She cannot think.
That man had been in her house. Sat at her table. Spoken to her daughter.
The vulnerability of it leaves her knees weakened. She hasn't felt this exposed since not long after the war. She hasn't felt this out of control since she left Rene.
This is what happens to the people who love you, her mind whispers. It is fine for Phryne to love those around her.
It is so very dangerous if they love her back.
Jack is speaking to her as she trudges back into the house. She cannot focus on his words, because she hears nothing but the ocean in her ears and her own terror.
Dot helps her to undress, something Phryne will not remember the next day. She is almost docile as her companion removes the revealing (ridiculous, she thinks bitterly) costume and hangs it up immediately. Dot urges her mistresses arms into the sleeves of her silk kimono and helps to tie the knot. It is only then that Phryne realizes Dot is waiting for a response from her.
"What?" Phryne asks ineloquently, pressing her fingertips to her eyes and willing the entire evening into oblivion.
"Is it all right with you?" Dot queries again, and her brow is furrowed in concern. Phryne knows her behavior is lethargic and distant, but she cannot help it. Her fight will come back - it always does - but for now she must recover from the blow dealt by Murdock Foyle's return to her life. "That Detective Robinson stay the night. In the parlor?"
When Phryne simply stares at Dot, the younger woman's face contorts further into concern. "Miss, are you sure you're all right? Should I call Dr. MacMillan for you?"
The thought of one more well-meaning person in the house prodding her, caring for her, putting themselves in jeopardy, makes Phryne want to scream.
"No," she tries a smile and knows it appears more a grimace, her teeth clenching uncomfortably. "I think I just need a drink and some sleep."
"Yes, Miss." Dot nods, thoroughly unconvinced. "Things will look better in the morning."
Dot is almost out the door when Phryne stops her. "Please check Jane's windows again. And yours."
I can't bear to lose someone else, she doesn't say.
She finds Jack sitting in the darkened parlor, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and his face half-lit by moonlight.
He is the dark side of justice, freshly dangerous with the revolver on the table in front of him. This is the part he keeps hidden from her, she thinks. The set of his jaw is almost frightening.
It is an enormous thing, to know someone would kill for you. It is an enormous thing to know you wouldn't stop them. Her willingness to allow him to sacrifice his own moral compass causes her throat to close and her eyes to slam shut.
"You should be in bed." He says without looking at her, his gaze trained on the quiet street beyond the window. She feels him stiffen away from her when she moves to stand behind him, although she makes no move to touch him. "He won't bother you tonight. I'll kill him if he tries."
She wants to weep at the rough promise in his voice, but has found her tears frozen in her throat.
He'll be back, she thinks over and over again. Back. Back. Back.
Jack finally turns to look at her, their knees grazing. She hovers above him and wonders how much he can see in her gaze.
"I won't let him hurt you. Or Jane." Her hand grazes his cheek and she wants to assure him. She knows. She knows.
When his lips brush her palm, her whole body trembles.
"Let me protect you," he whispers against her skin and she drops her chin to her chest. His hands, so still until that point, curl around her thighs and pull her nearer. When he looks up at her, his throat is exposed and she draws a finger over his bobbing adams apple.
"I'm afraid." She admits, but she knows he doesn't understand, even as he stands to pull her into his arms.
Even as his lips slant over hers.
Even as they fall back onto the chaise.
Even as she draws him over her, into her.
She is afraid. Not of Foyle. Not of dying.
She is afraid of herself. Her darkness. Her history.
She is afraid that she will take them all down with her.
"Let me protect you," Jack murmurs against her hair, pressed between her thighs and holding her close. She thinks of his honor. His wife. His badge. "Let me protect you."
"Yes," She gasps in rapture.
But who will protect you from me?
A/N - Just a moody bit of whatever. A "what if" I thought about while I was rewatching "Murder in the Dark" and "King Memse's Curse". Phryne is surrounded by people who will do anything for her, who know that in order to "win" they must pull together. And then there's Phryne who believes that SHE has to be the one to finish it. Who, even after all this time, doesn't think she's worthy of their help. She's so willing to sacrifice herself for them, because she values their lives over her own. "It should have been me."
Oh, just stab me in the heart already. It would hurt less.
Title comes from Jane's line about what she talked about with Foyle It just seemed to fit. I don't know.
In conclusion, MORE MISS FISHER. SEASON THREE. NOW.