A/N Hello! Thank you for stopping by to read my story! This is the first time I'm dipping my toes into the fan fic fandom of Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. If you're one of my followers, you already know I have written a number of stories for the Bones fandom. If you've never read my stuff, I am looking forward to making some new friends :)
Anyone who knows me, or knows my writing style, knows I have a serious weakness for the 'what-if' in a budding or soon-to-be relationship. I love finding alternative ways to bring together, two people that I think belong together. I started watching MFMM a few years back and was always intrigued by the relationship between Phryne and Jack and I'd yearned for a Season 4. I hadn't re-watched the series for a while, but my interest was reignited when I read about the feature film that will begin shooting this year. So Excited! *happy dance*
Please note that I'm American, and not really versed in 1920's Australian verbiage and colloquialisms beyond what I have seen on TV. So, please forgive me if I use the wrong words!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with MFMM and mean no copyright infringement!
Occurs after "Blood at the Wheel"
She remained seated in her parlor and watched, stunned, as he turned away with nothing more than an empty promise to think about the confession she'd made to him, that if he gave up on her, forced a separation between them, she would feel very much like he felt when he thought she'd been killed in that car wreck. There was an unsettling silence that fell over the room. Dot and Mr. Butler had made themselves scarce in anticipation of the Inspector spending an extended amount of time sharing drinks and conversation with their mistress, leading up to an intimate late dinner for two, as was becoming a standard outcome to most evenings the pair shared. Instead, however, the Honorable Miss Fisher was left alone… Alone and lonely in her sudden realization of how much Jack Robinson had come to mean to her.
Following a quiet, solitary supper, before which Mr. B, upon learning of Jack's earlier-than-usual departure, hastily removed the second place-setting, Phryne wandered into the sitting room and took quick possession of the crystal decanter, which had been dutifully filled by her ever-attentive houseman sometime that afternoon. Relocating to her bedroom, she was intent to drink away the anger and hurt that had settled in her abdomen the moment she realized Jack was severing their somewhat informal partnership. Determined to maintain some semblance of patience, the lady of the house was certain that her Chief Detective Inspector would soon realize the error of his ways and would call on her in a day or two, requesting her assistance on an unusual murder case, or perhaps, she hoped, simply seeking her company, which, of course, she would freely give him after an acceptable amount of supplication on the police officer's part.
~MFMM~
Days turned into weeks, and Junior Constable Hugh Collins watched as his role model sank further into a dark misery, trying to suppress and disguise his ever-deepening sadness by immersing himself in case files, refusing to engage in idle conversation and declining daily offers to partake in lunches delivered to him by Dottie, even though his sweetheart always packed enough for two, just in case... Collins wished he could do something to help his boss, something to alleviate the hopelessness that seemed to have consumed the entire station like a soggy, oppressing curtain hanging from somewhere far beyond his reach. The young man was at a loss, however, as he didn't even know what had happened to bring about such solemness. The only information he'd been able to garner from Dot was that the Inspector was there one evening, and then he wasn't… and that he hadn't been back since…
He silently observed his fellow-officers as they tiptoed around the common rooms and halls in ways that they hadn't had to do in over a year, cautious against instigating any sort of conversations that may, even in the slightest, hint at civilians aiding on investigations, or engaging in gossip about society party goers that made the papers, for fear that one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher's name could surface unintentionally. The Detective Inspector had turned into a veritable bear to work with, prone to explosive mood swings and not afraid to publicly reprimand any of his subordinates for doing something not to his liking. Hugh sighed as he bit into the sandwich Dottie had packed for him late one afternoon, wishing he knew how to help the man who was more than a superior and a mentor, but also a friend, but with his limited knowledge of the world, he had very little to offer to Jack Robinson.
For Jack, it was easier on his heart, and on his sanity, to avoid personal interaction with his favorite Constable for fear that news of his dour demeanor might be accidentally shared with Miss Williams, and in turn, make it back to the ears of her Miss. He couldn't help his anger, no matter how hard he tried to talk himself out of letting it rule his entire existence. The Detective hadn't felt this level of despair since returning from the war, after having outlived his countrymen, his friends, many of whom died as they all hunkered down, lying side-by-side in roughly dug-out bunkers… The survivors remorse, for which there was no real diagnosis though it didn't make it less real, that feeling reared it ugly, barely-manageable head when he thought Miss Fisher had died all those weeks ago... And he quickly felt himself mentally transported back in time, back into his darkest of days...
When Jack came home after the war, all he had wanted was acceptance, support and comfort from his bride, from his lovely Rosie. But that wasn't to be. She was accusational and argumentative that he wasn't the same man that she married… that he didn't show her the right sort of affection… that he was moody... that he couldn't seem to give her a family... Jack so desperately wanted, needed, affection and solace from the woman who'd promised to love him in sickness and in health. In his most nightmarish moments, however, she wouldn't even touch him in a platonic manner, not to mention how utterly repulsed she was at the mere notion of allowing him to touch her with any sort of marital-rights. No, his marital right, as it were, was restricted to the briefest of attempts to conceive a child, always under the dark cover of night, and contained zero attempts of romantic overture. Rosie refused to discuss sex, refused to add any variety to sex and most certainly was not a fan of foreplay or post coital cuddling.
When Jack come back from the war a damaged man, not at all the hero about whom poets and lyricist wrote, she frankly didn't want to comfort him or tolerate his moodiness. Ultimately, at the urging of her sister and with the support of her father, she left Jack to his own devices, letting him figure out his mundane, sad existence in stoic solitude, where she wouldn't be forced to witness his demise.
Things had started to change for Jack, however, on that fateful day when he first encountered one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective. She swept in on his case like an elegantly dressed hurricane - silk, satin and feathers flapping in the tailwind - and continued to resurface time and again, until, against his better judgement, he started looking forward to her uninvited appearances.
He was careful to hide the enjoyment that surged through his body whenever they worked together, futilely ordering her, without actually enforcing his police power, to exclude herself from any and all investigational proceedings and to remove herself from his crime scenes. It was only in the privacy of his home, when he was without onlookers, that he would smile in recollection of something she'd said or done earlier in the day or week, or he would chuckle at the thought of the way she flitted around the official government building housing their station, rendering the young constables and officers tongue-tied and dumb-founded with her coy expressions and sly smiles. Most of those boys never stood a chance, he often mused, ignoring his own inability to refuse his Lady Detective anything she requested...
He knew, as well, that not only had he changed, but the morale within the City South Police Station had been boosted when Miss Fisher's interference became more frequent. Jack Robinson was no idiot, and he was definitely not so naive as to suspect there was no correlation between the two phenomenon. Phryne Fisher had an inexplicable grounding effect on him; she helped anchor him through stormy weather and as a result, his own temperament had been mitigated, resulting in a more agreeable work environment for his subordinates. The countless bags of biscuits and sweets that often found their way into the break room certainly didn't hurt, either, he smirked.
When that call came, however… That broken, static-filled message about an 'automobile accident...Miss Fisher...dead…', his world was flipped upside down and inside out. He broke every speed limit between the station and the accident scene, barely keeping his own vehicle on the road, trying to reach her, terrified at what he knew he'd be forced to examine.
And then… as he was lifting up the sheet that had been so carefully placed over the deceased woman's body in the driver's seat, her voice reached his ears and he felt dizzy. It was mind-boggling how quickly his emotions morphed from despair and anguish, to relief that she was alive, to anger that she held this kind of power over him, all while being oblivious to the true nature of his feelings.
No, he had told himself firmly. Miss Fisher's hold on his heart had to stop then and there. He helped solve the case, for the sake of finding justice for the deceased and no other reason. But once the case was closed, he knew he had made the right decision in severing their partnership, otherwise he knew he was going to drown. He couldn't afford to empower her with strength over him any longer, it was too great a risk and he knew there was never a chance that she'd feel the same for him. The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher was far, far out of his league, and she could easily chew him up and spit him out without so much as a blink of her long, elegant eyelashes.
~MFMM~
At Miss Fisher's St. Kilda home, Dottie and Mr. Butler had been helpless as their esteemed employer grew more solemn with each passing day, only accepting cases that involved such mysteries that would quite obviously keep her presence far away from City South Station officials, respecting Jack's blatant need to keep at a distance. She went through the motions and solved what she referred to as 'frivolous mishaps' and 'un-mysterious mysteries'.
The normally-energetic socialite declined to entertain invitations from a plethora of male callers who'd courted her in hopes of having her join them for the next charity ball, or to keep company for an evening at the theater. Her quick-witted tongue was swift to shatter any and all attempts by her overbearing Aunt Prudence, as she tried to force Phryne into taking afternoon tea with gentlemen that the widow considered acceptable, and the independent private eye was not shy about defending her Detective Inspector against the venom-laced insults that the older woman was so fond of flinging around, even though he had all but turned his back on her.
Miss Fisher took most suppers alone, occasionally joined by the ever-loyal Dr. Macmillan. After countless lectures from Mac, during most of which Phryne flat-out refused to discuss the circumstances surrounding her self-imposed celibacy and isolation, Phryne's walls started to slowly crumble. It took a particularly late evening strengthened by a generous supply of hard liquor and coaxing before the stubborn brunette finally gave in, revealing her troubles to her dear friend. Through tears and sobs, Phryne told Mac about the dejection she'd been experiencing ever since Jack walked out her front door without so much as a backwards glance. Her words, though carefully chosen, unintentionally revealed to the insightful doctor just how deeply infatuated she had become with the City South policeman and Mac couldn't help but feel bad for her longtime friend.
What Mac didn't reveal to Phryne, though, was that she'd heard, through the grapevine, that a certain Detective Inspector was every bit as miserable as she was. When Dot had mentioned to Mac what her beau had related to her, about the Inspector's ever-growing sullenness, Mac had decided that she'd pay a little visit to Jack in a day or two, not only to see with her own eyes just how he's handling the separation, but to put a little bug in his ear about visiting their mutual friend. All she had to do to was figure out a believable excuse that would 'find' her at the City South Police Station and prompt the Inspector to actually speak to her. In the meantime, Mac sat with her friend, listening, soothing, and sympathizing as she patted the back of her thin, pale hand as she held it in her own.
"You need to get out of the house, Phryne." Mac told her softly. "It's not healthy to isolate yourself just because you and Jack had a fight."
"We didn't have a fight," Phryne insisted with anger. "He left me, Mac! I pushed him… he pushed me back… He pushed me away…"
Dr. Elizabeth Macmillan released Phryne's hand and reached for her drink, knocking it back in one gulp before pouring another finger-measure of the amber liquor. She rested her elbows on her knees and looked sideways at the red-rimmed eyes of the woman who rarely let anyone see her as anything but strong and independent. Inhaling slowly, she considered her words carefully.
"Phryne, from what you've told me about your dear Jack, I imagine he's having more than just a negative reaction to the possibility that you'd been killed in that crash. You've got to think about what he's been through, emotionally and physically, in the past. It can't be that simple…. The pain he felt leaving his family to go to war... the agony of watching comrades gunned down… his inability to help them…" She shrugged, pinning Phryne with a knowing eye, hoping her friend could, at the very least, relate to the need to save those she cared about. "And then, the heartbreak he experienced when he returned; to be thrown away like yesterday's rubbish… He probably only just started feeling alive again, in large part to your positive influence on him… And then he thought you'd been ripped away…"
This new point of view that Mac offered, Phryne admonished herself for not thinking about it first, for being so self-absorbed that she failed to see the blatant pain that he had been experiencing. She had, as always, conducted herself business-as-usual, plowing head-first into the case and demanding that Jack take the case. Thinking back to that day, standing beside the wreck, the look on his face should have told her something was wrong. Something more than her sudden appearance had disturbed him, but she failed to recognize it.
"What should I do?" She asked quietly, unaccustomed to not knowing how to proceed.
"You need to give him time, Phryne. Give him a chance to come to terms with his own feelings and emotions. Once he comes around, he'll be back. And then the two of you need to talk. Seriously talk."
"What," she swallowed thickly, almost afraid to voice her fears. "What if he doesn't? What if he doesn't want to come back?"
Mac looked at her friend, knowing that her vulnerability must be killing her, but also knowing her well enough that she wouldn't dare soften her advice. "Then… You'll either need to go after him, or… you need to move on. You were happy before Jack Robinson, you'll be fine if he's gone…"
~MFMM~
Late the following morning, though Phryne wasn't in the mood to work, she needed to follow up on a lead for her latest solo case. Selecting her outfit carefully, she chose an unassuming pantsuit and opted to forgo jewelry altogether. Her investigation would take her to a labor-populated, less-favorable side of Melbourne.
"Dot?" Miss Fisher spoke to her companion's reflection in her mirror, as she sat at her vanity applying her face powder.
"Yes, Miss?" Dot busied herself, folding her mistress's nightgown and preparing the make the bed.
"I expect to be gone most of the day. Bert and Cec have agreed to follow me, given the volatility of the locale. I'd prefer them to stay out of sight, so as to not tip anyone off about the purpose of my presence. I'd like you to pack enough food for them to keep in the cab, so they will not have to stray from the car park where I direct them."
"Yes, Miss." Dot curtsied with a gentle nod. "Shall I go prepare that now, before I continue here?"
"If you would, yes. I would like to leave directly after I finish my tea and toast."
Dot quickly took the back stairs down to the kitchen, finding Miss Fisher's two pseudo-bodyguards sitting at the table, finishing crumbs from a tray that had held a good portion of her morning's-worth of baking. With an expression of shock, her hands went to her hips as she immediately gave the boys a tongue lashing for eating the entire tray of sweet Anzac biscuits. She snatched the tray from the center of the table, reprimanding them as if they were children, as if she were scolding her nephews, instead of addressing the two grown men who were charged to keep her employer safe.
Following Miss Fisher's instructions, she packed a generous amount of food into a basket and filled two thermos containers with hot tea, all while lecturing the boys, reminding them to keep clear minds and to pay close attention to their Miss. To their credit, Bert and Cec sat quietly as Dot droned on and on, eyeing each other behind her back and pulling comical expressions before schooling their faces immediately whenever she turned around to ensure they were listening.
When Miss Fisher floated into the small kitchen, she accepted the car keys from Mr. Butler, who always seemed to know just what she was going to request before she had a chance to voice the words.
"Thank you, Mr. B." She smiled. "As I said to Dot, I expect to be out all afternoon and into the evening, so there is no need to fix dinner. Go ahead and make something for yourself and Dot, but don't worry about me. I will have something when I'm ready, after I complete my investigations. I suspect I will need to eat some of the local fare in order to initiate some lines of questions."
"Very good, Miss." Mr. Butler nodded, already planning to make something that would store well in the icebox for when she arrived back home, in case she returned feeling peckish after a day of work.
"Bert, Cec," Miss Fisher moved her attention to the men who stood by the door, ready to follow her instructions. "You know where we are going, please keep behind me on the way and once I park, you may select a space close-by, but not immediately next to the Hispano-Suiza, I don't want anyone who happens to see us pull in to think that we are together. It is of the utmost importance that I am, by all appearances, alone. Otherwise, those with whom I intend to speak may grow suspicious and clam up."
"Yes, Miss," the men nodded in understanding. "But the minute you need us, we'll be there. If you need to go inside or somethin', one of us will find an excuse to get closer. Just like we talked about."
With nothing more to discuss, the trio was on their way, Miss Fisher leading while giving Bert a silent challenge to keep up with her speed as she hit the open road and laughed gleefully at the freedom she felt whenever she drove.
~MFMM~
The cabbies-turned-guards found an opportunistic parking space that would afford them an excellent vantage point from which they could keep an eye on their charge as she loitered near shop fronts and pubs, asking her questions and doing her level best not to appear as out of place as she truly was. They remained in their cab, their heads against the seat backs with their hats pulled almost over their eyes, as if to give the impression of a couple of drivers catching some sleep after a long night of driving or in preparation of an even longer Friday night ahead, driving pub-goers around town late into the night. Their attention, however, never strayed from the brunette who stood out, even in a plain, unadorned pantsuit, as she asked questions to men changing shifts or taking supper on the sidewalk benches.
As the sun started to set, Phryne was about to give up and return to her car when she was approached by a burly man who had been watching from the pub. Bert started to sit up, his gut instinct telling him something was off, but Cec grunted, wordlessly telling his partner to sit still as he tried to hear the conversation through the open window.
When they couldn't understand what was being said, both men moved their hats and finally started to look alert. They watched, as Miss Fisher listened to the stranger and nodded when he pointed to another building, one that was on the far side of the row, one that was steeped in shadows and screamed of ominous goings-on.
"Don't do it," Bert muttered under his breath, but it was in vain. Of course she was going to follow the man's direction, thanking him with an assertive handshake before turning her back on him and walking down the street with a purpose. What she didn't see, however, was exactly what the boys were afraid of…. The stranger portending to be so helpful started to follow her, his stalking stride making it obvious that his intentions were anything but honorable.
Deciding without argument that they would both follow their employer, the men slipped from their cab once Miss Fisher had turned a corner, so they wouldn't distract her or blow her cover in the event they were overreacting. Walking at a fast clip, they tailed the dark-suited man until he ducked out of sight, around the same corner where Miss Fisher had gone. To their horror, they heard a muffled cry before they reached the edge of the building, forcing them both into an all-out run. It sounded as if someone had clamped a hand across her mouth just as she started to scream and they skidded to the alleyway just in time to see a man poised over Miss Fisher's body where she lay on the gravel, his hand ripping open the front of her outfit after apparently silencing her with a backhand across her jaw.
Acting quickly, the cabbies jumped on the stranger's back, pulling him away from their unconscious employer. While Cec went about punching the man's kidneys, Bert quickly wrapped a surprisingly strong arm around his neck, placing the man into a choke-hold as he pulled him further backwards, forcing the man to his knees. Miss Fisher's employees may have been considerably smaller than the assailant, but they benefited from the element of surprise over him as well as the advantage of two-on-one.
Subduing the angry laborer, Bert drove his elbow into the man's nose, a satisfied grin spreading across his mouth at the distinct sound of a broken nose. They hogtied him in place, and once they were certain he was secured, Cec went to check on Miss Fisher while Bert ran to the street side pub to call for the police.
Without thinking twice, he immediately demanded to be connected to City South Police Station, and requested to speak to DI Jack Robinson. There was a police station closer to their location, one that covered this jurisdiction, but Bert acted out of pure instinct and knew she would prefer the professionalism, confidence and discretion that Jack would offer, as opposed to another less understanding copper who didn't know Miss Fisher. Besides that, he knew that while he may not always see eye-to-eye with the straight and narrow police detective, Miss Fisher had a special place in his heart for the Inspector.
~MFMM~
Ignoring the fact that the location was miles outside of his jurisdiction, Jack responded immediately to the emergency call, forgetting all of the anger that had been taking up residence in his gut. Demanding that Collins accompany him, they sped to the location and Jack ignored the fact that he was, once again, breaking countless traffic laws as he raced to Phryne's side.
When he slammed the brakes to a stop on the street outside the establishment from which Bert had called, Jack didn't care about dodgy goings-on in the immediate area, his eyes were scanning the car park for the familiar faces that had prompted his quick action. Seeing Bert a short distance away, at the mouth of an alleyway, waving for his attention, Jack took off running, his heart racing for reasons other than his swift activity.
Anxious to check on Phryne first, Jack dropped to his knees to examine his Lady Detective. Instantly feeling his blood boil in reaction to her facial injuries, he pressed his palm to her forehead, muttering her name as her eyelids fluttered.
Cec explained as Jack did his preliminary examination, that she had appeared to be in and out of consciousness, complaining that her head hurt when she first woke. Jack was bold enough to run a gentle hand through her short hair and across the back of her head, feeling for the knot he knew would be there.
He clenched his teeth when his fingers grew wet with blood and he took his handkerchief from his pocket and held it in place. Knowing that his Constable was shackling her attacker, he continued his attempts to communicate with his confused partner.
"Miss Fisher?" He beckoned her softly as one palm cradled her jaw. "Open your eyes." When her brow wrinkled, he knew she'd heard him and somewhere in the back of his mind he cursed the independent woman for refusing to follow even this, the most basic of requests. "Phryne," he used her given name, something he was not wont to do. "Please, Love, open your eyes. It's Jack." He swallowed thickly, hoping she would recognize him, silently praying that her intelligent brain hadn't been permanently injured when her attacker struck.
Brushing the fringe from her forehead, he leaned closer, far closer than he ever dared before, speaking close to her cheek, back towards her ear. "I'm going to call for an ambulance transport and have you taken to hospital."
"No," she managed to croak, her head pounding terribly as she grimaced at the unmistakable taste of blood in her mouth.
"Miss Fisher," Jack pulled back and eyed her carefully, resuming the formal address. He inhaled slowly, waiting for her to look at him.
"Call Mac," her hand reached out and blindly grasped at Jack's lapel. "You drive me home. She will see me there."
"You really should go to hospital, Miss Fisher," he was worried about a possible concussion, seeing as how she seemed to be hazy.
Finally her eyelids fluttered open, revealing the blue eyes he'd been missing for weeks. In a weak, quiet whisper, she implored the inspector. "Please, Jack. Mac is an excellent doctor. You drive me in the Hispano."
Knowing there was a strong possibility that Mac was as good as, if not a better physician than that which she might get in the local hospital clinic, he relented with a single nod. Gently wiping his thumb along her lower lip, he removed a smudge of blood not yet dried. "Alright."
He took off his long coat and then his suit jacket. Using his blazer as a pillow, he replace his hand that had been cradling the handkerchief to the back of her head. "Don't move," he spread his long trench coat over her prostrate body. "I'll be right back."
Pushing to his feet and turning in his heel, he spoke to Cec without taking his eyes off the handcuffed man who had dared attack Miss Fisher.
"Stay with Miss Fisher, Cecil," he said as he stalked over to where his Constable held the man in shackles. It was clear that Bert and Cec had done a job on him, for which Jack was appreciative. As an officer of the law, he had to maintain his temper and refrain from inciting violence, but that didn't mean that he wasn't vibrating with the urge to lay into the stranger for committing the crime against his Lady Detective.
When the prisoner started to complain and threaten to file an official gripe against the men who had attacked him from behind, Jack leveled a cold, hard stare at him, not in the least bit intimidated by his relative larger size. Stepping close, he inhaled slowly, grimacing at the stench of alcohol, and swallowed a growl that was forming deep in his chest.
"You would do well to shut your mouth at this time. You are under arrest for the assault, and attempted sexual interference, of one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher. Anything you say may be used as evidence against you…" Hardening his features, he made sure he had the man's attention, his voice dropping a half octave. "And be assured, I will see to it that you are penalized to the highest degree of the law for your transgression."
The man cut off Jack's thinly veiled threat, attempting to lunge at him in a blind fury.
Hugh had a firm hold on the cuffs latched around the man's wrists and gave a sharp tug, pulling him back in line. "Oy, stand still."
"Constable," Jack addressed Hugh. "Take this man back to City South and lock him up." Jack kept talking, ignoring the outburst of profanity spewing from the man's filthy mouth. "Begin processing the paperwork and I will review once I've returned from escorting Miss Fisher to seek medical attention. I will take her statement if she is up to it, otherwise it will need to wait until tomorrow." He turned to Bert and Cec, nodding at the men. "I'd like you both to return to the station, as well, and give your statements as to what you saw, and any other information you may find pertinent."
They both nodded, but Bert answered. "Sure. Y'know, I'm not partial to visiting you coppers, but in this instance, I'll make an exception.. I wanna see this bloke pay for what he done to our Miss."
Cec looked at the inspector. "Are you going to drive Miss Fisher? We don't mind."
"I'll take her," Jack answered instantly, leaving no room for discussion.
"I'd like to ride with Hugh." Bert chewed a toothpick. "This guy is pretty aggressive."
Jack considered the offer as Hugh interrupted. "I assure you I'm capable of controlling the prisoner. But thank you."
"It won't hurt, Hugh" Jack replied with a sensible nod. "Besides, I have another request for Cecil before he leaves. Go ahead and take Albert with you."
Hugh wouldn't defy his orders, but was irritated that the people around him apparently thought he needed assistance. "Right, then," he looked at Bert, his lips pressing together tightly. "Come on."
Watching his loyal Constable walk away, pushing the perpetrator not so gently, he nodded at Bert as their eyes met in mutual appreciation that overrode all of their previous disagreements. Turning back to where Miss Fisher was by then sitting upright with the help of her loyal cabbie, he squatted down in front of her. Searching her eyes, Jack looked for any indication of incoherency. When he found none, he reached out and laid his hand on top of hers.
"Do you think you can stand?" He asked Miss Fisher, his eyes flicking to Cec as the younger man shook his head gently, indicating that she was fully leaning against him while seated.
"Y-yes, I think so," she felt dazed, but confident that she was in control of her faculties. As she tried to get her feet under her to stand, however, her balance was clearly impacted and she swayed towards Jack, reaching out to him without hesitation as she fell back onto her bottom.
The Inspector caught her easily as she fell forward, his hand splaying cross her rib cage carefully. "Alright…"
"Oh, sorry Jack," she muttered softly as she wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "I thought I could…"
Shifting his eyes to Cec, he plotted their next steps. "I'll take Miss Fisher to her car and drive her home. I need you to go into the pub, over there, and call the Women's Clinic. Tell Dr. Macmillan that Miss Fisher has been injured and is requesting that she meet us at Miss Fisher's home. Then I need you to drive to the City South Station and give your statement to Hugh." He glanced down at Phryne as she rested her cheek against the front of his shoulder, then addressed Cec once more. "Make sure your statement is thorough, include as many details as possible but do not exaggerate anything. We want a clean case against this guy."
Cec shifted to stand up, trusting the officer to take care of his employer. He wasn't a fan of the Victoria Police in general, but as far as coppers went, Jack Robinson was alright in his book, because Miss Fisher trusted him.
Before Cec got too far away, Jack called out to him once more. "Cecil? Thanks for calling my station, rather than the local precinct."
"It's what Miss woulda wanted... if she weren't so dazed, and had been able to've instructed us."
Jack nodded and looked down at the Lady Detective, who was still leaning heavily on him, no longer trying to sit up on her own. "Miss Fisher?" He craned his neck to look at her face. "Are you sure you don't want to go to Hospital? We can ask Dr. Macmillan to meet you there…?"
"No." Phryne hated hospitals. She supposed her aversion stemmed to her time working as a wartime nurse… hospitals gave her a bad feeling when she was the one lying in the bed.
"Alright, well, hang on then." He shifted to spread his feet for better balance and scooped his arm into beneath her knees, keeping his other arm around her torso. His trench coat bunched up across her torso, covering the torn clothing, and his bloodied suit jacket dangled from his fingers. "Put your arms around my neck, Phryne."
She did as instructed and felt an inexplicable sensation of safety. She struggled with this emotion because she was an independent, modern woman, and she didn't want to depend on anyone else to make her feel secure… but Jack was different from the other men with whom she generally socialized, and she didn't quite know when Jack had become such a trusted member of her unconventional family.
Phryne's head hurt, and she didn't want to think about anything anymore. She let her head lull against Jack's shoulder, having faith in him to get her home safely.
Jack was surprisingly strong, despite his lean appearance. His years as a soldier and a police officer ingrained a rigorous workout routine, which, when coupled with his passion for cycling, helped maintain a healthy strength. He lifted his pseudo-partner with ease and walked out to the car park, to where he'd spotted her car when he and Hugh first pulled in.
"Are you in pain?" He spoke quietly as they moved, his concern obvious.
"My head hurts. I'm... disoriented." She tried to maintain her ever present logic and reached back into her memory to when she had treated wounded soldiers. "I believe I've been concussed."
"Most likely," he replied as he placed her gently into the passenger seat of the car. "Nothing else hurts?"
She shook her head. "Only my pride…" She hated feeling vulnerable, but she was thankful for Bert and Cec and their keen instincts to have followed her.
He looked down at her, noting how small she looked when injured. "No need to feel like that, Miss Fisher." He had so many things running through his mind. He wanted to lecture her about placing herself in harm's way… he wanted to tell her how much he'd missed her and how sorry he was to have forced her away… he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. But the only thing he could say at the moment had nothing whatsoever to do with any of those things. "Let's get you home, Miss Fisher."
~MFMM~
Phryne started feeling more alert on the trip back to St. Kilda, the air in her face as Jack drove, obviously doing some good. The pain in her head was still pounding, but her focus came back and her equilibrium seemed to have stabilized. She kept her head against the seat back, still cushioned against Jack's suit jacket, though she didn't realize that was what he'd set to cradle her so carefully.
Watching Jack as he drove, she noted the way he kept clenching his teeth, causing his jaw muscles to flex and tighten before returning to their relaxed state. She studied his profile, admiring him without speaking. He was not a dashing man, not one that would grab a woman's attention just by walking into a room, but there was something about him that had drawn her into his orbit; a magnetism, no matter how subdued, that called to her on an ancient, subconscious level. Her eyes felt so heavy; the soothing rhythm of the tires crunching over the hard-packed road combined with the safety and security she felt with Jack coaxed her eyelids to fall closed.
"Miss Fisher," Jack reached over and placed his hand atop hers. "Don't fall asleep." He kept his eyes on the road in front of them but squeezed her fingers between his.
"I'm alright," she replied quietly. "Just tired…"
"Phryne," he glanced at her and saw that her eyes were already closed. "Stay awake, Phryne." He jostled her hand. "You've sustained a head injury," he tried to talk reason to her, but could tell she was drifting into slumber.
Pulling the car off the road and stopping, Jack turned to her completely. He continued holding her hand and brought his other palm up to her cheek, cupping it tenderly. "Phryne, sweetheart, wake up," he hadn't meant for the endearment to slip out, but he'd been saying it for so long in his own thoughts, it felt perfectly natural rolling off his tongue aloud.
Her eyelids fluttered at the intimate moniker, the warmth of Jack's voice as he spoke it, washing over her like nothing she'd ever experienced. She turned her hand, so it was palm-to-palm with his, and her slightly-dazed eyes looked at him with tender curiosity. She nodded her head, ever so slightly, to acknowledge his concern.
"Yes," she said quietly. "I need to stay awake."
He dipped his head once in agreement, his eyes never leaving hers, his lips tight with worry. "You may be concussed. We won't know until Dr. Macmillan has examined you… So please, don't fall asleep yet."
Understanding his words, she became more distracted by the fact that he was there with her, after all this time apart. The fluttering of her heart reminded her of how much she'd missed him.
"You came for me…"
With an exaggeratedly resigned sigh, one corner of his mouth twitched upward as his thumb swept carefully along the bottom edge of her lower lip. "Of course I came for you, Miss Fisher."
"You just called me Phryne." She dared to believe that he felt as strongly for her as she did for him. "You called me Sweetheart…"
"I had to...get your attention somehow…" He lied, knowing he shouldn't reveal his affection for her quite yet. "If I deliver an unconscious Miss Fisher to Dr. Macmillan, she will have my head on a platter…" His dry humor peeked through his worried exterior. "And I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to avoid such a demise."
At that, they shared a knowing smile. While neither was quite ready to admit to anything, they both knew in their own hearts, that although the circumstance that had reunited them was less than ideal, it would lead to an inevitable conversation that had the potential to repair their heartaches.
~MFMM~
Phryne leaned heavily against Jack as he escorted her up her sidewalk towards the stairs that would lead to her front door. They walked slowly, his arm wrapped around her body as hers were looped around his waist. Before they reached the first step, Mr. Butler was opening the front door and rushing down to assist.
"Oh, Miss Fisher," he said. "When Dr. Macmillan arrived this evening, she told us of her summons to meet you here." He stood on the side opposite Jack and held his mistress's elbow carefully as she took one measured step after another until she reached the porch. "Straight into the parlor for you, Miss," he took control of the situation immediately. "We've gotten everything ready according to Dr. Macmillan's instruction."
Not lifting her cheek from where it rested against Jack's shoulder, she simply nodded her appreciation. The bright light was hurting her eyes and causing her aching head to throb once again. "Ugh," she groaned and squeezed her lids closed. "Bright in here…"
Mac rushed forward, hearing her friend's complaint and motioning for the men to guide her to the chaise lounge that was covered by a white sterile sheet. "Well, it needs to be bright in here, Phryne," she said in her no-nonsense tone. It was a defense mechanism for her to speak frankly in order to maintain some sense of control over her emotions. "If the lights aren't on, how could I be expected to examine you?"
Not wanting a lesson, Phryne fluttered her fingers in the air, dismissing the doctor's explanation. "I know…" She sat down, still gripping Jack with a surprisingly strong grasp.
Unwrapping his hand from her waist, Jack took her fingers in his, pulling them gently from his bicep and eased her back. "Lie back, Miss Fisher," he said softly, his face close to hers. "Easy," he warned so she wouldn't make any sudden movements.
When she unfurled her fingers from his, the Detective Inspector squatted down beside the chaise, hesitant to be too far from her side. When Mac eyed him, however, with a stern expression, he swallowed thickly and pushed to his full height.
"I kept her awake one the way," he explained as Mac got to work, mentally cataloguing the injuries she could see with a cursory examination. "Bert and Cec were not certain if she lost full consciousness or if she was only dazed by the blow to her head. She's been awake since I've been with her, but has been struggling to stay alert."
Mac was angry at what had happened to her friend, but knew she'd have to save the lecture about lurking in questionable neighborhoods for another time, so she could focus on her examination. Directing Dot for what she needed, she then turned to Jack and noticed the intensity in his gaze as he looked down at his drowsy partner. There was no doubt in her mind that the Chief Detective Inspector adored the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher and he was worried, but she had to ask him to leave.
"Inspector," she touched his arm and drew his attention. "I will need to ask you to leave, so I can examine Phryne."
"Oh, right," he nodded in understanding, realizing only then that he was still holding one of her hands in his. Gently lowering her hand, he was bold enough to drag a single finger along her jawline, careful not to press on the darkening bruise that had formed there as he spoke to her. "Miss Fisher, I need to go back to the station. I will leave your keys with Mr. Butler. And I will come see you tomorrow. Your statement can wait until then."
"No," her arm darted out with unexpected speed and accuracy for a woman who was somewhat delirious. "Take the Hispano," she blinked up at him. "No need to walk or take a cab. Take my car, just bring it back tonight."
"It may be quite late by the time I'm finished, Phryne," he reverted to her given name as he squatted down to allow her to avoid the overhead light. "Hugh can only begin the paperwork, I need to finalize it and ensure we have the boys' statements."
She touched his lapel lightly as her voice grew quiet. "You're always welcome in my home, Jack, no matter the hour..." Her eyes flicked to Mac and although her friend was trying to give her a chance to speak to her inspector, it was clear that she was more anxious to begin her exam. "Mr. Butler will provide you with a front door key. If I'm not down here, come upstairs to see me."
Mac tugged at Jack's shoulder not-so-gently. "Really, Jack, I need to look over Phryne. You have her blessing to come back, you can talk then," she ushered him out quickly, pulling the parlor doors closed once he crossed the threshold with just the barest instruction to Mr. Butler to follow Miss Fisher's wishes to give Jack a key.
~MFMM~
Fixing a stern expression, Jack stormed into the City South Station, not caring that the door slammed and rattled against the wall. Blinded to the scurry of subordinate officers who tried to get out of his way, he eyed his favorite Constable and stalked to his desk.
"You got the statements?" He demanded without preamble.
Hugh darted to his feet, squaring his shoulders quickly. "Y-yes, sir." His hands dropped to the forms he was just finalizing and grabbed them, handing them over to Jack without hesitation. "Bert and Cec are waiting in the Interview Room for you, ready to sign these once you've met with them."
Jack nodded, listening to Hugh as he skimmed the statements. "And the prisoner, has he said anything?"
"No, sir." Hugh licked his lips nervously. "He hasn't said a word. He's locked up downstairs… He smells strongly of whiskey, sir. And… seemed unable to maintain his balance once the fight went out of 'im." Flicking his eyes to another officer who'd helped him drag the drunken man down the stairs, he looked back at Jack. "He, umm, didn't quite make it onto the bunk in the cell, sir…"
Jack quirked an eyebrow at the younger man. "Collins?"
"And," he shrugged one shoulder, the movement nearly imperceptible. "He, uhh, may have tripped a little on his way down the stairs to the holding cells… Even with two of us carrying him, he was quite uncooperative in his mobility as he faded in and out of his stupor…"
Jack nearly smiled at Collins, but bit it back for the sake of professionalism. "Well, I'll go have a word with those two rabble rousers before dismissing them. And then," he tilted his head slightly. "You can drag him back upstairs to the interview room and start him on some strong black coffee. I am doing this interview tonight."
The meeting with Bert and Cec was brief and to the point. While the Inspector and the cabbies were as far apart as possible on the spectrum of politics and government opinions, they all wanted the best for their Miss Fisher. The boys respected Jack and Hugh only because of their standings with the Fisher household, and they were eager to cooperate with the execution of their statements. Their eye-witness accounts, when combined with the evidence of Miss Fisher's assault, were detailed enough that they could be sure to lock her attacker away for life. Jack, however, wanted more. He was like a wolf on the scent of his prey and he was determined to get a confession out of the man no matter what.
Sending Miss Fisher's employees on their way, he knew they'd be skipping the pub that night in favor of spending the evening at the St. Kilda home, for no other reason that moral support to the household, and for that, Jack was appreciative of their loyalty.
Entering the hallway, he moved towards the second interview room and called for Hugh. Once Collins was at his side, he slammed into that room with as much force as he had when he first entered the station. Jack pinned the man on the opposite side of the table with a dark, threatening glare.
"What have you to say for yourself," he growled. When the man, whose head was hung down, didn't answer, Jack pounded his hand against the table, startling the drunkard awake. "I said," he leaned on the table, "what have you to say for yourself!?"
"She were in the wrong place," he grunted. "Tarts like 'er ask fer it." He belched, the coffee Hugh had forced upon him gurgling in his throat. "What wit' 'er little hat, an' 'er tight lit'le pants, she were practically askin' fer attention… So I give 'er some an' then she started screamin' like she don't wan' it… That whor-"
"Enough!" His hand pounded against the table once again, cutting off the man's insults of his Miss Fisher. "You attacked an honorable woman who was doing nothing more than asking questions. She is a Lady Detective, and in my eyes," his volume dropped low, threatening, "which, incidentally, are the eyes of the law," he cocked an eyebrow, "that's as good as attacking a fellow officer…"
"She weren't no detect-" His words were cut off as Jack shoved a business card in his direction.
"Wrong again, mate," his tone was venomous. "And with you admitting, to two officers of the Victoria Police Constabulary, that you thought she was asking for it, so you gave her the attention you thought she wanted, that's a confession of guilt that you attacked an unsuspecting woman unprovoked." He stood upright, noting with satisfaction as the prisoner's expression paled in realization. "And I assure you," he glanced at the file for the man's name, "Mr. Hawke, that I will pursue this case to the highest court, and see to it that you are prosecuted and punished to the fullest extent of the law."
His tone of voice left no room for doubt that this case was very personal to him. Glaring at the man who hadn't stood a chance in hell against the Chief Detective Inspector, Jack spoke to his Constable.
"Collins, throw this man back into the holding cell. I want his file on my desk by first thing in the morning. I'll be collecting Miss Fisher's statement this evening following her medical exam, if she is up to it, and will finalize the report tomorrow."
Without further delay, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, jerking his chin at Constable Morris. "Assist Collins with relocating the prisoner back downstairs. He does not go free on his own recognizance, he is to remain locked up."
Jack grabbed his hat and his spare long coat from the office and marched back outside, intent to get back over to Miss Fisher's residence before it got any later.
~MFMM~
When Jack pulled the Hispano-Suiza in front of Miss Fisher's home, he saw that the porch light had been left on, presumably in anticipation of his return. Most of the interior house lights appeared to be extinguished, but the curtains in front parlor window were parted just enough to allow a sliver of light to peek through. With a slight hesitation, he approached the front door, fingering the key in his hand nervously. Although Miss Fisher had made it perfectly clear that she wanted him to let himself in, he still felt odd at taking such a bold move when he'd never done anything like it before.
In his life, Jack had never possessed a house key that wasn't for his own home. When he and Rosie had married, she moved into his humble, single story flat, for which he'd spent months saving and purchased in anticipation of their nuptials. She stayed there, naturally, while he was off fighting in the war. When he finally came back, and she decided that he was too broken to fix, and not worth the fight, she moved out, taking with her most of their furnishings, leaving behind empty rooms in which he could dwell miserably.
It wasn't until the divorce was final that Jack started to, once again, feel at ease in his own home. With no possibility of his wife returning, and no hopes of a reconciliation, the Victoria Police Detective finally trusted himself to put his own touch on the rooms. While much of the dwelling remained vacant and unoccupied, the open archways leading to those unused spaces long since sealed off with hanging blankets to limit the need to heat them, he arranged his study just the way he wanted it. Floor to ceiling bookshelves were filled with numerous volumes of classics, collections of Lawson's short stories, Poe's tales of the macabre, even an entire shelf completely devoted to Shakespeare. He'd arranged his leather chair and ottoman close enough to the fireplace to reap its benefits while still being far enough away to avoid the risk of an occasional errant spark from marring the material. A framed photo of his parents stood on one of the shelves housing a collection of police studies, and on the occasional table at his chair side, there were two photos that no one else knew he possessed... He'd brought them home from the station having removed them from an arrest file that was never quite completed for one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher.
Early on in their unconventional partnership, he'd been forced to arrest the Lady Detective, and his young Constable struggled to capture even a single acceptable arrest photo of the impish woman. Jack had been tempted to bring the whole pile of images home with him, the urge to tuck them into some of his favorite volumes was almost overwhelming. He knew, however, that he couldn't justify confiscating them all for his own amusement, and if the incomplete report was ever questioned by his superiors, one or two missing shots would be easily overlooked.
How many nights had he sat in his over-sized brown leather chair, a volume of his favorite bard's Sonnets or his well-worn copy of Antony and Cleopatra sitting on his lap, long forgotten, as he studied a photo of Miss Fisher striking an outrageous pose for the camera, or creating a mask with her fingers around her eyes? Far too many long eves to count, if he was honest with himself, especially over these most recent weeks of self-imposed isolation. Often, he found himself chuckling at her carefree spirit and missing her presence in his office, and at his crime scenes. It's true that while he had very few things in his house giving it a homey feeling, the select few things that brought him real joy most often reminded him of her.
And now, he was standing under her porch light, turning the key to her front door over and over between his fingers as he wondered at the implications of her offering. It was entirely possible that her suggestion that he return that evening was nothing more than a desire to give her statement as soon as possible so she could put the whole ordeal behind her. There was another possibility, however, that he wanted to entertain, though it scared him.
Could it be that she missed him as much as he'd been missing her? He wondered silently as he looked down at the key in his hand. Had he been too hasty to force a separation? No, he squeezed his eyes shut. She is recklessly irresponsible, his logical brain reminded him. She has no respect for the law and thinks that rules don't apply to her… But, oh, how he missed her…
Taking a deep breath, he slipped the key into the deadbolt quietly, hoping not to disturb Miss Fisher's household if they were all asleep. As he entered the silent home, he hung his hat and long coat up in their customary spots and he felt a satisfying thrill at the idea that those hooks were his. While he contemplated whether or not he should go into the parlor or up the staircase, his decision was made for him.
"Jack?" Phryne's tired voice carried into the foyer from the sitting room and he quickly acknowledged the summons.
"Yes, Miss Fisher," he said as he moved. "I'm sorry it's so late." He slipped through the open doors and found her lounging against the arm of her chaise, her eyes sleepy, but her smile genuine.
Shaking her head, she sat upright, moving slowly. "No apologies, Jack. I told you to come back, no matter the hour."
"How are you feeling?" He took his seat in the armchair closest to where she sat, holding his hand up to stop her from rising completely.
"A little better," she answered honestly. Sitting forward, she poured a cup of tea for her Inspector. "Mac diagnosed a mild concussion, explaining the brief confusion and fogginess following the blow to the back of my head. She provided headache powder, however, and insisted that I refrain from my typical nightcap, so I'm afraid we're only drinking tea tonight, Jack." She tried to smile, but faltered at her own anxiety at being with him again after what felt like a year of separation.
"Tea suits me just fine, Miss Fisher," he eyed her carefully, noting the way she closed her eyes a split second longer than normal before re-establishing eye contact. "I hope you haven't stayed awake just for my arrival. You might have called me at the station that you were tired… We could have met in the morning." His head tilted to the right in a characteristic manner of concern.
She acknowledged his observation, "I am tired, but I wouldn't be able to sleep… Not yet..." Motioning to a tray of biscuits, she continued. "Dot likes to bake when she's upset. Please, help yourself, Jack."
Not one to often turn down food, especially biscuits, Jack's lips quirked into a near smile as his stomach growled. "Miss Williams is quite accomplished in the kitchen," he said as he selected a particularly large treat.
Barely able to hide the satisfaction that her Inspector seemed pleased with the offering, she licked her lips slowly, placing her mostly-melted ice pack onto the table and picking up her own tea cup. "Dot was afraid you'd taken a disliking to her culinary skills of late," she said nonchalantly as she sipped her beverage, wishing it was brandy instead.
Jack raised his eyes, guilt washing over him at the thought of how many lunch offers he'd turned down when his Constable's sweetheart delivered packed meals, enough to feed two.
"I appreciate anyone with the ability to cook, especially Miss Williams' offers…" He chose his words carefully, still wary of where he stood with his Lady Detective. "It was necessary for me to keep to myself these last weeks… I needed to…regroup, as it were." He tilted his chin and looked at her from beneath hooded eyes. "I was feeling…out of control." He licked his lips free of the crumbs from his cookie and placed the uneaten portion on his tea cup saucer. "I'm sorry I was so angry, Miss Fisher…" His eyes held hers, his affection barely hidden. "It was agonizing for me to think of you in that wreck, and I let that fear control my actions… And now, I'm afraid I've hurt you, as well."
"I'm sorry to have been the cause of your anger… And of your fears, Inspector…" She reached out, placing her hand on his forearm as she scooted forward on her cushion. "I've missed you, Jack… So much," her voice was quiet, vulnerable, and her forehead creased as she made the confession. She had promised herself, as she waited for his return, that she'd be open and honest when he arrived at her doorstep that night.
"I've missed you too, Phryne," his throat was tight, making his voice husky, gravelly. His wide hand covered hers, holding it against his shirt sleeve lightly. When he saw unshed tears in her frightened eyes threatening to break free, he moved easily from his chair over to the chaise, sitting close beside her without hesitation.
Phryne let herself fall against his chest, the heart-wrenching sob she'd been holding in since he walked out of her house all those weeks ago, finally breaking free as she clutched at his waistcoat in desperation. Unable to deny himself any longer, Jack wrapped his arms around her slight frame, cradling her trembling body in the circle of his arms. Hot tears seeped through the thin material of Jack's shirt, just below the collar, where she'd buried her face, seeking the comfort that she knew only he could provide for her. His hand moved up to the back of her neck, his fingers teasing the razor-short hair as he held her in place, murmuring against her temple that everything was going to be alright. They remained like that for several moments, barely swaying as Jack tried to soothe the woman who so often put up a brave face, but about whom he knew the truth - that she was fragile and scared more times than she liked to admit.
Regaining her composure, Phryne managed to control her tears, but remained pressed against the comfortingly strong shoulder of Jack Robinson, drinking in his warmth, his protection. Finally allowing her arms to loop lazily around his waist, she felt a swell of affection as, she was certain it was not her imagination, she felt the tender kisses that Jack dropped against her temple between his whispers of support.
Arching his neck so he could look down at her, Jack brought his hand from her neck and palmed her cheek. "What am I going to do with you, Miss Fisher…" It wasn't a question as much as it was a simple musing as he searched her face. Tracing her lower lip with his thumb, he searched for any sign of pain or discomfort at the bruise that had formed there. Finding none, he craned his neck and pressed a tender kiss to her mouth, maintaining the connection for a few breaths before pulling back again, hoping that he wasn't misreading the signals.
"When Bert called, saying you'd been attacked, I berated myself for being such a stubborn fool…"
"You're not a fool, Jack," she countered, though she didn't contradict his stubbornness. Phryne raised one hand and let her fingers map the contour of his chiseled jawline. "I thought I was outside City South's jurisdiction…So when I saw you there… I thought I was imagining things..."
"You were," he confirmed, "outside of my jurisdiction, that is." Taking a slow breath, he let one side of his lips tilt upward. "You could be on the other side of the continent, Miss Fisher, and I would still come for you…"
She closed her eyes at his admission, letting the smoothness of his deep voice wash over her.
"Though," his mouth quirked again, with more certainty. "I'd suggest you avoid the Bush… I understand that communication from there can be questionable…"
She allowed herself a genuine chuckle at that, appreciating his dry humor as always, as he interjected a lighthearted moment into an otherwise heavy conversation. "Thank you, Jack," she breathed against his throat as she lowered her head back to the front of his shoulder.
Only moments passed before their solitude was disturbed by Aunt Prudence, who made a sudden appearance wearing her nightdress and robe, having heard noises from her bedroom upstairs. After learning of her niece's attack, she had insisted on coming over to the St. Kilda home and staying through the night, to be on hand just in case her sister's daughter needed anything. She entered the parlor accompanied by an array of harrumphs and tsks.
"It is very late, Inspector," she grunted accusingly at the back of the Detective Inspector's head. "And Phryne," she chastised, "to be down here unchaperoned, in the dead of night, wearing your dressing gown!" She straightened her back and squared her shoulders. "It's indecent! That's what it is!" Without ceremony, she sat herself immediately behind Jack, taking up the bit of cushion still available on the chaise. "You should come back tomorrow... When it's daylight... It would prevent the neighbors from gossiping!"
She continued to lecture the pair, though they ignored her for the most part, clinging to one another as if their very lives depended on it. Humming in approval of the way Jack's hand cradled her neck, and that feel of his lips, which seemed to be dropping kisses of their own volition, Phryne nuzzled her nose against Jack's throat, bumping his Adam's Apple and causing him to swallow just a little thicker.
"Stay, Jack, please." Phryne asked, her need evident, the sheer desire that she felt was made transparent in a way that she hadn't let anyone see in years. "Just stay with me…"
"Of course," Jack simply nodded, pressing another kiss against her temple, smoothing her hair back gently, careful of her injury. He didn't know exactly what she needed from him, but whatever it was, he would not deny her. Speaking even softer than before, he assured her. "Whatever you need, Miss Fisher. Whatever you want..."
"Phryne!" Aunt Prudence abruptly stood, appalled at her niece's request in the face of such a harrowing day. "You need to rest! You should have been upstairs long ago, not waiting down here for the police inspector!"
"Aunt P," Phryne was frustrated with her aunt, but didn't lift her face from Jack's chest to address her. "Please go to bed."
"The Inspector should go home!" Prudence insisted with fire. "This is indecent. You need sleep!"
Jack pulled his head back and looked down at Phryne, watching her for his cue, willing to give in to her wishes, whatever they may have been.
Red rimmed eyes turned up and met his dark greys in a moment of consideration. She raised her palm to his chiseled jaw before dropping her hand to his, intertwining their fingers as she looked up at him. "I promised Mr. Butler I would lock up before retiring for the night." She licked her lips. "Would you mind doing that? Just checking the front and back doors again?"
"I don't mind at all." He raised her fingers to his lips. "I'll be right back." He pulled away and stood slowly, releasing her hand with a sense of reluctance.
Looking at her aunt as Jack made his way to the back of the house to check the kitchen door, Phryne inhaled slowly. "I wouldn't be able to sleep, Aunt P. Please understand…"
"Phryne, please be reasonable…" She plead with her headstrong, independent niece.
Jack re-entered the parlor and walked directly to his Lady Detective. "Whenever you're ready." He held his hand out to give her stability to stand. When she took it without hesitation, the Chief Inspector felt his breath hitch at how tired she really looked.
Taking a deep breath, Miss Fisher nodded and pulled herself to her feet, feeling weak and emotionally exhausted. "I just," she looked up at Jack with newly unshed tears. "I don't want to be alone, Jack. And... I've missed you."
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he inhaled her sweet scent, knowing that either Mac or Dot, maybe both, helped her bathe between the time he brought her home and the time he returned. "I've missed you too, Phryne." His voice husky. "I'm sorry."
She didn't want apologies again, they'd been through that and she had forgiven him immediately. She wanted the comfort that she knew only he could give her. Shaking her head, she rested against his shoulder again. "I'm so tired, Jack."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned towards the double doors that would lead them from the parlor, both of them still ignoring Aunt P's unending lecture as they moved towards the staircase.
Stomping her slippered foot in a huff, Prudence followed them up the steps, still complaining that her niece's request of the Inspector was grossly inappropriate.
"Goodnight, Aunt P," Phryne muttered as she motioned Jack to the correct door.
"Good night, Mrs. Stanley," Jack bid the elderly woman with a tip of his head, maintaining exceedingly good manners in the face of the scandalous act of accompanying Miss Fisher into her boudoir. When he followed her in and closed the door, he let a crooked grin tweak his lips and slid the lock into place, making sure the click was just loud enough that Aunt Prudence would hear it.
Despite the stress that had taken over Phryne's entire being, a devilish smile broke free at Jack's action and she couldn't suppress the giggle that made it evident how happy he made her. Glad to see her smile, Jack chuckled himself and unlocked the door again; he didn't want to insinuate any disrespectful expectations.
~MFMM~
After letting the giggles evaporate into the ether, Phryne approached Jack as he stood just on the inside of the door, and she let herself lean against him once again. She hummed when his arms closed around her again without argument and she pressed her cheek to his chest, content to remain like that for several comfortable moments, just listening to his heartbeat. Phryne Fisher was not one who tended to show emotion, real emotion, to other people; typically she wore a public mask, pushing worries and concerns far down until she was by herself. With Jack, however, she knew her secrets were safe, that he would keep her confidences and help her cope with whatever obstacles lie ahead.
Jack was more than willing to hold his partner, welcoming her into his warmth and giving her a shoulder to cry on, both literally and metaphorically. He ran one wide hand along her spine, soothing her with his touch, until it settled low on her back, keeping her flush against his body. His other hand found its way to the nape of her neck once more, itching to thread its fingers into her hair, but reluctant to hurt her in any way.
Speaking against her head, where she rested just below his chin, he broke the silence.
"What did Dr. Macmillan say about treating your concussion? Are you allowed to sleep?"
"Yes," she answered quietly, enjoying the sensation of his breath tickling her scalp. Tipping her head back, she looked up at him, but didn't loosen her hold on his waist. "By the time she had gone for the evening, I had already taken a bath and she made sure to wash my hair carefully. She said the headache powder should help, but warned me that by tomorrow, I may feel the affects of my fall and other aspects of my assault, once I wake up. She prescribed a hot bath in the morning as well. She will be by about noon to see me." She closed her eyes, simply letting herself feel how it was to be protected in Jack's embrace. After a moment, she continued.
"In addition to the knot on my head, I have some bruising on my back and shoulder, some superficial abrasions on my torso, where he grabbed and tore my clothes…"
Jack looked down at Phryne's face, releasing only the hand that was on her neck while his other hand kept her close. He knuckled her chin gently, turning her face up a bit more and brushing his thumb gently across her lower lip. "And this..." he outlined the cut, and then trailed down to the bruise on her jaw. "This…"
"That was because I fought back."
"Oh, Phryne…" The residual anger that he'd been harboring, which had formed itself into a raging ball of fire and took residence in the pit of his gut, melted away into concern and love for the one woman who could simultaneously infuriate him with her recklessness and blatant disregard for the law, and fascinate him with her quick wit and intelligence.
"I broke every speed limit between the station and the car park when I got that call… I was so afraid that I wouldn't reach you in time, that you'd been fatally injured…" He tilted his head and searched her eyes. "I was scared that I would never get to hold you, to touch you…" His fingers traced the fine features of her face and he smiled softly when her eyelids fell closed at his touch. "I couldn't bear the idea of never telling you how much you mean to me, Phryne."
She let the tears fall, knowing he'd catch them, and she wasn't disappointed when the rough pad of his thumb swept tenderly against her skin, wiping away the salty trail.
Guiding him to the loveseat, she sat down and waited for him to take his place beside her. Once settled, she pulled her feet up beneath her bottom and leaned against him, breathing in the soothing scent of the coconut oil he used in his hair. The first time Phryne had smelled the distinct scent of coconut, she was surprised, and doubted her own senses. She had always pegged her favorite detective as a Brilliantine user, despite it's expense, given Jack's penchant for his tidy appearance. She had been proven incorrect, however, one day when she rummaged through the drawers of his office desk while battling her impatience after he had ejected her from the interview room. She was only looking for something to amuse herself, and if rifling through the neat drawers and reorganizing his files was a way to get back at being excluded from the interrogation, so be it… In his bottom drawer, she had been surprised to find a well-worn book of Chaucer, a tin of biscuits that looked peculiarly like Dot's and a small collection of grooming products… Distracted from her original intent of getting even for being asked to leave, she took a moment and examined her Inspector's personal items, gaining an intimate knowledge about him that she didn't have for any other man. She supposed that was when she first started to have deeper feelings for the gentle man who kept himself so private.
"I took a nap earlier," she said quietly. "Twice I tried…" She felt the angle of his chin change, and she knew he was listening to her. "Both times I woke startled…" She rolled her lips. "It doesn't make sense, really. It was only a brief assault… It's not like I was taken hostage…" She was trying to find sound reasoning for her inability to relax since her ordeal, but she couldn't. "There should be nothing keeping me from sleeping…" She waited several breaths, soaking in the sensation of his wide hand sweeping up and down her arm. "I kept seeing his face," she confessed meekly. "He keeps threatening to have his way with me…"
Jack squeezed her shoulders tighter, pulling her as close as possible to his side and kissed the top of her mussed brunette hair. "You won't need to worry about that tonight, Miss Fisher," he said, just as quietly. "I'll keep vigil over you. And I'll chase away the nightmares…"
Phryne lifted her face up and studied his kind features, feeling better after his return to her than she had earlier in the evening, with Dot and Mac. "Jack," she rested her hand on his chest, just above the "v" of his waistcoat collar. "I don't want you to keep vigil at my bedside… I want you to hold me. I want to feel your arms around me tonight as I sleep…"
"Phryne," his voice was husky, betraying the calm exterior he was trying to display. "It wouldn't be appropriate for us to share the bed…"
She rushed to place a finger over his mouth. "Just to sleep, Jack. Tonight, I'd just like to sleep in your embrace… I feel safe with you."
Pressing a kiss against the finger holding his lips closed, he inhaled slowly, unable to deny her, as always. With a slight nod, he accepted her proposal and returned the strong hug that she wrapped around him. "Just to sleep, Miss Fisher…"
~MFMM~
Handing him a pair of worn, but obviously cleaned and pressed pajamas, Phryne's cheeks blushed. "I asked Mr. Butler for a pair of men's night clothes, hoping that you would stay with me. It was too late for him to procure a set at the store, so this is one of his sets."
Jack lifted his chin and eyed her knowingly. "Your confidence astounds me, Miss Fisher."
She chuckled and motioned to the bathroom for him. "Mr. B also put out some fresh product for you."
He excused himself and closed the door so he could change. His observational eyes took in everything - the fancy french soaps and body oils, a collection of bath salts, towels and cloths far softer than his own ever were. The thing he noticed first and foremost, however, was the scent - the room smelled like Phryne and as he inhaled deeply, he couldn't help but smile.
When he re-entered the bedroom, Phryne was sitting in place on the bed, looking fresh faced and sweet. She watched him approach, smiling at the somewhat ill-fitting pajamas, but grateful that he was willing to appease her.
"I don't have to report to the station early tomorrow," he said as he circled the bed to the opposite side. "I'm taking most of the day off."
"What time do you need to be there?" She felt her body explode in heat as he slid between the covers.
Settling into the mattress with a happy sigh at the softness, he put one arm behind his head and looked at her. "Whenever you're ready to give your statement about tonight…"
"Oh," she slid down against her pillow, rolling on her side to face him. "I wasn't thinking… You had mentioned it, but I forgot."
"Not to worry," he assured her, extending his arm towards her in a wordless invitation offering his shoulder. Instantly, she scooted closer, curling herself into his side. When he wrapped his arm down around her body, he had to close his eyes and hope for the strength to control his natural bodily reactions to her proximity. "We can worry about that tomorrow, Phryne."
She nodded and draped one arm across his torso, lining herself up against his long body and tucking her leg between his thighs as if they'd been sleeping this way for years. Sighing softly, she sank into him, ready to fall asleep immediately. "I like the way you say my name," she uttered, her words sluggish with sleep. She hummed at his responsive chuckle and splayed her fingers wide across his pectoral muscle. "Good night, Jack."
"G'night, Phryne," he answered, pressing a kiss against her hair and pulling her impossibly closer as he felt her body go slack. "Good dreams," he whispered into her hair and moved his head back to the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light from the fireplace dancing across the surface until his eyes grew heavy, and he turned again to bury his nose into the dark halo that so often dominated his dreams. He didn't know what tomorrow was going to bring, but he did know that whatever happened at daybreak, he'd fight to do what was necessary to end up in this same place in the near future.
Postscript A/N
I hope I managed to capture the characters in a recognizable manner. And I hope you enjoyed! Please take a moment and let me know your thoughts. I appreciate feedback, but I do ask that it be constructive and not destructive please!
A note to my regular readers who have been with me through thick and thin, and know some of what I've been going through with my parents - my Mom has been moved into a Hospice House for comfort care. She's been diagnosed as terminal and now, sadly, it's just a matter of time… This was written over the course of a few days as I've been sitting with her.
peace & love, my friends,
~jazzy