get Carolyn into bed and gave her a sedative. As she was drifting off to sleep, she told me more of the night's events. Bruno lured her to his house under the pretense of having someone there who could help Jeb. When she arrived, Bruno locked Carolyn in a room with Chris Jennings, just as the moon began to rise. Had Roger not followed Carolyn, and secured her release, it is nearly certain Chris, after his transformation to the werewolf, would have killed her. Later, in the woods, Bruno told Carolyn that if she were dead, Jeb would no longer want to live. I can only deduce Bruno - and probably Nicholas Blair - believed that if Carolyn were killed, Jeb would lose the will to live, the will that has been keeping him alive and in human form ever since he destroyed the Leviathan alter and box. We may never know, for Roger returned from investigating the 'animal' attack to report that Bruno was dead. I am certain the inestimable Mr. Blair will deny all knowledge of Bruno's plans and actions.

Carolyn was unharmed, just badly frightened. She is a very resilient young woman, and I hope she has the inner strength and fortitude I fear she will need to draw upon before this is all over. The threat of the Leviathan take-over seems to have been quelled, but Carolyn is still in danger. We no longer need fear her being turned into the same kind of creature as Jeb's true form, but until we understand exactly what force it is that is keeping Jeb alive, she will be the target for those still loyal Leviathan followers.

I honestly have no way of knowing what may happen next for Carolyn and Jeb, for Chris and Sabrina, or for Barnabas, but I have a feeling it may all happen very quickly, and very soon. (Episodes 974 and 975)

One of the first things we were taught in medical school is Do No Harm, and I fear I may have done more harm than good. After I gave Barnabas what had to be the final injection early this morning, I told him there would be no more, and why; that he'd developed an immunity to the formula that had been effective in the past, so I changed the formula. Now, he'd reached saturation level in his system with the new formula and that even one more injection could destroy him. His first question was if I was telling him he couldn't be cured. I had to tell him we wouldn't know until dawn -- fifteen minutes away. Barnabas accepted the news more calmly than I expected. He did not argue or cajole or attempt to change my mind. He just... walked over toward the window. I followed, confessing that perhaps I should have told him of this before, but he said no, that a quarter of an hour was enough to wait. Had he known before then, he would have been even more desperate.

We did not have to wait those fifteen minutes, for Barnabas was almost immediately overcome by intense pain. He said something was terribly wrong. He was in such pain that I was barely able to get him the few feet from the window to his chair by the fireplace. I did what I could for him - which was precious little - and finally resorted to holding his hand as I took his pulse. When I asked how he felt, Barnabas assured me he knew he was not cured, adding that he couldn't describe it, that he'd never felt like that before. He then asked for my help in getting downstairs. I admit I don't know how much help I was, for I found myself almost clinging to Barnabas, my own fears surfacing in that form of physical contact. I dared not tell him the possibilities that were running through my mind. He had all he could do to concentrate on getting downstairs. In all the years I have been privy to Barnabas' secret, he has always disliked anyone watching him get in or out of his coffin, but this morning I had to help him. He did not have the strength to do so himself. As I closed the coffin lid on him, panic surged through me and I felt my heart in my throat as I wondered if I would ever see him again. I stood beside his coffin for quite some time, trying not to give in to my own fears and emotions. That would have done Barnabas no good whatsoever.

I spent the day going over my notes - from the first experiment in 1967, from 1897, and my current notes. I was looking for anything that would give me a clue, a hint, something that would point me in the right direction toward helping Barnabas. The conclusion I reached is one I have been contemplating for several weeks, the one which I was not one hundred percent certain of before. I am certain now and there really is no solution for it. The only time I achieved one hundred percent success in curing Barnabas was 1897, when many of the modern drugs I used in 1967 and now had yet to be discovered or refined. I was forced to make substitutions in 1897, and many of those substitutions were of drugs in a much more pure, undiluted form than any I could find now. It would be possible to duplicate that formula today, but I would have a great deal of difficulty obtaining the necessary key drugs in their undiluted form. Questions would be asked for which I could not provide adequate answers. I went so far as to consult Gray S. Barry's text on pharmacological history and the development of modern drugs from the more traditional herbal sources to re-assure myself I was on the right path. The information I found there sustained my theory, but does little toward helping me find a solution to Barnabas' particular problem.

It is now nearly half an hour until dusk. I am no closer to an answer than I was last night, even though I now more clearly understand the problem. I don't know what I'm going to tell Barnabas, how I'm going to help him when he rises... I must face the possibility that he may not rise tonight. The serum may have done so much damage to his system that it has destroyed him or rendered him helpless. I am not prepared to face or accept either possibility, but I may have no choice. I will know in less than thirty minutes. If I only knew what happened to him last night, but I have no real answers...

Barnabas, I'm sorry. Please... be all right...

Nothing I have experienced since coming to Collinwood, nothing I have seen and done in the past three years prepared me for what nearly occurred tonight... I was waiting for Barnabas in the hallway at the top of the cellar stairs, worrying about what happened last night, and how he would be when - if - he  rose. I finally heard his footsteps on the stairs, hesitant and deliberate, as if he had to think about taking a step and each one was difficult to complete. When he came into sight, Barnabas was obviously very weak and still in pain. He leaned heavily on the iron door of the cellar for support. When I asked him how he felt, he said he'd never before felt the need of blood so strongly, or felt so out of control. He pleaded with me to do something. When I said I would, and reached out to touch him, he nearly shouted at me that I needed to do it at once, that I didn't understand; never before had he felt himself to be such a 'creature of the night' and it was a matter of destroy or be destroyed.

Again I reached for Barnabas to steady him and give him a hand in getting to the drawing room where he could sit and I could examine him, but we never got that far. Just as we reached the doorway, I felt something happen to Barnabas. I felt something physically wash over him -- surge through him. He suddenly released a cry of anguished denial and turned to face me, grabbing my arms so tightly I could feel them begin to go numb from lack of circulation. I expect I will find bruises in the shape of his hands and fingers on my arms in the morning. Barnabas pulled me to him, his mouth open, his fangs showing, his eyes... his eyes pleading and apologetic and feral. I must have cried out for he paused, looked at me, really looked at me, met my gaze, then pushed me away from him and spun away. I tried to go to him to help him, but Barnabas refused to face me, to look at me, to even let me near him. He told me to leave him alone. His voice was desperate, pleading, terrified. I think Barnabas was afraid if I stayed, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from attacking me.

More than my patient, Barnabas is also my friend, and I found it almost impossible to leave him, so obviously in need of my help but unable to get close enough to provide it. Ever since I first discovered the truth of Barnabas' existence, ever since I first offered him a chance at a normal life, I have known the possibility of becoming his victim was high. The chance that he might someday turn on me was never far from my mind, even though I have not felt uneasy or endangered in Barnabas' presence for a very long time. I have grown not only comfortable in his presence, but secure as well, knowing that Barnabas would not attack me even though I did not protect myself as I have in the past. I didn't feel the need for it and I stopped wearing the cross he'd given me after Megan was destroyed. I was mistaken, and that error was brought home to me, to both of us tonight. Barnabas coming so close to attacking me frightened both of us to the point that it allowed him - forced him - to implore me to leave him. That fright also permitted me to leave him. It was the only thing that could have made me leave, for I always thought I would never be able to walk away from someone in need, but tonight... tonight I had no choice. I either had to leave Barnabas or risk not only being attacked by him, but quite probably killed. Barnabas would never, ever forgive himself if the former occurred, and if the latter had happened... I hate to even contemplate his reaction.

I have been unable to get the events of this night out of my head. When I returned to Collinwood I tried, I sat in the drawing room, trying to read, but my mind kept wandering back to Barnabas, wondering how he was and condemning myself for walking out when he needed me most. I kept thinking I could have found some way to help him without endangering myself, but... I know better. I took the only course of action I could even though it means Barnabas will find someone else to supply the blood he needs. Roger's arrival in the drawing room gave me some small distraction. He was still amazed by what he had seen in that room in the East Wing, and he finally convinced me to accompany him to 'Angelique's room'. I had hoped it would provide me even more distraction, but I should have known better. I stood beside Roger in that empty room, unable to stop thinking of Barnabas and worrying about him, about how he was and what was happening to him. I must have been extremely distracted, for even Roger noticed my preoccupation with other matters. Only Elizabeth's arrival in the room saved me from trying to convince Roger I was all right. I only half listened as he explained about the room, and parallel time, to his sister. All my concentration was on Barnabas and on preventing myself from hurrying back to the Old House to see him, to help him -- danger and consequences be damned. I dare not go, for I will not tempt him, make it even harder for him to stay away from me, but I will not rest until I see him again and have figured out some way to help him. (Episode 976)

While Roger was explaining parallel time to Elizabeth, I was able to slip away unnoticed - I hope. On my way back to the main part of the house, I thought of something that I hoped would help Barnabas. I stopped by my room to get my handbag, then hurried from the house. I resisted the strong urge -- almost need -- to drive to the Old House to check on Barnabas and instead headed into town. I went to the hospital, intending to slip in a side door and see what I could do about getting some fresh blood for Barnabas. I should have followed my first instinct - to call Wyndecliffe and have them send some to me. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd made such a request and the staff there knows not to ask questions, but I thought going to the Collinsport Hospital would be faster and would give me the feeling of actually doing something rather than sitting around waiting.

I was headed for the large fridge where they keep the blood supply when one of the nurses saw me in the hallway and flagged me down. She said she was on her way to call me. They wanted me to consult on a case in the emergency room. My first thought was that Barnabas had found a victim. I have to admit I almost felt as if I had stepped into another world - a parallel time - when I entered the exam room and faced the preliminary diagnosis of clinical depression accompanied by possible schizophrenia. I couldn't believe how... comfortable it felt to be treating conditions with no hint of the supernatural attached to them. It was an almost euphoric sensation, but I was brought back to 'reality', at least the reality that is Collinsport and Collinwood when I finished the consult and was given an urgent message from Chris Jennings. I was about to return his call when I was confronted by the man himself. He was desperately anxious for me to examine Sabrina. I knew what had happened before Chris finished telling me. His description of the wounds on her neck only confirmed for me that Barnabas had been unable to control his blood lust any longer. He was able to spare me, but not Sabrina.

I'm afraid my reaction puzzled and perhaps slightly angered Chris when he told me he'd left Sabrina alone to come find me. I'm certain he believes my excessive anger was out of line, given that I had yet to examine Sabrina. I had to remind myself Chris doesn't know about Barnabas and therefore had no idea how much additional danger he placed Sabrina in by leaving her alone. He was doing what he thought was right, what he hoped would help her most.

When we returned to the cottage, Sabrina was not there, as I expected, although I did not voice this to Chris. Instead I tried to keep him calm and question him about what little Sabrina had told him. Minutes later, Quentin arrived, carrying an unconscious Sabrina. He said he found her wandering along the path between the cottage and Collinwood; that she seemed disoriented and passed out before he found out what was wrong, but the look he gave me told me that version of events was solely for Chris' benefit. The moment I saw Sabrina and saw the freshly opened wounds on her neck I knew she had been back to see Barnabas.

After treating Sabrina and making certain Chris Jennings clearly understood she was not to be left alone for even a second, I had a chance to talk privately with Quentin, who confirmed my fears and suspicions -- he'd found Sabrina at the Old House. Quentin told me Barnabas said Sabrina had come to him, that he had not summoned her. Barnabas claimed the same had been true of Megan Todd, which makes me wonder if there is some new aspect, some new... twist to Jeb's curse of vampirism that was absent in Angelique's; some... extremely strong or very sensitive psychic link that allows, or rather compels the victims to not only sense Barnabas' needs, but anticipate them and therefore make themselves... irresistible to him should he be reluctant, as Barnabas is. This is one of the many possibilities I will have to explore and research once this current crisis is resolved.

I checked on Sabrina again, then told Quentin I was going to see Barnabas, but he physically stopped me. He told me Barnabas made him promise that he wouldn't let me near Barnabas or the Old House for the rest of this night. I told Quentin I was the only one who could help Barnabas, and he agreed. Quentin then told me Barnabas was extremely afraid that if I were anywhere near him again tonight, he would not be able to stay away from me, he would not be able to stop himself from harming me in a far worse way than he had harmed Sabrina. I'm certain my reaction told Quentin far more about what that could mean than Barnabas had. I refused to answer Quentin's questions about it, telling him it was a personal matter between Barnabas and myself.

Given the fact Barnabas nearly attacked me earlier, and now doesn't want to see me for the very same reason, I have to wonder why. He took the blood he needed from Sabrina, yet Barnabas is still afraid to be near me, afraid he will harm me, afraid... I will willingly let him take all he needs? He's right, I would let him, even knowing what it might mean for myself. A few days ago I wasn't sure I could make that offer to him again, but now, after tonight's events... I know I would. But by making certain we aren't together, Barnabas is keeping me from making the offer, and is preventing himself from refusing it again, for I know he would refuse, although this time his reasons would be far, far different from those he gave me over two years ago. I know what Barnabas feels for me, I know I am more than his friend, but I don't know what that 'more' is. Whatever it may be, it is making me more of a temptation to Barnabas than anyone else. For that reason alone I shouldn't see Barnabas, and it is that very reason I need to see him.

I no longer know what to do, what to think. I desperately want to help Barnabas, any way I can, but I also do not want to... enable his compulsion by doing the very thing his victims seem to do -- make myself available to him so that he cannot resist. I just don't know... (Episode 977)

I timed my visit to Sabrina so I would be with her when Barnabas rose. She became restless and irritable, but I could see no indications that Barnabas was trying to summon her. I re-emphasized to Chris the importance of not leaving Sabrina alone for even a moment. I don't know if he believed my reasons - that Sabrina could severely injure herself if she tried to get up in her weakened condition, but he agreed with the wisdom of my orders.

Barnabas was in the drawing room at Collinwood when I returned. I told him I'd been to see Sabrina, that she was extremely weak and questioned him about her. I believed Barnabas when he told me Sabrina had come to him. I tried to assure Barnabas I understood what he was going through and knew he didn't do it by choice. I also confessed to him that I knew the injections where responsible for his out of control blood needs. Barnabas told me not to blame myself, but it is very hard not to. Logically I know these side effects could not have been fully anticipated, but emotionally I see the man I love suffering because of me, because of my experimental medical treatment, and that suffering, in turn, causes him to harm other people. No, it is not the injections which are responsible -- I am. I have done this to Barnabas, to Sabrina, to Megan... to myself. I will have to live with it and I will have to find some way to... repair the damage.

I then had to warn Barnabas - remind him - of the danger of exposure. The people in town are beginning to become concerned again. Barnabas said what I refused to voice - that I was afraid he would kill Sabrina before the effects of the serum wear off. He said he was aware of it, implying I didn't have to remind him, but I did, for he can sometimes forget the simple rules of survival -- his survival. When I said there had to be something we could do to control his blood needs, Barnabas replied that he was distracted by thinking of that room in the East Wing. He believed that if he could find some way to transcend the barrier between time bands, if he could find some way to enter that room in the other time, he might find answers there.

I felt my heart leap into my throat, knowing he was seriously considering going into that other band of time if possible. I tried to warn him it could be very dangerous, that he could be permanently trapped there, to which Barnabas replied that might be a blessing, that parallel time might provide a solution to his curse, might allow him to walk in the daylight again. I had to swallow down a lump of fear and dread and anxiety that gathered in my throat before I could speak. I suddenly felt as though Barnabas was going to... leave me, abandon me. I know he saw parallel time as a possible way to keep everyone he cares about in this time band safe from his blood needs, but I still felt as if he had just told me... he was leaving me for someone else.

I tried to shake it off by reminding Barnabas - and myself - that we'd found a way for him to walk in the daylight before, and we would again. I reminded him that he belonged in this time frame, with us. What I did not say, but both of us knew, was that I wanted to add he belonged here - with me. Barnabas' only reply was that he couldn't help be fascinated by what he saw in that other room.

We were interrupted when Carolyn came in, very upset, calling for her mother. She had witnessed Jeb's death at the hands of Sky Rumson on Widow's Hill only minutes earlier. Barnabas and Elizabeth got her into the drawing room, where we eventually learned more details. Carolyn had a dream in which she saw Jeb die. Fearing it would come true, she went to Widow's Hill to warn her husband. There, Sky Rumson tried to kill her. Jeb intervened, the men struggled and Jeb went over the edge. I was able to give Carolyn a sedative, and with Elizabeth's help, get her settled on the couch, where I'm certain she will sleep for what little is left of the rest of this night. Elizabeth, who recalls nothing of her involvement with the Leviathans, is understandably confused and worried. I tried to re-direct her thoughts by reminding her that Carolyn was in danger until Sky Rumson was caught. We left the drawing room to call the police and it was then I realized Barnabas was not there. He'd left while we were trying to comfort Carolyn, not saying where he was going.

He returned nearly an hour later, while Elizabeth was again on the phone to the sheriff. They were unable to find Jeb's body and concluded it was washed out to sea. They had, however, found Sky Rumson, at Bruno's house, dead of a possible suicide. Barnabas' reaction to the news told me what I'd suspected -- that he had a hand in Rumson's death. Barnabas would of course not admit it - even to me - but I can't say I wholly disapprove. Rumson was completely devoted to the Leviathans and that devotion clouded his judgement concerning everything. I understand why Barnabas went to Sky, why he did what he may have seen as his duty to himself, to his family -- to Carolyn.

Elizabeth had returned to Carolyn in the drawing room before Barnabas and I began discussing Sky. I told Barnabas Rumson was not the kind of man to take his own life. Barnabas responded by saying that apparently he was. Barnabas added he was certain Rumson's death would be ruled a definite suicide, and there was no point in discussing it further. Then I sensed something happen to Barnabas. He stopped speaking in mid-sentence and I saw him tense. He told me I'd better go to Carolyn and Elizabeth. I knew then it was starting again - his blood lust. Barnabas told me there was no way he could control it. I wanted to know where he would go - could go - until morning, even though I already knew the answer. Barnabas said to the room in the East Wing; that perhaps it held an answer, or even an escape. I felt the fear and panic return as he hurried up the stairs. I called to him to wait, but he either didn't hear or chose not to hear me.

There was nothing I could do but follow him. Barnabas couldn't have been ahead of me by any more than thirty seconds, but when I reached the room... How can I write this? By setting it down on paper, it will make it real, make it incontrovertible... But I must do this...

When I reached the parallel time room, I discovered Barnabas' hopes of transcending the barrier had been realized. The room was changed: brightly lit, furnished and decorated, and Barnabas was standing in the middle of it. He was calling out to me, calling my name. I answered him, but... he couldn't hear me. I desperately tried to reach him, to force my way through the barrier, but I could not. All I could do was stand there, watching Barnabas in parallel time, knowing he was on his own and beyond my ability to help him. If losing him to parallel time were not enough, he was almost immediately discovered when Carolyn Loomis entered the room and demanded to know who he was and what he was doing in there. I saw his eyes go steely as his innate ability to survive kicked in. (Episodes 978 & 979)

I had to affectionately smile as I watched Barnabas try to explain his presence in that room, in that house. He relied on his tried and true explanation of being a descendant of the original Barnabas Collins, but when Carolyn grew even more suspicious... Barnabas panicked. I could do nothing but watch with sadness and regret as Barnabas was forced to bite the Carolyn of parallel time, bringing her under his control. His hopes that he would somehow be miraculously 'cured'; that he would be able to walk in the daylight in parallel time were dashed. I could only see Barnabas' profile, but sensed his disappointment and resignation, his realization that he was no different in that time band than he had been here.

Given Barnabas' recent uncontrollable blood lust, I was relieved when he did not take a great deal of blood from Carolyn, just enough to control her. Barnabas helped her toward a chair where she could sit, then he turned toward the double doors and crossed to them. He stood right in front of me. Had the barrier not been there and Barnabas able to see me, he would have been able to meet my gaze. Had the barrier not been there I would have reached in, taken his arm and pulled him into the hall with me, back into this band of time, where he belongs. But all I could do was watch as he looked into that other hallway, his gaze going to where he hoped I would be standing. Barnabas reached for the doors to close them. Just before he stepped backward, he shook his head once and whispered 'You were right, Julia. I'm sorry.', then the doors closed. I cried out to him but it did no good. When I opened them again, the parallel time room was gone, leaving me alone in the darkened East Wing room, worried about Barnabas and what will happen to him, dreading the possibility I will never see him again and that he will be trapped there forever.

I remained in the hallway outside the room for some time, hoping the other time would return, hoping for a glimpse of Barnabas once more, but the room remained stable; it did not change. I finally resigned myself to the fact Barnabas is gone - for how long I don't know - and I have been left behind to sort it all out. When I left the East Wing and returned to my room I had an overwhelming desire to get so drunk I would pass out and forget the events of this night for a little while, or to give in to my emotions and cry myself to sleep. I can do neither. There is too much to do here, too many people are relying on me for help: Carolyn, Elizabeth, Sabrina, Chris... To whom will I turn when I need strength, when I need help? For so long it has been Barnabas, how will I deal with his absence? The same way I did before I met him I suppose, by trusting my own judgement, my own instincts, my own common sense.

Yet I cannot stop worrying about Barnabas, wondering how he will survive in that parallel time where he has no friends, no one who will care for him and protect him, where his only 'allies' will be those from whom he has taken blood.

I have tried to lie down and rest, perhaps sleep, but my mind won't shut down long enough to let sleep come. I keep wondering if there is some way I can help Barnabas, some way I can get a message to him, some way to communicate with him through that barrier. I also have to wonder how it was possible for Barnabas to transcend that barrier. How was he able to survive the transition from this time to that time? Perhaps it was because he was in physical contact with an item that had already made the transition and therefore allowed Barnabas to break through more easily, perhaps it... weakened the barrier somehow due to its belonging in that other time band. I didn't really notice at the time, but now realize Barnabas was holding that book, "The Life and Death of Barnabas Collins" by the Willie Loomis of that time band when the room changed. If that is what allowed him to make the transition, perhaps Barnabas' return to this time will be just as possible, for his cane, his clothing, his very existence belong to this band of time. Perhaps I am simply trying to rationalize and minimize the impact the extraordinary events I have witnessed this night have had on my own psyche. I am trying to simplify them and give myself some thin thread of hope to grasp...

I will call Eliot Stokes in the morning and find out if he has any additional information to share regarding parallel time... Morning, what will Barnabas do come morning in parallel time? He has no coffin, no safe hiding place, no one to guard and protect him...

I must stop this or I will make myself neurotic, and then I will be of no help to Barnabas or anyone else. I cannot allow that, for although Barnabas and I are separated by that barrier between times, he still needs my help. I don't know what I can do from here, but I will do it. I have to believe he will somehow find his way back to this time band.... back to me... (Episode 980)