"I do hope to see you there," George said determinedly trying to catch his eye as if he knew something Murdoch didn't.

He forced a smile and waited for the intent staring to come to an end. Finally the well meaning constable let up and headed past him, hat in white gloved hand, all prim and proper for the wedding ceremony.

Immediately after, Murdoch ventured into his office in order to read the letter. Once he sat down though he found this task a bit difficult. He turned the paper over in his hands a few times as if trying to divine its terrible secrets that way. Whatever fears he had at its contents simply would not go away. What could this possibly be about?

Curiosity trumping his trepidation, he ripped open the envelope, unfolded the paper within and tentatively began reading. The first sentence made his brain freeze. Why wouldn't she be happy? She was to be married in less than an hours time! At the mention of her troubled heart, his own beat faster. Could it be? And then the next line shocked him greatly. How had she learned of his intended proposal? Had she been snooping around in his desk while he was imprisoned? What would possess her to do such a thing? Even in his troubled state of mind he clearly saw the answer. Ruby. That horribly blunt, meddlesome...wonderful human being!

Julia was asking him to step up to the plate (or altar), to effectively ruin her wedding! Could he go through with it? Did he dare? A whirlwind of emotions raged through his mind, though his face remained impassive. Not that it mattered, there was no one else here! He glanced at his pocket watch and saw there was at best half an hour left for him to make it to the church in time. However, before he could even contemplate that weighty decision further, he had to free Ava Moon, his conscience demanded it of him, of this he was quite certain.

Quickly formulating a plan of action he grabbed his hat and headed out the door. He jumped on his bike and three minutes later skidded to a halt in front of his bank. To his utter dismay, there was a rather lengthy line up to the only teller present. It was a Saturday afternoon and the bank would be closing soon, and remain so until Monday morning. Glancing at his watch every few seconds, his mind was in absolute agony. Though it had only been a minute, he felt he would never reach the front of the line in time. Seeing as he was going to break the law, he figured a little rudeness was the least of his concerns.

Walking up to the front, he barged his way past an indignant looking middle aged man.

"What the devil do you think-"

"Detective Murdoch," he said flashing his badge, silencing the man.

"Yes, detective," said the young woman behind the bars, "how can I help you today?"

"I need to make a withdrawal," he said holding up his identification.

"Why this is preposterous!" exploded the man. "This is abuse of police power!"

Murdoch gave him an icy stare and that cooled him off, leaving him grumbling nearby. The young woman gave Murdoch an appraising look. Maybe she sensed the desperation behind his collected exterior? Whatever the reason was, she decided to let him get away with this.

"How much would you like to withdraw, detective?"

"One hundred dollars."

She glanced at her cash box and said, "I'm afraid I only have two and five dollar bills at the moment, I could summon the manager and-"

"Whatever you have is fine," he cut in, unable to stand this needless waste of his precious time any longer.

"Sign here," she said pushing the ledger towards him.

By the time he had signed it, she had already expertly sorted through the bills and was holding them out to him. He grabbed them and was out the door before the people standing in line could give him too many ugly stares.

Back at the precinct he rolled some of the money up, making a rather compact cylinder, and with a piece of string, tied it all together, as if it were a generous present to a great friend and not the embodiment of evil. As soon as that was accomplished, he rushed into the holding area and with much less hesitation than he would have expected, unlocked the cell door.

He told Ava what she needed to know to successfully dodge the police and handed her the wad of cash. She appeared stunned by everything he was doing. Indeed, Murdoch could barely believe it himself. Before she left, he provided her with a hooded cape from the lost and found box in order to better conceal her mutilated face during her travels. Thanking him, she disappeared from view through the side door and he was left standing there alone.

The time was now twelve minutes to the beginning of the ceremony and it would take him a good fifteen minutes to get there. If he was going to attempt this, it was now or never. He didn't have nearly enough time to think about this the way he wanted to, the way he normally would, going over every single detail and consequence in his mind, in every conceivable way, until he was positive in his deliberations. But wasn't that the whole reason they were in this mess?

If he hadn't spent nearly three weeks doing just that, he would have long since proposed to her and she never would have run off to Buffalo. For all he knew, they likely would have been married now themselves, maybe even adopted a child. If he had just followed his heart, instead of his head, his dream of many years would already be a reality.

Stop it William! he scolded himself. No more dwelling on the past!...The time is now!

He grabbed the silver case and placed it in his breast pocket, where the rest of the money was. Though it pained him, he left the letter there as a sort of explanation for his actions. He was about to remove his badge but then thought better of it. If he left that there, wouldn't he be freely admitting to his guilt? The way he had set things up, it would appear as if Ava had escaped while he was rushing off to the wedding, not before. And if they looked into money withdrawals, he could simply claim it was also related to the wedding, which it was. These scheming thoughts, so unlike his own, disturbed him, but what choice did he have? He wasn't about to risk going to jail the moment he got Julia back!

Then he hopped on his bike and peddled faster than he had ever peddled before, even faster than the time he had raced to the Grayson Institute in order to save Ms. Pensell from a homicidal, crossbow wielding maniac. And just like the last time, he felt ill equipped to handle the situation once he got there. Would Darcy and others be just as hostile towards him as Mr. Binney had been? What on earth was his plan here?

Every time he tried to formulate one, it slipped through his fingers, as though they were slick with oil, (physically, they were quite moist from his nervous anxiety and exertions) and he was left with nothing more than the nagging impulse to try again. About half way to the church, he gave up the pointless exercise, his mind was far too agitated to succeed. No, this time, he would be forced to act on instinct alone. He promised himself that in that most crucial of moments, he would not hesitate, he would do whatever was necessary to claim that which he had long since desired; what he had long since deserved. Never mind the fact that he was now a criminal, Julia of all people would not care, he rather liked to think that she would be proud by his actions, would admire the risks he had taken, that he was continuing to take.

Two minutes to the church he found it increasingly hard to pedal. This was not because he was exhausted (though he certainly was feeling tired) but instead because his front tire had deflated! Looking behind himself, he saw a bunch of broken glass that he had neglected to notice and avoid.

Confound it!

Murdoch tossed his bike aside and using the only means of transportation available to him, sprinted like his life depended on it, ignoring the stabbing pains in his sides (and the curious passersby) and his inability to catch his breath.

Please God! Let me make it! Don't take her away from me again! For Forever! I'm begging you!

With searing lungs and limbs, as if his entire body was on fire, he saw the dazzling white church in the distance, like a beacon of light guiding him home from stormy seas, like his saviour, his Lord.

Thank you God! Thank you!

Stumbling near the top of the stairs in his complete exhaustion, he scraped his hands up in an effort to prevent a worse fall. They began to bleed and throb dully but he barely noticed, nay, cared considering all his other pains. He picked himself back up and with his last bit of strength barged through the large, heavy wooden doors, and suddenly found himself to be the centre of attention. Every head and eye was turned to face him and murmurs of disquiet were buzzing about, the noise louder than normal in the lofty chambers of this holy place. No doubt his dreadful appearance and amount of wheezing was adding fuel to the fire. None of this concerned him though and he refused to look anywhere but straight in front of him, towards his angel (though he did this mostly doubled over as he was still trying to catch his breath).

Julia was staring at him in apparent shock, as if she hadn't actually expected him to show up, as if she hadn't told him last minute, giving him little option but to do this. Nothing happened for several seconds and they just maintained steady eye contact (or as steady as it could be given his gulps for air). When he was standing tall again and she still had yet to move a muscle, he began to doubt himself, doubt herself and wonder if she had somehow set him up for the worst possible humiliation. But he couldn't believe her capable of such cruelty.

A worse thought crossed his mind, what if she hadn't even written the letter? What if this was all Ruby's doing? What if it was another of her misguided attempts at helping matters that didn't concern her? The sisters shared remarkably similar handwriting. Had the great detective been duped? Had he been so desperate to see what he wanted to see, that he hadn't noticed the discrepancies?

For the first time since arriving, he broke eye contact with Julia and glanced to her left ever so slightly. Ruby was positively beaming at him and mouthed something that looked like, 'Keep going, William!'

Yes, it was quite conceivable that she had been the orchestrator of this whole thing. Had she even bothered to tell Julia about his previous proposal attempt or was she completely in the dark about everything? Was she wishing he would simply go away and stop ruining the biggest day of her life?

But then he realized it didn't matter who had written the letter. That was beside the point now. Here they both were, she was still free, and he refused to turn back, refused to betray that promise he had made to himself.

Putting one lead foot in front of the other, he made his way excruciatingly slowly towards the altar. He hated to think what would happen if he got up there and she didn't want him there, if he was dragged away by angry hands and tossed out like garbage.

Then miracle of miracles, Julia turned to Darcy, handed him the bouquet and said something that made his face lose all colour. Next she removed her engagement ring and laid it in his free hand, eliciting many a gasp from the crowd. After that she moved towards Murdoch as fast as her gown would allow, causing even more of a ruckus. From the way she was smiling at him, (and the fact that she was doing this at all) he knew his doubts had been unfounded. He smiled back, ecstatic at what was occurring, and damn the consequences.

In the middle of the lane way they met, standing close together but not quite touching. No words were spoken, there was no need for them. He had done what he had came here to do and it was high time they left. Holding out his arm, she took it and they headed towards the doors that were still wide open, with what appeared to be storm clouds overhead.

Before they exited, there was a great outcry from behind, from Darcy.

"Stop!" he exclaimed, dropping the flowers and running towards them. "Stop right this minute!"

"It's over Darcy!" Murdoch said somewhat smugly, "she's chosen me!"

"I don't care! I warned you that I would fight for her in the extreme!"

"I'm sorry, Darcy, but I don't love you! Not like I do William! If I had gone through with this, we'd just be living a lie! Surely you wouldn't want that?"

Rather than make him seize up, her words seemed to infuriate him all the more. Murdoch released his hold on Julia and prepared to fight. What would have turned into a violent altercation was thankfully avoided, thanks to a little unasked for help in the form of George and Brackenreid (the former as he knew the extent of their love for one another and the latter because Margaret had made him; okay the other reason as well). They had followed Darcy soon after and Brackenreid was now holding him back. Darcy's best man had tried to free his friend but George got in his way instead. The fact that they were both police men, seemed to make him think twice about fighting them and he quickly gave up his attempt, standing there stupidly.

"Well go on then, me old mucker!" hollered Brackenreid. "This bull is about ready to charge! I don't know how much longer I can hold him!"

They took his advice and descended the many stairs, all the while listening to Darcy's threats.

"You'll regret this, Murdoch! You'll pay for this dearly!"

"Oye!" came Brackenreid's voice, loud and clear, near the bottom. "That's a police officer you're threatening! One of the best!"

At his bosses last words, Murdoch's heart fell, suddenly ashamed of everything he had done, of dragging Julia down with him into his disgrace.

A shadow clouded his features, like the sky overhead, as they neared the waiting carriage, the one intended for the bride and groom. Once they arrived at its doors, the coach driver held the door open for them, saying congratulations, apparently deaf not to have heard all the ruckus nearby. Murdoch helped her into the carriage, trying to ignore the unpleasant feelings knawing away at him. Taking off, Julia finally noticed that something was amiss.

"William, what's the matter?" she asked concernedly, taking his hand in hers. "Are you unwell?"

He could try to lie and pretend like everything was fine but he couldn't; wouldn't do that to her, not after the position he had put her in.

"I'm not sure how to tell you this, Julia."

She squeezed his hand saying, "Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

Looking up into her beautiful bluish green eyes full of compassion, he forced himself to get this over with. "I did something terrible." Her eyes expanded with fear at his tone. "I let Ava Moon go, Littlefair's murderer." Julia gasped and then released his hand. She didn't say anything so he continued. His eyes welled with emotion. "I had to, Julia. My conscience demanded it of me. I-"

Julia put a gloved finger to his lips to silence him. She didn't know the whole story, but she didn't need to. If William had thought it necessary to break the law in such a major way, clearly things had been unspeakably terrible for this Ava Moon person. And from the little she had seen of Littlefair, she could well believe him capable of brutalizing a woman, or two.

"It's okay, William," she said soothingly, bringing his head to rest on her chest. She stroked his hair gently. "It's going to be all right. We'll figure this out together."

There was silence for a long while as he calmed down. Finally he spoke again.

"I can't go back. We can't go back. Not until this all blows over."

"I know."

More silence.

Then he sat upright and said, "Julia, have you ever been to the Yukon?"

Bam! And that's how it should have gone! You're welcome! :D