Murdoch knew what he had done was right, or at least that's what he kept telling himself; had to tell himself in order to get through the day. Sometimes following the honourable path in life meant giving up that which was desired the most, even if the pain it caused was all consuming, like a wildfire that engulfed a forest; never to be tamed or satisfied until it wreaked utter havoc, destroying everything it touched; burnt to a crisp and unrecognizable. Much like this, there was an inferno holding his heart hostage to it's every devilish whim, slowly devouring his already stunted emotions so that he could barely function anymore. But function he must, for he had a job to do and no one else could do it quite like he could. Of course, he'd never admit this out loud, for he was far too modest for that sort of self pride, it was vain and unseemly and not at all like a proper Catholic should act.
If there was one thing his mother taught him before her untimely death, it was that. He never forgot their time together and the lessons learned and so was forever shaped into the man he had become, or so he had thought. Murdoch had been as unyielding in his beliefs as the granite that made up the Canadian Shield. However, all of that carefully groomed correctness had slowly been chipped away at; his edges smoothed over until he was a new man. Everything had changed after he had met her, had loved her.
No, he wouldn't allow himself to think of such things. Those memories only gave the fire more fuel with which to scorch his already damaged heart. He felt like he had been teetering on the brink of an abyss for the past three months. By some miracle he had managed to avoid the plunge and complete breakage, something that took all his will power to sustain. As a result, he was constantly exhausted, more so than any other point in his life, including the death of his fiancée. All he wanted was a chance to rest and catch his breath. Maybe with a little more time he would. That was all he hoped for now.
With these thoughts in mind, he almost turned his bike around half way to the station house. Fleeing back home would be so much easier than facing her for the first time since her marriage to that odious man. At home he could get lost in the bottle again, as he had done so many times before during his stay in the Yukon. He stopped riding momentarily, and shook his head vigorously as if to clear that idea out of his mind. For who was he kidding? He never took the easy way out of anything. He would make himself go, no matter what. The sooner he accepted the consequences of his actions, the better.
Parking his bike outside the precinct, he tugged on his vest to straighten it out and took off his hat so that he was holding it in his left hand. Then he took a moment to collect himself into the orderly man that everyone had come to know and admire. After one last deep breath he finally headed on in, forcing himself to smile.
As he made his way to his office, all the lads in the station approached him in order to shake his hand. They all had big grins across their faces. It was nice to be surrounded again by people who cared for him; he hadn't realized how much he had missed it.
Murdoch had a bit of trouble getting into his office because Crabtree had set a large plant in the doorway, for some mysterious reason. Then again, most of what Crabtree said or did was baffling to him. But he liked him all the same. Crabtree was like a beloved dog. He was trustworthy, loyal and kind and he always came running when called for.
Murdoch stood in the doorway for a second, just watching Crabtree fiddle with his typewriter. Typical Crabtree to go breaking it. Then Crabtree noticed him and quickly came over to embrace him like a son would a father, all the while exclaiming his joy at Murdoch's return. Soon he launched into a description of the case he had been working on but Murdoch paid him no mind. For the first time that morning, his mouth formed a real smile and he laughed quietly to himself. Oh, Crabtree, how I missed your incessant babbling.
Unfortunately, now was not the time to be happy, for he had a much more unpleasant matter to attend to. While he already knew it was pointless, he had to at least try to do it, his conscience demanded that much of him. And so it was with a heavy heart that he entered his bosses office.
Brackenreid was the only one who appeared to not be happy at his return. As soon as he saw Murdoch, his brow furrowed deeply and he went to go make himself a drink. Murdoch closed the door behind him so that they could discuss his horrible deed in private.
Brackenreid took several gulps and then turned around to face him. In his usual brusk manner he said, "So you came back after all. I wasn't sure that you would. You were gone so long I thought you had taken up prospecting for good."
"I can't deny that there weren't certain charms to that lifestyle. It was uncomplicated and peaceful."
Brackrenreid eyed him closely and said, "Don't give me that bullocks, Murdoch. You and I both know that there was nothing peaceful about your little trip." Murdoch said nothing but averted his gaze. "I expect you want to start working here again. Well, the fact is, we need you back, on the double. If anythings clear in this world, it's that Crabtree's no William Murdoch."
Ignoring his flattery and simultaneous put down of his protégé, he said, "Actually, sir, I wanted to discuss my situation." He took a deep breath for show and said, "I've had a lot of time to think about it and I've decided to confess my sins."
Brackenreid whirled around and glared at him. "You can't do it, Murdoch. It'd ruin me. Hell, it'd ruin my family. I lied for you, protected you. It's not an option. I can't believe you'd even think so! If you need to confess so badly, go see a priest, or whatever it is you Catholic blokes do. You'll get no absolution here."
He responded exactly the way that he expected him to. Murdoch had already thought of all the repercussions of his actions. He knew that he could never reveal his crime to the chief of police, or many other innocents would be irrevocably tainted in the process. His conscience would just have to deal with it, somehow. He nodded his acquiescence to his boss and left the room.
Now for one last terrible idea. He knew he shouldn't go there but he just couldn't stop himself. It was like there was a magnet attached to his soul that was forever pulling him towards her and her to him; unavoidable like the laws of physics.
As he entered the morgue, his heart leapt inside his chest. Whether this reaction was caused more by joy than by fear, he couldn't be certain. All he knew was that the two emotions were overwhelming him. Therefore, he halted briefly before rounding the corner to where she undoubtedly would be; where he had seen her so many times before.
Yes, she was there. Even though her back was to him, he would recognize her anywhere. Her hair glimmered in the lighting like diamonds, at least he perceived it so. He wanted so badly to call out to her but when he tried, found his mouth had gone as dry as sand and was therefore unable to make a sound. So he just stood there and gazed lovingly at her for as long as he dared. She would most likely notice him at some point and he wasn't sure he could handle getting closer to her than he already was. This was a worse idea than he had previously thought, he had to leave. It was imperative that he got out of there before she spotted him. He just couldn't deal with this right now, he only foolishly thought that he could.
In his mad rush to get out of there, his shoes squeaked on the tiled floor. The sound was deafening to him and his heart felt like it plummeted into his stomach. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth and prayed that she hadn't heard. Unfortunately, he would have no such luck. For when he opened them, she was staring directly at him. She looked extremely startled to see him there. However, neither of them made a move but neither of them broke eye contact either. They remained this way for several moments. Finally Murdoch manned up and walked over to where she sat. He would have given anything to avoid this confrontation right now but he knew it was going to happen sooner or later, and apparently fate had deemed the former to be just. It serves him right for his past crime.
"Doctor," he said awkwardly. "You're looking well."
Following suit, she didn't use his Christian name but only just managed it. "Wil- Detective," she stammered. Regaining her composure she continued with, "How nice to see you've come back. Did you enjoy your sabbatical?"
He was confused momentarily but then understood. Of course this was what Brackenreid had told everyone. Why else would he have gone off for three months? He hoped that she didn't think it was purely because of her. But he wasn't going to ask and there was no way he could tell her the truth anyways. So he let the matter die in his mind as soon as it formed.
"Very much, indeed. It was refreshing to have some time to myself."
"I can imagine," she said softly. Her look made him think that she didn't buy his story for a second. However, in the next instant it was gone and she was talking normally again. "Isn't it strange that at the moment you gained so much freedom," she laughed, "I myself lost it."
She was trying to be funny, of course. Like she always did when the situation was unbearably awkward. "Ah, yes, your marriage. Let me congratulate you now on that." He took her hand in his and began to shake it. Her touch was so warm and familiar that he wished he could hold on to it forever, but as it was, his hand had already lingered for longer than was appropriate. Dropping her hand quickly he said, "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner but-"
"It's okay. You don't need to explain, I quite understand."
Oh, no you don't, Julia. You don't understand at all.
She must have taken his silence as confirmation that her suspicions were right, for she now changed the topic. "So, what can I do for you today, detective?"
Leave Darcy and marry me.
"Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to stop by and say hello. I don't actually have any cases at the moment."
Smiling, she said, "That's what I thought. I didn't think there were any dead bodies that I was unaware of." Then she winked and said, "Well, I'm sure there are but you know what I mean."
He smiled politely at her joke like he always did. Turning slightly as if to leave, he found that he couldn't. To his horror, he was rooted to the spot! Little did he know, his soul magnet was the cause of his woes. The more he tried to struggle against it's pull, the stronger it became and the more he perspired. Now what was he supposed to do?
Julia stared at him for a little while and then said, "Is something the matter? You don't look well."
He tried to say that everything was fine but no words came out. Oh, no! My voice isn't working again!
When he didn't respond she looked at him with growing concern. "William," she said, "Why aren't you answering me? What's wrong?" She stood up and felt his forehead. "Oh, dear! You're burning up!" She grabbed his hand and said, "Here, take my seat while I go get a thermometer to check your temperature. I fear that it could be dangerously high."
Once he was sitting, she headed off in search of a clean thermometer, preferably one that she didn't use on dead bodies. However, it was at this point that he began to feel extremely woozy. And so it was that within seconds of leaving him, he collapsed off of the chair and landed noisily on the ground.
"William!" she exclaimed as she came rushing back to him.
Her perfect face hovered over his as he passed out and all went black.