Again, thank you everyone for your kind reviews and your patience. I had intended to try to post a chapter a week but with work and time constraints that hasn't always been possible and i've run a little over.

Anyway thank you for bearing with me and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter: Kiss me hard before you go

It had been little more than fourteen hours since the call from her father when Phryne and Dot walked into the station at City South. They entered the station like so many times before, only this time everyone knew it to be different. Today, Jack noticed her move about the place differently, almost reverently; slowly, as if taking it in. She ushered Dot in front of her and upon meeting Jack's eyes as he stood by the front desk with Hugh behind it, she felt the unprecedented need to explain why she was there.

"I've brought Dot to say goodbye to Hugh!" She announced, as if the room wasn't already fully aware of the circumstances.

"Yes, of course," Jack nodded, "Take the first interview room, Collins." He said, turning his head slightly in the direction of his constable while issuing the instruction, though his eyes remained firmly on Phryne.

Hugh, coming from behind the desk, ushered his sweetheart the short distance up the hall and into the adjoining room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He knew his beloved well; even the prospect of a prolonged separation and their renewed engagement would not allow for their farewells to take place behind completely closed doors.

Phryne's eyes followed the two sweethearts, Jack's did not.

"Poor, Hugh! I'm taking her away from him so suddenly. He's going to be like a lost puppy."

In the absence of any response she looked away from the interview room door where the young couple had just disappeared and looked finally to the man she was to farewell. She was met by his intense gaze.

"I hope you'll look after him. He's going to be even more flustered than usual." She continued, "Don't put him in charge of any heavy machinery, he'll do himself a mischief." She said, attempting jollity, it sounded false even to her own ears.

Still there was no response, only his fixed gaze directed unerringly at her. She felt suddenly self conscious, a feeling that did not sit well with her. Phryne Fisher did not do self conscious. Or fearful, when she realised she was afraid, afraid she might leave this place having not spoken with him; she might not hear his voice. Bloody man! She was suddenly inexplicably annoyed at him; that he had made her feel this way, how dare he.

"Say something," She demanded. She hadn't meant it to sound quite so forceful. Or desperate.

Jack became suddenly aware of himself. Her stern delivery transcending the stupor he'd found himself in since Hugh had received the call from Miss Williams earlier this morning. The news, in turn, relayed to him by a doleful, Collins.

The current situation, he knew, necessitated dialogue and standing mute while he committed to memory the detail of her face in the fading light of the afternoon through the dirty windows of City South, was not conducive to the act of saying goodbye. But now she was here she felt suddenly so far away, her very presence making her imminent departure all the more real. He pushed himself to speak.

"Are you alright?" He finally asked, his voice rough as if out of practice, perhaps it was, he couldn't remember a single other conversation he'd had today.

It was the only question he gave a damn about. If she was to leave shortly he needed to know she was going to be alright.

"Of course," she replied, a little more brightly than was necessary, in that way he noticed she had of affecting her voice when she was trying to convince herself and others of it. He wondered if she knew that was her tell.

For emphasis, as though she knew she had just been caught out in a lie, she nodded a further, silent deception in the direction of her shoes. Her hands clutched together in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Phryne! About your mum."

"Thank you!" She didn't know what else to say. She suspected Jack didn't either. She'd always found it a strange custom; saying sorry in circumstances like this, though she had used the placatory expression often enough during the war. Too often.

She wanted to change the subject. She needed to change the subject, or the painful lump in her throat would find its release in the threatening tears that were ready to fall unchecked. Making an attempt at her usual sass, she sought to retrieve the situation from the brink.

"I am sorry to be leaving you when we still have the Sanderson case up in the air. I know how heavily you rely on my input these days. However will you manage without me?" She joked, knowing full well he would see straight through her jibe but hoping all the same he would follow her lead and play along. He did not disappoint her in his riposte.

"Oh I'm sure we'll muddle through without you, Miss Fisher," he leant back against the front desk behind him, crossing one ankle over the other, "There'll be fewer breaches of the peace to investigate while you're out of town at least." He answered with a wry smile.

He took her previous comments for what they were and allowed her to steer the conversation away from the personal; it would find its way back around in the end no doubt. Besides he wanted her to be as up to date as possible before she left, after all, it was as much her case as his, even if certain members of the constabulary would never admit to it. He also knew that what he had to say next would not go down well with her.

"Actually, there are stirrings at the top – the new top – that the remainder of the investigation will be undertaken by another force."

"No!" She said, surprised. The purpose for the visit suddenly, blessedly forgotten; momentarily overridden by a new concern. "They can't do that surely?"

"They can and they likely will. Word is they want a completely unrelated – unrelated being the operative word here– team. They want to nail Sanderson and Fletcher, make an example of them and the former son in law of one of the suspects is not who they have in mind to lead the charge."

"But they can't possibly think you would be in any way bias," Phryne challenged, her arms outstretched, "You made the damned arrests for heaven sake's." She finished, dropping her arms to her sides in frustration. "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry! This really isn't fair!"

He was touched by her adamants that he was the right man for the job

"It's not set in stone but I think it's coming, and soon. To be honest, I can see where they're coming from," adding hastily to his remark when her saw her surprised reaction, "I don't like it, but I can understand it. They don't want the case to be affected or compromised in any way and that means taking out the familial link, and in this case, that's me." He said with a grudging acceptance of his lot before continuing to reassure her further.

"Listen, if I thought that this was being done in any way to aid a cover up I would be fighting tooth and nail to remain on the case but as it is, the new Chief of Police, Richard Farmer is his name, he's a good bloke and a good cop to go with it. He came down to the station yesterday to tell me himself; kept me in the loop. They simply want the strongest possible case to eventually take to court and..." He shrugged, as though resigned, "those girls deserve the strongest case we – they – can build." He corrected himself.

"And you trust him? This...Richard Farmer?" She asked, hating the thought of Jack not seeing this case through to the end. One of the reasons she had eventually relented in her decision to travel and see her father had been the knowledge that Jack would be here, leading the investigation into Sanderson and Fletcher. She trusted him to do what needed to be done.

"Yes, I do." He answered in the affirmative, "He's straight as a line. He's a family man; he's got three girls of his own. He'll do a good job."

She thought about it only momentarily, "Then if you trust him, I trust him!" she continued, "Keep me updated won't you? As best you can anyway. Please?"

"I will."

They held each other's gaze for long moments, suddenly with nothing to say, all the while there still being so much left to be said.

"And, Rosie?" she asked, the words falling from her mouth in a rush, "How is she bearing up?"

Phryne couldn't deny her curiosity the question. If she was entirely honest with herself she had given the woman far more thought than was strictly necessary over the last few hours. She was genuinely concerned for her, of course she was. Yes, she knew what it was to have ones parents cast shadows. But she was also curious as to the changing dynamic of the situation they suddenly found themselves in. What would alter and comprise when you took out one of the elements and moved it thousands of miles away. Whatever it was between her and Jack, it was something, and she could not deny that. Still, if her life depended on it, she couldn't quite name it.

Jack was somewhat taken aback by her unexpected change of topic. He paused for thought before he answered, choosing his words carefully.

"She's bearing up." He paused again, hesitating. He decided honesty where Phryne Fisher was involved was the best policy.

"I'll be seeing her later this evening. She'll be coming in for questioning, just a few routine enquiries about how much, if anything, she knew about her father's and fiancé's... dealings." He finished and cleared his throat.

"Oh! ...And they're letting you do that? I would have thought – "

"No. No, you see there's the rub in the investigation. I can't really be the one to interview my wife – my former wife – about all of this. It's the sort of thing that could be construed by a clever lawyer into getting the case thrown out. No, I'll be there outside the capacity of the police...after the interview."

"Oh, well yes, I see. Of course, that makes sense. You must be there for her."

He noticed the slight hesitation in her advocacy of his supporting Rosie and was reminded once more of the subterfuge she was so capable of assuming when she was cornered. The air of nonchalance was always within her grasp.

Phryne nodded her understanding; she wondered if he noticed the wave of, what? What was it? Jealousy, she supposed. She wasn't fool enough to think it could be anything else. Still, she reasoned internally, he wouldn't be the Jack Robinson she would miss if he didn't support Rosie the way she knew he would.

She recovered herself quickly, "Though why she must be interviewed in the first place is beyond me. It is entirely too obvious she knew nothing of their goings on, given her reaction that night, when you... you know – "

"Yes, I agree but we must be seen to be doing everything by the book and unfortunately that means Rosie will have to be interviewed."

"Quite." She nodded faintly.

Jack didn't want to talk about Rosie anymore. As it was, he thought it a bad idea to meet again with her after the interview tonight. He'd agreed to it out of loyalty and more than a little sympathy. Yes, he cared for her, he always would and he wanted to be a supportive friend to Rosie, but the inkling of hopeful reconciliation he thought he'd seen in her eyes and actions when last they spoke had not been lost on him. He didn't want to encourage that hope in her. He was sure it wasn't hubris on his part, he wasn't imagining it surely. He remembered her gaze, her touch, from many years ago now, from a time when she had still behaved as though she wanted him; that she hadn't given up on the man she knew he was before the war, that the spark in him only needed a little kindling. He remembers a time when he would have taken great solace in those looks, looks that made him believe she was waiting for him to make his way through the mire of his internal war and back to her, but her patience could only be stretched so far and he couldn't blame her in the end for seeking her own solace elsewhere.

But he knew he'd be damned if he were to walk backwards into a relationship that would no doubt take him from the burgeoning...friendship? With Miss Fisher – Phryne. Even if they remained as purely friends, and he knew this was a distinct possibility, he knew he could no longer fool himself that he was strong enough to give that – her – up. He also knew that it would be demanded of him if he were to reconcile with Rosie.

"I wish you could come." Her words met his ears through the din of his own troubled thoughts. They were spoken so quietly he could almost believe he'd imagined them through his own fancy to hear them. Except he hadn't, he knew this when he saw her face. Written on her beautiful features was the cost of her proclamation. Phryne Fisher did not want or need for anything or anyone and yet she had essentially spoken her desires before they'd had a chance to be censured.

"Phryne – "

The horn of the waiting cab outside suddenly ripped through the quiet of the station in three long bursts of sound. The cabs occupants were no doubt concerned by the growing lateness of the hour and the imminent departure of the vessel that already carried Miss Fisher's car and belongings in its cargo hold.

The offensive sound, having travelled efficiently through the station, brought Dot and a sorrowful looking Hugh from their sanctuary.

"Are you ready, Miss?" Dot ventured as she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief as they stepped into the front of the station once more.

"As I'll ever be, Dot." She said giving a sympathetic smile and nod to Hugh who seemed unembarrassed by his watery eyes. "I'll look after her, Hugh. Don't worry."

"Miss!" He managed, before his sombre gaze once more fell on his lovely Dottie.

"Jack!" Phryne said with a sad smile as she raised her hand to his.

The realisation that the time had come for this frustrating, glorious woman to leave him, hit him like a punch to the gut. "Phryne!" he managed. Say something, say anything his thoughts rushed at him as he reached for her offered hand and shook it. What the hell are you doing man?

Finally, when there was nothing left to be done but the leaving of it all, Phryne again ushered Dot in front of her and headed toward the door that would lead to Bert and Cec and their waiting cab, which in turn would take them the short distance to the harbour and to their journey into another hemisphere.

Phryne, feeling she still had a million and one things she wanted to say, stopped and turned suddenly to give voice to them, opening her mouth to speak, she found herself struck dumb. She saw Jack who looked at her expectantly, awaiting her parting shot. His hands pushed deep in his pockets, from the outline she could see they were clenched into fists. She noticed his jaw work, as if he too fought the same battle with his voice.

She didn't want to leave without this being said, she took the three strides necessary towards him, stopping mere inches from him. Try again, she told herself. She made another attempt at eloquence, her mouth opening and closing minutely but nothing came and so she kissed him instead. She hoped he understood.

Jack could feel the tips of her fingers splay across the shell of his ear, her palm warming his cheek as her lips pressed firmly against his own. He'd barely had a chance to react, to take his hands from his pockets and rest them gently at her waist, to feel the heat of her body through the layers of her clothes, to feel the slight pull on his lower lip from between her own only moments before she retreated. He felt her fingers caress down his cheek and away as the material of her coat slipped from his own fingers as she stepped back and away from him.

She was a whirl of French perfume, luxurious blue fabric and a wry smile as she turned on her heels and made quickly for the door. Finally finding her voice, she threw over her shoulder -

"You left without that the other evening."

Phryne Fisher had finally arrived as she made her way out of the door.