Chapter 7: A Time For War
Birdsong was the first thing he noticed. Jack would always remember that. For 19 long hours he had been quite sure he would never hear a bird sing again. Of course, he wasn't aware of that in this very moment. Only that they sang and that it was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. The autumn sun fell onto his shut lashes, accompanied by a light breeze, carrying the smell of the ocean. He felt a presence, heard the quiet swish of her skirt as she moved busily along his bed side. He kept his eyes shut till she sat down and replaced the cloths to his forehead. Even though he could not imagine her to believe for a moment that he was still asleep.
"Are you feeling better?" Asked the soft voice belonging to the woman at the edge of the bed.
Jack's eyes opened in shock.
"Rosie?"
The word was out before he could stop it, not hiding his surprise. But his former wife just smiled kindly.
"I thought you might not remember a lot of the last days, Jack. You were quite out of it, under a rather bad fever I'm afraid. Father took you in after they found you. He thought you would be safer here than in a hospital."
"Safer?" He asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise. DI Robinson seemed at this point in time, not able to string a coherent sentence together. He decided to blame it onto his exhausted body.
"Yes. Father is on the war path against the Browning Clan, I'm afraid." Rosie sighed theatrically. "And I am informed your Miss Fisher is quite involved in this battle."
Jack shook his head in disbelief and pulled himself upright, trying to ignore the pain in numerous body parts. He could in fact recall very little about the events of the gone days. Miss Fisher had saved him, that was about the last he remembered. And if he was honest even that seemed more like a fever dream. However he had ended up in Sanderson's house, it had to be her fault. Dropping him into the caring hands of his divorced wife seemed just like one of the cruel little games Miss Fisher would be playing on him. What a shame he could currently muster neither the strength nor the anger to hold a grudge against her.
"You seem still quite out of it. Get some more rest." Gently Rosies hands pushed him back down into the pillows. He nodded tiredly.
"Thank you, Rosie."
"Of course, Jack."
She smiled as she walked away. Her former husband was left alone to his spinning thoughts. Why on earth was he here? What 'war path' had Rosie spoken off? And of course, Phryne would march in the front line as usual. Suddenly he was wide awake. With a movement that wasn't quite as swift as he desired, mostly owed to his aching body, Jack crawled out of his sheets and helped himself to some clothes from the well stocked cabinet. George would forgive him. He needed to find out what was going on.
The house positively swarmed with policemen. Some of them tipped their hats at him as if he were some kind of war hero. Supposedly being tied to a chair for a few hours did the trick of winning those peoples respect, more so than 20 years of thorough police work. The Sanderson's loyal butler, a middle aged man with a friendly face, did his hardest to bring some kind of order into the chaos even if his efforts were doomed to be futile. When he saw Jack coming down the stairs in what had to be described as a little painful dance, his face lit up. They had always gotten along. What a shame that you couldn't keep the family around when your marriage fell through, Jack thought in a flash of regret.
"Inspector Robinson. So good to see you back on your feet. I trust you are feeling better?"
"Indeed, Mr. Bell. I have hardly ever felt so good in my life."
It was a blatant lie, but the Butler understood and grinned in a way that Butlers generally didn't. Jack liked him all the more for it.
"Mr. Bell, would you care to tell me where the Deputy Commissioner is currently busying himself. I would rather like a word with him."
The butler showed him through to the dining room, where a horde of important looking men in grey suits with matching grey hair had collected around an expensive antique Indian table to discuss the fate of the city. Jack heard her voice before he could see her.
"...you must agree that it is the time to set an end to the terror the Browning brothers have brought over this city. They have recently wounded and held captive one of your own, without any regard to his health or well being. A man who has done his duty to this city and may I remind you, this country for many years. Surely you cannot dismiss that Detective-Inspector John Robinson almost died in the basement of the Browning Mansion?"
Phryne Fisher looked like a very exotic bird inmidst all the dark suits. Jack hid half behind the door, watching her face twist in restraint anger as the Commissioner explained how his kidnapping could have just been a plot purely planned by the two servants he had been in touch with. He understood, why she fought, how frustrated she must be, but he couldn't help but smile in his hiding place. Phryne was probably the one woman in the world who would drop her rescued hero onto the next bed and run back into the battle, with her usually carefully hidden knife in the one and her pearl handled pistol in the other hand. No, she hadn't nursed him back to health but maybe, sitting down here, trying to get some justice for his captors showed just as much affection? As if she had read his thoughts her eyes searched him out. A tiny smile played around her mouth.
"Gentleman, I believe it is time for luncheon. We will continue our little chat in two hours time." With those words she got up and swept out the door in her stunning red suit, leaving the leaders of the city for silence. Jack didn't stand in the door anymore but Phryne was sure he had understood her message. She headed towards the terrace, hoping to find herself a refreshment when he appeared in front of her. She faked surprise.
"Inspector Robinson, how lovely of you to join me."
The playful tone in her voice was matched by the sparkle in her eyes.
"Miss Fisher."
Gallantly, he offered her a glass of champagne and his arm before leading her outside. The warm, salty wind still whispered in the trees. Phryne drained her glass in one gulp and disposed of it before they left the terrace. She had longed for a quiet moment with Jack to regroup and stirred him down a path into the park area of the Sanderson Estate. An attentive observer would have noticed the occasional policemen who even here, hid in the bushes. And Jack Robinson was a very attentive man. Phryne and George must have caused quite a stir to the underworld of Melbourne for this to be considered necessary. Miss Fisher seemed to feel little concern about the danger in which she must have walked the last few days. Jack was in a good mind to ask her if her household was save, but refrained from it. With all her attitude, Phryne was not a careless woman. The people she loved she protected with everything that was her.
"How are you feeling, Jack?"
Of all the people that had already asked him this today, Jack got for the first time the impression that someone was asking him an actual question. He took the time to consider an answer.
"I'm afraid that about every muscle in my body is aching," He offered; "I am positively exhausted and also incredibly relieved. I am, however, also somewhat worried."
At this he stopped and turned to face her. "This 'War' that George is leading, with your considerable help I'm sure, is dangerous, Miss Fisher. I hope you are aware of this."
The expression on her face became guarded. He half expected her to defy him but she stayed calm and serious.
"Believe me, I am well aware of how dangerous those people are. They almost killed you."
He made a dismissive gesture which to his surprise, seemed to anger her more than anything.
„Don't you dare brushing this of. I will never forget how we found you. You had bled half to death, your wound was infected, you were hallucinating. I won't even start about bruises, cracked ribs, concussion, or your arm, that you managed to half twist out of it's socket."
Absent mindedly Jack rubbed his aching shoulder. Miss Fisher seemed to have run out of steam and stayed quiet, panting in righteous anger. When she spoke again her voice was not much more than a whisper.
"Mac wasn't sure if you would pull through, Jack."
He stared at her, lost for words. In her blue eyes glittered a mixture of rage and tears. A flash of a dream appeared in front of the Inspector. He started to lift his hand to run it's palm over the pale skin of her cheek.
"And if I can do anything to make those people pay for what they have done to you, I promise I will hunt them to the end of the world!" She growled a quiet vow. The steel in her voice let Jack take a step backwards. The moment had passed. He dropped his hand back to his side and resolved to gather his wits.
"I believe Miss Fisher, we already are at the end of the world."
The tiny smile accompanying this sentence seemed to diffuse her anger somewhat as she took his arm again.
"That should make things a lot easier then, shouldn't it." She asked, letting her guard drop. He noticed it with relief as they continued their walk through the park in unusual silence. Only the birds sang in the trees.
When Miss Fisher returned to her goal of whipping the grey men of the city under her spell, Jack decided it was time to get back upstairs. The little adventure through the park had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. Just as he had peeled himself out of Georges suit and was slipping back into his Pyjama pants, the door swung open. "So, what exactly do you think you are doing?" A female voice asked. He looked up, then down at his hands that were still holding the top of his sleeping clothes.
"Drop it." Dr. MacMillan commanded. Jack did as he was told.
"Go and lie down, I gotta have a look at your stitches." She continued, very little concerned with the fact that she was standing in the bedroom of a half naked man. Of course, given her profession and sexual orientation there was little for her to be worried about. Nevertheless, Jack felt a hint of red covering his cheeks. He was prodded for a while with experienced hands in silence. Obviously Mac was happy with his progress. He was sure to have been yelled at some more, otherwise.
"You shouldn't really be out of bed yet." She finally said conversationally while testing his arm. "Not, that I expect any man to listen, who spends as much time with Phryne Fisher as you do."
A smile flashed over her serious exterior; if Jack had blinked, he would have been sure to miss it. "You gave her quite a scare, too."
More prodding. Jack couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this conversation than the obvious.
"Wouldn't leave your side, till you had pulled through. Then she went on a man hunt for every damn criminal in this city."
The doctor let go of the Inspector and picked his Pyjama shirt from the floor to throw it to him. "Actually, don't think I ever seen her in this state before. Over a man, I mean."
Jack gaped at her, then dropped his eyes with a small, embarrassed grin on his face. Subtlety was not Dr. MacMillan's strong side. Probably not a quality to be expected of someone, who spent as much time with Phryne Fisher, as she did. Jack buttoned up his pyjamas in silence, while she collected her instruments, then lay back down, his head full of thoughts. As Mac went to the door, he felt, he needed to say something.
„Thank you."
The redhead turned arround, slight surprise widening her eyes, that she hid quickly.
„What for?"
„Saving my life. Amongst other things."
She nodded slowly, rubbing some lipstick from the edge of her mouth in an embarrassed gesture.
„My pleasure. You better make use of it."
And with that, she was gone. Alone, the Inspector pondered her words for a while. Suddenly he knew exactly, what had to be done.