Disclaimer: If I owned these characters there would be no need of fanfiction.

Warnings: Reflection, in part, on the night Julian and Cathy spent together. No more than what you'd find in the books themselves. This IS Julian we are talking about. : )

She calls me Jule now.

I am forced to duck my head so she doesn't see me still grinning like a damned fool. Not that she's looking at me anyway. I find it amazing that after spending the night in my doll's bed, after finally being granted the pleasure of touching her in the way I've craved and longed for for over three years, that all I can think about is that one word.

Jule.

Not replaying in my mind how she looked and felt and tasted and shivered and clung… and did she ever cling… no, I think only about what she said. I have often thought about how she would sound. When we would kiss and such years ago, she unconsciously let out the most delightful little whimpers. I thought that was my heaven but I was wrong, so very wrong.

Jule.

I think it took awhile for her to come to terms with what was happening last night. I was ever so fearful she would scream for me to stop, to find something to hit me with… again. But I was protective of our first shared moments of tenderness in so agonizingly long. I tried my damnedest to please her, to enkindle her body with my desire. Desperately trying to show her in each and every touch just how much I love her.

Jule.

That first sudden intake of breathe… that small signal betraying a rather amenable patch of skin… nothing but sinful! A shiver raced down my spine just to hear it. I was so intoxicated with bliss I couldn't help but nip her belly. Realizing what I'd done, I'd quickly apologized with tiny smothering kisses and delicate licks. I meant only to show her kindness the first time; gentle touches in return for the priceless gift she so graciously bestowed upon me. Finally.

Jule.

My body had throbbed and nearly despairing with my need to hear her again, I had increased my efforts ten fold. Soon I begun to be rewarded, so wonderfully honored with voiceless moans steadily gaining in both frequency and intensity. I had found I was floating, a most peculiar feeling of weightlessness that drove me to a willingness to do anything to keep her in this pleasured haven. A second of clarity showed my contemplation of my ability to prolong this play until the break of day. Wondering at my will and capacity to merely tease her all night as she'd so wickedly done to me these long years. Who are we kidding? Like hell I wasn't taking my pleasure too! It might never happen again, she might not even last the night. I'll be damned if she walked away the only one pleased. Again.

Jule.

Near tears with worry of rejection, of incompletion, I tried to hide my now frantic state and maintain my control as I forced myself to slowly slide up her body dropping kisses all along the way. Her lips hungrily sought mine before I had the chance to look into her eyes. But I thought maybe I didn't want to look into her eyes, maybe I didn't want to see what was there, maybe my heart couldn't take it. I didn't want to see… but I wanted to look. I wanted her to look at me. I wanted her to see me, see me when I took her. I wanted her to know me.

Jule.

I then gently broke away from her kiss and stroked her temple until she looked up at me. Locking our eyes, I had silently begged her to allow me this token of our entwined destinies. My heart teetering, my breathing ragged, my every muscle taught with reserved passion, I gently guided her legs about my waist transferring a little more of my weight onto her. Then, with a held breath and those infernal tears gathering in my eyes I, at long last, entered her. The heat, the tightness of her was enough to paralyze my neglected body. Trembling with the effort to stay conscious I continued inward, determined to immerse myself completely inside her. Just as I reached my yearned destination, I heard it.

"Jule..." That breathless moan, her inability to finish my name, the sweet look of need in her eyes still locked on mine… it was my undoing.

After that moment, neither of us were selfish for a change. We both gave and received and both came out the victor. We feel asleep near dawn, wrapped about each other, hardly knowing how or having the strength to begin to untangle ourselves. Or maybe she wanted to stay wrapped around me, I don't think I'll ever know. Knowing her she'll never admit one way or another… not even to herself.

It was entertaining watching her after she woke. That first second of awareness, that Oh shit! moment of realized horror over drunken stupidity. I wonder how many names she called herself this morning. I was taken by surprise at her shyness, the impossibility of catching her eyes, her embarrassed stiffening when her empty stomach filled the silence of the morning with its need. Her nervous giggle and tiny bob of her head when I asked if she wanted to go out for breakfast. All of it brought about the startling awareness that I had never given thought to how she would be the morning after. I guess I never thought it would really happen, not to completion, that is.

I had now entered uncharted territory. Damn.

Finally we have reached the small café a few skips away from her apartment. We'd managed to dress and amble awkwardly out of her apartment acting like two damn teenagers just losing their virginity rather than the two most graceful and talented ballet dancers alive. Cathy's eyes catch sight of the newspaper stand as I hold the door for her. For the first time this morning she meets my eyes. She looks at me for what feels like hours but can't be more than a second… or maybe five… and then she says "Jule, could you…?"

Not guttural in the throes of passion, not elicited from aching need. This time it was intended to reach my ears, meant to show me endearment. She stares wonderingly at the tear that slips unheeded down my cheek. Oh, but this was the most precious gift of all!

Jule.