Happened to re-read this recently and decided to revive it. I'm sure some of you will be glad...though you may need to re-read it yourself. In any case, here's the ending to the previous chapter, modified of course.
Jasper looked at him pointedly. "Now are you going to tell me what this is all about, William?"
"I still have the painting Sally gave me long ago and I wondered why."
Jasper closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. "William, I believe I told you to get some rest. Clearly you have not taken my advice." Jasper glanced at him. "If you're still hung up on Sally, then you need to be a gentleman and let Julia go. It's the least you can do considering you owe her your current liberty."
"But I don't want to let her go. I love her. I always have."
Jasper looked at him strangely. "Then I simply don't understand what your dilemma is, William. If you love her as much as you claim to, what is preventing you from proposing and moving on with your life?"
Murdoch glanced away and said, "It's complicated."
Jasper clasped his hands together and stood up. "Well, if you won't confide in me, I'm going to bed. Once again, I strongly advise you to do the same."
This parts kinda M-ish, so you have been warned.
Happily dreaming about Julia, lying on his bed of clouds, he was completely at peace with the world and his predicament. Then slowly, like a lazy tide coming in, he felt something he had never felt before. The sensation was pleasant, very pleasant and growing more intense with every second. With a jolt he jumped fully awake to find this Julia under the covers...attending to him in a most intimate manner! When she saw that he was awake, she simply winked up at him and continued her ministrations.
Murdoch had hesitated sharing a bed with Julia just for this very reason. Well, not that very reason, but something like it. But as much as he wanted to stay away from this Julia, he felt equally compelled to be near her, just like the Julia from the past. In the end his mind had been too exhausted to wage another internal war and he had simply plopped down beside her fully clothed, minus the shoes.
Mortified and flushing crimson, Murdoch did his best to push aside the intense stimulation and find his voice, shaky as it was. "J-Julia, what are you doing?" he asked dumbly.
She stopped long enough to seductively say, "Thanking you for your help with Glynn." Julia smiled mischievously and went back to her self assigned task with renewed vigour.
"That really isn't necessary!" he gasped, clutching at the silk sheets to try and steady himself and his ragged breathing.
Muffled, "Oh but it is."
Heart pumping wildly, he grit his teeth and tried to focus on a way to get her to stop. But short of laying violent hands on her, he couldn't think of anything, and his now almost overwhelming arousal made it impossible to grasp another coherent thought, except for a blasphemous phrase he had often heard in this time - particularly by his makeup artist Jessica - oh my God.
Somehow a sliver of sense returned to him. "Julia...no." When that murmured, half whimpered plea didn't have its desired effect he flat out groaned, "Please desist!" Gathering up the last of his wits he yelled, "Stop!"
Finally she heeded him and frowned. Murdoch took the opportunity to put some distance between them and hastily tucked himself back into the metal entrappings of his trousers. As he did so, he envisioned an irate prisoner in a jail cell clamouring to get out. Thinking of dead bodies helped to ease his suffering a bit, but only a little.
From under the covers she had watched him with increasing confusion and hurt. When he finished, she threw back the covers and barked, "What the hell is up with you? You've been acting so strangely lately! Ever since you got back it's like I've got the plague or something! You barely even make eye contact anymore!" Murdoch didn't respond or look at her. "Who is she?" Julia blurted out.
"Excuse me?" he said, with a jerk of his head.
Like a lioness stalking her prey, she crawled up the bed, (bosom half exposed) closer to his awkward sitting position on the pillows. Despite his best efforts, and to his chagrin, the prisoner banged on the bars, hard. Jabbing him in the chest she exclaimed, "Don't play dumb! I know you're having an affair! Again!"
Though he had no idea what the William of this time was up to romantically speaking, he nevertheless steadfastly replied, "I assure you I am not."
Years of detective work (and a few psychiatry courses) had honed her investigative skills to a tee. She was able to read facial ticks and pupils as easily as the pages of a book. As far as she could tell, he was not lying. Julia forced herself to calm down a bit and then approached this matter more professionally.
"Okay then," she said, backing out of his personal space and crossing her arms. "Explain yourself. I'm all ears."
Murdoch took a deep breath...and then his phone rang...or rather vibrated and glowed dimly from the depths of his suit jacket. While she silently fumed, he gave her an apologetic look and answered. It was Anna.
"I'm sorry to disturb you so early, Mr. Murdoch, but I've just been informed that you have a visitor waiting for you in the lobby."
"Oh? And who might that be, Miss Fulford?"
Julia stiffened at the name but simply bit her lip.
"A Mr. Brooks, sir. He's incredibly put out about a deal falling through and demands to speak with you in person. Immediately."
Deal falling through? It took him a moment to realize Anna must be referring to the artificial intelligence contract. Apparently even in the hospital George never stopped working. Murdoch made a mental note to visit with his friend as soon as possible.
"I'll be there straight away."
Before he even hung up, a simmering Julia said, "Oh no you don't. You're not leaving here until you explain yourself."
He took her hand. "Julia, I promise I will explain everything to the best of my ability once I return."
She pulled away, glaring at him. "Have it your way, Will, but don't expect me to be here when you do."
The atmosphere was very tense as he entered Murdoch's Mysteries. He glanced around for this Mr. Brooks but no one approached him, except for Brackenreid. "He wouldn't shut up so I let him go into the conference room...I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all."
They stopped at the end of the hall where the elevators were."You want me to come up with you, sir?"
"No, Thomas, I'm sure I'll be fine," he replied much more confidently than he felt.
Brackenreid grinned. "Thomas? No one's called me that since I was a wee lad decapitating barbie dolls for the hell of it." Murdoch didn't know how to reply to that so he didn't. Brackenreid regained his former professionalism. "Well, at any rate, I'll keep an eye on you from the control room. Mr. Brooks looks to be a nasty customer."
"Thank you...Tom."
Brackenreid smirked and then turned on his heel back in the direction he had come from. Taking a deep breath, Murdoch pushed the button to retrieve the elevator and a few moments later found himself at the topmost floor. Anna looked very relieved to see him and smiled warmly.
"Boy am I glad to see you, sir." She cocked her head towards the conference room where a tall man was pacing with his hands behind his back. "Mr. Brooks is a right little fu..." Anna stopped talking abruptly when she saw his expression. "He's very stubborn."
Murdoch approached her highly polished high topped desk and said, "I should have asked before, but I forgot. Who is Mr. Brooks again?"
She seemed taken aback at his forgetfulness. "Where is your glass?"
After a moment. "I seem to have misplaced it."
"Is the GPS broken?"
"Uh, I believe so."
Smiling, she shook her head and accessed her computer. "Okay, here we go. Arthur Brooks is a thirty-seven year old playboy who likes to latch onto all of the newest trends. It also says here that he likely hopes to turn himself into a cyber God in the future and that he is a delusional moron at the best of times," she paused, wrinkling her nose, "with an overwhelming ego as bad as his gas." Murdoch stared at her. "Hey, don't give me that look. These are George's notes, not mine. Speaking of...where is he? Isn't this the sort of thing he likes to handle?"
"There you are, Murdoch!" boomed a voice from far too close by, causing both of them to jump. The normally handsome man's features were distorted with rage. "Do you keep all of your business associates waiting for so long?!"
"No, just the ex ones," said Anna snarkily.
Brooks glared at her and Murdoch intervened before an argument could begin. "Please, Mr. Brooks, follow me," he said with a gesture towards his office.
The man stomped into the plainly furnished room and slammed the door. Before Murdoch took a seat behind his desk, Brooks was hounding him.
"What's all this crap about you pulling the plug?"
As if he were back in 1898, Murdoch rested his arms on the glass surface of his desk and steepled his fingertips. "It's quite simple, Mr. Brooks. I've reconsidered my position on the matter and determined that I no longer desire to pursue this avenue of exploration. As such, I'm withdrawing my resources effective immediately."
"But you can't!" Brooks said, pounding his fist into the desk. Thankfully the glass (if glass it be) was stronger than it appeared. "We had a deal! Everything was finalized!"
"Yes, that is most unfortunate. But please don't take this so personally, sir. It's just business," he added, using a phrase he had heard on the television while switching channels.
"If you back out now there will be severe consequences," Brooks said waspishly, pointing a finger shaking with rage. "You have no idea who you are messing with."
"Is that a threat, sir?" he said calmly, feeling more in his element than he had since he arrived here.
Pressing his palms on the desk, Brooks leaned in towards him."You're damn straight it is! I'll have your ass for this Murdoch!" Murdoch made a face at the disturbing imagery. "Mark my words! I'm going to ruin you!" At the door he whirled around and yelled, "See you in court!"
A few moments later, Anna poked her head in with a smirk. "Well that went well."
"Indeed."
"Have you had your breakfast, sir?"
"I have not."
"Yeah, I didn't think so. What would you like?"
Thinking of yesterday he replied, "That...grub from yesterday was quite tasty."
"Deep fried deliciousness coming right up!"
After he gorged himself on more colourful donuts, he dodged a multitude of incoming calls and took the chopper to the hospital. Once more he was assailed by a rather pungent chemical smell and many a half exposed backside. As he approached George's room he heard the not so dulcet sounds emanating from it.
"...offer whatever the hell you have to in order to keep this thing quiet."
Murdoch knocked and George placed the tethered telephone receiver back in its cradle. It was only the second time he had noticed a phone that looked something like, well, a phone.
"Back so soon?" George said with a grin.
"How are you feeling today, George?" he asked by his bedside.
George rolled his eyes. "Like a million bucks. How do you think, Will?"
Murdoch hadn't meant physically...but he didn't want to unnecessarily poke at the gaping sores of George's past, so he didn't specify.
"Who were you talking to?"
"Your lawyer, that's who." George busied himself with the orange juice and toast on the levered tray before him. "Or I should say, one of them." His colleague eyed him. "We're really up shit creek now. Best we can do is try to settle out of court. Gonna have enough bad press as it is once this thing gets out."
"Do you think Mr. Brooks will be appeased by such a scheme?"
"Shit, I don't know. You breached contract, Will. That's about the worst thing you can do in our line of work. And Brooks is a major a-hole, so that doesn't help." George rubbed his forehead and then winced. "Remind me again why I have to deal with this headache?"
"You don't have to, George. And frankly I'm surprised you didn't assign this unpleasant task to someone else."
Narrowing his eyes at Murdoch, "You think I don't got the stones for it? I've dealt with much bigger screw-ups on your part and I resent the lack of faith."
"No, I'm sure you have plenty of...stones, George. I was simply referring to your current condition."
George grinned crookedly again and pointed to his black eye. "This, this is nothing. Had my ass handed to me way worse in Newfoundland." Scowling, "Besides, what else am I supposed to do in this stinking shit palace?"
A passing nurse gave him a dirty look. Once more Murdoch didn't understand this fascination with buttocks and excrement.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got about a billion more calls to make."
On the helipad up top, Murdoch was preparing to board the noisy contraption when he felt a now familiar buzzing in his pocket. One look at the caller identification nearly gave him a heart attack.
A ghost was on the other end of the line.