Title: Considerations
Author: Fallenbelle
Rating: T for mild sexual thoughts
Summary: Julia does some thinking on recent events.
Author's Note: Intended as a companion to Realizations, but can be read alone.
Spoilers: Very loosely based on vague season 8 spoilers. Very.
Note: Please be kind and leave a review if you enjoyed it.
Julia lay across her chaise longue in her parlor, attempting to read a medical journal, but found it difficult to concentrate for more than a couple of sentences.
Sighing, she flung the journal to the floor, and stared at her engagement ring. How could she desperately love a man and yet be so angry with him at the same time? Ever since he had returned from arresting the O'Shea brothers, things had been strained. As much as she wanted, there was no point in begging him not to go, his sense of duty demanded it-these were the men who had almost killed the Inspector.
So instead, she'd begged him to be careful-to take plenty of extra men, enlisting the help of other station houses if need be-the docks were large, busy, and dangerous.
The stubborn ass had come close to leaving her-something he'd sworn he'd never do. And she had believed him-until he went down to the docks and came back injured from charging the O'Shea brothers on his own-when he should have waited for the constables to assist him. Something George had told her-the brave detective charged the O'Shea's on his own and had only been rescued in the nick of time.
Standing up, she walked over the brandy decanter, and poured herself a generous glass, gulping it in one swallow, before pouring another to sip.
The man hadn't even had the decency to know why she was angry at him-she knew he sensed it, and had asked why, but all she could do was laugh bitterly at him-was he that clueless?
She didn't know if she could go through with the wedding if he was going to continue to be that reckless and put his job before her.
But she didn't know how she could live without him either. Losing him was her greatest fear, greater than her own death, and she knew if she cancelled the wedding, it would kill him and ultimately her.
But could she live with this William-this man so cavalier not only with his life, but also her heart in the process?
No, he didn't mean to be so careless with her feelings, he'd vehemently deny it if she ever accused him of it, yet he was reckless all the same in his actions. He'd even promised to come by this evening, and hadn't. Sure, she knew it wasn't intentional, undoubtedly something had come up at the station that required his attention, but Julia didn't know if she could compete with his work to this degree.
Tomorrow, she'd make it a point to talk to him at lunch-she'd demand it if need be. She couldn't leave this unsaid-it needed to be voiced. They'd both made that mistake before.
Even though it wasn't even half past eight, she finished the glass of port and decided to retire for the evening.
In her room, she unfastened her dress (one of William's favorites) and let it fall to the floor, standing only in her chemise, corset, and stockings. Not for the first time she imagined doing so in front of William, gauging his reaction, being sure to note the darkening of his pupils, a telltale sign of male sexual interest. Oh, how she longed to watch her carefully composed detective come undone.
What would William do when they were alone? When he was free to look his fill and even to touch? She'd sensed his passions when they kissed. Sometimes, his passion would get the better of him and he'd forget the gentleman he was supposed to be, slipping his tongue into her mouth and even unconsciously rubbing himself against her, his face an exquisite mixture of both pleasure and pain.
As much as she adored William, not for the first time she wished that he had looked at her as long as the Inspector had inspected her at the nudist colony. Part of her had even fantasized that his amazing self-control had finally snapped and that he would have just taken her up against the tree.
But that wouldn't have been her William, and besides, she had no doubt that viewing her glory had spurred him to implicate himself in a sordid divorce suit later that evening.
Oh, how he loved her (this she knew beyond a doubt) and oh, how she loved him-she certainly hoped she'd made that clear enough to him by now.
It was obvious to anyone that they couldn't live without each other.
But could they live with each other?
Shedding the undergarments, she slipped on her silk nightgown and crawled into her bed, not for the first time clutching a spare pillow and imagining it was William.
Not for the first time, she cried herself to sleep.