The Awakening

Phryne's trying her darnedest to string a coherent sentence together...

"I saw em Mlaac know I did but can't catch him and Shakesbard talks me tales bout sun annnnn starrrrs foggy ope nup drapes I gonna find him cause miss him annnn moons annnn"

Mac affectionately gazes down at her little tempest of a friend and can't help but smile. Phryne's been floating in and out of a drugged sleep. This time she's managed to slay the King's English, form a run on sentence and fall back into Morpheus' arms in under two ticks. Her new best record.

Phryne needs lots of sleep and rest to heal and become strong enough to focus on making a full, yet difficult, recovery in the aftermath of a serious accident. And has no idea that she's been leaning on Thanatos' door more times than anyone cares to admit. Mac's hell-bent on changing this venue. But she's also painfully aware, as Phrynes condition's so unstable, that some things are out of her hands and this frightens her something fierce. Truth be told Mac's terribly worried about saving Phryne as well as the worst of her fractured legs, the right one. Not just merely will her dearest friend ever walk again?

Way too much negative's in the picture for the exhausted Mac to cope with...

So for now, she'll accept her iron willed friend's as fragile as a new-born lass. And it's with great gentleness that Mac brushes aside Phryne's fringe to begin checking the first of her many dressings.

Mac moves along making another close inspection of Phryne's badly fractured legs and the traction splints she's had to use on them. It will be awhile before she can replace these with plaster casts as infection keeps threatening to set in, challenging Mac and staff to do battle and win. Utilizing these splints will help thwart infection, align bone ends, relieve pain and cut nerve damage, among other things. Mac had used many of these splints on soldiers during the Great War, reducing mortality of compound fractures of the femur, but never had she imagined having to use them on her best friend.

While attending to Phryne's injuries...

Mac still finds herself mind boggled over the multitude of lacerations, fractures, sprains and strains the lass has managed to accumulate, as well as having been comatose for several days. Morphine management to keep her stoic little friend out of pain, in light of these injuries, is a far cry from the aspirin she routinely prescribes Phryne for her usual assortment of bumps and scrapes.

Slowly shaking her head, she forges on... Double checking the tautness of the bandages around Phryne's rib cage and right shoulder before carefully replacing the sling and positioning the support pillows, to immobilize her injured shoulder and arm.

Remembering Phryne's recent mumblings...

Mac gently tucks her sleeping friend in and whispers an order "You rest now hen. No need to worry about catching him. Doctor that I am knows all about the complex workings of the heart. I can diagnose ... You have caught him... He has caught you... And you're both feeling the beginnings of a severe case of true love. Problem is you two keep complicating matters. Lets see what ole Mac can do."

All finished attending Phryne for now...

Mac focuses on fulfilling Mrs. Stanley's request and picks up the surprise package, the formidable woman's left, on the bedside table for her niece, and removes its special contents. The strange-looking object is fresh and clean but the poor little thing looks like it has a bad case of mange since half its white wooly coat's missing. It's lopsided black nose is almost popping out of the back of its head, probably from somebody snuggling it over the years. Both ear's have been sewn back on, one with grey thread and the other with green thread. Somebody's painted little pink toenails on it's four black hooves. And, its wee mouths been drawn back on with red lipstick or crayon. Oh well. Mac gently places the love-worn thingy in the crook of Phrynes good arm, just like she's been told to do. She studies the oddball thingy a tad more and thinks it could be a little lamb or perhaps a fleecy cyclops, since it only has one button eye, but it disappears under the bright white sheet before she can decide. Grinning at this unexpected scene, Mac mentally salutes Mrs. Stanley for knowing that her niece would appreciate the little sight for sore eyes, even as she sleeps. Aunt Prudence lovingly kept Phryne's treasured friend safe for all these years...Who would have thought?

Later that morning...

Mac's just finished checking Phryne's vital signs when she looks up to see the familiar figure at the door, whom she gives a nod, and watches as he anxiously enters the room.

As she quickly makes her exit... Mac pretends to not notice as Jack lets his shield down and tenderly takes Phryne's small limp hand, entwining her tiny fingers with his, as he leans down softly brushing a get well soon kiss to her warm bruised cheek.

Jack's spending his accumulated City South leave time, sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair, keeping vigil by her bedside, until she begins thrashing around or screaming out Janey's or Jack's name. When, between trying to calm her, he will retreat to the hallway to send for Mac...And on her arrival will go and nervously await by the door...Until Mac employs her bag of tricks...And Phryne is once again in the arms of Morpheus. When, like a staunch Roman Warrior, Jack will resume vigil once more.

Mac's watched this little dance for the past ten days...While Phryne was in coma and now while she's in a drugged sleep.

The only deviation to this daily routine is when Mrs. Stanley or Phryne's extended family come to spend time. Then, with the changing of the guard, Jack will take leave to address his personal needs.

Mr. Butler brings Mac and Jack hot breakfasts everyday. While Mac makes Jack and herself peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for their lunches. And Morley, Mrs. Stanley's butler, brings the doctor and the inspector hot dinners daily. This has been going on like clockwork, since that fateful day, as Mac and Jack refuse to leave hospital. They have little appetite but sage Mr. Butler and formidable Mrs. Stanley make sure the two take enough nourishment to keep them going as well as having fresh clothing and toiletries available to them.

Neither Mac nor Jack take advantage of Mac's hip flask of whisky, now, but they make a pact to rectify this as soon as Phryne's condition becomes stable.

Mac is allowing no visiting...

Except for one hour daily, when Phrynes self-proclaimed family can visit with her, at ten-minute intervals. Even though their Miss Phryne is sleeping, they all want to support her by continuing being by her side. And there is no doubt how much the motley group loves and respects her. The moist eyed lot tell Mac "Miss Phryne looks like she does when taking her after lunch rest and accidentally falls asleep in the parlor or garden, except for all the bruises, bandages and those contraptions on her legs." The sage Mac also realizes they need to see Phryne, so they too will be able to sleep.

Mac senses how difficult it is for Phryne's Aunt Prudence to visit with her beloved niece during a set time period because she is also aware of Arthur's special needs and Mrs. Stanley's love and commitment to her son. And Mrs. Stanley's shielding him from his adored cousin Phryne's condition, for now. So, trying to keep his routine as normal as possible while enabling Mrs. Stanley the time she also needs with her niece, Mac allows the older woman to see Phryne and meet with herself throughout the day, for visits, questions and updates. The well-informed woman personally asks Mac to handle Phryne's case, as Mac's medical credentials are stellar and her reputation as a surgeon is outstanding. Mrs. Stanley is also aware of Macs success rate, during the Great War, for saving lives and limbs. The two women haven't always gotten along. But, after one of Fates precisely thrown boomerangs, forces them to truly get to know one another, each acquires a respect for the other and they eventually form an alliance benefiting area hospitals. Mac's medical knowledge and skills coupled with Mrs. Stanley's fund-raising ability and clout improve both level of patient care and hospital conditions.

She bends the rules for Jack because he's found the guts to return, after having run away from her little friend. And, more importantly, Mac senses Phryne and he are both drawing strength from one another. Their souls bonding, ever so much deeper, during these daily visitations (Mac has tried to set this pair on course many times in past, to no avail, only to have them dance around her attempts, as astutely, as they side step the wee arrows of Eros.) Hearing Phryne's mumblings and observing Jack's actions these past couple weeks is enough for Mac to understand the pairs true feelings for each other, so she sagely allows this particular little dance, which she dubs "The Awakening", to continue. And with a little luck or with a certain Scots intervention it will register a wake up call.

Days later as Jack's sitting with Phryne his mind begins replaying the chain of events leading up to this harrowing situation...

Prior to the accident and before Jack arrives at the crash site ...

The boys are helping Phryne on one of her cases, as they often do, and, as the Fates will have it, they are tailing Van Norgthrop the very day of the motorcar accident. They can't stop what is already in motion, as Fate is funny that way, but they are able to get to Phryne immediately and rapidly respond. Cec, with jaws clenched tight, white knuckling the steering wheel, will force the cab to new-found speeds as he rushes for help. Bert will stay with Phryne hurriedly applying pressure bandages, he'd quickly make, by ripping up his driving duster, trying to check her bleeding, as best he can. And, even though she's unconscious, he will hold on to her hand, for dear life, coaching her to "Hold on...You can do it...Help is on the way" While silently pleading "Stay with me comrade... Please don't go away."

Then at City South as they make their formal statements...

Jack sees in their faces the telltale flashes of horror, anger, love and admiration, as they share their appalling story, for the boys have witnessed the entire macabre scene unfold. He also senses that the two cabbies are beating themselves up, over not being able to spare Phryne from this horrendous ordeal, and ensuing physical and mental pain. Not to mention her endless struggle, just to stay alive, for one more day. And, he acutely realizes that Phryne probably never would have survived at all, had the boys not been so close behind... Jack will always be beholden to Albert and Cecil...

Jack ponders over how he'd rashly walked away from Phryne and their growing relationship because in his minds eye he's always losing her somehow. Now, in retrospect, he realizes that there's no guarantees in love or in life itself. Any relationship, worth its salt, is built by a you and a me working in tandem, crafting the best possible we that's strong enough to survive life's sea of uncertainty, hopefully.

Reality is beginning to set in over what almost played out on that fateful day...

Phryne is driving the Hispano-Suiza, at her usual breakneck speed, on her way to her aunts sprawling estate, in the St. Kilda hills. She's just about half way there when a Duesenberg comes barreling over the rise behind her whose driver suspects that Phryne's on to his illegal operations. Now he's dead set on pushing her off the hillside and out of his shady business. Thank the powers that be that she has the wherewithal to pull the wheel hard right, as soon as he hits the Hispano-Suiza, causing her to veer off into a copse of trees and scrub. Thus, forcing Ogie Van Northrop and his souped-up Duesenberg to skid to the opposite side of the road and go over the exposed edge instead.

Her beloved Hispano-Suiza suffers a smashed windscreen, broken head and tail lamps plus several buckles and dents along its bodywork but holds together like an armored tank. Nevertheless, Phryne is badly hurt, shattering like a delicate porcelain doll, when ejected from the large motorcar, as it rolls over, thrusting her into unyielding tree trunks, scrub and rock.

Who would have anticipated that a case to track down some stolen race car parts for an old friend would end up with the lady detective uncovering a sizable drug operation. Let alone Phryne and her cohorts managing to gather enough information to reveal the noted race car driver Ogie Van Northrop's true colors and bring his drug empire tumbling down. Now he's dead while his cronies, cleverly interspersed throughout the racing club circuit, for trafficking purposes, get busted by Jack and his men along with some international counterparts doing the same on their end. Only problem is blowing the lid off something this big usually ends up with innocent people being hurt.

The Staunch Roman Warrior takes stock...

Today she's awfully pale. Perhaps not as pale as yesterday, but definitely more so than the day before that. Then, distinctly remembering her pallor, as she lay broken and motionless, at the accident site, Jack begins to ponder...How many shades of pale can there possibly be?

Phryne's already petite frame is withering away, everyday, and she's looking more and more like the little waif who drove ambulances, outrunning bullets and shrapnel, while trying to get the wounded to casualty clearing stations during the Great War.

He gently lays the back of his big hand against her bruised left cheek, which somehow managed to avoid a bandage, ascertaining that her temperature's running somewhere between normal and too high.

She continues being restless, fighting the negatives in her life, as the bad memories resurface while she sleeps or murmuring mostly unrecognizable words, as she tries to speak. Calming, morphing into stillness, soon after Mac charges in with reinforcements. Until later, when jolted from the arms of Morpheus, by pain and fever, breaking their truce and doing battle once again.

Phryne looks so little and helpless, all bandaged and bruised, lying there in the ominous hospital bed, that he wants to tenderly swoop her up in his arms... gently rocking her as she sleeps and keeping her safe and secure from anything happening ever again.

For now though... He will keep up his daily ritual of holding her small listless hand over his hammering heart, hoping that she feels it pounding, beckoning her to hold on... while, his rich deep voice fills the still of the room, with stories of a future filled with hope and promise, embellished with quotes from his oft read Shakespeare.

Eventually his mind begins to drift off again, as he realizes that he can do nothing for her, and feels so inadequate, yet determined to make things all right.

He knows she's experienced the journey to hell and back, for they're both survivors of the Great War. She an ambulance driver and he a soldier, who are both wounded in action, at different battle sites, though commonly alike in gruesomeness.

Physically they will recover from their wounds, however, neither will totally recover from the emotional wounds of war, inflicted while witnessing the horrible, morbid misery caused by humans.

Their senses will be terribly scarred by the sights, sounds, smell and feel of death... Leaving them with a permanent acerbic taste in their mouths for those who cause pain and conflict on innocent lives.

However...Phryne emerges from this nightmare by exploding, as opposed to his imploding into each new day. She lives to the limit and he exists, but forgets how to live. Until, at some point, he finds himself caught up in her repercussions, forcing him to, once again, come back to life.

Now, she too is coming back to life. Stronger with each new dawn. And, he knows that she can win this battle, because she's a fighter with a huge love of life, that is the very definition of joie de vivre. And, he's determined to help her do it.

A Eureka moment erupts...

If you told her you'd never ask her to change...THINK MAN...what must that mean? My heart belongs to this impish daredevil, and not to someone who can live swathed in cotton and be kept safe under glass like…...

Jack's so tired and so into story telling, quoting and reflecting...

He doesn't notice Phryne's managed to force open her very sleepy cerulean eyes... and still very groggy from medication... is trying to focus on the strange man, who's oddly holding her hand up against his chest, while making strange overtures.

Staring, her foggy mind eventually understands, as recognition gradually sinks in. And, her whispered "Jack" slowly builds, like a crescendo, exploding into his ears, overpowering his reflections and immediately causing his brain to register, I'M CAUGHT!

Shyly looking into Phryne's sleepy and befuddled blue eyes he slowly brings her soft pale hand down to rest upon the snow-white sheet of her small steel-grey hospital bed... As he profusely blushes, in various shades of red.

At last... He can no longer retreat and hide in the safety of the hallway, for he's finally misstepped in this ongoing little dance and will now have to face the music. No, he admits more honestly, I'll face the woman I love and hope she'll still have me. And, my running stops here. Having experienced the horror of almost losing her has shown him that he's not complete without her, and just how tangled their lives have really become.

So, Jack being Jack, he lifts up Phryne's small hand, once again, and gently holds her palm over his now rapid-fire heart and declares "I've missed you terribly Miss Fisher. And just hearing you call my name makes my sorry heart want to step-dance, quick-step and waltz all at once. Can you feel the crazy beat?"

Phryne feels the pit-a-pat pulsing of Jack's heart as the vibrations joyfully dance through her palm and waltz up her arm to quickly send her heart all aflutter. Slowly, closing her eyes, she also recognizes the ever familiar cadence, that's guided her through so many foggy days and nights of late. Gently patting the thumping spot above Jack's heart she softly states " That 'Fascinating Rhythm' seems awfully familiar to me."

"Close your eyes love and get some sleep. You need lots of rest. When you wake up we'll continue our talk as we have eons to catch up on.

Phryne's still a little loopy but her ears and her heart are working just fine. So she's dancing with the moon after hearing Jack use his moniker for her, once again. And even though Jack hurt her more than words can say, when he walked away, she knows that he too is hurting and her heart tells her that they too can work this out.

Fighting sleep Phryne lies "I'm not all that tired, Jack, but I'll have a little rest if you take one too. You look awfully tired and that rock you're sitting on isn't helping. Promise me that you'll stretch out in the comfy chair with the footstool over there."

Jack Robinson, always a gentleman, promises "On my word of honor...I shall swap my rock for your marshmallow over there, Miss Fisher." Pausing, as though reading her mind, he adds "And I shan't venture from this room, love."

Phryne likes what she hears and flashes Jack one of her big bright smiles that instantly lights up his Universe, and melts his heart into a puddle of pure love.

Jack's also aware that a certain little somebody has his nieces and nephews bested for fighting sleep...

Now sleepy and parched Phryne asks "Before we take our naps perhaps I could have some water, if you please?" as her heavy eyelids flutter closed.

There's no ice to quench Phryne's thirst so Jack takes the glass bowl from her bedside table and pours some of the melted ice water into a small cup and inserts a straw, as he's often seen Mac do. And, as carefully as Mac, he gently lifts Phryne's bandaged swathed head, just enough for the liquid to go down, while gingerly easing the tip of the straw between her pale lips

He barely stifles a chuckle as she manages to blow little streams of bubbles with the straw, but somehow can't manage to draw the liquid up.

Suddenly the seriousness dawns... realizing her ability to drink is yet under Morpheus' spell...

He fills the straw and gently teases it across her lips, letting the cool drips tempt the tip of her tongue, to come partake of the refreshing beads of moisture. He's watched Mac do this several times too, from the safe distance of the doorway. Handling things himself enables him to understand why.

Phryne manages to take about one-third of the water, that he's put into the straw, before slowly shaking her head, letting Jack know that she's had enough.

Now his rapidly thumping heart is ready to explode from watching how adorable she is.

Totally smitten he lovingly teases "You certainly are awfully thirsty Miss Fisher. Are you sure that you've had enough?"

She nods, managing a small grin, as she refocuses her sleepy eyes on him. Until wincing makes her quickly shut telltale eyes, to mask the pain she's now in.

Easing Phryne onto her pillow Jack says "I'll send for Mac, love."

Suddenly tiny fingers grab hold of Jack's big hand as Phryne masks her pain by grumping "No need, Jack. Unfortunately, I was just remembering that Mac told me she had to snip my bob very short and shave my head in a couple of places, so that she could tend to things and ply her needle."

Jack quips "Well it's not like she had time to call in your hairdresser Phryne."

Phryne huffs " Good thing my hair grows as fast as pesky garden weeds. I'll have my bob back soon enough."

Jack blabs "Mac said... When the wraps come off that hard head of yours... we will all see the little pixie that you truly are."

Phryne does laugh at Jack spilling the beans, while managing, this time, to rearrange a wince into a grin.

Jack's not fooled one second for he realizes that she's in too much pain. He's sat by her side through this battle long enough to know, without even looking at his time piece, when Mac's due with relief to help Phryne win the war.

Also aware of her strong feelings about independence, he's not surprised when Pouty Lips reluctantly admit "I feel like such a baby stuck in this bed. And Mac and her confederates say 'There's nothing I can do about it either'" sigh.

Very much out of character, but for once true to his heart, Lopsided Grin retorts "Then come to papa." And Jack lovingly leans in delivering the most tender, lingering, toe tingling kiss known to all the world (including one Elizabethan bards of great acclaim) smack-dab on Phryne's irresistible pouty lips.

Quickly and quiet as a wee mouse with winged paws...

Mac's entering the room, about this time, to check Phryne's pulse and pain level, before delivering another gift from Morpheus. She'll abort her mission immediately so her special twosome can have some space (Reckons Phryne's pulse will sound like an industrious woodpecker or a jack-hammer the size of Australia. And she's definitely not feeling any pain, in her current state of bliss. As a matter of fact, it looks like the two of them are reacting to the mighty sting of Eros' wee arrows)

Hence...trusting Jack to send for her when she's needed, grinning broadly, she executes an about-face and marches down the hallway, generously patting herself on the back.

Mac's kept Phryne and Jack in the confines of the hospital room long enough for Eros to do what he does best. The wee winged laddie just needed a tad more time to fiddle with their heartstrings and zap them really good with his wee potent arrows. Now her darling friend Phryne and her dashing Jack are able to experience the potions magical power, enabling them to feel the beat and hear the melody, of the beautiful music of love.

The little dance will continue... Commencing with a long, slow, rhythmic waltz through time.

tbc...As a certain little somebody wonders if she'll ever see her beloved St. Kilda Home again. Let alone be sprung from hospital.