The next day, I had most of my trunks packed and ready to be carried to the station. My train was at 8:30 the next morning and I needed everything ready as I felt today might be busy at work and I needed a good night's sleep before the ordeal of tomorrow set in.

I busied myself about the morgue, constantly hoping that William would come through the door. At about six in the evening, he did.

"I hoped I'd find you here," he said earnestly.

"William, I didn't think I'd see you under the circumstances."

"Julia," he paused and took a breath. "Nothing in this world means more to me than you."

I looked down, feeling happiness and sadness wash through me all at once. "William, I…"

"And I believed you'd felt the same for me," he said hesitantly, afraid of my response it seemed.

"But I do," I could feel my throat closing.

He frowned. "Then I simply don't understand. There must be something you're not telling me," he insisted. I could feel my willpower draining from me and I knew I had to tell him now.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked desperately.

I took a deep breath, hoping to God that my strength would hold out. It was hard to speak and I tried to say something, but nothing came.

William took it as hesitancy and insisted further. "Julia, please," he begged. "I have to know."

Tears were now filling my eyes and I saw his anguish through blurred vision.

"Very well," I finally managed. "Ever since the kidnapping of the Inspector's son, it's been clear to me how much you want a family. But, my abortion…"

"That means nothing to me," he interjected quickly. Too quickly, I feared, knowing that it was what he thought was pushing me away. "We've put it in the past," he insisted.

I couldn't bear the hope that I could see building in his eyes. It made what I had to say next even harder. "William," I stopped him, "It left me sterile," I said finally.

The hope drained. I kept explaining, knowing that if I didn't keep talking, I would break down at any second. As it was, my throat was blocked, I could barely breathe and my eyes were burning with tears. "I should have told you before now, but I…I was frightened… of losing you, to something I couldn't control, and so I decided to assert control myself."

The tears swimming in William's eyes pained me more than ever. "By leaving?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he was crying in sympathy for me, the fact that I was leaving, or the fact that staying with me meant a childless future for him, or maybe it was all three.

"It's for the best," I said. He tried to say something, but I stopped him. "Well, isn't it?" I felt so horrible, smiling to cover up my own pain and despair. "This way you can meet a woman who can give you the life you deserve."

Shock overtook William and he struggled to say something, anything.

"William, please say something," I begged, fearing what that might be.

"I don't know what to say," he breathed. His forehead was furrowed in confusion and desperation. He was crying obviously now and I wanted to hug and kiss him and tell him how sorry I was and that everything would be okay and that I wouldn't leave, but would stay with him forever, but he remained silent.

"Yes. Well that says it all, doesn't it?"

"No, no, I…" I desperately wanted him to reassure me that it didn't matter to him and that we would find another way, but as always, the door to the morgue opened and George stepped in.

"Sir," he called.

Of all the times he interrupted us, this one was the most maddening. I found myself terribly angry, wanting to yell at him to leave, but instead I looked away, not wanting him to see us in such a state and tried to swallow back the tears.

"I think we have something," he continued, oblivious to our distress.

"Yes, George," I heard William choke out and George left.

I waited for the inevitable.

Barely audible, and with tears still spilling onto his face, William whispered, "I have to go."

I nodded, smiling gently, knowing that his work would always be a priority, through no fault of his own. Besides, I told myself, his not saying anything was all I needed. I knew he wanted to, but the fact that he didn't jump at the chance to stop me made me realize it was for the best.

"Yes," I breathed. I couldn't look him in the eye. I couldn't bear to watch him.

He turned and walked out. I choked out another sob and put my hand on the morgue slab, steadying myself as I felt my knees go weak. When the door closed behind him, I couldn't hold it in any longer and I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into my hands. My body shook with a force I had never felt before. How could I have done this to him? How could he have done this to me? Why hadn't he fought more and waited before running off to the case? Why wasn't I more important? My sobs echoed through the morgue and I prayed no one passing by could hear me.