Author's Note: This is another interstitial story for Season 2 slid between the ending of "Shades of Gray" and before "Murdoch dot Com." Bolded dialogue taken directly from the show. I assigned myself the task of writing a first person narrative with Julia as the heroine—I don't think her character gets enough credit for her essentially brave (stubborn) personality, and we only get glimpses of her strengths under a sometimes over-bright façade. Credit to Hélène Joy (& the director(s)) from saving her character from being one-dimensional. Many thanks to my beta-reader "Dutch" who gets kudos for rescuing the story when I got bogged down, and to my friend "46-Her" for suggesting I write something else and give this a much-needed rest so I could come back to it in a better frame of mind. A central inspiration for one of the characters was the series of "Making Murdoch" interviews (guess who?), and the 2015 Toronto MM Fan Day—if you have gone, you will get the references in the story—and if you have not gone—well it is beyond way cool, so get there next year! Thank you soooo much for all the encouragement I have gotten so far—it means more to me than you'll ever know. I love reviews and correspondence— this was more ambitions than I had originally planned so let me know what you liked or didn't-I will respond. Enjoy! -rg

Chapter 1

Tuesday Sept 1, 1896

One benefit derived from discussing things over a whisky is that the liquid burning its way down from esophagus to stomach provides momentary distraction from whatever painful topic is in question. I was in no mood for sipping and took the glass down in a single swallow and asked for another.

"Julia," Isaac said, shaking his head and looking a little alarmed, "go a little slower on that. We need clear heads right now." Isaac knows me well enough to understand I am not a flighty female given to hysterics or the vapors, and he has seen me at my very worst, but he had a point about this being an instance requiring my full mental faculties. He was holding the alcoholic spirits he retrieved out of his desk drawer, the neck of the bottle hovering over my glass. We sat in the front room of his home which had been converted to a medical consulting office, the walls awash in slanting yellow light from two bright windows and a slight breeze ruffled the curtains, finally cooling the heat of the day.

I barely noticed the relief. I was fevered, and my heart was still racing from coming over as fast as I could arrange, and from acute anxiety regarding what was about to transpire between us. I told him, "I hold my liquor, Isaac, at least I do now. And I don't think I want to continue this completely sober." I took the second glass he poured and stopped myself from draining it, made a lady-like taste of the contents and set it down.

"All right. I am ready," I paused and motioned to him. "Tell me what happened with Detective Murdoch."

Isaac sat next to me looking tired and opened his collar a bit after loosening his cravat, his long face even longer than usual, and Iperceived new dark circles under his eyes and worry-lines bracketing them. He surveyed the room as if he needed to make a final inventory before parting from it and then looked at me very seriously with a deep frown on his usually gentle countenance. "Detective Murdoch was quite insistent in his pursuit of what he considers the truth. You should know he essentially blackmailed me by threatening you with being dragged to court and placed under oath." He swallowed once and then squared his shoulders. "I told him the truth—you and I did not conspire or obstruct his case. And I also admitted I perform safe abortions," he said with no hesitation. "And…. then I told him that whatever happens next was up to him." This last part he said more haltingly.

I gasped. "Oh, Isaac, you did that?" I was frightened for him and reached over to put my hand on his arm. My dear friend, Isaac Tash, who laboured to do so much good for so many, people had not just thrown away a career but his life could weigh in the balance, all because I ran to see him… And because Detective William Murdoch cannot ever leave well-enough alone, I thought. My anger at William flared. Guilt then followed fear in short order and it all showed plainly on my face.

Isaac saw my distress. "There was nothing for it, Julia. I half expected him to arrest me then and there. I am still surprised he did not. He was very angry." He sat forward, placing his hands over my clenched fists. "Of course I did not say anything to him about your visit here but that meant I could offer no explanation for why you came to see me. When I was finished talking, he just stood there like a post saying nothing and then turned on his heels and walked out without another word."

Isaac resumed his drink, finished the glass and set it next to mine. "Julia, I will not run away and I will not implicate any of my patients, or you, but I wonder if there is a way to minimize the damage the detective is about to wreak. I have a keen sense of dread about it all, and I must admit I am not looking forward to an investigation, my arrest or a trial, and waiting for the proverbial "other shoe to drop" is excruciating…" Isaac rubbed his fingers on his temples absent-mindedly while looking at me, a crooked smile on his face. He stood and refilled his glass, pouring it a little higher than his first draught despite his admonition to me about the necessity of clear thinking.

I sat back as my mind whirred. I could not help but think of the glorious week past and how supremely happy I had been about my life and about William for that handful of days. Sadness stabbed at me. There were so many implications to consider that my heart squeezed in my chest.

This must be what it feels like to have one's heart broken. Oh, William! Do you have any idea what you have done? …was my painful thought.

I did not like the choices that presented themselves to me and agitation continued to mount despite the calming effects of the whisky. I am not in the habit of shrinking from what is difficult and can quell my doubts and fears when necessary this case was a different matter. I let out a breath to calm my nerves.

I told Isaac: "The law means everything to … er, Detective Murdoch. He essentially threatened me as well, even while framing it as trying to protect me… It was quite shocking actually; nothing I would have ever have expected from him, although I suppose I should have, knowing him as I do." William and his obsession with the truth, I raged to myself. William, who had always been constrained or deferential with me, who seemed to take such pains to interact with me "correctly", had dropped that façade for a moment and revealed a whole different, unpleasant dimension to his personality that I was still trying to absorb. Now I wonder if I ever really knew him…

I considered the alternatives one by one, the dilemma roiling within me until I saw Isaac, who was gazing out one of the windows to the green lawn with a stricken look on his face. That brought me back to reality and pushed me past indecision. "Isaac, I don't know if he will listen to me, but I will ask him to meet with me somewhere private, away from work. If I can persuade him to rethink his intentions, I will. I will talk to you as soon as I know anything." I sighed and tried for some dark humor. "We may need another bottle of whisky, though…"

"What are you going to say to him?" Isaac asked quietly.

I looked down for a moment, gathering my thoughts. When I answered I tried to keep my voice level. "I am going to tell him the truth, since it means so much to him. I will tell him about my own abortion."

Isaac appeared startled. "Julia! You did not see him when he was here. He was enraged. I don't think that is advisable in the least. I have kept you out of it at great personal peril and I certainly do not wish you to be any more involved than you already have been. It could cost you your position or worse… I cannot allow that…" Isaac was nearly shouting this and I do not think I ever saw him become so exercised before.

I reached over to calm him. "Oh, Isaac, it will cost me much more than that….but I will do what I have to do." I owed my friend more loyalty than I could ever repay. But I already wondered if I was I going to able to stomach the consequences…

Isaac and I sat and talked for another half hour or so as evening lengthened, but the conversation lagged so eventually I made my way home, turning over in my mind what I needed to do next as I traveled. Doing the right thing has always been important to me… As it supposedly was to the great, cerebral, detective, I thought acidly.I knew even though I did not want to let too much time pass before approaching William, I also did not relish having to have that conversation. It was too late at night to call on him and it was going to be at least the next day or the following before I could arrange to meet with him, so I was going to have to be patient and deal with my own dread while waiting. I reminded myself my gratitude to Isaac trumped everything else in this case including any, now-broken, romantic aspirations.

I tried to go to bed when I got home, but sleep was fractured and while I was awake my relationship with William telescoped in my mind. Years of circling around attraction. A week ago we were swept up in love. Two nights ago we should have been at the screening of the first motion picture in Toronto that William was so excited to see, followed by, what? Giving into the passion between us? But instead…. All that wasted time!... And worse: What if we had become lovers? Yes…what if we had allowed that built-up, ungoverned passion to run loose between us? Just thinking about it set off a wave of exquisite feelings inside me that I struggled to suppress.

Other thoughts clamored too: Would he really have made love to me there in the soft August darkness, that oh-so-proper man, if I had permitted it? …Had asked for it?… I had a frisson of delighted fear at the thought of being with him in a place where we could have been discovered!…..

Then I stopped abruptly. What if it had been tepid or awkward?...But on second thought, that was unlikely considering how quickly things developed that night and how masterful his kisses were…

To have had relations with him…What sort of commitment would that have signaled—to him? To me? Would he have thought that meant he claimed me for himself? Did I want a commitment? Would he have thought he had to marry me? Did I want to marry at all, let alone a Catholic policeman, of all things? I was appalled at some of my thoughts: on the basis of one (uninterrupted, potentially disastrous) date, I had let my imagination run away with me, roughshod over my common sense. Where did ridiculous ideas like these ever come from?

I have to admit I cried in vexation and wept into my pillow, hoping to get the tears and the feelings wrung out of the way of necessary action. I certainly did not wish to confront William as a weak, indecisive, and emotional female.

Wednesday September 2

The next morning I saw a woman who was barely holding on to sanity staring back at me in the mirror. What had William Murdoch done to me? I almost wailed. It took me quite some time before I could control myself with pointed self-castigation and deep breathing exercises until I could find some superficial composure. I got up, dressed very carefully in what I thought of as my most professional suit, (the dark blue one I usually wore to court when my testimony was required), and determinedly went to my office, my stomach so sour I was unable to eat breakfast. It was fortunate that I was alone in the morgue that morning; no one, at least among the living, was there who could disturb my fragile self-control.

I had to call three separate times to speak with William directly as I was unwilling to leave a message. I almost backed out as I heard his voice when he finally answered the telephone at his desk. He agreed to see me on his supper hour later in the afternoon, all the way in Queen's Park, so we could avoid being observed or interrupted. He did not even ask why. I suspected he knew the talk would not be pleasant and I am sure he understood perfectly well that I was perturbed with him, for all I tried to speak in a neutral tone. That in itself probably gave it away, as I am sure there was very little warmth in my voice.

After putting the telephone receiver in its cradle, I picked up my notes for the three most recent autopsies I performed and arranged them in proper order so I could compose my final reports. I had gotten the idea of keeping track of the particulars of each case in a way that data could be collected and analyzed, from a discussion William and I had had one night after solving a baffling puzzle. The case that almost went nowhere until we realized that a larger perspective was necessary.

As it remained a good idea despite its provenance, I got out my ledger and entered the information for these three cases: age, gender, cause of death, manner of death, location of death, home address, family status, occupation, and then listed forensic results associated with the case. I was collecting information neither governmental body so far wanted or needed. I hoped at some point to show the usefulness of these facts when I collected enough to determine patterns. These three deaths seemed to be rather straight forward: one victim of a domestic argument (stabbed), one supposedly accidental drowning and one pensioner who died after getting intoxicated and suffering a fall.

All morning I struggled to focus on my reports, managing to eat a small lunch at my desk. It was not until a new body arrived in the morgue that I was aware time had actually passed, and I felt more myself again-calm and steady. If I did not get going I would be late for my meeting with William. Not to the assignation in the park I had been hoping for, planning for….My unruly mind kept returning there.

A carriage dropped me off at the park's edge and I started walking to the place we arranged to talk. On my way there I drew near one end of the path to a grove of trees where we first kissed and came so very close to being intimate- Was it only a week ago? …The remembrance rushed back. How could it not? I had replayed the scene to myself so many times over those last few days for the joy it had given me and the delicious anticipation of making love with William. Memories of his wonderful kisses floated sparks on my lips...and, other places on my person. Even last night, in what little sleep I got, is kissesI had dreamt of aching for him to touch me and consummating our passion… finally coming undone in his embrace…. All ashes now.

I pulled myself abruptly out of that fantasy and reminded myself that I was furious at him and I needed to put those thoughts ruthlessly aside and hurry along so I would not have the time, or inclination, to change my mind or course of action. As it was, I got there before William did. I eventually spied him setting his bike aside and hesitating some distance away. He approached me slowly across the grass and sat next to me, hat in hand, appearing to my eye to be not quite sure of himself.

Before I could say my peace he told me he had decided not to charge Isaac, and gave the excuse it was because doing so would involve investigating his patients and "others." I was of course relieved and very surprised that no persuasion from me was going to be needed. Someday I might have the opportunity to ask him why...

He also did not apologize for what he had done and how he did it, I noticed. If I were honest with myself I am not sure it would have made any difference if he had…

I could have let the matter rest, I suppose, but I felt compelled to see it through to the end. What else, really, was there to do? William just sat there beside me, looking subdued, tentative and diminished in some way, so much so I actually found myself starting to feel a little sorry for him. Entertaining those tender feelings would destroy my resolve so I forced myself to banish them, aided by how very outraged I was at him for his behavior and what it had already cost… and for what was coming next.

Even though I did not need to use any inducement with William to protect Isaac, there was the matter of the relationship developing between us. The remainder of the discussion on the park bench went both better, (and worse), than I had rehearsed. I spoke to him just as I would have to any family member, of a patient with a horrible prognosis, who was struggling to accept the inevitable bad outcome: direct, compassionate but firm, sequestering my feelings behind a professional demeanor. I was truly sorry things between us had come to this end and managed to tell him that, quite honestly. So instead of putting the past behind us, I put William behind me as I walked away. Only then do I allow a few tears to run as I sought another hansom to bring me to Isaac's. I was relieved I had the good sense not to give in to an impulse to look back.

If I had looked back or if William had come after me to protest….well, I am not sure what impact it would have had, but considering he made no attempt to prevent me from walking away told me something about our relationship…although exactly what I had yet to figure out.

Isaac was with a patient in his consulting rooms when I got to his home, so I walked slowly in his garden, hoping the diversion of the flowers would calm my nerves and bring my mind to order. It did not really work; I could not see the colors or smell the fragrances—all I saw in my mind was William's face as I parted from him and his clean scent lingered in my nostrils. Isaac spotted me as he escorted his last patients, a girl and her mother, to the door and joined me outside, bringing me back to awareness of the present moment.

"Julia. Thank you for coming so quickly." By way of explanation for why he directed me deeper into his garden, he said, "I had my contagion clinic this afternoon." He looked back at his patient's carriage as it drove off and shook his head. "The cost of the some of the treatments are outrageous—I still have to import diphtheria antitoxin for instance, from Philadelphia or from Germany for my patients and carefully titrate the dosages as there is still no standardization." His face clouded. "Only the very rich can afford the treatments for their children, much to my despair, and even then there are the occasional deaths from the treatment itself."

Isaac clearly wanted my news but was afraid to hear it, offering this superficial conversation instead. He said, "We will have to wait a bit to go in, unless you want to come upstairs to my quarters to talk, as the rooms have to air and I have to disinfect…"

"Of course, that is a wise protocol," I agreed as we strolled together towards the back of the property.

"So, Julia, how much of an enemy have I made out of Detective Murdoch?" Isaac finally asked directly, a resigned look on his face.

"Isaac, I can tell you right now you do not have to worry. Detective Murdoch is not going to trouble you, and he will not be pursuing charges." I gave his hand a touch and put my arm through his as we walked.

"Julia, how did you convince him? I thought for certain…" His evident relief was mixed with puzzlement.

"It was not difficult at all. He had already come to that conclusion, somehow, on his own. It was remarkable, really," I said with wonderment in my own voice.

Isaac countered, "But he was so adamant when I spoke with him, even made sure I knew the implications of confessing my crimes…"

"Isaac, the detective is not your enemy, at least not any longer." I looked at Isaac, whose face registered curiosity at my statement, so I continued explaining, managing a wry smile. "He thought you and I were lovers at University, and that you played on that relationship to suborn my testimony or interfere with his investigation…" Just as I was going to try to use my relationship with William to persuade him against charging you, I recognized with a flash of guilt...

"So I corrected his assumption and told him instead how you saved my life." I looked up at Isaac. "He thought you were his rival…for my affections, if you can believe that! He saw us embracing as I left here the other day and jumped to conclusions. I think he is now feeling he is rather in your debt for saving my life, in fact he told me so…"

Isaac reacted rather vehemently to this news, I thought. He exclaimed: "Oh, Julia, no! Not you and…him?!" My face apparently gave me away. "Of all the unsuitable men you could have chosen! A policeman? Really, Julia, it is not like you could have brought him home and presented him to your family…or was that the point? More antagonism towards your father, like at Bishop's?" Isaac forgot momentarily about his own brush with danger and focused on me instead.

"Isaac. You know my father would have preferred I come away from University with a "Mrs" in front of my name rather than an "MD" after it!" I snapped back, my anger easily aroused about the old wound. It took a second or two to recover myself. "I'm sorry, I should not have spoken so sharply, I know you have never been like that…" Then I saw another thought surface in his face.

"The diaphragm you asked me for. It was not for someone else, was it? But, why? You can't….Oh, dear…" Isaac trailed off, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.

I ducked my head for a moment, unsure what to say…but it was a day of truths…"Yes, Isaac. The detective and I… were becoming involved." Falling in love actually, or at least that is what it seemed to me, I thought. "But no, we never got the opportunity to become, er, intimate…. As to why I wanted contraception… I was trying for an abundance of caution." I confessed and felt the blush rise in my face.

"But Julia, the son of an alcoholic fisherman, with no university training, who lives in a boarding house, and no family to speak of? The police are hardly one step above the criminals they pursue! What were you possibly thinking?" Isaac looked quite bewildered.

I was thinking: William Murdoch is the most exciting, intelligent, passionate and attractive man I have ever met, and that I believed I had found the love of my life…

"Isaac, how do you know so much about him?" I asked instead.

"I made some inquiries, wanting to know who and what I was up against," he said reasonably.

"I see. You forgot to mention his unparalleled conviction record…" I added.

"Yes...there is also that, I discovered, much to my disquiet…"

"Isaac, he is quite accomplished, despite his background…but I will not defend him, nor myself about him here."

"No, of course not. I apologize," he offered.

I looked at him very earnestly. "No need. We have been friends too long for quarrels. You were the first man who treated me as an equal and taught me that men and women can be genuine friends. I have always been grateful for that, and so much more…" In fact, the template of my friendship with you made it possible for me to work so well with William in the first place…. I had to bring myself up short again from those contemplations.

"Perhaps it is time to consider a change for yourself Julia." Isaac stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me. "Oh, I do wish you would come back to the practice of medicine and get out of that morgue! There is a great need for accomplished physicians and you could do more good for more people than as a pathologist. Think of the possibilities! You can help bring modern medical practices to Toronto, especially because so many of our colleagues, I swear, haven't changed any of their notions or ideas since the civil war in the States. The University is sponsoring health clinics now and would welcome a skilled doctor. You could form your own practice and specialize in whatever you wanted. Even a women's clinic… And you were top in our class in surgery…" This was not the first time Isaac had pressured for me to leave my job as coroner.

"Yes, but when I graduated, no hospital would accept a female surgeon. Do you remember Professor Brayton declaring that my abilities were only because of my small hands and womanly skill at sewing? Right after he pontificated about how much male strength surgery requires…?" I reminded him. "The only other woman taking classes while I was there is still cutting up rodents in a laboratory as far as I know! At least I get to work on people as coroner."

Isaac smiled at that, but then the humour evaporated. "Julia, may I ask what else happened with Detective Murdoch?"

I paused again to collect myself and exhaled. "About what one would expect. He is a policeman after all, sworn to uphold the law, and, you also forgot to mention in your research, a Roman Catholic one at that! His very being could not encompass what I had to say…."

I could find no words to continue, recalling the conversation – was it only an hour or so ago? I replayed William's statement that paralleled my own, 'I will do what I have to do,' and of course then, as I predicted, his hesitation regarding his feelings for me…

"So, he rejected you," Isaac said softly.

I shook my head and sighed. "No, not exactly," I said and made a face. "I asked him a question I already suspected he could not answer." William is not the only one who can frame an argument…it was easy because he is so predictable, I said angrily to myself.

"We…no, I…ended things, now …before it could go any farther," then I gave a bitter laugh. "I had told my sister once it was not advisable to conduct a workplace romance—apparently I should have taken my own advice," at which point grief and frustration punctuated my awareness and I could not keep a sob from escaping. "At least I did not cry in front of him," I said as Isaac passed me his handkerchief.

Isaac turned again, took my arm and led me back to his house. "That's all right Julia," he said. "Let's go inside for that drink and let me tell you about an idea to take your mind of your troubles…." I was grateful for his support and thought: How can one hundred sixty eight hours, more or less, have so utterly overturned my life?