Chapter 3 (around the end of Season 9)
William sighed, unusually grumpy as he glared out of the window to the rain pouring down on the Toronto streets below. It had been a difficult week; the murder of a high-profile man had entailed pressure from the higher-ups, all wanting a result faster than he could produce it. The case was finally resolved yesterday, and all paperwork completed by late evening. As it was Saturday morning, William had planned a long bike ride to alleviate some of his tension. The rain thwarted that idea.
"William…" came the coy voice from behind him. He suppressed another sigh; his wife was far too cheerful for his dark mood that morning. "Since both of us are here with no work to do, a rare occurrence I might add, perhaps we could do something fun?"
Not turning from the dismal scene outside, he forced himself to ask, "What did you have in mind?"
"Well…" Her voice became louder as she approached him from across their suite. Sideling up to him, she took his arm, tucking herself against him. The tension that she had suspected he harboured when she'd observed his posture from across the room was confirmed in his rigid body. A despondent William saddened her, so she forced her voice to be chipper, determined to cheer him. "I so love it when you read to me, and I thought we could enhance the experience. We could act out a play, together!"
"Julia…" His patience was wearing thin.
"Romeo and Juliet, William! Let's immerse ourselves in their story and forget about work and the weather."
"Julia, I really don't think I'm feeling up to this. It's been a very hard week and-"
"Please, William. It will be fun!" She grabbed his hand in both of hers, forcing him to finally focus on her instead of the rain. "At least give it a try."
"Very well," he sighed in order to prevent himself from snapping at her. Irritated though he was, he wasn't quite at the point where he wished to upset his wife.
She grinned in response to his agreement and dashed into their bedroom to retrieve the book, calling out over her shoulder as she went. "I'll be Juliet, of course, and you will be Romeo. You can be the Friar, also; I think that is most fitting. The other parts can be divided up between us."
William was stiff and unyielding at first, and Julia worried that the activity was making him more miserable. Yet he gradually loosened, finally revealing a hint of a smile, allowing her to relax and fully immerse herself in her roles.
When it came to the balcony scene, Julia insisted that William help her climb on top of the wardrobe. He winced as she settled, but thankfully, the solid mahogany held her weight, and she kicked her bare feet merrily against the wood as she recited her part. He hid a grin as she unsuccessfully tried to throw her voice in an attempt to imitate the call of the nurse coming from inside Juliet's room.
At the conclusion of the scene, he helped her down from the wardrobe and into his arms. Entranced by the romance of the previous scene, or perhaps just enthralled by the touch of each other, neither could resist a spot of unscripted canoodling. Breaking off their kiss, Julia had to force herself away from him. "I'm sorry, William, but if we don't stop now, I fear we'll never finish the play!" She stooped to pick up the book from where it had been dropped to the floor, and thrust it at him, prompting him to commence the next scene.
The tragedy of the main characters' final moments was not felt by William and Julia. In high spirits, Julia could not muster the seriousness for her part, instead swooning so dramatically that William was startled into laughter. She giggled in return, her laughter high and bright and beautiful as if sunshine itself was audible.
At the conclusion of the play, Julia still reclined in her swooned position, laughed again but with incredulity. "I know this is meant to be romantic, William, but really, it is quite ridiculous to marry after so short of courtship, in fact no courtship at all! And the ending is quite contrived."
"Yes, well, the course of true love never did run smooth," he quoted another play, "as well we know." He helped her to her feet and tucked her against him, smiling fondly at her. "Thank you, Julia. I actually had fun."
"As did I." She stroked his tie as she became more serious. "You do know that if you weren't enjoying it, I would have allowed you to stop, don't you?"
"Of course, "he reassured. He pulled her tighter against him, wanting nothing more than for her beautiful smile to return. "But in this case, I concede that you knew what was best for me."
"Of course, I did." She brightened. "I am a psychiatrist and your wife, after all. Now," she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the window, "the rain has stopped, our activities took us past lunch, and I am quite famished. What do you say to a late lunch? I hear George has been extolling the virtues of a new café on Queen Street."
The memory of the scene faded as he was drawn back to a reality that could not be more different than the fun they in which they had revelled mere weeks before. Instead of vibrantly laughing and dancing around him, Julia lay motionless in a hospital bed, her serious injuries compounded by her trek across the province to rescue him.
He stroked her soft hair, caressed her forehead, touched her shoulder, adjusted her sheets, all while his right hand lay uselessly in his lap. Please, he implored silently, please don't let our story end in tragedy.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading!
