When he came to, he found he had a terrible headache and his face was still throbbing dully. He reached up to touch it and winced, feeling angry sores all across his skin. The stinging sensation in his face was quickly allayed when he realized that he was locked up in a jail cell. If he wasn't much mistaken, it appeared to be the one in station house four. This was all but confirmed when he saw Radley muttering to himself in the other one. It was after this that he noticed Julia asleep on a chair just outside, her face squished against the bars.

He stood up and was surprised when there was no pain and indeed, no wound, until he realized that none of that had actually happened and he prayed, never would again. Murdoch wanted badly to go over to his soundly sleeping wife but was afraid what would happen if he got too close to her (and his unborn child). So instead he stayed put and contented himself with watching the rise and fall of her chest.

After awhile, Radley's ramblings became too distracting to ignore and besides which, they were irritating him in the extreme due to his massive headache.

"Could you please be quiet?" he hissed at the man, stunned at how much it hurt to move his sensitive mouth.

Radley paid him no mind and continued rambling to himself.

Without thinking he kicked the bars with his still shoeless foot and hollered. Radley still ignored him but Julia promptly awoke at the noise.

"Oh William," she said sorrowfully, as their eyes met, "are you all right?"

"Yes, Julia," he said, still keeping his distance. "I believe I am." Then he winced as the pain in his head reached another crescendo.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again, this time concernedly.

"Fine, Julia, it's just a little headache."

A frown crossed her features. "It certainly doesn't seem like that." Her eyes widened, "And your face..."

"Trust me, dear, I've sustained far worse injuries than this. Though it is a bit odd, if I didn't know any better, I would say I had been chloroformed again."

"That's because you were," said a man sitting in the corner that Murdoch had somehow neglected to notice. When he approached them, Murdoch saw that the man was Dalton. He held up some sort of strange looking gun, smirked and said, "My quick fix. I must say detective, you certainly didn't make it easy to use. Then again, I suppose that's what happens when one isn't in their right mind. I apologize for my methods but it was the best I could do. The good news is that your burns will heal before you know it." Murdoch looked at him impassively. "I suppose I should also thank you for not shooting me." Murdoch gave him an apologetic look and Dalton smiled and said, "No hard feelings, detective. We'll call it even."

While he was grateful for what Dalton had done for him, he was still confused about one thing.

"How did you find me?"

"After I had whipped this contraption together, as well as several others, I came by your office to see if you were still there. I found the blue prints instead."

So the reason why he had appeared to him from ahead was because he had been forced to enter from the Hodgins property, as the other way had been blocked.

"Were you able to subdue everyone else?"

"Yes, detective," he said smiling, "with help I was able to. That and a little good old fashioned luck."

"Where are the others? Are they injured?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but nothing that they won't recover from. They are now recuperating at Toronto General."

All of a sudden he became very angry at Dalton, startling both him and his wife. "None of this should have ever happened! You should never have created such an evil thing in the first place!"

Dalton had the good grace to appear abashed. "You are right of course, detective. That is why I shut down the project after some members of our group got infected, and several people were wounded. Unfortunately, Goldby didn't agree with this and he went rogue, trying to perfect the toxin on his own, where no one would ever think to look for him, in a haunted house of all places. Very appropo. Then again, he always was one for a dramatic flare."

"And where is he? Did you apprehend him?"

Dalton gave him a curious glance as he said, "Why, you killed him, detective."

Murdoch shared a look with Julia.

"I'm afraid it's true, William, I've seen the body. He was shot in the chest once."

So he was there all along?

Just thinking about all that again began to make his head spin and he had to sit down. His first kill ever and he wasn't even in complete control of his faculties! What if he had killed an innocent? How would he have lived with himself?

After a moment, he looked into his wife's eyes and said, "You didn't touch it, I hope."

While Dalton claimed that the toxin wasn't infectious after it had run its course, Murdoch wasn't entirely convinced. And judging by what Julia said next, neither was Dalton.

"No, Mr. Dalton here was very particular about that. He made sure gloves were worn at all times and cloths were draped around my mouth and nose."

"And now detective," said Dalton, "I think it's high time we get you out of there. I'll call for a guard."

"No that won't be necessary," said Murdoch. They glanced at him quizzically. "I want to remain in here for a little while longer." He stared at Julia's stomach, "Better safe than sorry."

The next day, Murdoch and Julia went to visit all their friends and colleagues at the hospital. George seemed to be in the worst condition as he had been shot in the gut. Happily the bullet had been a through and through and done no permanent damage to his internal organs and the doctors were confident that he would make a full recovery. They learned from Ruby later that he thought he had been protecting her and the baby so he put himself in harms way. As to who had shot him, that would never be very clear since it had been utter chaos.

What Murdoch did learn later on was that Goldby had booby trapped the house. Once the gun fire had started, the other constables had come running and then through them, the whole street became infected. Luckily, it never progressed past that as Starry Road was fairly isolated.

They visited Myers last. Other than a nasty gash on his head, he appeared unscathed, if not agitated. When he wasn't allowed to have a cigar in his hand, he seemed totally out of sorts and didn't seem to know what to do with them.

After the pleasantries were over, he said, "Another evil plot thwarted, eh, detective?"

"Yes," he said grimacing, "though I can't say I'm very happy about our own military being the cause for it."

"Every country has it's fair share of evil, detective. Why should Canada be any different?" He had a point but didn't care to admit it but Myers perceived his dilemma regardless. "Love of country, there's nothing quite like it."

"No, I suppose not."

He held out his hand, "Let us hope the next disaster doesn't come for many years."

"Yes," he said, taking it, "let us hope."

He was in his office writing up a report about the most unusual circumstances of the previous night. The more he wrote about it, the more he wondered at his abominable luck. Every time he turned around he seemed to be facing something even more horrifying than the last time. What was the world coming to when in the span of only a few days, his son had been kidnapped by a psychotic killer and an entire street had been subjected to a deadly fear toxin? These had been by far the most traumatic times of his life which was saying something given his rather illustrious career. It was times like this that he debated his role as a detective. Wasn't he better suited to something a little less insane? But then he recalled his fairly recent conversation with his mentor, father O'Connell, and knew that even if he tried to do something else, he would never be truly satisfied. He loved the thrill of solving the next puzzle too much to ever give it up. Besides that, he provided a service that few others could and the streets were much safer because of him. No, he would do this job until he was too old or else, he was killed. He hoped it would be the former one, especially considering the possibility of fathering a child but nothing was certain in this world.

It was then that he had a visitor at his door, interrupting his thoughts. A certain medium friend.

"Detective," she said gleefully, "I am so glad to see you alive and well!"

"I agree one hundred percent," he said smiling warmly at her.

"Did my vision help you?"

"In a manner of speaking." Her smile widened. And then to get off that topic he said, "I see you are on your own today."

She nodded. "I managed to convince Jakub that I was perfectly safe. I love the man but sometimes he's a little too demanding of my time...and nerves."

It was Murdoch's turn to nod. "So now what will you do? Will you stay in Toronto?"

Mrs. Novak was thoughtful for a moment. Then she said sadly, "No, I don't think so. I think we're about to wear out our welcome once more."

"That's a shame. I enjoy our time together, or at least when you aren't predicting my death." She smiled sheepishly at that. "Can you not get your husband to hide his ability a little better than he does?"

She smirked at that. "Believe me, detective, I have tried very hard but until someone actually gets hurt because of it, he will never see reason. Life would be a lot easier without him but it would also be unbearable for me. I'm afraid we are joined at the hip for the rest of our natural born lives...and maybe even beyond."

Murdoch smiled and said, "Yes, I am in the same boat as you I think."

With that thought in mind, he said goodbye to her and then headed home early in order to be with his family. And so it was that the Murdoch's were lazing beside the fire, Julia's head propped on his shoulder, and Ben sitting in her lap facing them. They had recently told him about the baby and he appeared fascinated by this concept.

"So there's a kid in there right now?" he asked staring awestruck at Julia's stomach.

"Yes, Ben," responded Julia for the third time.

"Boy, he must be real small!"

They laughed and Murdoch said, "That he is, son, that he is indeed."

"So when do I get to meet him?"

They shared a look and Julia said, "Not for a long time yet."

Ben appeared puzzled by this. "Is he shy?"

They laughed again. "No, son," said Murdoch, "he's just getting big and strong so he can impress his big brother."

"How do you know?" Ben exclaimed. "You can't even talk to him!"

They shared another look, this one full of sorrow. "All right, son, you are right, I don't know, but I like to think so. I pray so every day."

He looked back and forth at their expressions and said, "What's wrong? Why are you sad?"

How do you tell your child that there is the good possibility that his brother or sister will die? The answer is, you don't. Children shouldn't be burdened with such things and though Murdoch didn't like to lie to his son, this was one of those truths better left untold. So Murdoch abruptly changed the topic instead.

"Ben, you never did recite the alphabet for me. Why don't you do so now." Ben looked unsure, as if he knew what his father was doing.

"I'd very much like to hear," said Julia. "It would make me very happy."

Ben got over his indecision and his face lit up. "Okay, here goes!"

After a few more days had gone by, it became evident that Radley would never recover from his deplorable condition, the toxin had permanently altered his brain chemistry to that of complete insanity. The good news was that he was no longer infectious. Dalton had examined his blood and determined the toxin to no longer be active.

And so it was that the asylum workers came to take him away one slightly rainy Wednesday afternoon. Murdoch watched him being led away and couldn't help but feel more compassion towards him than ever before. At times Murdoch had wanted to strangle the man for being so unreasonable and making his job so difficult but now all he could think about was the funny little man who once ran into his bedroom and locked the door because he had seen a spider. Perhaps that wasn't the best example as he had witnessed similar phenomenons from others before. One thing was for certain, life would be much duller now that Radley was out of the picture and he grieved and prayed for the man then.

Murdoch continued to stand outside the precinct, letting the rain drip down his face like the tears he was not capable of shedding, until long after the carriage had vanished from view.

Someone interrupted his thoughts then. It was Higgins. He had just said something.

"I'm sorry, Henry, what was that?"

"Sir, I asked you if you would be free on Friday night to throw George a bachelor party."

Murdoch raised his eyebrows, completely incredulous. "He is still planning on getting married this Saturday?! In his condition?!"

Higgins smirked at his reaction and said, "Yes, sir, I tried to reason with him but he was having none of it."

Calming down a little he said, "And what of Ruby? Was she also not able to convince him otherwise?"

Higgins looked away briefly and said, "It is because of her that he feels he cannot postpone their upcoming nuptials."

Murdoch looked at him closely for a moment and said, "You know then."

"Yes, sir," he said uncomfortable.

"All right," said Murdoch without further hesitation, "I will do my best to be available...barring no imminent deaths take place."

"Thank you, sir, George will be very happy to hear that. I will go right now to inform him of this."

"I will come with. I haven't been to see him since the...accident. It's high time I do so again."

Higgins nodded and they headed towards the hospital. Unfortunately, before they got very far, constable Worseley caught up to them and said they were needed. They shared an impassive look knowing once again that something terrible had happened and all personal matters (and feelings) ceased to be of import. That was the nature of the job, he had never had any illusions about it and right now, he was just happy that he wasn't having delusions because of it and hoped he never would again.