Chapter 14: Starfruit

Unfamiliar blackness greeted him when he woke and for a moment he was lost as to why there was a light night breeze on his face and a strange pillow under head. The soft breathing beside him however was the same. He turned and was greeted by the firmament with its million stars staring down at him. For a moment the sight took his breath away. Jack Robinson had spent many nights under the stars, a long time ago, back in France - but it was a different sky. Different stars. A different life. It was if he was discovering the world and all its wonders anew and that had, he realised, to do with the woman that was currently lying on his arm, slowly making it go to sleep. His heart ached at the thought that he could never be able to convince her that being married to him might not be the death sentence she feared. That the black diamond, that was currently once again resting in his coat pocket as a reminder of what he had and what he was battling insane killers for, might stay there forever without finding its way onto the finger it belonged on. As if she had sensed his thoughts, Miss Fisher stirred. Her face was peaceful again and he breathed a sigh of relief. The clouds on her face were gone. Phryne looked beautiful only illuminated by the moonlight. She must have snuck away after he had fallen asleep, because the leftover food was missing and she had also gotten changed. The nightdress she wore had slipped up, not concealing overly much and Jack remembered, glancing over her sleeping frame, that he had drifted off before she could ever be true to her promise. He resisted the urge to run a hand over her thigh and instead pulled the skirt back into place. Some deep longing inside of him protested this vehemently. Jack ignored it as best he could manage. Then he lay back down, trying to distract himself from the thoughts that kept swirling through his mind. Here in the deep of the night, the pictures of the crime-scene were back. A woman just like Phryne. Young, rich, beautiful and independent. For a moment he had thought he'd figured it out, that it was to do with the 'Poseidon Club' and pieces would fall into place if he just stared at them long enough, but now he felt like a fool. A scared fool. Gently he trailed his fingertips up Miss Fisher's arm. She moaned softly in her sleep and a small firework went off in his stomach, that he had almost gotten under control. Reaching her shoulder, he leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the lips. She was here, she was alive and she was so tempting that he just couldn't stop himself. Jack deepened the kiss, when he felt her lips starting to respond. A milky white arm wrapped around him pulling him closer, accompanied by another moan that spurred him on. His hand slipped under her nightie, searching out more warm skin. Jack was not even sure if Phryne was quite awake, her hands seemed to roam his body without any effort, driving him insane with a light pressure here and a lingering stroke there. Maybe she just literally knew every single one of his nerve endings in her sleep.

He found his eyes closed, reduced to the sensation of her skin under his fingertips and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Searching out her mouth in the darkness behind his lashes, he pulled her tightly against himself, entangling their limbs in a Gordian knot that even Alexander the Great could not have torn apart. The moon shone gently onto the two people who, almost in complete silence, attempted to crawl under each others skin, somewhere in the mess of body parts finding a rhythm between them that drew some soft groans from their throats while they searched out more than ecstasy.

Still trembling Jack lay still while Phryne seemed to drift straight back to sleep. How she could do this was beyond him, but he could not pretend to care. She was here; she was alive, even while asleep. Gently he kissed her sweaty forehead, before he remembered the last attempt of the kind.

In the middle of this almost romantic moment, his bladder voiced a loud complaint. Of course, streams of coffee did have some effect on a man. With a groan that was more owned to frustration than passion this time, he wedged his arm out from under Phryne's body. Tingling, it came back to life. She protested with a soft murmur. The Inspector stilled, rubbing his throbbing arm and waited for her breath to calm, before he got to his feet and snuck downstairs. Leaving her behind felt somehow wrong, but he called himself a fool for feeling this way as his bare feet fumbled down the wooden steps. He ignored the light switch in the bathroom, fully intent on not blinding himself with electrical light and was back at the stairs only minutes later, relieved in more than one way, when he heard the sound. It was a tiny little clicking, probably not odd in a house full of people, yet something about it echoed through his head. Possibly it might have been smarter to grab his pistol first, but his policeman's soul sounded an alarm bell. Jack Robinson raced down the stairs, and before he knew why or what he was expecting, flew through the hall towards the quiet squeaking of an opening bedroom door.

"Rosie!"

The scream as his former wife discovered the dark shadow at her bedside seemed to vibrate of the walls. Jack heard the explosion of glass on someone head when he stormed into the guestroom, but the only person visible was a trembling Rosie, still holding the remains of the lamp in her hands like a weapon.

"Hold it, Police." He yelled, really wishing he had the safety of his pistol or at least some proper clothes on. For a moment only breathless silence filled the room while he heard the house awake, light switches flick, doors open. For a moment time stopped, and he thought of Phryne. Phryne, asleep and completely defenceless on the rooftop. Well, as far as she was ever defenceless, really. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move.

"Jack, watch out!" He heard Rosie yell, but it was too late. A sharp pain cut through his left thigh. Inspector Robinson grabbed into nothing before attempting to give chase to the dark figure running past him. But a red haze was veiling his eyes, his hurt leg threatened to give way and he barely managed to leave the bedroom, before he heard the front door fall shut. Mr. Butler was the first to come running down the stairs, turning on the light.

"Are you alright, Sir?"

Jack didn't answer. He saw the blood trickle down Rosie's collarbone, as she mindlessly lifted her hand to wipe it away.

"Rosie?"

She stared at her hand, then broke down in hysterics. Jack didn't blame her. The cut on her neck was small, but dangerously close to the windpipe. The Inspector shuddered at the thought, that if his bladder had not complained at just the right time, he would have found her with a slashed throat in the morning. Soothingly, he wrapped his arms around the crying woman, trying to calm her down. Her smell was familiar, yet half forgotten. As if he had known her in another lifetime. It was around that time, that Miss Fisher stumbled into the room, wrapped in her black nightgown, woken from sweet dreams and found Jack clinging onto his ex-wife, stroking her hair with soothing words while she sobbed into his naked shoulder.

"It's alright, it's alright."

It wasn't! Phryne felt a pang that she was well aware, was not rational. A killer had broken into her house and had threatened Rosie Fletcher. Of course Jack would comfort her. Yet, Miss Fisher's gut twisted, making her feel nauseas. Then she spotted the red stain forming on his pyjama pants. She made a tentative step into the room, almost scared of getting too close to the former spouses holding onto each other.

"Jack?"

He seemed oblivious to all but Rosie and Phryne felt her blood freeze. When she touched his shoulder, he looked up with an expression that she knew. He felt guilty. Guilty for not having been here when it happened.

"Jack, you're bleeding."

His eyes went down to his leg, staring blankly.

"Should I call doctor MacMillan, Miss?" Mr Butler asked from the door. Phryne only nodded, trying to pry Jack out of Rosie's grasp to inspect his thigh closer where the knife had cut into his leg. Luckily, in the same moment Dot and Hugh arrived, both looking freshly disturbed from deep sleep. Phryne heard herself give more orders, for the police to be called and Dot to have a look at Rosie's wound, till Mac arrived. None of it really mattered. Jack had released his ex-wife and grasped onto Miss Fisher's hand, strong fingers weaving through hers, as if he was looking for her comfort. Phryne Fisher didn't have to be asked twice.

By the time a blurry-eyed Elisabeth MacMillan arrived, Jack Robinson was confined to his bed, with a rather stern lady-detective watching over him. The doctor diagnosed a flesh wound, inflicted by a sharp knife to the thigh, painful and rather bloody but not dangerous and Miss Fisher breathed a sigh of relief. The household returned to bed over the next hour, save Constable Jones who had taken up position outside of Rosie Fletcher's bedroom door and Rosie herself, who had to be knocked out with a cocktail of Mac's wondrous potions, before she had calmed down and was now lying in something that more resembled a coma than slumber.

Phryne lay in the darkness, listening to the silence and wondering if the trembling in her guts meant, that she was scared. The killer had been in her house, he could have gotten anyone. Or had he been looking for Rosie? For herself? From the little Jack had said when he'd resurfaced from his first shock, the man must have headed straight for Rosie's bedroom. So, someone who knew? Phryne racked her brain trying to find anything suspicious that had happened lately, anyone strange who had been in the house. But she came up with no results. And why chase her down here, in a house full of people that knew how to defend themselves and their own? There must be easier victims out there. Unless there was a pattern. A very distinct pattern. Jack groaned in his sleep and Miss Fisher wrapped her arms tighter around him. Even though her nightdress was sticking sweatily to her back, she had not released him from her embrace since she had crawled into bed beside him. After tonight's events she felt like she needed to hold onto him, feel him, comfort him.

She was torn rudely from those thoughts, by the Inspector moving.

"Hot." He murmured, struggling himself free from her grasp and rolling over. Phryne lay completely still, reminded herself of slow, steady breaths. Of course he was hot, it was boiling in the room. She slipped out of bed, letting the moonlight and slightly less warm air sweep through the window. With the sheet hiding his hurt leg, he looked normal, as if nothing had happened. But something had happened.

She wasn't so much scared of the killer, Miss Fisher recognized, as she was terrified of the picture that had greeted her in Rosie's bedroom. He had held his former wife so tightly, so tenderly, that she couldn't help but wonder if he was really done with his marriage. But Jack Robinson wouldn't intend to marry her if he was still in love with Rosie! There was not imaginable scenario in which a honourable man like him would ever be tempted to propose marriage to someone else if that was the case. As if to reassure herself, Phryne slipped open the drawer, feeling for the ring. Her hands came out empty. Indeed, Jack would never propose marriage to someone else, if he had rediscovered his feelings for Rosie. The ring was gone.

X

Detective-Inspector Jack Robinson rose early and with the distinct feeling in his gut that he was a step closer to finding the killer, even though there was no real evidence making this conclusion necessary or even likely. The guilt about the fact that he had enjoyed his sinful lifestyle on the rooftop, while Rosie had almost demised two stories lower, was still lurking, but then again he had saved her in the end. The Inspector pulled himself onto the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding bumping the throbbing cut on his leg. Another scar for Phryne's collection, he smiled to himself. She had a weakness for the marks his numerous battles had left on his skin and that one would, despite Mac's careful stitching, be a beautiful reminder of the time Jack Robinson had stood in the way of a serial killer. Miss Fisher was still fast asleep, from the sound of her breathing deeply and restfully. And despite the urge to talk to her, share everything that happened with her, he got washed and dressed as silently as possible, careful not to rouse her. With a slight limp in his step, he wandered downstairs, just in time to hear the knock at the door. He was a moment faster than Mr. Butler, who stood respectfully back, as Inspector Robinson pulled the door open, the other hand wavering near the pistol that he had sworn this morning he would not let out of his grasp again, before the killer wasn't sitting in his cell with a full confession on his lips.

The two women standing in front of his door, appeared rather surprised but not dangerous at all, and his tension faltered.

"Good morning, Jack." Amber Walters exclaimed cheerfully, pulling a pretty, dark-haired young woman behind herself into the house, without waiting for an invitation.

"I'm bringing you a house guest. I trust you know about Emily?"

Jack shook a pale hand with a surprisingly firm grip, wondering if he did. He had heard the details of her search for her identity at least, even though they hadn't been meant for him.

"She has been expelled from the hospital this morning. The board had some polite coughs and decided that keeping her around is too costly and not good for our reputation." The redhead huffed, without paying any attention to the Inspectors thoughts.

"So she is to stay with us?" Jack asked, finally catching on. Amber raised her eyebrows.

"I was rather hoping, Miss Fisher would have shared information like this with you. She offered to give her a place to stay, till she has found Emily's family."

Jack repressed a smirk. It was very much like Miss Fisher to open her door to a random client in need. A gentle clearing of throat let him turn around, before he had time to answer.

"Miss Fisher was indeed expecting you." Mr. Butler explained. "If you would like to follow me, Miss, I'll show you the room she has chosen."

The broad smile that formed on Emily's features, told Jack, that she had actually been worried by his reluctant hospitality. Obviously nobody had explained to her, that he had little to say in the matter. Really, he was just another one of the strays that Miss Fisher had collected under her roof. He shook himself out of that rather unpleasant thought, just to realise that he was now standing alone with Amber in the hall and an embarrassed silence spreading around them.

"Can I offer you some coffee?" He heard someone asking, who sounded suspiciously like himself. To the Inspectors further astonishment, Amber Walters sounded excited when accepting.

"You can tell me all about your progress on proposing while we drink it." She promised.

Jack groaned inwardly, but led her into the kitchen anyway.

He managed to avoid the subject – barely. While sipping her coffee, Miss Walters tried to steer the conversation in the direction of marriage, while Jack worked his way around it. After about ten minutes of cheerfully talking in circles the Inspector noticed he was actually enjoying the game. Then he became aware, that his playing partner was staring past him in silence.

He raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to share whatever had cause the sudden mood change.

"I just thought, that it is rather surreal to share coffee and conversation with you." The young redhead stated calmly. "Certainly not what I expected, when we met."

Jack stirred the brown liquid, before answering.

"But then, we were both rather busy with other things at the time, as I recall. Mostly dying on my part."

She returned a half-hearted smirk at this. Jack leaned back in his chair, looking into the big brown eyes and trying to figure out, where this conversation was going.

"If you are looking for absolution, Amber, I cannot give that." He said, after a long moment of silence. He had to repress a smirk at the distraught look on her face and leaned forward, grabbing her hand.

"Actually, I would like to thank you."

Her head flew up, looking at him in astonishment, but she didn't say anything. The Inspector drew a deep breath.

"While being kidnapped, shot and beaten was without doubt a rather painful experience, remaining a coward did seem rather illogical in the face of death."

He smirked.

"But of course, the events couldn't have given my fate a new turn, if I hadn't lived through them. So, thank you, Amber, it seems I owe you my life and I have every intention of making the most of it."

He let go of the still speechless girl, and drained his cup. There was plenty more he could have said. About how he might have never found out how it was to wake up beside Phryne or watch a sunrise with her, if it hadn't been for her compassion. How grateful he was, to have gotten a second chance. That she had kept him sane, down there in the dark, cold basement, holding on to a shred of hope, that maybe, just maybe Miss Fisher would use her infallible instinct to find him. That he was glad that she had chosen a profession that suited her, as he remembered her calming hands that even in the darkest of places had been soothing. Jack said none of it, as when he looked up, he saw Miss Fisher sweeping through the door draped in an aura of nonchalance which could mean only one thing: she had overheard some of their conversation.

"Good morning, Jack. Miss Walters." She nodded to them both and poured herself a cup of tea. The Inspector felt his heart sink. This didn't bode well. But he could hardly explain himself while Amber was still sitting at the kitchen table. Luckily, the student also seemed to have caught on. She made as show of checking her watch.

"I'm afraid I have to leave. Please take good care of Emily." She pleaded, nodding to the Inspector and paying Miss Fisher a strained smile. With that, she hurried out. Jack held his breath, wondering if there would be teasing. If Phryne teased him, she was not really upset. But Miss Fisher just silently stirred sugar into her tea.

"Well that looked rather cosy." She finally said and he felt his breath hitch in his throat. She did not really believe, he could be interested in Amber, could she?

"Phryne, I-"

"Good morning."

Jack swore under his breath, then gave Dot Collins a broad smile.

"Good morning to you, too, Mrs. Collins."

At least he had that finally figured out. He checked his watch while finishing his toast. It was almost 8, he had to leave. There was still a serial killer running around out there and even his domestic mishaps wouldn't stop the man from killing again. Jack looked at Phryne who seemed to avoid his eyes. What had happened? She could not really be this upset by him thanking Amber, not even by the harmless touch of her hand? Part of Jack wanted to shake Miss Fisher out of it. The rest got up, cleared his dishes away and asked her if she wanted to join him for the investigation, which she refused with so much politeness, that the other part almost won the upper hand. Inspector Robinson stalked out of the kitchen with the feeling that he had just lost a battle.