Tied

"Ow! Careful, Jack." Phryne yelped as the inspector twisted his arm, trying to maneuver his hand free from the thick ropes that encased it. Jack realized as he pulled the mass of elaborate knots closer to him, it also pulled Phryne's equally bound arms away from her sockets.

"Sorry, Miss Fisher," he grumbled. "I would, however, like to escape before the killer returns." He managed to loosen one of the lines of rope, nudging it toward her. Phryne grasped the loose piece and edged her fingers under it, worming it slowly free. "It's a pity we both got caught, and I cannot come to your rescue this time," he muttered.

Phryne gave the next knot a quick yank, hauling Jack's back toward her. "Rescue me? I think I've saved you from your fair share of scrapes as well, detective inspector." Her fingers dug into the knot. "Take this loop and ease it … No Jack, the other loop. That's it."

Jack guided a smaller knot through the loop and handed it back to her. "Really, what scrapes are those, Miss Fisher?" he asked. "I seem to recall pushing you out of the way of a plummeting sandbag. And distracting you from a mad ex-lover." He eased another piece of the knot loose. "Pull this under the … yes."

"You should rescue me like that more often," she teased. Moving to another twist of rope, Phryne noticed the binding loosening on wrist. "Let's see, Jack, I remember keeping you from grabbing a poison book of Yiddish songs." She wriggled one hand, managing to almost catch the knot with the second. She paused. "And most of the time I get myself out of scrapes all on my lonesome, thank you." She pulled against the rope. "Grab this piece, will you?"

"All on your lonesome?" he asked. "Like when I had to shoot Sidney Fletcher before he shot you?"

Phryne tried to turn to see Jack, but only managed to pull him along behind her. "Jack, I allowed you to shoot your ex-wife's fiancé. I think I should get some kudos for that one." Jack shrugged in silent agreement. "Plus, I managed to hit a corrupt policeman with a shovel before he shot me, and I tackled Murdock Foyle to rescue you."

"Yes," said Jack, "just before a paralyzing drug took hold of you, which would have allowed Foyle to turn you into his sacrificial pincushion." He fed the rope Phryne pushed toward him through another loop. "And it was Hugh who stopped that corrupt policeman from standing back up and taking a shot at you."

Phryne stilled. "Yes, I guess that is true." She slowly took the last length of rope from Jack and moved it toward the final loop. "Perhaps I am not as stellar in the rescuing department as I imagined."

Jack sighed at her crestfallen tone. "Nonsense, Miss Fisher. I do recall it was you who beaned Jim Creswick, and that explorer Gerald on the head. And you handled yourself quite well against a model-turned-jewel-thief." He pulled one end of the rope free. "Now if you could just feed this bit here…"

Phryne pulled. "Yes, I suppose." She freed another end.

Jack sighed. "And I imagine I have you to thank – in part – for City South having the highest closure record for murders."

"Really, Jack? Why didn't you tell me?"

Jack pulled one hand free. "Because I didn't think your ego needed it," he said simply. "You should be able to get one hand … there you go." Jack froze as a shadow loomed over them.

"Well ain't this a pretty picture?" sneered the hulking man who tied up Phryne and Jack. He stood before them, swinging the gun side to side. "Who gets it first?"

Phryne moved her hand under Jack's, and motioned one finger to brush under two of his. Jack cleared his throat and squeezed her fingers in acknowledgment. She looked at the gunman. "I'd say you," she said evenly. "Now!" she yelled.

Jack swept his legs under the hoodlum, while Phryne kicked him off his feet. His gun clattered to the ground, and Phryne pushed it away with her black, Mary Jane heels.

Pulling the last tie free, Jack rose quickly and grabbed the rope. "This should keep him in place for the ride back to the station," he said, binding the man's hands.

Phryne rubbed her raw wrists. She offered Jack her hand and he pulled her gently to her feet. "So Jack," she asked. "What do we call this one?"

They looked at the prone figure on the ground, then to one another. "A tie," they said in unison, and smiled.