Jack looked at the clock, only 9:30; this was going to be a very long night. He had walked along the pier for around an hour before finally making his way home to his small bungalow. His home was about a 10 minute walk to the Station House, he could always take the tram, but often preferred to walk, it was excellent exercise and a good way to clear his head- usually. But today, he felt he could probably walk all the way to the moon and not be able to sort out his thoughts on everything that he had heard and experienced in only the last 12 hours.
He had always suspected that things with Phryne and that French bastard (he refused to use that beast's name) were even worse than what he had been told; in his experience, women who had been assaulted that way (he couldn't actually bring himself to use the term 'rape', not even in his own head), had a haunting kind of fear and an aspect of terror; different from victims of less intimate (but still brutal) attacks. The former look was much more inline with the expression on her face when DuBois entered the restaurant that day almost two years ago. But to learn that not only had the monster done THAT to her- the most unspeakable part for him was that while he had then not only beat her so badly, but he had wrapped his hands around her neck and tried to strangle her! He only stopped when she had actually become so scared for her own life that she took off in the night; running terrified, alone, and injured, terrified and alone, she lost the baby. He had to stop thinking about the whole thing or he was going to retch; but it seemed impossible for him to close his eyes without seeing her, on the floor of some horrible dingy flat, that beast with his hands about her throat, gasping for breath, begging him to stop…
He knew how difficult it must have been for her to tell him this story- it must have been even worse than him having to hear it. But did he really not have a right to be upset with how she continued to shut him out of her decisions? After all this time, he felt he was barely a part of the process in deciding things- she would "consult" with him, ask him questions, but he knew that he wasn't allowed to actually have a say in the matter- at least, not if it conflicted with what she already planned to do. Maybe she had a right to have kept all of that story from him, or maybe she had only been trying to protect him- despite how he wished he could find a way to have protected her from any of it. But either way, why did she get to make all the decisions on when and how to let him in?
And that was another thing! Why would she even talk to him about this whole thing if she clearly did not intend to have the baby? Why would she dangle such a dream of his in front of his face if she knew what she wanted to do? At least if he never knew about it, he couldn't be hurt by it or come to resent her- wasn't ignorance bliss?
But did he really not want to know either? Wasn't it wonderful that she had told him? That she was honest when she could have simply gone off for the procedure, saying it was just a few days at a spa and he may never have known?
Truth be told, he actually hadn't ever given much thought to what would happen if she "fell in" despite all their careful measures. Somehow, the idea that Phryne Fisher may not always get everything her way seemed almost ludicrous; the idea that any kind of device would dare to fail on her- it just couldn't happen. Of course he had occasional day dreams that, in a few years, she would change her mind and maybe they could try to have a family at that point, but he had never expected it.
And then, for her to actually think that he would feel trapped? Did she truly believe that or was she just trying to provoke him to anger? If that was the aim, he had to give her credit for doing an admirable job of it, she had certainly succeeded. He had not had a great deal of experience with pregnancy; his sister was younger, by two years, so by the time she was born he didn't really remember anything about his mother's pregnancy or having an infant in the house. His sister had four children, but she was very old-fashioned, he had barely known she was carrying before she had the child! Perhaps all of this had just those hormones he had heard about, mood swings and high emotions during the pregnancy? Had he actually just terrified her with his tantrum and anger?
His mind flashed to a case where a new mother, child only a few days old, had been so depressed and overcome by hormones that she drowned herself and her child. Was that possible in a woman still carrying? Was it possible that she was actually pregnant and he had made things that much worse in her state, that she was actually depressed and would do something dramatic and entirely out of character?
As he bathed himself and then, dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, shaved and brushed his teeth, he continued to think.
He loved her. He had told her before he left that he was merely trying to deal with some things that had shocked him, finding a way to cope; but was it possible that she was actually just trying to handle what was changing within her? How could he have been so incredibly stupid as to say those things to her right now- maybe he felt that way, but with what she told him about DuBois and this Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads until they had a test result one way or the other….
Dammit, Jack! How could he have been so harsh on her, tonight of all nights? This was a time in which she probably needed his unfailing love and support more than ever before, and yet he chose that moment to call her out on being selfish, not thinking about anyone else? He had never truly appreciated irony so well until that realization now. Yes, he had certainly been concerned that she really never would want to marry him or have a family or "settle down". But he was also certain that none of that was worth losing this woman over. He may be frustrated and worried and a little bit hurt, but he had never known love like what she gave him- true intimacy- body, mind, soul, heart. Wasn't that worth the efforts? And they had time to work these things out- their entire lives, by his calculations.
"Good God Robinson, you have been a perfect ass!" He ran to his room, looking for the first shirt he could find so he could run out the door and go to her, immediately, he couldn't wait. What would happen if she was pregnant? He had no idea, it would be very difficult on him- on them- if she chose to terminate; but if nothing else, him running away in anger and frustration certainly wasn't going to help to convince her of his love and dedication to their relationship. He pulled on his undershirt and grabbed a top, heading to the parlour where he had left his shoes, planning to button the shirt in his car. The moment that he got to them, there was a knock at the door. Muttering under his breath he moved to the door.
"If your precious child misplaced her darling kitten and you are expecting me to spend the night joining with the tree until it trusts me enough to come down… again…" he had spent an evening in his neighbor's tree in a similar situation only about a month or so back and he was in far too much of a hurry to deal with that again right now. He threw open the solid oak panel with a gruff look on his face, ready to yell at whomever happened to have the bad luck of being on the other side.
"Jack!" There she was, her impeccable skin, her magical eyes and crimson red lips, her glossy hair, shining in the moonlight. All he could think to do at that moment was pull her in from the porch and cover her mouth completely- and so he did. After a moment in the entryway, he managed to pull away from her for the briefest of moments, needing to say, "Phryne! I am so sorry, I have been unforgivable! I am so in love with you, I don't know how I could ever…" he was punctuating every phrase with a kiss to her lips, her neck, her shoulders. No wonder she won every argument- he was too far gone to really fight with her. This beautiful, independent, fiery spirit had been through so much in her life- Jack had suffered through war, but so had she… and nothing else he had ever dealt with could compare to her experiences. He wanted to allay her fears, to make her forget those horrible times and her terrible men and father and her childhood.
"No, Jack, please, stop." She had never before asked him to stop. They were halfway down the hall to his bedroom, but he instantly complied.
"Are you alright?" She stopped, placing her hands on either side of his face, wanting to make sure that he would see her as she said this.
"Jack, stop. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I am so hopelessly in love with you. But I'm a bit scared, and somewhat in shock, and I was wrong earlier. I was holding you accountable for things from my past… or not giving you the chance to understand how they made me who I am (for good or bad), and trying to hold onto my ego in a way that meant I would never really be able to move on. And I don't want that, I WANT to be able to move on from all of that. I want you." That was all she needed to say, she pulled him back into her kiss again, feeling how he melted into her arms.
"No, Phryne, I think that I need to tell you…"
"Jack, we have all the time in the world for words, and I do promise we will talk about this. But right now…" and with that, she bit his lower lip- which, turned out to be the end of any conversation for a while. He took her arms in his hand and spun her around, forcing her up against the wall of the hallway, only just barely remembering to kick the front door shut at the same time.
His mouth was on her mouth, but he quickly traveled down her body, while holding her hands, by her wrists, over her head, her back against the cool plaster and his mouth on her breasts. They did feel a bit larger and more sensitive than usual, but his brain could barely process that thought, all he could think of was how badly he needed her at that moment.
"Should we continue to the bedroom?" Phryne asked.
But Jack didn't feel that there was nearly enough time for that. He needed to remember how she felt, how she had defied her own expectations of herself to be with him, and only him. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew that he could find comfort and passion and love inside of her. Normally he would strip her entirely, but today he had no ability to do anything other than rip her knickers off from under her skirt and thrust two fingers into her wetness. She gasped as he did so, contracting around his flesh, showing him what was possible for the rest of him.
But despite her excitement to have him, she was feeling contrite, penitent. She spent a few minutes, back against the wall with one leg balancing her to allow for better sensation, but then dropped to her knees, ripping off his pants, putting him inside her mouth, hearing and feeling his sigh of relief from all the pent up anger, annoyance, frustration and hurt of the day. She focused on sucking, licking, kissing and rubbing him down with as much warm wetness as possible, he was moaning and calling her name, stroking her head, not wanting this to end, but wanting to be inside of her, needing to feel that different kind of pressure and warmth. Finally, he could take it no more.
He pulled her up from her knees, pushing her against the wall, holding her back with light pressure as he hiked up her skirt and, still standing, thrust himself inside of her. All he heard was her gasps as he entered her deeper and deeper, his cock, his hands, he had few thoughts other than his love for her and need to feel himself come inside her.
Much earlier than he would have expected, he felt her begin to climax. Her internal tension and his rigorous pace led to him joining her in release at almost the exact same time. They both collapsed to the floor of his hallway, still mostly clothed, exhausted and satisfied. He leaned into kiss her, with all the tenderness and love he had for her at that moment. He stroked her cheek, thinking.
Jack broke the silence after a few moments of recovery. "Perhaps we should try and make it to the bed now… I don't think I'm still young enough to be able to sleep on the bare floor without serious aches in the morning." She nodded in agreement and allowed him to pull her up and lead her to his room. He went to the bathroom to clean up and when he returned to her, she was already in only her camisole and knickers and cuddled up into the covers.
She was so delicate and beautiful and wonderful… and scared. He knew that his shock and anxiety were nothing compared to what she must be dealing with. He knew he was a perfect bastard for choosing today of all days to try and deal with some of their bigger issues- commitment, marriage, compromise and working together. The memories this must have brought back for her, to say nothing of the implications for her- her body, her life, her work, her relationship with him.
Her back was to him, she didn't know that he was back in the room, thinking of how she was so filled with love for that man. She had come here tonight planning to talk to him, to have a real conversation and to try and fix everything that seemed to go so horribly wrong so incredibly fast today. She had been so wrong to put all of this on him all at once like she had. Why had she had to go and fall in love with this man? Life was so much simpler before; before she would never had to consider any of this, she never would have had to delve back into those impossible to handle chapters in her life like Rene, the miscarriage, her not-so-pleasant upbringing in the slums of Collingwood.
Jack was so right, she was very selfish, she had become accustomed to living her life however she saw fit, and she could change any aspect of it at a moment's notice. But Jack wasn't like that. And yet, he loved her so much, he almost always indulged her whims (or at least didn't try to stop them), watching or even occasionally, participating in her latest insane scheme or hobby. How could a woman like her be a mother? She was never tied down to any thing or place for too long, she lived on impulse and whatever struck her fancy. And she understood that not everyone took to parenting well, some people were naturals and some were just awful- it was very likely her father should have been left out the gene pool, or whoever it was that gave birth to Murdoch Foyle. What if she was a terrible mother? She knew that she could simply pay for nannies and schools, as Mac had said- but Phryne wasn't one to do things by halves. Not to say she wouldn't hire a nanny- she felt little need to deal with wet nappies or a child screaming at all hours of the night; but she saw little merit to having a child and ignoring it for the next 18 years of its life.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Jack's footsteps and then him crawling into bed in his warm, cozy, flannel pyjamas. He smelled of soap and whiskey and love. He rolled onto his side and pulled her into him, holding her tightly, kissing the back of her head. She nuzzled back into him, reveling in this feeling of safety and love and tenderness. How could she ever have put him through the madness of today? "Jack, we should talk, about today. I just wanted you to know that I'm so incredibly sorry about how it all happened today and I…" He pulled her in tighter and whispered,
"Shhh, not now Phryne. I have a great deal to apologize for as well, and I promise I will, in the morning. We've both had quite a shock today. Let's try and get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."
She turned around to face him, her eyes wide with concern. "You know that I love you, right? You know that you have become the most important thing to me, you…"
"Shh, Phryne. I love you too- more than anything under the heavens." And then he kissed her again, and felt a familiar stirring in him, deepening the kiss and feeling her respond enthusiastically. Maybe they weren't going to sleep quite yet… but they weren't going to be doing any talking either.
