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Chapter Text

Julia was starting to have the ‘issues’ of parenting a teenaged boy. She couldn’t believe Llewellyn was starting to act like those she heard horror stories and tidbits about. But now, he was running late as he chatted with Jack on his phone. More times coming home late from hanging out with Jack and friends of his without acknowledgment. And he wouldn’t share anything about school, or anything else.

Troubled, as she waited for him to prepare for school, she unexpectedly heard knocking and went to answer. Perhaps Jack was coming up to walk him to school and she would be able to interrogate him.

Instead, her agent was outside the door. “Darcy,” she greeted.

“Hello, Doctor Ogden,” he said, accepting the gentle hug before walking in behind her. His cane, a fixture since his knee surgery years ago, safely clacked on the floor as they headed into the kitchen. Darcy Garland was already fifteen years old when Julia Ogden was born, again. He had a wife and one child when they first met while she tried getting her book published. There was nothing this time. She didn’t even believe him to be one that remembered. A good thing, she noted. He helped her though the Ivy Trainer series, and her work in non-fiction.

She brought out a green tea and heated up some water. It was in the mug and brewing when Llewellyn finally popped out of his room with clothing on and holding his school bag. “Morning, Mom,” he mumbled, grabbing something out of the freezer before throwing it in the microwave. He realized that there was another mug with tea, which didn’t make sense as today wasn’t a tea day for him. Then, he saw Darcy. “Oh, hello, Mister Garland,” he said, a little louder and clearer.

“Hello, Llewellyn,” he replied, a bit amused by the antics, “You’re usually not this late for school.”

“Umm, well, I’ve been talking with Jack,” he informed, bouncing as he waited for the sandwich. He had a can of something that she didn’t recognized, and new and sneaked in under her grocery list. Darcy did, and was a little amused by the change in the young man. “Lost track of time.”

“So, you’re running after the food is cooked,” Julia partially joked.

He hummed a yes, and took the sandwich once the microwave was done. “Jack’s also meeting me downstairs. Bye, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she called back. He raced out the door before quickly closing it. She then turned to Darcy, who was now showing more amusement. “Yes?”

“A breakfast sandwich and an energy drink? My word, what has this Jack done to him?” Julia slid his tea over with a harsh tone before settling with her coffee. “Is Jack a current boyfriend?”

She hummed, but not a completely happy one. “Yes. His very first.”

“Oh, you are taking this in the worst neutral position I have ever seen from you.” Darcy had not been around for many of the hijinks that happened considering he died years before Llewellyn came to join Station House Four. He does not have the background to be fully on her side about Jack Walker and his particular brand of misery following along.

“I have my reasons,” she said, before finding that she was already halfway through her coffee. He wasn’t even a fourth through the tea. “Also, I sent the second book to Penny for editing, so I don’t understand why you’re coming up and checking on me. Unless you want me working on the third already. Which I am.”

He chuckled, a bit light. “That’s good to hear, Julia, but no, I am not checking up on you.” He moved the mug a little in preparation for his news. “I am retiring. Finally.”

Well, she didn’t expect that. “What?”

“Yeah, Samantha finally left her work a few months ago. We’re planning on taking a year long cruise to see the world, slowly and in peace. Inviting the children and their families at certain countries. I have been working on placing all of my clients with agents that know what they need.” He pointed at her for emphasis. “You are my last one.”

“Oh, I feel special.”

“You should.” He shook his finger at that. “Only two people at the company would be willing to take you on as a client. One is the homophobe that you tried to get fired after she harassed Llewellyn when he came out.” Before she could even chew out that imbecile or why she would even take her on as a client, he continued. “The other was Mitchell, and the man is three years younger than me eating steak and potatoes for every meal.”

She got that pretty quickly. “So you’re going to be my agent until your untimely death?” she tried joking.

He shuddered. “Not even. You get to have the brand new agent that’s been training under a couple of us for the past year.”

“Brand new agent?” she asked, “What did this person do to earn such a punishment?”

He shook his head. “He’s young, and doesn’t know any better. We figured you would go a little soft on him.”

“Me? Soft?”

Darcy had a small trump card. “Leslie and Oliver met him at a meet and greet for young LGBT business oriented and public figures,” he revealed, “Rainbow himself, and a trans ally.”

Now she got it. “He’s gay.”

“And slightly skittish, which you are attracted to caring for,” he mentioned.

Oh, now, that’s just rude. She had a heart and a gay son. “Darcy.”

“Can’t blame any of us. I want to introduce him tonight. That diner that Llewellyn dragged you to for two years straight. It’s not pricey, low key. Settle the two of you down to see how well your personalities will actually work.”

Diner, something she knows. Darcy, someone she knows. New person, someone she doesn’t.

“I’ll let William know about our dinner meeting. And leave Llewellyn pizza money. He’ll be thrilled.”

“Of course, he’ll be able to share it with someone today.” She opened her mouth before realizing he knew exactly what he was suggesting and shut it before glaring into oblivion. He laughed. “You must really not like him dating.”

“It’s not him dating. Specifically,” she said, carefully stepping around, “I just knew someone that had a bad relationship with another named Jack.” Walker. Jack Bloody Walker.

Darcy was amused, but he didn’t know the whole story. “Let’s try for seven. Sammy has her club and I’ll be able to order something unhealthy for the night.” Julia chuckled and saw him out while texting William about her new plans for the night.

It was only five minutes after seven, but traffic ended up being a pain when she tried getting to the diner. Transport stopped three times, but she did arrive just a little fashionably late. She saw the back of Darcy’s head before her eyes landed on the young man that had himself positioned to see the majority of the room. Trauma response, major incident early in life. Well, that was something she didn’t expect. Or well, she should have, with him being gay. An attack in his past because of his orientation?

Also, coming closer, he was starting to look a little familiar. Perhaps this was someone from their previous life of Station House Four. A constable? An orderly? A morgue worker or a cleaner? Some of the people were still blurry if she tried to remember them. Regulars, acquaintances, former patients and their families. It meshed so much among the memories.

Since he saw her first, he jumped his way out of his seat to properly greet her standing up. About her height, maybe an inch or two above. Dressed in business casual, but she could definitely see suit. Likely a gray or blue, nothing showy. There was some muscle, but not bodybuilding. Healthy, maybe to attract a boyfriend?

Oh, he was going to be fun to poke and prod.

“Doctor Ogden, my name is Patrick Jones,” he introduced, holding out his hand.

Utterly adorable. Very easy to embarrass. Surprised, he has more of an American lit to his voice, but he came up here to work. But, his name isn’t Patrick, is it? There’s a different first name. What was it? H, W, L? Not those letters. Shaking his hand, she didn’t do anything at that point. Julia saw the nervous tremors before she felt them, and the fact that he only gave an introduction. He likely had to work up to just that sentence. “You are cute,” she said.

The fact that her sentence led to him letting out a small squeak along with the next words. “Excuse me?”

She had a smirk on her face before wiping it off just as quick. “Darcy, have you not warn this poor fellow what he’s signing up for?” she asked her older agent.

“Well, we didn’t want to scare him.”

“Oh, so I get to lightly traumatize him for effect. Excellent. He’ll know early on.” Making him sit down, she took the last seat. After they ordered, which drinks were also delivered, she decided to dig into what he knew. “So, you know about Ivy Trainer?”

He nodded, “You ended the series last year, killing her off similar to how Richard Castle had done with Derrick Storm almost ten years ago. At the release party for her last book, you met your current inspiration as Detective William Murdoch was investigating crimes based around your series of works.”

Well, he knew about the latest series as well. “How versed are you in non-fiction work?”

He took a minute to think about it. “I looked over contract papers for a few of the textbooks that Margy and Ciel were getting published. Boring, and too much power in the company’s hands. Ciel’s work on the biographies of a couple of celebrities were contrived. Margy’s true crime podcaster was horrific, and he enjoyed talking about the gruesome parts of the murders.”

Julia looked over to Darcy, who shrugged. They didn’t really work with Margaret’s new authors, and had never met a podcaster. She would have to keep an eye out on who Margaret was bringing in. Something felt dangerous about what she was doing. “Do you know about my non-fictional works?” she asked.

Patrick did not. He did not say that immediately, trying to find a way to phrase it when their plates arrived. “There are non-fiction works?”

Julia saw through a little barrier his mind put up. “You were hoping for pure fiction, weren’t you?”

He grimaced as he started eating his food. “Please don’t be a textbook,” he pleaded, a bit quietly because it was for himself. The two older snickered as they started in on their meal.

“It’s leans more towards college level than for children,” she assured, if it worked to lessen his worries, “It’s a medical and partially psychological book on identifying what is an accident and what is abuse when children and adults come into emergency rooms or out on the street. I’ve been working on an updated version thanks to being on cases with Station House Fifty-One and the other being almost ten years old.”

Patrick nodded, not really understanding too much about what she actually wrote about. He knew about the Ivy Trainer series, and the new Detective series. There hadn’t actually been a look into her bibliography. That was a mistake on his part.

They switched from Julia’s writing career to her doctorate and her fields. She managed to get that he was from the States and had come up to Canada for a clean slate after a troublesome ex-boyfriend. One of the large publishers had wanted him before they switched directions on what they were allowing published. Then, the company offered work.

The supper ended without dessert, which was probably a healthier if sadder choice, and they walked out of the diner. Julia was planning on another outing to bring William and Llewellyn back again. Darcy was thinking about his choice in appointing Patrick as the new agent if he wasn’t going to look up his new client. Patrick had stopped.

He was staring at someone on the other side of the street.

Curious, Julia followed his sight to see two men that didn’t completely look out of place. There was something nagging at the back of her mind. Just as familiar as Patrick was. She couldn’t quite place-

The men noticed that Patrick was staring at them. They wordlessly looked at each other before pulling something out from underneath a jacket.

Ogden reacted by pulling them down behind a car that was parked along the side. Darcy was confused, but he startled when gunshots started going off. One of the windows above them shattered, leading to glass spraying over them. A few people screamed and started causing a panic. She didn’t think about that, keeping a hand on each of them. If the doctor had to move them quickly, she needed to be able to hear the shooters to react.

Someone yelled that the men had run off. People started checking on each other and someone found them behind the car. Assurances were given that the police were already called and on their way. Ogden quickly checked over Darcy, finding nothing more than a possible bruise and a slight tremor. Then, she turned to Patrick.

He had curled up and made himself a small target. Something that she realized he would have had experience in. Then, she heard him mumbling. Barely making it out, she heard something about prison, never seeing them again, and why.

Prison? They were shot dead, weren’t…

That’s why they all look familiar!

Chapter Text

The only person hit in the shooting was a woman coming out of the diner at the exact wrong time. Murdoch watched the ambulance drive off when he arrived in his car. The hit was fairly serious, and if she died on the table, the case would turn into a homicide. Two more were sitting around, but they were taking care of people on the spot.

All three were called by Giles after they had went home for the evening. Ogden had been around the area that the men had targeted. They wanted to make sure this wasn’t a Fifty One issue. The man immediately looked for her, and spotted her sitting on the bumper of one of the vehicles. “Ogden!” he shouted, getting her attention. The patrols that recognized him and her parted and kept people back. He barely noted Darcy Garland at the side, talking with a woman. There was another person wrapped in a standard shock blanket.

“Murdoch,” she said, waiting until he was closer before talking. “Not injured, no wounds.”

He wanted, really wanted, to hold her, but they had their fledgling relationship hidden until they could figure out how safe it was around the Station House. The man would have to wait until literally no one was around to see anything. “What happened?”

She nodded toward the diner. “We were leaving the diner. Patrick,” she explained, pointing at the human burrito behind her, a young man that pinged Murdoch’s previous incarnated memories, “Stopped when he saw two men across the street. When they saw us, they pulled a gun. I pulled all three of us down before they managed to get a shot.”

“They were shooting at you?”

Ogden stood up so she didn’t have to loudly say her thoughts. “Not Darcy or myself. It’s Patrick,” she muttered, “Have you placed him yet?”

He took a second look, but the young man had decided to burrow his head into the cocoon of fleece. “Not entirely, and he’s now hiding his face.”

She took a peek herself, and the man saw there was a sort of glee on her face. “Oh.” She turned back to Murdoch. “We were at a Wild West Show, with Thomas and George. They were demonstrating their shooting abilities, when the one holding a bullet for his partner to shoot was instead killed with a completely different gun.”

Now, he recalled the original crime in clarity. “Is he?”

“I believe so. Patrick this time, but I don’t think that’s his real name.”

He turned to her. “Witness Protection?” he whispered, making sure no one else heard them.

“Official Witness Protection,” she said, joining in on the quiet.

He groaned, even quieted getting attention, “This is going to cause problems.”

“I can imagine.”

Taking a look around, he saw that Crabtree and Higgins were already interviewing everyone they could about what they saw. “If he’s in Witness Protection this time, running those men through our database might trigger the RCMP and possible the United States Marshals. Especially if they arranged for him to come up here to keep him safe,” he explained, “RCMP may interfere.”

Her eyes widen a bit. “He told us a troublesome ex-boyfriend, but if he actually moved up here for his safety,” she pondered.

Murdoch didn’t want to think about the possibility that he had been brought up here because he kept being found in America. “The other men, were they the victims from last time?”

“Yes,” she said, before frowning, “And they recognized him. Instead of running away from someone that could identify them, they decided to try killing him in front of multiple witnesses.”

\-

It was a cup of hot water.

Darcy told them he didn’t need anything else to drink. Instead, they gave him the cup to hold and keep warm. He was merely sitting alongside Higgins’s desk to give a small witness statement before coming in later for a more detailed one. He kept glancing over at the room where Patrick had been led. Both Murdoch and Ogden were in there.

“It’s interesting how she’s allowed into several aspects of the investigation,” he commented.

Detective Higgins nodded, “Doctor Ogden’s good with the witnesses. We’ve never let her near a suspect unless it just happens out in the field. The Chief Constable has been working with the Captain and the Chief of Police down in NYC over how they work with their own.” Oh? He forgot about Richard Castle. A somewhat impossible thing to do, unless you’ve met several writers that have the same reactions about being recognized when the slightest inconvenience happened. He’s dealt with it. “They were hesitant with Doctor Ogden doing the same alongside Murdoch. Right now, still a no go.”

The retired writer’s agent could understand that. If Julia had been practicing at any point during her career in an ER, there would have been worries over her possibly being attacked during her normal work. While she did step in when necessary to help in short handed situations, her main career ended up being her writing, to raise Llewellyn. It was likely something that the police department also worried about with a lawsuit.

While Higgins and Darcy prattled and did a small bit of witness questioning, Julia was watching to make sure her new agent didn’t have a breakdown. Patrick had kept quiet on the way to the station, merely telling the EMTs that he didn’t want a hospital visit. It wasn’t necessary, he just wanted sleep. Which wouldn’t be happening until he could tell Murdoch at least something about why he had been targeted by the two men.

There was a glance to the tea provided, but Ogden figured it wasn’t a normal thing for him to drink. Mostly, it was there to keep them busy and have a small distraction if the talking got to be too much. At least, that’s how her psychological observations and previous times went.

Murdoch started the questions once the three were settled, “The three of you walked out of the diner.”

“The men across the street saw us and started shooting,” Patrick finished. Too quickly, and deliberately not giving any information to help out Murdoch’s investigation.

“Patrick,” Ogden tried, getting a bare amount of the man’s attention, “You were whispering that they should have been in prison.”

If that were to attempt to get something more out of him, it did almost the opposite. “Well, they had a gun and started shooting immediately,” he answered, quite sarcastically. Oh, he was going to fit in well, once this was past. “I figured that was a good enough reason.”

She wasn’t having it. He was going to have to give up as much as he could about the men before they ran anything and pinged someone. “They should be in prison,” she repeated. Patrick stilled, and directed his gaze to the ground. “They should be in prison. I wasn’t supposed to see them again. I was promised they would be serving life sentences.”

There was a flurry of emotions on his face, as he couldn’t hide that he was remembering the words and what was connected to them. “Patrick, if there’s anything you can tell us before we get pictures of those men and run them through databases,” Murdoch warned.

He shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered.

“Patrick-”

“I… I do not believe I will be able to tell you anything for your investigation,” he said, voice stronger, if not holding in belief. “I know nothing of the men that shot at us.” He finally looked at the detective. “Can I leave now?”

Murdoch pulled out a card and handed it over, watching to see the young man take it. “We’ll have Detective Crabtree drive you home and if you agree, we will check your home to make sure no one has broken in during the meantime.”

He nodded, then turned to Ogden as she had been watching him. “One, it’s may.” The small grammar correction had him frowning. Yes, the small teasing was fun. “Two, paperwork should be done within the next forty eight hours. You may also want to look into non fiction regulations.”

“Understood, Doctor Ogden,” he said, standing up. “And, if it will put people at ease, I will consent to a check of my residence to ensure that no one had broken in to kill me when I go home.”

They both waited until the young man left with Crabtree and the Constable. “He is more than likely still in Witness Protection,” Murdoch said.

“This is going to be a nightmare, won’t it?” she asked.

He nodded. “When Henry gets some sort of picture of those men and runs it through to identify them, we will likely be visited.”

“Hopefully, it won’t be Terrance Meyers,” she said, having the name come out as close as she could to William’s intone.”

His face was the perfect combination of annoyance and amusement. “Thank you, Julia, now I feel cursed.” He decided to finish off his tea, thinking about something. “I wonder if we’ll get a different result from running those men through any sort of database.”

“How would it differ?”

The cup, which he had been tapping again in thought, was placed down. “What if they’re in Witness Protection as well?” That hadn’t occurred to Ogden. “They were acting on orders the previous time. If they were doing the same, they could have turned states evidence and gotten a deal themselves.”

Oh, that would make things so much worse. She grimaced. “That means they may be protected as well,” she pointed out, “They may value their testimonies and knowledge over the fact they have weapons and shot in public, hitting someone as well. They should relocate them. Or the attempt could revoke their Witness Protection agreement and have them sent back.”

Murdoch agreed. That was out of their hands. Unfortunately. “That will all be decided when we meet the officer in charge of their paperwork. Even if the victim dies, they may not go back to jail.” His phone chirped, and he quickly check to see a text from Higgins. “Henry tracked down the two men with CCTV in the area. He’s uploading their faces to get matches.”

“So, now we start the game of wait, and whatever consequences will come from it,” Ogden said, standing up with her cup. “Would you like to come over tonight?”

“That depends. Has Llewellyn brought Jack back to the apartment?” The glare that he got for his reminder had him raising his hands. “I never did it, but Caleb and Mary specifically told me I couldn’t invite girls back and have my door closed.”

She huffed. “I hope Llewellyn isn’t that far along in his proclivities.”

“There’s been a few stories-”

“Stop right there, William.” She pointed at him. “I am not willing to think about that at all in relation to Llewellyn. He is still my little preteen that just came out as gay to my Father and then me.”

“He’s getting closer to sixteen-”

“Nope, no, little preteen.”

“He’s at least six inches-”

Julia ignored him by repeating preteen, although there was other mentions of an eight year old that just learned to make hot chocolate, and a six year old that joined a teen in pranking an author she had been working with. The author was as juvenile as the kids, so it worked out incredibly well.

Murdoch checked his phone as they cleaned up and got ready to leave. Crabtree told him there was no evidence of anyone trying to break into the apartment. No one out of place was near the building, nor were there hiding murderers in the shadows. Jones didn’t have any guns himself.

Strange, why would George be looking for those? Tacking the knowledge in a section of his mind to think about later, he followed Ogden down to the garage. He was just going to drop her off. There wasn’t enough time for them tonight. Especially if Llewellyn had kept Jack at the apartment since his mother was out.