This is my entry for this year's MFMM Ficathon. Each participant is given 4 anonymous prompts and writes a story of at least 1000 words on at least one of the prompts. The prompts are a quote prompt, a picture prompt, a Phrack lite prompt (Not featuring Phrack), and a Phrack prompt. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to fit all four prompts into one fic, make it canon compliant in the middle of a season, and still be readable. I hope I achieved some of that.
The title is from the extended paragraph of the work from which the Quote Prompt is derived. "I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other." – Rainer Marie Rilke
Not part of the prompt-The quote is from On Love and Other Difficulties and goes on to say, "For, it lies in the nature of indifference and of the crowd to recognize no solitude, then love and friendship are there for the purpose of continually providing the opportunity for solitude. And only those are the true sharings which rhythmically interrupt periods of deep isolation…"
I'll reveal the other prompts as they're closer to being incorporated.
Chapter 1
"Looks like you'll have to make do with me."
"Looks like we'll have to make do with each other."
Her lips twitched with the effort of schooling her response.
"Is that to share?" she nodded at the bottle.
"To share and celebrate."
"How marvelous! What are we celebrating?"
"Our anniversary," his eyes sparkled with mirth.
"Anniversary? Of?"
"Of the first time we worked as partners. Of the first time we shared an after-case drink."
"You hated that I butted into that case!"
"A little." He tilted his head, "Mostly I was jealous of your talent. Untrained though it was." He offered a toast. "To partnership."
They sipped from their glasses, eyes locked.
Phryne sidled slightly closer. She noted with some small delight that he didn't withdraw, if anything he invited it. "Is this the tie you bought for our thwarted dinner?" She asked, running her finger lightly along the silk, swirling the circle patterns. She glanced at his eyes, expecting to see the same old nervousness. Her breath caught nearly imperceptibly when she realized his usual fear was gone. He looked so determined.
His hand closed over hers, lightly stroking her fingers, "It is," his voice was quiet and deep. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he kissed them with delicate care.
"Jack," she whispered.
"I've been thinking," he said. His words ghosting over her knuckles, sparking a rippling shiver down her spine.
"I've got a penny somewhere if you'd like to share," she said with a nervous smile.
"No need," he shook his head, taking a deep breath , "I'd like to try for that dinner again."
She looked at him quizzically, "Ah… I can see if Mr. Butler has..."
His quiet confidence faltered, "No… Miss Fisher… I mean…What I'm trying to say..." he pressed his lips together in frustration. She thought she could see him arguing with himself behind his grey-blue eyes.
"Jack? Would you like to kiss me?"
He nodded dumbly.
"Kiss me, Jack."
He nodded, pulling her to meet his lips. The kiss was tentative at first. Nothing like the kiss of distraction in Café Réplique. The skin of his lips was soft, but the intent behind them was firm. Phryne teased at his mouth with her tongue. A rumbling groan and fingers flexing in her hair rewarded her. She snaked her arms under Jack's suit jacket, pressing her body close.
The world fell away. Only the heat between them. Only heartbeats syncing.
"You were saying?"
"I was?" his voice was deeper than usual, "I was. I was saying… I'd like to reevaluate my liberal-mindedness."
"Is that so?" Phryne pulled back grinning.
"I know you are who you are… I know… I want to be part of whatever you'll let me. I need… I need to try."
"Jack," she traced her thumb over his now red-stained lips.
There was a knock. Jack startled from his trance.
Phryne sighed in annoyance, "Hold that thought," she commanded as she stepped away.
She yanked opened the door, "Yes?" she snapped at the usually prescient butler.
"Apologies for the intrusion miss, but your Aunt is on the telephone. She's insisting it's an emergency."
Aunt Prudence was a good and loving woman. In many ways Aunt P was more of a mother than her own mother had ever been. She did, however, have the most unfortunate timing. "Oh Phryne," Aunt P sounded frantic, "Thank goodness! The most dreadful thing has happened."
"Aunt P? What is it?"
"It's Philippa… she's missing!"
Phryne rested her head against the banister in frustration. Lady Philippa Leveson-Bowes had been staying with her aunt for the past week. The women were lifelong friends and now rivals on the track. The Flemington Handicap was tomorrow. Both women had recently acquired personal interests in the race. "Are you sure, Aunt P?" Phryne felt a warm hand on the back of her neck and smiled as strong fingers flexed into her hair. She turned toward Jack slowly. "Maybe she's just out late?"
Jack gave her a questioning look. Her eyes darted toward the telephone, she mouthed, "Aunt P." He nodded and continued massaging the back of her head. Her eyes closed in contented enjoyment.
"It's more than that," Prudence's agitation spiked, "Diadem is dead!"
Phryne's eyes popped open as she straightened, "Dead?! What happened?"
Jack stopped his massage.
"I don't know! Oh, Phryne, please come!" Prudence pleaded, "I need your help."
"Of course, Aunt P. Have you… contacted the police?" She asked whilst stroking a finger down Jack's face. It was still and serious, but his eyes were dancing with joy; darkening with desire.
"Oh! Phryne would you be a dear and contact them for me?" Prudence begged.
Phryne cupped Jack's face. Her thumb traced his cheekbone, "I believe I can get ahold of Inspector Robinson," she smiled wickedly.
"Thank you, Phryne! Please hurry," with that Aunt P rang off.
Phryne replaced the receiver, "I'm sorry. I really want to continue this… conversation… but…"
"Duty calls," he smiled slightly at her, "Phryne… I'm glad we had a chance to … talk."
"Would you like to go together? We could… finish our conversation," she asked hopefully.
Jack fingered her long, sparkling earrings, "I think it might be better if we arrive separately."
Phryne nodded in disappointment.
"I do want to keep… talking," Jack hastened, "but perhaps we should figure out what we're talking about first."
"Does it matter?" She asked, "Would we have to stop… talking… if we don't completely agree on the subject?"
"No. I want to keep… talking," Jack said, "I've never been more eager to… converse… and no matter the subject, I want to be part of the conversation. But, for now… until we figure out what that is, I'd prefer we're not… overheard."
She smiled, bringing her lips close to his ear, "Secret conversations can be very… titillating."