Disclaimer: Set right after S5 Ep1.

Wild, Wild Yukon

Chapter One: Welcome to Yukon

"What time is it already? I feel like we left the station hours ago but the sun doesn't seem to go down."

"Sir, it won't settle down, you see we are in June and I've read that here in Yukon there's close to six months of daylight and six months of night. I know it sounds strange, but unfortunately I wasn't able to find more information, as you see, this territory was created only one year ago and not many people have chosen to-"

"Bloody hell, Crabtree, I asked for the time, not a goddamn conference!"

"Ah, of course sir, it's half past eleven…"

If they hadn't been piled up in a tiny carriage for the past three hours, with that incredible heat and the stench emanating from the sweat-soaked seats, Julia Ogden might have found the exchange comical. But being squeezed in-between two men and a pile of suitcases, with no chance to even stretch her legs, had done a number on her patience. Her fan was only blowing hot air on her face which did nothing to cool her down, Thomas Brackenreid was twitching restlessly on his seat, and although he blamed the horses, she was quite certain that George Crabtree's intestines hadn't been very receptive to that last meal on the train.

Sighing, she decided to think about the reason why they had decided to travel to Yukon.

Five months had gone by without any news from Detective William Murdoch. The constabulary had received a single letter, notifying them of his arrival at Dawson City, last winter. But after that, nothing, not even the smallest telegraph. And of course, there was no telephone in Dawson allowing long distance calls from Toronto.

This lack of news had Brackenreid very concerned – he would never admit it, but Julia could read right through him. He was afraid that something had happened to his prized detective, or worse, maybe Murdoch didn't want to come back at all! So the Inspector had hurried and bought three tickets to the border of Klondike, bringing along the two people he knew could talk Murdoch into coming back to Toronto: George Crabtree and Julia Ogden.

So here they were, in a carriage en route to Dawson, after several days spent sharing a train with gold washers-to-be in high boots, barbers, grocers and a variety of other professions. Yukon the Young was bare, wild, and looked like a promise of freedom to everyone who knew how to dream. It only seemed natural that so many people were willing to try their luck.

I wonder if that's what William came here to find… Freedom…

Her heart felt suddenly very heavy; after all, what right did they have, coming here to try and drag him back to Toronto? What if he was much happier here, in the wilderness? With his latest case and, there was no hiding it, her wedding, maybe he didn't want to return to his old life as a detective. He was hurt, she knew it, but he never made his intentions clear to her. He didn't even respond to the last note she left him before her wedding, although she knew that George had given him the cream-colored envelope. He never voiced his feelings, and she wasn't going to wait forever for him to make a move.

Then why do I wish things were different?

"Ha, sir, ma'am, I think that's a town up ahead!" George announced, his head out the window.

"About darn time, too," Brackenreid grunted.

Ten minutes later, they gratefully stepped out of the carriage and into Dawson's main street. The "town" consisted of no more than twenty buildings arranged to form three or four large streets with large balls of hay flying to and fro, scattering dust everywhere. The sidewalks were mostly empty save for a few men, prospectors by the looks of them, who were discussing. Julia noticed that some of them were staring at her, but she chose not to care.

Brackenreid heaved the last suitcase out of the carriage with a grunt. "Well, here we are. First things first, let's find hotel rooms, I'm sleeping on my feet."

"Here sir, The Midnight Sun, looks promising," George pointed out, grabbing his suitcase and holding out his hand toward Julia. "Doctor, please allow me."

"Oh no George, thank you, but I'm fine," she told him with a smile, picking up her own suitcase. "The hotel is not that far."

The little group crossed the street and entered the establishment. Inside, it was somewhat stuffy, but at least they were shielded from the sun. George and Crabtree pulled off their hats to dab at their foreheads as Julia took a look around. The first floor was a saloon, and reminded her of descriptions she had only seen in novels dealing with the Wild West and tales of Buffalo Bill. There was a large countertop, with old rusty shelves and equally old bottles of liquor sitting on them. There was no glass mirror, though, for the cow-boys to watch their backs when they were sipping at their scotch. The idea made her chuckle.

There were a few tables in the room, but only one of them was occupied by a sleeping man.

Brackenreid walked over to the bartender, a tall and muscular redhead, who was cleaning glasses behind the counter. "Greetings, sir, do you happen to have any vacancy?"

"As a matter of fact I do, it's been pretty calm these last few days, have your pick," the man answered, motioning to a wooden rack where keys were suspended on nails.

"Well, we'll take rooms 9, 10 and 11, thank you." As the bartender retrieved the keys and a dusty worn-out book from a shelf, Brackenreid decided to try his luck. "Incredible heat, eh?"

"Yes sir, it's quite unusual here, but the old ones say it won't last."

"Say, did you rent a room to a fellow named William Murdoch these last few weeks?"

"I just arrived last week, sir, I don't know everyone yet, but I'm going to check." He put the book on the counter and opened it, shuffling through the pages. "Murdoch, Murdoch… ah, yes, here. Room 24. I remember him know, a very nice fellow, brought back a deer or two when we were short on meat. Never picks up fights but he sure can throw a good punch."

George and Julia exchanged a weird look; William, hunting deer and fighting in a bar?

"Lovely, and would you happen to know where he is?" the Inspector asked, leaning his arm on the counter.

The gesture revealed part of his police badge, and the tall bartender frowned. "He's not in any kind of trouble, is he? He's a decent man, he helps out a lot, so if you're-"

"We just want to speak to him, we know him well," Julia said calmly.

The redhead swept a suspicious glance across their three faces, but seemed to believe them. "He's not here, not right now I mean. I think he went for a ride down the river, I don't know when he'll be back."

They thanked him, gave him their names to write down in his book and began to ascend the stairs to their rooms, their luggage in their arms. They were on the second floor, with room 10 on the right, 9 and 11 on the left. Julia checked her key, where a big 9 was engraved, and walked to the right door. "Well, sirs, I assume you are going to rest after such a stressful journey," she told them, and Crabtree could only nod eagerly. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"You don't want to eat something downstairs? Our last meal on the train was hours ago," Brackenreid inquired, and she had a feeling that he was not going to sleep without a nice, big plate of whatever they could cook here.

"I'm not very hungry, thank you Inspector."

"Well, good "night" then doctor, if you need anything, let me or Crabtree know."

She gave them a smile and nodded before entering her room.

It was a nicely furnished room, considering they were in the middle of nowhere. The red carpet and wallpaper were a little old and worn-out, but overall everything was well kept and clean. The double bed in the corner looked very comfortable, and while the dressing table next to the window was quite small, it was more than Julia had hoped.

The pathologist deposited her suitcase next to the bed and walked to the window to open the curtains and let some sunlight in; her room was overlooking the street, and she noticed that they were a few more men out there than when she arrived with Brackenreid and Crabtree. Some were walking, and others were riding horses at a slow, even pace, as if they had all the time in the world.

One particular rider caught her attention; the man was wearing high, black boots and a large dark hat to shield his eyes from the sun. The color of his trousers was undefined, covered as they were by the dust his mount was sweeping up with its hooves. The man had his sleeves rolled up, and Julia could tell from his tanned forearms that he had spent a considerable amount of time basking in direct sunlight.

The horse itself was a real beauty; not a speck of any color other than jet black was adorning its coat, and it seemed to stroll effortlessly along the street with its long and muscular legs. Julia was no expert, but the fine lines on the animal's back and its solid croup certainly were an untold promise of fantastic gallops through the plains of Yukon. The rider certainly was a lucky man.

The unknown man stopped his horse in front of the saloon and got down from his saddle. He turned around, exposing the back of his long and tattered jacket to Julia, to pull off his hat and wave it at someone on the other side of the street, a young man wearing a long beige overcoat.

Julia was about to detach herself from the window to tend to her suitcase, when the rider turned around once more, without putting his hat back on, and her heart skipped a beat.

The owner of the black horse was none other than William Murdoch.

Julia didn't bother with a shower as she first intended to; she just slipped on a fresh dress and arranged her hair quickly before leaving her room. Her heart was still beating fast, and she had no idea why, actually. We came here to see him, I knew it, so why does it feel so strange?

She walked down the stairs and unconsciously took a last glance in a mirror on the wall to check her appearance. She pulled back a few golden strands, and took a big breath. What on Earth am I so nervous about? This is William, for heaven's sake!

The doctor gathered her courage and took a peek in the saloon. The sleeping man was still sprawled out on his table, which had Julia wondering if he was even alive at all, and two men were laughing at the bar. A quick search was enough to spot William; he was seated in the far corner with the young man in the beige overcoat, and the two of them were discussing and pointing at pages in a book. He didn't have his hat on, and from where she stood she could see the tousled brown hair and the stubble adorning his jaw; a very unfamiliar sight, to say the least.

Julia suddenly felt very self-conscious, hesitant at the prospect of walking over to him. What would she say? Would he be happy to see her again? Or would he rather she left him alone, forever? She couldn't decide; she had travelled for days across the whole country, and yet she was frozen in the doorway, unable to make a choice. This new William… he intimidated her.

The young woman shook her head and made her way to the counter. She could drink something to fend off the overwhelming heat and thus buy some time to decide on a course of action.

"Could I have a glass of water, please?" she asked, and smiled when the bartender nodded.

"Well, well, well, Logan, lookee here what I found." Julia turned her head to the right; one of the two men she had seen before was giving her a crooked smile. His friend, whose name apparently was Logan, was giving her a strange look. "Hello there, young lady."

"Hello, sir," she replied politely, but her tone made it clear that she had no desire to strike up a conversation. She focused on the bartender who was pouring her a glass of water.

But the unknown man would have none of it. "Never seen you 'round here, you new?"

"Yes, I arrived today actually." She didn't know where this was going, but she didn't like the glint in his eyes and she prayed it was only due to alcohol. Or maybe not.

"D'you hear that, Logan? Just arrived today, ah! Say, pretty face, I've got a nice big room, third floor, you wanna share the cost of the rent? Got a big bed, I'll take care of ya."

"Shut up, Davis, you're drunk," the bartender cut in, giving Julia her glass and an apologetic look. "Stop making a fool out of yourself."

"M'not drunk, and you, shut your goddamn trap." The man she now knew as Davis smiled at her again and got closer; so close actually that she could smell the whiskey on his breath. "C'mon pretty flower, I ain't that bad, I don't bite… Well unless you wanna."

"I have to say that's very tempting, sir, but I have to decline." Her voice was still polite, but firm. "Now please, leave me alone."

She tried to ignore him and sip at her glass, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. "Now listen here, you-"

"I believe the lady said no."

That deep voice. It sent shivers down Julia's spine, and for a moment, she forgot all about the stinking man clinging at her arm. Tentatively, she turned her head; and here he was, standing tall and steady. His dark eyes were focused on Davis, unwavering, and if looks could kill the other man would already be six feet underground. She wondered if he had seen her; after all, she was a bit hidden behind the drunken man's large back.

Davis gave a rough laugh and turned around to face her long-time friend. "Well, what a surprise, our good ol' Willy! Always sweepin' in to save girls, eh?"

"Step away from her, your presence clearly upsets her," Murdoch said calmly, but his eyes were hard.

"Or what? Whatcha gonna do to me, uh?"

"We could make you leave this saloon like you've never done before, with your head first." The voice belonged to the young man who was previously chatting with William; Julia hadn't even seen he was standing next to the detective.

Davis barked out another laugh, and was soon joined by his friend Logan. "You two half-wits don't even stand a chance, leave us grown-ups deal with our business, would yah, or we're gonna have to bash you heads in!"

The tension in the room was excruciating, and Julia began to feel very nervous about the outcome of a potential fight. And so did the bartender, if the way he was shuffling his feet anxiously was any indication.

"For the last time, please leave this establishment," William said politely.

"Make me, pansy."

The blow landed on Davis' jaw before anyone else registered that William's fist had sprung up. The large man flew backward and hit the counter hard, but he soon recovered and charged at the two younger men with a feral growl. William's friend tripped him, sending him toppling to the dusty floor; but soon they were assaulted by Logan, who was at least as furious as Davis, but also very sober. The man grabbed William by the lapels of his jacket and threw him away and into some chairs that went flying on impact.

William grunted and hurried to his feet, but when he got up Logan caught him again, by the throat that time, and began to crush his windpipe. The detective was very red in the face by the time his partner picked up a chair and smashed it on Logan's head, effectively freeing him. Out of breath, they still managed to kick and drag their two assaulters out of the saloon and throw them in the street.

That's when Julia realized she had been rooted to the spot all along, her hand still holding on her glass of water for dear life. It all happened so fast… She was shaking a little, from shock she assumed, but otherwise she had no time to feel anything else.

She only regained some of her senses when William and his friend came back into the saloon.

"Are you alright, Mr. Murdoch?" the bartender asked worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Oscar, I'm fine," he replied with a reassuring smile, but from the way he was rubbing his throat and his raspy voice, Julia knew that he was in pain. "Could you get me some water?"

"Right away, sir!"

William thanked him and, at long last, he turned to face her. "Well, milady, you can rest assured that-"

He stopped short as their gazes finally locked, and she then knew that he hadn't recognized her earlier. She fought against her fear and worries and gave him a smile. "Hello, William."

He was silent for a few seconds, as if in a trance, but he pulled himself out of it. "Julia…"

"You two know each other?" William's friend asked, his puzzled blue eyes travelling from one face to another. When they nodded wordlessly, he turned to Julia and extended his hand with a warm smile. "My name's Jack London. Welcome to Yukon."