Murdoch awoke once again to the rumble of distant gunfire and explosions. In fact, he had awakened this way almost every time since coming to this Godforsaken place. Today he had been lucky; he had gotten more than three hours of sleep before the fighting had commenced anew. Oftentimes, he would go several days without any rest and subsisted mostly on coffee, which he had acquired a taste for many years ago after the birth of his daughter. They had named her Olivia after Julia's mother who had passed away due to complications during childbirth. Julia and Ruby's brother hadn't made it either. He had been an unexpected surprise when the girls were much older and so they felt the pain of both losses that much more profoundly than if they had been too young to understand.

Fortunately and against all odds, Julia's pregnancy and subsequent birth had gone much better. Though there had been many worries about the child surviving full term, it had, or very nearly had (it was a month early). It became apparent almost immediately that Julia would not be able to give birth naturally. But since they had been extremely prepared for this eventuality, they had opted for this process to take place at a hospital, under the ever watchful eye of Dr. Tash. He used his vast experience and skills to safely perform the C-section on a heavily drugged Julia (she was completely put out with ether). Though there was a bit of a scare when he couldn't get the bleeding to stop. The crimson liquid had formed a small pool by the bedside by the time the doctor managed to locate the source of the leak and clamp it off. Shortly there after, Julia's complexion returned to normal (it had turned ash like) and both men released their pent up breath.

The baby itself was less fortunate, at first. Because she was premature, her lungs were not yet fully developed and it was difficult for her to breath. Murdoch stared at the gasping child in dread and feared the worst would soon befall her. However, gradually her breathing normalized and before long she was crying loudly, just like any healthy baby would have after being so rudely awakened. Apparently her lungs worked just fine and Murdoch smiled widely. The nurse handed Murdoch the normal looking child (for if you will recall, there had also been concerns of malformation) and he gazed at her with the most triumphant and ecstatic expression known to man, that of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Not long after, Dr. Tash told Murdoch to take the baby outside while he sewed Julia up; the less distraction, the better. Murdoch was so enraptured by his loudly screaming child that he didn't hear this and the nurse led him out of the room. It was many minutes later before he realized that he had been moved but it didn't take him long to figure out why. Within ten minutes Dr. Tash had completed his work and came out to shake Murdoch's hand, and to congratulate him. He told him it would be at least a half hour yet before Julia would awake from her slumber but that when she did, he expected her to be right as rain. Murdoch thanked him profusely and proclaimed him a Godsend as well as many other lovely things and Tash became a little embarrassed by such a display, by such a man and bid him good day.

Without further ado, Murdoch went back into the room and sat by her side, cradling the bundled up child lovingly, just dying to share his jubilation with the only other female he loved so completely, so profoundly, so unconditionally in all of the world. While he waited for Julia to wake up, and at some point unknown to him, for time ceased to matter, his daughter opened her eyes for the first time and Murdoch was enchanted by the sheer magnificence of such a simple act, especially when she was revealed to have the exact same bluish green eyes as that of her mother. The child blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the light, and when she focused on her father's face, ceased to howl.

"Hello my darling angel," he whispered and then kissed her forehead reverently. "Welcome to the world."

Olivia stared at him in apparent wonder, mirroring that of her father exactly. The next instant she opened her mouth wide and proceeded to cry again, if possible, even louder.

"There, there," said Murdoch, rocking her back and forth. "Everything is all right. No one's going to harm you. I promise I will always be there to protect you, no matter what."

He had broken that promise when he came here; had been forced to come here in order to protect his other child's life.

Ever since they had passed the Military Service Act on August 29th, 1917, Murdoch and Julia had feared that their son would be drafted. It had been a constant evil hanging over their heads, like a storm cloud about to release its tempestuous vigour, eagerly awaiting the first chance to ruin their sunny days. It was as if there was some sort of bizarre karma at play, some mysterious cosmic balance that must forever exist or else perish. So it was that at the happiest point in recent memory, the tables were turned and disaster had struck.

But the thing that really got his goat was that this could all have been avoided! About two weeks after the Act had come into being, Murdoch had finished preparations for his plan that would allow them to evade conscription altogether. They would move to the States until the war finally ended, whenever that would be. There they would be safe from both the Canadian and American military's influence (the latter because they were not American citizens). He had heard of several others doing this successfully and Murdoch had decided it was high time that his family do the same, lest his son be drafted. If Ben left for the States after this point, he would be forever labelled a deserter and ridiculed for the rest of his days. Better to leave before then when it was technically not considered a refusal to perform ones duty to his country. Unfortunately, things didn't go according to plan.

"Everyone, please stop," said Ben loudly as his family began getting their things together and placing them at the front door. They looked at him quizzically but did as they were asked. "I'm not going to the U.S."

"Of course you are!" exclaimed Julia, dropping the suitcase she was holding, the clothes spilling onto the ground. "Otherwise you will be killed!"

"You don't know that," said Ben quietly, looking away, unable to hold her stricken gaze, "you can't possibly know that."

Murdoch went over to his son and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Have you not been paying attention these last few years? Everyone is dying! Why do you think they needed to enforce this conscription in the first place?"

Ben extricated himself from his fathers grasp with ease, the strength of youth reigning supreme over his grey haired fathers, who was now fifty-six years of age.

Ignoring his words he said, "While I don't agree with fighting our fellow man, if my country has need of me, I will assist them in whatever way I can."

They stared at him disbelieving and Olivia started to cry and ran to him, her dark brown braid flapping in the wind, and wrapped her arms around him. He looked uncomfortable with this contact but made no attempt to remove his teenage sister.

"You can't go!" she cried, her voice melodic even in her distress. "I won't let you!"

"Dearest Olivia," he said gingerly, touching her face,"I'm afraid you don't have a say in the matter." She let go of him then and slumped to the ground, Julia coming over to rub her back. He looked at each of them in turn and rested his gaze on his father. "Frankly, I don't understand why you should be so worried about me. If I were to be drafted, they won't put me on the front line, I'm too valuable for that."

Murdoch got angry then at his sons arrogant attitude. "Do you think that just because you know some medicine that you will be safe from that? Even if they don't put you at the forefront of this atrocious war, there is still the chance that the medic tent will be bombed! The Germans will stoop to whatever level is necessary to win this war! Of that I have no doubt! Even you can't deny their tactics are absolutely repulsive! Gasing everyone in sight! Making them die in crippling agony! Because it's easier than shooting us! Because it's less expensive and more effective!" Ben stared at him somewhat shocked. It had been a long time since he had gotten so riled up about something. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself now?"

Ben became impassive as he said, "If it's as you say, father, then it's all the more reason for me to go there." Murdoch growled in frustration and Ben continued, "I can ease their suffering. I can put an end to pain. I can help those poor souls find salvation and lead them back home, back to our Father."

"You are not a priest," said Murdoch gruffly. "You have no authority to read them their last rites."

"That is true but I doubt very much that the men will care if it comes to that."

"You speak as if you have already made up your mind to go. As if you-" Murdoch's eyes widened and Ben stared at him unblinking. "You've already applied, haven't you?"

"What if I have?" said Ben. "I'm an adult now, I can make my own decisions."

There was weeping coming from the women, who were still on the ground and Murdoch tried to latch onto their utter despair.

"Look what you've done to your mother and sister! Look what you've reduced them to!" Ben refused his request and Murdoch continued in a desperate manner. "There's still time son! We can still leave here before it's too late!"

"As I said before, I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm not running away like some pathetic coward. I intend to perform my duty and that's that."

Without further ceremony he marched over to the doorway, grabbed the bag full of his possessions that his sister had carefully assembled while he had been studying at med school that afternoon and left the distraught family to their own devices. Murdoch feared he would never see him again.

Early the next morning, Brackenreid paid Murdoch a visit. He hobbled through the room, leaning heavily on his cane until he sat down, sighing happily. Brackenreid had badly injured his right knee six years ago after he fell chasing after a suspect and bashed it into the concrete sidewalk. Sadly, it had never fully healed and now he was cursed with this perpetual limp that continuously vexed him. No doubt this constant reminder of his failing youth was not a pleasant one, more so than the pain it sometimes caused him.

Skipping all pleasantries he said seriously, voice just as gruff as ever, "I've heard from some of my old army buddies that your son has volunteered for the fight. Did you know about this?"

"Yes," said Murdoch, "I found out yesterday."

Brackenreid nodded, absentmindedly twirling the non-existent moustache. "Do you also know what he will be doing when he goes over there?"

Murdoch gave him a puzzled look and said, "Why, he will be tending to those in need." The Chief Constable's face became apprehensive, which greatly alarmed Murdoch. "Won't he?"

"I'm afraid not, me old mucker," he said grimly. "Those bastards aren't interested in more doctors, especially ones who are still learning. They only want fighters. And they'll take them wherever they can get them. And since your son has some experience flying an airplane, they want him for that."

Murdoch's eyes widened and he clutched the sides of his chair, causing great indentations in the fabric. Pilots had the second worst survival rate out of all possible positions! The only worse placement was in the front line where no one stood a chance against those terrible machine guns and gas! And if it was as Brackenreid was saying, it was as if his sons death sentence had been signed, by his own hand no less!

This was all Pendrick's fault! It was because of him that Ben had had such great access to planes in recent years! If only he had never met the man, things would be different! Things would be better! Of course this was all very ungrateful of him to think about in relation to his old friend, especially when it had been done out of kindness (and Murdoch suspected loneliness, for you see, Pendrick had never remarried and had no children to call his own; his inventions had become his family) but Murdoch couldn't help it, he couldn't think clearly at the moment.

"You have to stop this!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"What do you want me to do, Murdoch? Ben willingly signed up, no one forced him into this. And I have no authority with the military any longer. I haven't had any for decades."

"Surely you must know someone who can do something?!"

Brackenreid thought hard about that for awhile and sighed. "I suppose I could try to persuade Ben's enrolling officer to reassign him before his papers are fully processed."

"Yes!" said Murdoch, shaking a finger at him,"Do that! That sounds good!" He grabbed his hat, "I'll come with!"

Brackenreid gave him an uncomfortable look. "Murdoch, it might be best if I do this alone. You aren't exactly thinking straight at the moment and might just get in the way." Murdoch opened his mouth to say something but his friend cut him off, "You wouldn't want to jeopardize this, now would you?"

"No, I suppose not," he said, putting his hat slowly back on the rack. With difficulty Brackenreid stood up and made his way to the door. Murdoch held out his hand, "Good luck, sir. I pray you succeed."

Murdoch waited anxiously for him to return and began pacing his living room floor, exactly along the usual strip of carpet that was now well worn because of this repeated action. Julia and Olivia returned about twenty minutes later from their morning walk to find him this way, immediately knowing that something was amiss.

"What is it dad?" asked Olivia, "What's happened?"

He glanced at her but didn't respond and continued pacing.

"William."

When his wife spoke in that tone of voice, he always stopped whatever he was doing and went to her. As he explained the situation to them, their emotions ranged from horror and despair to one of hope. Afterwards all three of them took a place on the sofa, hand in hand, their daughter in the middle and awaited whatever fate was to befall Ben in trembling silence.

An hour later there was a loud knock at the door. They shared a look with one another and then Murdoch hurried over to answer it. It was not Brackenreid but rather Ben and another man. He had never seen him before in his life but judging by his attire, knew he was a Captain from the military.

"Father," said Ben angrily, pushing past him and ignoring the stares of his family, "did you try to have me removed from the army?"

"No," said Murdoch, "not exactly. I tried to have you reassigned."

Ben looked at him in a puzzled manner. "Reassigned? Whatever for?"

Murdoch said very clearly, "They were going to place you in the air force, son."

His sons eyes got wide and he stared at the other man. "Is this true Captain Westfield?"

"Yes."

"Bu-but, you said that if I joined I would work as a doctor! That I would help people!"

"Things change," said the impassive man.

"You lied to me!" shouted Ben, pointing a finger at him. "You coerced me! This is a criminal offence!"

"No one forced you to sign, son. You did that all on your own. And now that you have, there's no going back. However," he said, a glint in his eye as he looked at Murdoch, "I could be persuaded to reassign your son if you agreed to help us."

"Me?" said Murdoch, sharing a confused look with his wife, who had come over to hear the conversation better. "What could you want from me?"

"Oh don't be so modest, detective. We've read all about your exploits in the Gazette. We know that you are quite the inventor. We could use some of that brilliance to defeat the Germans."

It was then that the truth dawned on him.

"That was your plan all along, wasn't it? You never wanted Ben, you wanted me!"

Captain Westfield said, "I don't deny it."

Ben fell to the ground muttering, "What have I done? What have I done?" and Olivia ran over to him and this time he embraced her like he normally would.

"You were planning to leave the country, we had to put a stop to that before you did so. Given your strong stance against the war, we knew that if we drafted you or your son, you would simply disregard orders and flee anyways." Murdoch stared at him in disbelief. How could his fellow country man stoop to such a level? "I'll tell you what, detective, I'll sweeten the pot a bit." He removed several pieces of paper, a pen and a lighter from his pocket. "You can have your wish, and then some. I'll burn Ben's papers right now if you sign this enlistment form." He slapped it on a nearby table and held out the pen to him.

And that was how he ended up in this dreary bunker, somewhere in England (he had lost track of where specifically because they constantly moved around), trying to improve the anti-aircraft technology that would finally put a stop to the constant bombings by the zeppelins and Gothas. But the worst thing about the whole affair was that his coming here hadn't even prevented anything! Ben had felt so guilty about his father being forced to enter the war that he had reapplied later. The good news was that this time he had gotten the position that he was suited for. But even though he was far from the front line, it was as his father had said, there was still constant danger all around and there was no telling if he'd make it out alive, if either of them would.