Disclaimer: these characters are not mine. They belong to the creators of Murdoch Mysteries, and to Yannick Bisson and Helene Joy (the actors who play William and Julia, respectively).

"You see? There is no need to be afraid..."

Julia cannot help but smile as the butterflies make their escape, fluttering like scraps of brilliant colour through the sunlit room. William stands frozen before her, and she can tell by the way his eyes follow the butterflies that he is trying to track them all at once.

"Just look at this one, William," she says gently, touching his hand to direct his gaze downward. The butterfly is still perched on his closed fist, its mottled wings waving gently. "See how beautiful it is. Did you know that the wings of a butterfly are actually made up of thousands and thousands of tiny scales?"

"Are you also an entomologist, then, Doctor?"

William's gaze is fixed on the butterfly and his voice is strained, but it is nonetheless a valiant attempt at his usual gentle teasing, and Julia thinks he might be starting to relax just a little. Then, the insect on his hand twitches and takes flight. William flinches; Julia suspects that if his self-control had been any less rigid, he would have flung himself bodily backward. She reaches out quickly to take his hand.

"William. It's all right. Just breathe."

William's eyes are shut again, but he draws in a shuddering breath as she asks.

Watching him, Julia is suddenly struck by the profound trust he is placing in her. That he - who puts so much store in self-restraint and careful, measured logic - should let her see him like this, visibly undone by irrational fear and an old, long-unspoken grief... she holds his heart in her hands now, she realizes, as much as she would if he were actually telling her he loved her.

"Good," she says, her voice shaking a little, professional compassion utterly overtaken by a wave of heart-twisting tenderness. "Again. Take a deep breath."

She lifts her free hand to his cheek. William, eyes still closed, turns his face ever so slightly, seeking out her touch in a way that is oh, so rare for him. She glances quickly at the door, standing wide open, and just as quickly decides that she doesn't care; leans closer and kisses him on the forehead, then the bridge of his nose and the curve of his cheekbone as his eyes flutter open.

"Julia...?"

"I thought I might give you a good memory to counteract the bad," she whispers.

For a moment, William doesn't respond. She can feel the tension in him still, his awareness of the butterflies flitting around them. But then,

"Is this a scientifically-tested form of therapy, Doctor?"

He is starting to smile, the lovely teasing, intimate smile that never fails to draw her to him like a magnet.

"No," she says. "Is it working?"

"I will be sure to let you know..."

It is he who leans forward just the fraction more that's needed, but Julia feels as though she might be the one falling. William's arm comes around her, and for a long, blissful moment they stand there in the bright afternoon sunlight, entirely wrapped up in each other.

No, Emily, she thinks dizzily, triumphantly, the excitement is not gone.

THE END