Thanks for the reviews, which are always an incentive to keep at it. Firebird9, re the police departments I'm not sure that they existed then either, but although the TV series is completely AU to the books, that is one aspect of Jack's character that I borrowed from Kerry Greenwood (I'm still trying to remember exactly which book it was that referred to his time in Fraud Squad). I've always felt that Jack has a bit more breadth of police career behind him than beat-cop-slowly-morphs-into-homicide-detective, and I wasn't quite sure how else to express that in limited form. Hope that explains :) Also, I'm pretty sure now that this story is going to be 99% Jack and his POV. Thanks for reading everyone! PS keep hanging in there for the romance...
xoxox
Chapter 2
xoxox
1 year. He couldn't believe how much had changed in that time. Phryne's effect on his life had been something akin to a cyclone - she had come tearing in and disrupted everything, and nothing was as it once was. At first he had resented her interference in his nicely ordered world; the way she swanned in and just assumed that he would comply with her wishes, the way she managed to mine information from his junior officers, the evidence that somehow seemed to wind up in her handbag (or her decolletage for that matter).It riled him that this wealthy woman seemingly had nothing better to do with her time than move in on a profession he had trained long and hard at. As a hobby. 'Lady Detective' - it was ridiculous! Jack was not a man who believed, as many men did, that women were only good for one thing. However, he had firmly believed that men and women each had their roles in life, and that there were some things that should remain the province of the male of the species. So he had been in for a rude awakening when she had come in and challenged his preconceptions.
As he waited nervously at the foot of her staircase he reflected on those first few months. Would he have done anything differently then, if he could have foreseen the bond they had now forged? Probably not. It had not been an easy journey, but as she had once pointed out to him "nothing that matters is ever easy". As time had passed he had come to see that in spite of her flaws (as he and probably the rest of society viewed them) she had a heart of gold, and her motives were pure. Yes, she loved a mystery, but she simply could not stand by and see injustice done, particularly against those who could not defend themselves.
She was undoubtedly beautiful, and the 'sex appeal' that people seemed to be talking about these days oozed from her. When the picture theatres had started touting the latest starlets in such terms he had wondered what it really meant; now there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. Phryne had it in spades, and used it to her advantage. And yes, she flirted with him, but it was playful rather than sincere; she had seemed to know from the outset that he was married, and she never pushed too far. He would learn much later that she had a kind of sixth sense about such things and "married men are far too messy Jack". Which thankfully (from his point of view) or unfortunately (from hers) reduced the pool from which she could draw.
At some point the harmless flirtation had become a little more personal, in that he began to understand that she actually cared about him - he was surprised and gratified to find that they had become friends. After her comment about his 'lean, hungry look' she had started feeding him, although she always tried to make it sound like he wasn't accepting some form of charity..."You wouldn't believe the size of the roast last night, we'll be eating it into next week"..."Dot made so many biscuits that we just haven't been able to eat them - it seems a shame to let them go to waste". "Why don't we discuss it over lunch?" had become a part of their routine, and a whiskey or two at the end of a case was now a foregone conclusion. One that he rather looked forward to. Phryne was worldly, widely read, and highly intelligent, and he found that they were equally at home in each other's company whether they were sitting silently ruminating on the day's events, or having a lively discussion on an Act to be tabled in Parliament.
It was always with reluctance that he bade her goodnight and turned his tread towards his cold and empty house. It certainly wasn't a home, as hers was - filled with laughter and love and that eclectic mix of people she called family, friends and staff (the lines were a little blurred there). Dot's love for, and loyalty to, her mistress were not hard to fathom after her treatment in the Andrews household, and that awful business with Alice, and Jane was much the same. Hugh was both terrified of, and idolised, her. Even those two red raggers trusted and admired her, and did her bidding like loyal hounds. He knew that Mr Butler had initially been shocked that his pre-retirement position in Miss Fisher's household was not the quiet and routine life he had expected with a spinster. But he was a man whose years in service had taught him to take everything in his stride, and he had long ago confided that he considered these months so far to have been some of the best of his life; his one regret, of course, that Mrs Butler had not lived to meet the Hon. Phryne Fisher.
Yes, they each loved her in their way, and although it was a thought that he tried to keep boxed away, he did too. First there was his concern for her wellbeing, and the accompanying lurch in his stomach whenever she put herself in harm's way. Then there was the way his mood instantly brightened at the sound of her voice or the click of her heels, even as he feigned annoyance. Then there were the stabs of jealousy that came as she rattled off some anecdote about one of his colleagues from Russell Street who had been 'especially helpful' with some minor sleuthing on a case unrelated to her work with Jack (the fact that she now had work that didn't involve Jack also irked him). Then there had been Lin. What should he care? He was a married man, she a single woman free to do as she pleased. But he did care. And he had inadvertantly advertised the fact with that Cleopatra reference. And as she and Lin had walked away from him to supper (and he could guess what else besides), he had realised that he had reached a turning point; the affection that he felt for her was dangerously morphing into something altogether different. Something he must suppress if he wished to keep his sanity.
He had begun to seriously consider the prospect of divorce at the conclusion of the case involving the young man who had been killed, by a paper cut of all things, in Miss Leigh's bookshop. "A marriage is still a marriage" he had told Phryne, and as they had clinked glasses they had eyed each other across the desk as if to say "but if that were not the case...". He wanted her, of course he did, in the same way that every man passing her on the street did; but that was fantasy, and Jack was firmly anchored in the real world. If Rosie had ever asked him whether Phryne was the reason for the ultimate end to their marriage, the truth was 'Yes'. Not because he entertained any real hope that the two of them would ever enter into any kind of committed relationship, but because she made him realise how truly miserable he was with the life he had taken for granted until he met her. She lived her life as if every day might be her last, and although that might have brought her experiences both good and bad, her only regrets seemed to be in NOT trying something. He, on the other hand, had moved through the motions of his life like an actor caught in a terribly dull play of indefinite length , always hoping for the lights to come up.
The daily grind aside, it was the not-knowing that really got to him. It was one thing to live life with a woman who was there to cook his meals, do his laundry, and provide platonic companionship. It was another altogether to have a wife who was absent more often than not, but who might still turn up at any time as if she had just popped down the road to the butcher.
Rosie had been shocked, but surprisingly open to his suggestion of divorce. They were each far happier when the other was absent; it seemed pointless to continue their charade. Although they were no longer in their youth, they were both young enough to start again and he was certain that she would re-marry and, presumably, start a family. In spite of this fact, Jack was neither greedy nor vindictive. Unless or until she did re-marry she would be a single woman without a means to support herself - except, perhaps, her doting father. Rosie was not a woman who would consider going out to work for the first time, and why should she have to? He was the instigator of these proceedings after all, and after sixteen years of marriage he did care about her, even if he could no longer define his feelings as love. So he had resolved to keep aside only what he might require to keep himself in the event of an emergency (being shot or stabbed was an occupational hazard), and offer everything remained to her. In all respects he wanted the process to be as painless as possible.
However, it was 1928 and, amicable or not, divorce was frowned upon by society, the Church, and especially the judges who would determine the outcome of the proceedings. It was not a step to be taken by the faint-hearted and Jack had prepared himself for the difficult months ahead. It had been a trying and draining process, but as he had stepped out of the courthouse on that December afternoon when his decree absolute had been declared he felt that are weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His next step was to mentally prepare himself for the coming evening.
Under the guise of investigating Marigold's murder he had agreed (been coerced) to go to Guy and Isabella's engagement party as Phryne's partner. What she didn't know was that he was now free to do so without guilt, however for his own safety he would not be pointing that out to her tonight. Besides, as much as he had come to adore and trust Phryne, this was his business, and he needed more time to process the enormity of his change in circumstances.
Cleopatra. Of course. And every inch the powerful seductress that Shakespeare portrayed. Then had come his costume. Mark Antony. He should have guessed. What had happened to her feelings on involvement with married men? When she had loosened his tie and started undoing his shirt buttons, everything had suddenly changed. Another turning point. Their eyes had locked, and her playfulness had gone. The moment was deadly serious and he was as terrified as a schoolboy about to get his first kiss. And oh how he wanted to kiss her. He had kissed her before, but that had been a spur-of the-moment hard press of his lips to hers to prevent Rene from spotting her, and although they had both been a little surprised (she kissed him back!) in truth his thoughts had been occupied with her safety. At the time anyway.
Looking down at Phryne he had realised that now was not the time; it was too soon, he wasn't ready for this. He had extracted himself from the situation as best he could, Which wasn't to say that he didn't regret it when she stepped away and plastered a sultry grin across her face. In hindsight he knew that if Murdoch Foyle had not made his appearance that night, after a few too many champagnes pressed into his hand he may well have ended up in Phryne's bed. And would probably have lived to regret it.
But that was then. A little over six months ago, and so much had changed in that time. He wasn't in Phryne's bed now, but their relationship had deepened and matured in ways he could not have imagined. It had not, however, been smooth sailing all the way.
There had been ups - the Queenscliffe investigation, their Scenic Railway ride, the delicious exchange over that decadent ballgown (and what in all probability lay beneath). He was not ashamed to admit to himself that Phryne's naked breasts definitely also qualified as an up. Sure, he had seen them before on canvas, but that view had paled in comparison when she had sashayed across the stage in nothing more than feathers and diamantes. His mood had not been the only thing that was elevated when he awoke the next morning - an occurrence that had since become rather frequent.
However, there had also been downs - most especially that terrible time when he had decided that loving Phryne was not worth the heartache that accompanied such love. He had tried to explain to her, but she had been so caught up in the investigation of her friend's death, that she had been dismissive of him, and true realisation had not struck her until he had made his decision, and it was too late. Of course she had managed to worm her way back into his life before too long. Worm was not too harsh a word - at the time it was not what he wanted, and he had resented her not respecting his wishes. They had been able to move on, and Jack had reconciled himself to his doom - for that was surely what awaited him. Like a moth to a flame, Icarus to the sun...he was deeply, desperately, madly in love with her, and for that he would no doubt go down in flames. But he was going to make damn sure he enjoyed the ride.
Which brought him to today. He was a sensitive, romantic sort of man (which he would deny emphatically), and he had realised recently that in several weeks he would have known her for exactly one year. He had not said anything to her, but he had begun to plan something special for the two of them to mark the day.
And now that day was here.
xoxox