AN: Fa, no way… too lazy to write anything that actually matters…
It wasn't as if he did not deserve it. Oh, he deserved it. So much. He had failed Julia. That was it. That was all.
Coming home was hard; with all the questions Mrs. Kitchen showered him with. They fell like shrapnel from a bomb across his skin, and he brushed them off the same way he had with Dot and Esther. Minimize the problem. It would go away if he did.
George, bless his obnoxious soul, had brought Betty along when he heard of the detective's arrival to Toronto. She had even taken the liberty upon herself to prepare a little coming-home party. Three months, Betty pertly asserted, was a very long time indeed to be away from home.
Among the welcomers were Henry Higgins, George and Betty (of course) and two very unexpected guests.
A doctor from Buffalo, recently moved to Toronto with his beautiful fiancée was in attendance. The doctor explained that the pathologist at the constabulary, Dr. Francis, had moved back to England after an unfortunate accident had felled his brother.
Murdoch was genuinely sorry to hear of it, but even more so to hear of the mystery doctor's engagement. When Darcy, the man had introduced his future wife, she had flown to her friend and former lover's arms. She told him that since Dr. Francis's untimely leave, and since she had been in Toronto at the time, she would be taking over for him at the morgue. "Just like old times," she had said with a smile, careful to conceal her new ring from sight. She was being modest, as always.
She and her fiancé, like George and Betty, stayed late, speaking of their lives, oblivious of the rubble that lay merely across the table from them. Ruins, but not so damaged as to be broken forever.
Hopefully.
Probably.
Anna was not there. George had sent a telegram to her, but she had been in New York at the time and could not make it back in time for the festivities. She sent her sincerest apologies, even forgiving Murdoch for his actions at the police station. She truly was an angel.
George and Betty were talking marriage. Betty glowed with the news, and George grinned from her happiness. Ruby Ogden would be disappointed.
By the time everyone left, it was late, and Murdoch retired to his tired, familiar old cot with a sigh. Julia was gone. The knowledge burned in the back of his mind but he couldn't release it. He had let his relationship with Enid go, forgotten, by the wayside because of Julia. Enid, with her son who had begun to treat him like a father; Enid, who had let him be who he needed to be.
Three women. Two broken hearts. Would he make Anna three?
AN: Dum, Dum, DUMMMM! So, thoughts? I know, angsty and stuff, but whatevs, I didn't really have much of a plan for this chapter, so angst will do to fill in the rest. (Sorry for the discrepancies in the plot line (ya know, with the whole Julia/Murdoch pissing Francis off and stuff)
