Just through the main doors was a pair of life sized metal frames. On either side of them stood an imposing man dressed in the same black uniform. George removed a pair of keys from his black leather jacket and stuck it in a tray just outside of one of these frames. Then he walked through it and the man standing beside it handed back his keys. Murdoch followed suit, but a light flashed and a loud noise sounded, startling him badly.

"Sir," said the man in black, "your watch."

Murdoch was about to search his vest pocket when he remembered he wasn't wearing one. Then he looked where the man was looking, (at his wrist) and pulled back his suit sleeve. A fancy timepiece resided there. He wondered how he could have missed that this whole time.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you step back and try again."

"Would you give it a rest!" snapped George from a few feet away. "He's the freaking CEO! He's not going to bomb his own building!"

This entire building belongs to me? thought Murdoch flabbergasted.

"I realize that, Mr. Crabtree. I'm just trying to follow protocol."

"Whatever," grumbled George, as Murdoch repeated the procedure sans watch.

"Everything all right here, boys?" came a familiar British accent.

"Yes, Brackenreid," was the quick, slightly nervous response.

Murdoch snapped his watch back on and gawked at the man before him. Brackenreid seemed to be twice the size of the man from his time. His gigantic build was practically bursting the seams of his uniform. Vaguely he was reminded of the pugilist from one of his earliest cases. Needless to say, only a fool would dare meddle with such a manly specimen as this.

"Mr. Murdoch," said Brackenreid with a smile. He held out a massive hand. Murdoch hesitated for a split second and received it, wincing internally. Surprisingly his bones were not crushed. "Would you like to hear my report now or later?"

"Let me guess," said George sarcastically, "everything ran right as rain?" The second half of that sentence was spoken in a poor approximate of Brackenreid's accent.

Brackenreid gave George a menacing stare that would have curdled a lesser mans blood. George just continued to smirk.

"Pity you had to come back too," said Brackenreid darkly, advancing slightly. "Why he keeps you around is beyond me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing."

"Listen here, sunshine-"

It looked like blood could be shed so he mediated the situation by clearing his throat and saying, "Gentlemen, please."

Both of them snapped out of their threatening stances and gave him a quick apology.

As they made their way to the elevator at the end of the main floor, Brackenreid gave him his report. George had been right. Everything had run smoothly in his absence.

The chief of security went his separate way once they reached the elevator, prompting George to make a rude comment under his breath. George hit the button for the top floor.

"You do not like Brackenreid very much."

"No, ya think?" said George sarcastically again, rolling his eyes.

"And what may I ask is the source of this discord?"

His companion glowered and said, "He stole my girl."

"Oh I see."

They rode in tense silence the rest of the way up.

Things were pretty quiet on the thirtieth floor, with only a single person sitting behind the receptionists desk. Murdoch raised an eyebrow when he recognized the woman to be Anna Fulford, but did not blurt anything out like he was wont to do on previous occasions.

"Will!" she exclaimed happily when the doors parted. "Welcome back!"

"Anna," he said, with a nod.

She came around the desk and hugged him. Murdoch awkwardly returned the gesture and George sniggered behind him.

"Stuff it," came Anna's response. She released him and he felt marginally more comfortable. "It's so good to see you, sir! Things have been pretty dull in your absence."

George frowned. "What, has Michael not been coming in and doing his job?"

"Yes, of course he has. I just meant..." she glanced away from Murdoch's face as her voice trailed off.

George sniggered again eliciting a glare from Anna.

Did no one like George in this time? He couldn't exactly blame them...

"Get us some grub would you, darling?"

"What would you like?" she said after composing herself.

"Surprise me." George smiled sweetly. "If I don't like it, I'll fire you."

Anna became indignant, "You can't-"

"It was a joke," waved off George.

"Very funny," she said. Anna headed back behind her desk and picked up the most normal looking telephone he had seen since coming to this era.

George placed a hand on Murdoch's shoulder and attempted to direct him somewhere else but Murdoch spotted his name on the office door beside Anna's desk and felt compelled to investigate.

"What are you doing?" said George exasperated, standing just outside.

It was bigger than the one from his time, but not overly gigantic like his residence. Odd windows lined one side of it. They were circular and about the size of a persons head. He imagined it would be hard to see much out of them. Perhaps that was the point? Fewer distractions?

Considering this space was sparsely furnished and rather plain, it would add up at least.

On the desk was a replica of...something, some sort of machine. There was an inscription on the base. It simply said, "To beginnings. JP."

George scowled at him. "I don't get why you never tossed that."

Murdoch shrugged.

"Well anyway, you've got a long day ahead of you." He jerked a thumb behind him. "Better get started as soon as possible."

They made their way to a room that appeared to be an assembly hall of sorts, judging by the number of chairs situated around the large oval table (twenty all told). A high backed chair at the farthest end seemed to be reserved for the overseer of this room.

Me, I suppose.

After taking his seat, George took the one nearest and stared at him. Apparently he was expecting him to do something but Murdoch didn't know what.

"You had your coffee today, Will?"

Murdoch shook his head. "I have not."

"That explains a lot actually."

George swiped a finger across the table in front of Murdoch and a schedule appeared! With difficulty, he restrained himself from touching.

"Looks like you've got the wonder twins up first." George smirked, "That should be good and long." He patted Murdoch on the back and stood up. "Well, have fun!" he laughed and left.

Once again, George was quite right. The wonder twins update on something called robotic hybridization was exceedingly lengthy. Even if Murdoch had been able to understand the faintest thing they were talking about, he would not have been able to focus for very long. For you see, the presenters were none other then Robert Perry and James Gillies!

They were just as pompous as he recalled from their brief encounters two years ago and he was very glad to be rid of them when they finally concluded their presentation, the only fascinating part being the designs showcased on floating images above the centre of the table! How such a feat was possible, he couldn't even begin to speculate.

Thankfully Anna had brought in some delicious fare (brightly glazed donuts; much better than the larva he had been expecting) a few minutes before this presentation began and he had occupied himself in eating far too many of them, which surely would have elicited more stares from George had he been present.

The rest of the morning and afternoon continued in much the same manner; a never ending stream of employees coming in and out of the conference room, giving him updates on their latest projects. This in itself wasn't so bad. The problem arouse at the end of each presentation when they stared at him expectantly, waiting for his feedback and/or guidance. Invariably his responses were very vague and almost every single person left that room bewildered.

So it was a great relief to him when George appeared and told him he was done for the day.

"You better head on home and get changed. You can't go on the show looking like," George made a face, gesturing at him, "that."

"Show?" he enquired mechanically.

George groaned. "Don't tell me you forgot again?"

"The show," Murdoch said nodding. "Yes, of course I remember."

George checked his own shiny wrist watch. "Traffic's gonna be a bitch. Better take the chopper."

They headed out to the back lot where the silver helicopter resided. George got into the passenger side, leaving the pilot's seat for him.

Once they were strapped in, George stared at him.

"You gonna get this thing started or what?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea, George. I'm rather tired," he added truthfully, when he received more strange looks.

George's face lit up and he rubbed his hands together. "Guess that means it's my turn for once!"

His gleeful attitude had the opposite effect on Murdoch, alarming him greatly.

"George, do you know what you are doing?" he asked as his colleague started flipping switches, apparently at random.

"Yeah, yeah, no worries. I've done this loads of times." The propeller began to whir and then abruptly stopped.

"George."

"Okay, maybe not loads but enough." This time the engine continued to throb through him for more than a few seconds. "See, I got everything under control."

When there was a fair amount of noise from the chopper's blades George placed a two sided apparatus over his ears, and Murdoch copied him soon after, pleased to note a marked decrease in external sounds. George pulled back on the stick in front of him and the chopper took to the air briefly and then touched down again.

"Just warming up!" he said hastily, when Murdoch raised an eyebrow in his direction. "It's supposed to do that!"

Again they went up in the air and came back down shortly after.

Murdoch lost his patience. "The sheer irresponsibility of continuing to pursue in this folly-"

"Oh, like you never live on the edge!" George snapped back.

"I try not to."

George whipped his head towards Murdoch and cackled with laughter through the intercom. "That was a good one, Will! You really sounded sincere!"

Taken aback, he nevertheless placed a firm hand to George's arm. "Turn this machine off right now."

"Or what?"

"Or I will make you turn it off."

George glared at him. "I don't do well with ultimatums."

In his most authoritative voice he said, "I am your superior and you will listen to me."

Finally George grimaced and did as he was told. The helicopter was still and silent.

"Now," Murdoch said calmly, "perhaps you can locate someone more qualified to pilot this craft?"

"Still don't get why you don't just do it yourself..." he grumbled.

"George!"

"Right away, sir," George said, hopping out.

Within a few minutes the on call pilot had been summoned and a little while later they were in the air. Suffice it to say, Murdoch was fairly frightened at first to be hurtling passed buildings at a much faster speed than the limo. Despite this fear, he was able to observe the entire city, all of which was so far removed from what he once knew as to be unrecognizable. By the time he began to enjoy himself, they had arrived at the landing pad atop the sixty-five foot high housing complex.

"Keep her running," said George to the pilot. "We'll only be a few minutes."

Julia was waiting for him in their apartment. She had been poring over files in their oversized living room just moments before. The noise from the helicopter had alerted her to their arrival.

She came right up to him and placed a hand on his forearm. "I heard about the incident in the park."

George muttered, "Nice to see you too."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No time, Jules, we gotta be in and out real fast if we're gonna make it there for six-thirty."

She glared at him. "I wasn't talking to you, Crabbytree."

Will smiled and patted her hand. "That's kind of you to ask, Julia, but I am fine. I simply had a momentary lapse in judgement."

Searching his chocolate depths, "Are you sure that's all it was?"

Will cleared his throat and looked to the left. "Indeed."

She had overseen enough interrogations to know he was lying. The grip on his forearm tightened. "The truth now."

"Jesus, Jules!" George exclaimed, tapping his foot impatiently. "We really gotta go!"

"Damn you and your schedule!" she retorted, eyeing George angrily. "You've always got him so high strung, it's no wonder he's lost his grip on reality!"

"Fine!" he shouted, throwing up his hands. "I'll go pick out his threads while you two love birds hash things out for the millionth time!"

George stomped out of the 'room'.

"Please, Will, tell me what is on your mind."

He gulped. "You will undoubtedly be vexed with me again."

"Whatever it is," she said, steeling herself, "I can handle it."

Will gestured towards the files scattered across the central coffee table. "As you may recall, you desired to know how I knew the identity of the bank robber."

"Yes, I admit to being curious about that," she said, brow furrowing, "but what does that have to do with the park incident?"

"All in due time, Julia." If he had patted her hand here again in that supplicating manner, she probably would have bit his head off. "I believe it prudent to ease you into my unusual revelation. I mean you no disrespect, but no matter what you say, you almost certainly cannot...handle it."

She was annoyed at his lack of faith but bit back her retort. He must have noticed because he said, "For you see, I myself am having troubles coming to terms with the...reality of my situation."

What was he trying to say? For a fraction of a second she feared he was going to say he was gay but then she mentally slapped herself for being so ridiculous and focused on his words again.

"I know who the culprit is because I have already solved the exact same case."

"What do you mean? Before you got into engineering, I thought you were a logger up north?"

Rather than answer her he said, "I have it on good authority that The Kissing Bandit is Paddy Glynn."

"What?!" she yelped. "How can it be him? He's the one that's been writing about it this whole time!"

Even as she said it, something clicked inside and she knew he was right. Glynn was always the first reporter on the scene, he was about the right height and build...everything fit! So it was that she barely heard Will's next words...she did not take kindly to looking foolish.

"Precisely, Julia," he said nodding. "His goal was to cause a media sensation and then reap the benefits."

"That rat bastard!" she barked, fists clenched. "I'm going to make him pay!"

And with that she grabbed her coat and vanished.

A moment later George stalked into the room with a parcel slung across his back. Presumably it was the suit encased in a black coverlet.

"Where'd Miss High and Mighty go?" George asked glancing around. Murdoch opened his mouth to respond. "Never mind, don't answer that. Let's go! You can change once we get there." There was a slight pause by the door, "Oh and one more thing," he said, whipping Murdoch's homburg off his head and tossing it like an elegant aerial projectile across the living room and into a bookshelf. "No dorky hats!"