Not too long now, dear readers. We're nearing the end of the story ...

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Phryne opened her eyes and tried to blink away her nightmare. He's alive, she whispered to herself. She wiped her eyes and blew out a breath but her heart was still racing from being back in the water again, clutching at Jack, feeling him slip through her fingers, seeing his dead eyes on her as the water dragged him away. You did this to me, he said to her, before disappearing forever.

She pulled the covers over her shoulder and stayed lying on her side with her legs tucked up. Her eyes scanned the small room, which was crowded with bunks and a single bed by the window, for something to replace the image of him that had haunted her from the moment she fell asleep after being plucked from the water. A high shelf was crammed with books and a couple of stuffed toys: Raggedy Ann and her lifeless friend Andy. They sat slumped against each other on the end of the shelf, grubby and ratty from being loved by many children. They looked back at her with their unblinking dead eyes.

She rolled onto her back to look out the window instead and groaned at the cloudless blue sky. Is this how it was going to be from now on? Would every blue sky remind her of him and what they went through together before he disappeared from her life? She tried to picture him lying in the hospital and felt her breath catch in her throat. She missed him terribly and looked forward to seeing him again that morning. Hopefully he'd be more lucid, less puffy and grey, less like the Jack that haunted her dreams.

She pushed back her hair that was stuck to her sweaty brow, turning to reach for her watch. Just after seven, an hour she would normally describe as ungodly, but she was wide awake, having slept solidly since she was bundled into bed at nine the night before. And that was after a couple of hours' sleep in his hospital bed. The nurse had woken her by shaking her shoulder. Up you get, she had said gently, the Inspector's waiting for you in the hall. Phryne was groggy and disoriented and wanted to stay with Jack but didn't argue for once. On the way back to O'Sullivan's house, they stopped at the station so she could call Mac to get her to organise Jack's transfer back to Melbourne. He'd get better care in the private hospital close to her house, and Mac could look in on him. She also tried to telephone the homestead but the line was still down. She'd just have to trust that the butcher and others had stayed close to her aunt, Cornelia and Millie like she asked.

She stretched. The twinges and aches that plagued her yesterday had already lessened and she was starting to feel more like herself again. She smiled at the memory of Mrs O'Sullivan, who insisted she call her Eileen, take one look at her bruises and scratches and pull her into a hug. Phryne had melted against her; she didn't have the energy to resist being embraced by a stranger, nor did she want to. Eileen pulled away and held her at arm's length as she studied her scrapes. Let's get that beautiful face of yours cleaned up then, shall we? Phryne smiled at her motherly warmth and let her fuss over her. She was fed and bathed, her scratches were tended to, then tucked into bed after the youngest children were relocated to their big sister's room for the night. Even the dog seemed to be concerned for her welfare, giving the back of her hand a quick lick when she was having ointment applied to her wounds.

She turned her head at three quiet knocks on the door.

"Come in."

Eileen opened the door with a cup of tea in her hand. Phryne could hear children squabbling in the background. She closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, twisting to put the cup on the window sill, then turning to face her. She smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Phryne stared at her. She must have been too exhausted and emotional last night to notice how beautiful she was. Her full lips were stretched into a wide smile that reached her eyes. Wavy hair that glowed a beautiful gold in the light from the window framed a heart-shaped face with high cheek bones, and she was curvy in all the right places. Phryne wondered if Jack had met her, knowing he too would find her attractive, and was rewarded with a stab of jealousy. I deserved to feel that, she thought. She should be encouraging him to find someone just like her: warm, kind, beautiful, fecund, rather than the stubborn and self-absorbed hedonist who seemed to have captured his heart. Problem was, she couldn't imagine him with someone else, she just couldn't. Nor did she want to.

Phryne snapped her mouth shut, then smiled back at her. "I'm much better thank you."

Eileen nodded. "Good."

Phryne's smile quickly faded when she saw the worry on her face. "Is everything all right?" she asked, sitting up quickly.

Eileen patted her leg. "Nothing to worry about, sweetie. The Inspector's fine."

"What is it then?"

"He's already left for Melbourne."

Phryne sucked in a breath and frowned. "What? But he was supposed to go mid-morning. When did he leave?"

Eileen passed her the cup of tea. "About an hour ago. The hospital doesn't have a spare ambulance to take him the whole way. They're all still needed to collect bodies now the water's receding. They'll take him as far as Bendigo, then one from there will take him on to Melbourne. I'm sorry, I knew you'd be disappointed to hear that, but if it makes you feel any better, he would have been doped up to the eyeballs. He's going to have a bumpy ride after all the rain we've had."

Phryne nodded. Yes, she was disappointed. "I understand." She gave one shoulder a half-hearted shrug. "I'll see him in Melbourne when I get back." She managed a small smile. "Thank you, Eileen, for everything. You've both been most kind."

Eileen waved away her thanks. "It's our pleasure. You've had quite a rough time from the sounds of it. When do you think you'll be heading home?"

"Depends on the flood waters, I suppose. As soon as possible."

"Well, that's why I'm here, actually. The water drained away quite a bit overnight so the bridge isn't under any more. That means one of Martin's constables can drive you back to the homestead, but it has to be within the hour."

Phryne beamed at her. "That is good news!"

"Yes, it is, and the telephone line's fixed at Yarrowee. Martin called them a short while ago and they're all safe and well and looking forward to seeing you." She patted her knee and stood. "Come out for breakfast when you're ready."

Phryne was still grinning. "I'll be right out."

Once the door closed, she put her untouched tea down, flung back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was pleased she'd be able to get back to the homestead to make sure everyone was safe before she drove back to Melbourne. Going home and caring for Jack was her priority now, even if there were still many unanswered questions. Harry and Millie were safe, but Wright and the others were still missing, except Frederick or course; she knew where he lay. She couldn't help but wonder though ... who shot him?

Phryne stood up and dressed. With any luck she could spend the day getting answers to some of her questions and leave early the next morning.

-o0o-

Jack looked up at the knock, expecting to see the nurse enter to check his bandages. His breath caught in his throat when the door opened and he saw Phryne standing in the doorway. He put down the newspaper he was reading and smiled at her, watching her expression change from apprehension to relief. She took a few slow steps towards him then almost ran to the bed. She sat down next to him after dumping a large bag on the chair. They held hands and grinned at each other, half laughing, half crying in relief at seeing each other again.

He was too groggy from the pain and morphine to remember much about her first visit, just his relief at discovering she was alive. After he had woken to find her gone, he assumed the lingering feeling of her pressed up against him under the covers was a drug-induced fantasy, but every now and then snippets of what had to be memories made their way into his consciousness. In his brief moments of lucidity in between injections, he remembered her head on his shoulder, her hand on his skin, the brush of her lips against his, the whisper of darling that had echoed in his mind ever since. He eventually asked the nurse, who told him all about the visit from his sweetheart. He had smiled at that, until she asked him when they would marry.

He looked at her gazing intensely at his face, her fingers once again on his skin as she lightly traced the scar from the wound she had cleaned above his left eye when he unexpectedly turned up at the station, before moving onto the new scrapes and scratches as the flood waters rolled him into fallen trees and the remains of smashed boats. He wondered if the story of their week together would be forever inscribed on his skin.

"It's true," he said, taking her hand in his and smiling. "It's me. I'm alive." She blinked and looked him in the eye, her trance broken. Jack could hear her ragged breathing as she stopped smiling and contorted her face as she tried not to cry.

"And I'm so thankful for that," she whispered.

When he saw her chin started to quiver, he pulled her head to his shoulder and held her tightly against him, nuzzling his cheek against the back of her head while she cried. He too shed tears; he had much to cry about lately but he hadn't allowed it, preferring to feel embarrassment at his desperate and awkward proposal of marriage, then frustration and anger at their argument in her cottage. Then came the shock of being shot, and terror when he went into the water. Crying in relief felt like a luxury compared to how he'd felt the last week or so. He ran his hand up and down her back. He wasn't just soothing her, he too needed comfort from the burning pain in his shoulder, the ache in his lungs and the nightmares where he relived his time in the water, frantically clutching for something, anything that would stop him being taken away from her.

She turned on the bed so she could lie up against him with her knees on his thighs and forehead pressed against his cheek. He wrapped his arm around her and felt her hand slide under his unbuttoned pyjamas. She cried, quietly at first, then her breathing grew more ragged until she buried her face in his neck and wailed. He wasn't going to tell her to shush. They both needed to do this so they could try and move on from the horrors of that night.

He ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her scalp, knowing how much she loved it when he did that. "We'll be all right, Phryne. We made it." She nodded against him and took a deep breath as she slowly stopped crying, sniffing occasionally and wiping her face with the handkerchief she clutched tightly in her hand. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her back, feeling her body become heavier against his as she began to relax.

They lay together for a while until Phryne pulled out of his hold and sat up to face him. "I'm so sorry, Jack. It's all my—"

"No Phryne," he said quickly, shaking his head. He reached out to touch her face. "Don't say it. It's not your fault. I won't ever accept that."

Phryne shook her head. "I was so worried about you." She wiped away the last of her tears and peeled back his pyjama top to look at his bandaged shoulder. "How are you feeling?" She looked back to his face. "Your colour's much better."

Jack smiled at her shiny, red nose. He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear; a well-practised gesture that felt clumsy with his left hand. "A bit sore, but happy to be here. Is everyone safe. When did you get here?"

She managed a small smile back at him. "I drove back yesterday, and yes, everyone's safe. And I am very, very happy you are too."

He watched her wrestle with her emotions again. "Phryne," he said softly. He reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her palm. She sucked in a breath and pulled it away. He frowned and reached for it again, turning it over to look at her wounds. She had deep scratches from her fingertips to the heel of her palm. He flicked his eyes up at her then turned over her other hand, which was also badly scratched. His breathing quickened as he was suddenly in the water trying to pull her back onto the wharf, wanting to scream at the pain in his shoulder that was pressed hard up against wood, terrified she'd be swept away by the current.

"Jack?"

She was frowning at him.

"Are you all right?"

He closed his eyes for a short while then nodded. "Yes, I, er …" He pressed his lips together and shrugged his undamaged shoulder. "I'd be better without the memories and dreams."

Phryne nodded and put her hand on his arm. "I understand. I've had some terrible nightmares, too."

Jack looked at her for a while then down at his hand when he found her gaze too intense. "You were all I thought about when I was in the water." He ran his fingertips over the back of her hand. "What happened to you after, I, er, we …," he shook his head, "the boat …"

"After we went into the water?"

He nodded. "You don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to."

Phryne was quiet as she looked out the window for a short while. "I'm all right, I think." She took a deep breath. "Not long after I surfaced I was swept into a fallen tree. I was lucky, the leaves cushioned the blow. I could have hit my head on the trunk or a big branch. I held on and managed to climb out of the water." She huffed out a small laugh. "I climbed a lot of trees as a child but not like that." She turned her hands to look at her palms. "I have a few scratches, but nothing serious."

Jack looked at her forehead and frowned. He pushed back her fringe and saw a large bruise. "Ouch." He ran his thumb gently over the lump. "How'd you get that?"

"Hit my head on the boat when I untied the rope." She closed her eyes and shook her head at the memory.

"How'd you get back to the homestead?"

Phryne straightened, creating more space between them. She fingered the hem of her blouse, taking a deep breath before answering. "I clung to the tree for what seemed like hours. Soon after it was light, I saw the butcher and another man in a boat." She huffed out a small laugh. "I waved and hollered at them. Almost fainted in relief when they saw me. They hauled me in and I sat with the other bedraggled and half-dead creatures they'd found that morning. All I remember after that was begging them to look for you and being wrapped in a large coat. I woke up in Aunt P's bed about six hours later with her holding my bandaged hands." She blinked rapidly. "You were my first thoughts, of course, but no-one had found you or heard anything. The telephone line was down, so we were isolated." She paused to wipe her eyes again. "I even prayed to a god I never believed in that you'd be found alive. I was physically sick at the thought that you might be dead. I …" She blew out a breath and looked down at her hands.

Jack could see her trying to be strong. She looked up at him. His heart broke at seeing her so sad. He wanted to wipe away her tears, kiss her shiny red nose, tell her it was his love for her that kept him alive. He reached out hold her hand, more gently this time. "We're a little battered and bruised," he said smiling, "and what happened to us was terrifying, but we made it, Phryne. Let's focus on that."

Phryne gazed at him for a while, then nodded.

"What happened to the others? I assume Harry and Millie made it back to the homestead?"

"Yes, they're safe and well, thank goodness. Millie's quite shaken of course, but they're unharmed."

Jack smiled. "That's good news. And the rest of them? What happened to Wright and Florence and the others?"

Phryne sobered. "Florence is still missing. The rest of them are dead."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Dead? All of them? How?"

Phryne chewed on her lip and was quiet for a while. "Frederick, Peters and Bartlett had autopsies yesterday. Inspector O'Sullivan made sure they were done in Swan Hill." Phryne fell silent for a few moments. Even though they tried to kill them, he suspected she was still affected by their deaths.

"Peters was so young." She shook her head.

"How'd they die?"

She looked at him. "Shot dead with the same pistol, apparently. Except Frederick. He was shot with a rifle."

"A rifle?" Jack frowned and shook his head. "That poor woman. How's Mrs Morecroft taking it?"

"It's a bit hard to tell," Phryne said. "She's being her usual stoic self, you know what she's like, but it must be hard for her, even if they were essentially estranged."

Jack nodded then worked his jaw for a while. "Who found them?"

"Harry."

"Where?"

"The woolshed."

Jack raised an eyebrow. It felt good to talk about the case again. "Is that where they were killed?"

"Well, I didn't speak to a policeman about it," she said, widening her eyes at him, "not too many of them left in Balranald. The butcher said was there was a lot of blood on the floor, so possibly, yes."

Jack made a noise in this throat. "And Wright?"

Phryne shook her head and blew out a breath. "You'll never believe it. He was found pinned down by a large branch that fell from a tree close to the homestead. He must have seen Harry and the others coming and hid among the trees by the river. He would have drowned in the rising floodwaters." She widened her eyes. "What are the odds of that happening?"

"High."

"What?"

"The odds are high. Looks like the widow-makers have lived up to their reputation."

Phryne frowned and cocked her head in confusion. "The what?"

"Widow-makers. That's what the gum trees around the lake and river are called. Red gums, river reds, widow-makers. They drop their branches without warning. Many a man's been crushed to death by those trees."

"How would you know that? Why would a tree just drop its branches?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Nobody knows." He suppressed a smirk, it was wrong to find amusement in what would have been a harrowing death.

Phryne narrowed her eyes and frowned. "What's so funny?"

Jack let himself smile this time. She was always good at reading him. "Nothing. It's just something my father said to me years ago when we were on a fishing trip. He'd never let me stand underneath one."

"Oh. I didn't know that. Well, there's another reason not to come back to the country."

Jack smiled at her. "Who found him?"

"One of the jackaroos. They spent most of yesterday looking for any sheep that may have survived." She went quiet for a while. "We all assumed he'd escaped and somehow survived. I have to admit, I felt sorry for him when I heard they'd found him. I hated him, of course, but still, that's a terrible way to go."

Jack sobered as he remembered how he had treated him that night. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "His hands … were they still—"

"No." Phryne said quickly.

Jack looked at her. She was a good actor, but he was also a good detective. He let her think she'd fooled him for once.

"He was pinned down by an enormous branch. He hasn't been autopsied yet, but he had no gun wounds, we know that. Perhaps the branch killed him."

Jack was quiet for a while. "Do you think he was telling the truth about getting Millie out of the home?"

Phryne shrugged. "I don't suppose we'll ever know, now that both he and Frederick are gone. Nor will we know who Millie's father was. Her mother told Cornelia that Frederick was the father before she died, so I can only assume Wright didn't know that Frederick had …," she paused, "well, you know."

Jack nodded. "Well at least we don't have to worry about them coming after Millie any more." He grunted. "Except for Florence, of course. It'd be good to know what happened to her. She was the most dangerous of all of them."

Phryne nodded. "Yes, that's still worrying."

"O'Sullivan told me he rowed you across to see me."

Phryne brightened a little. "He rowed all the way over to tell Cornelia about Frederick. And to tell us about you, of course. That was very good of him. I insisted he bring me across to see you, once he told us you were alive."

Jack huffed out a small laugh. "So, he said."

"When did you speak to him?"

"First thing before I left in the ambulance. He wanted to make sure I survived the night. Said something about not wanting to add another door knock to his long list."

She smiled at him. "He and his wife were very good to me. I stayed the night with them after seeing you in hospital. They were so kind. I want to send them a gift, to thank them for all they did for us. Do you have any ideas?"

Jack pursed his lips and thought for a while. He tried to sit up and cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder and falling back against the pillows.

Phryne quickly stood to help him sit up and rearrange the pillows behind his back before sitting back on the bed and frowning. "I'll call the nurse. You must be due for another shot. When was your last injection?"

"No, no." Jack lifted his hand. "I'm fine, Phryne."

"No, you're not. You're as white as a sheet." She stood again. "I'll get the nurse."

"No need," he said quickly. "I've stopped that now."

She swivelled to face him again. "What? It's only been three days. Why would you do that?"

"I don't need it anymore."

Phryne frowned. "Well, clearly you do, Jack. Why would you refuse it?"

He looked out the window and was quiet for a few moments.

She sat back down. "Jack?"

He sighed. "I …" He looked at her. "I came to rely on it."

Phryne squeezed his hand. "You wanted to ease your pain, Jack. That's perfectly normal."

"I know, but ..." his voice trailed off and he turned to look out the window again. "I …"

Phryne leant closer. "Yes?" she prompted gently, hoping he would keep talking.

He shrugged. "It made me feel strange, that's all."

"Of course it did. That's the point. Morphine feels very good. Nothing wrong with that after all you've been though. You suffered so much, you don't need to give yourself a hard time on top of that, Jack." She stood. "Let me call the nurse for you."

"No!"

Phryne looked at him with raised eyebrows and sat back down.

"Sorry," he said, still avoiding her eye. "I shouldn't've snapped."

Phryne put her hand on his. "That's all right, Jack. How often were you having it?"

Jack looked at her then down at her hand. He was uncomfortable looking her in the eye. "Don't know, but I wanted it all the time. Not just for the pain, either," he said, flicking his eyes up at her. "After the injection, I felt completely at ease with the world and my lot in life, and that's not something I feel very often. Nothing mattered and everything was going to be fine. My shoulder, the transfer," he paused to look at her, "us."

Phryne held his hand in both of hers.

"And when it wore off," he continued, "the reality of my life was unbearable. It made me realise how weighed down I have felt lately." He pursed his lips and nodded, avoiding her eye again, "I asked for it more often than I should have." He looked up at her. "I lied. Told them the pain was unbearable. Well, I was in a lot of pain, but it wasn't the physical pain I wasn't coping with. And then when it wore off, I would hate myself for being so weak, for wanting to be a doped-up fool. Then I wanted it to escape the self-loathing, and so the cycle continued. Once I got here I stopped the injections."

Phryne looked at him sadly then linked her hands at the back of his neck. She leant into him so their foreheads were touching. "I understand, Jack, I really do. Because you," she said slowly, "are my morphine. Nothing else matters when I'm with you."

Jack slowly exhaled and slid his hand up her back and into her hair. It felt good to have her close again. Too good. Her breath was warm on his face as she nuzzled her nose against his. He wanted to kiss her, lie down with her arms wrapped around him. Her closeness was making him dizzy and he started to breathe heavily. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and tilted his face up slowly until he felt her lips against his.

"No," he said, quickly turning his face away. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Phryne. I can't do that with you anymore." He looked at her and shook his head.

Phryne pulled away from him. Her eyes had filled with tears again. "Please Jack. Don't push me away now. We need each other. Let me look after you. Please Jack, let me care for you."

He shook his head, he couldn't look at her. "It's too painful to keep seeing you. I think it's best that we don't see each other until just before I go."

"What? No, Jack! Why?" She shook her head. "You need looking after. Let me, please. Just for a few weeks if you like."

He looked at her. "I'd rather a few weeks discomfort than the heartache of seeing you, kissing you, feeling your hands on my skin, knowing that I will be moving away from you. I can't do that again, Phryne."

Phryne put her hand on the back of his neck and leant close again. "But you did it before, Jack. Our time together was so special. Why not now?"

"Because I hoped you might realise that you loved me and wanted to be with me." He watched as she struggled to hold back tears.

"I did," she whispered. "I still do."

"Love me or want to be with me?"

"Both"

Jack widened his eyes. "Does that mean—"

"No Jack," she said quickly. She sat back from him put her head in her hands. "It doesn't."

Jack blinked slowly. He nodded. "Of course it doesn't. I should know that by now."

Phryne opened her mouth to say something but was stopped by a knock on the door. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose as the nurse walked in.

"Visiting time's over, ma'am," the nurse said to Phryne. "I need to change the Inspector's bandages."

Phryne looked at Jack with wide eyes. She shook her head. "Just a few minutes more please." She didn't take her eyes from him.

"Sorry ma'am, but the doctor will be here in a minute to look at the Inspector's shoulder and I need to get the bandages off."

Phryne put her hand over her mouth to suppress a sob. She nodded, then stood and walked to her bag on the chair. She pulled out several books and a small leather case then walked back to him.

"I brought you some books," she said in a wavering voice. She placed them on the small table next to his bed. She ran her hand over the smooth leather case before holding it out to him. She looked at him. "And some reading glasses."

Jack looked awkwardly at the nurse who was waiting patiently by his bed with a bowl that contained bandages and various ointments. He took the glasses from Phryne. "Thank you." Phryne nodded and went to move away from him, but he grabbed her wrist. "I'll see you before I go." He waited for her to look at him, but she didn't. She pulled her wrist gently from his grasp, collected her bag and walked out the door.

-o0o-

Jack looked up from his book at the knock on the door. He hoped it was Phryne but was pleasantly surprised to see Mac poke her head in the room to see if he was awake. She smiled at him then walked in.

"New spectacles, Inspector?"

"Er … yes," he said self-consciously. He took them off and placed them into their case. "Reading glasses."

She smiled and nodded. "I'm not too far off them myself. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you."

"Pain in the shoulder?"

"Manageable." He smiled at her then flicked his eyes to the small bundle of files she hugged to her chest.

"Ah," she said, looking down at the papers, "I wanted to see how you were getting on, of course, but I'm also here because I was hoping to ask you a few questions about the cases we were working on before you left for Geelong." She moved closer so she could stand by his bed. "The plod they assigned to the case to replace you is useless!"

Jack smiled. He had come to enjoy his trips to the morgue once Doctor Macmillan took over, despite the gruesome details of their discussion. She was good to work with, was as sharp as a whip and had a good sense of humour, unlike her antiquated predecessor. And, he had to admit, he enjoyed her company. Before moving to Geelong, he had started to stay longer than necessary as their discussions turned to other things that he couldn't talk to his colleagues about, like politics or world events, or sometimes even Phryne.

"Yes, I heard they assigned Baxter to my cases," he said with a knowing look.

"Nice enough man," Mac replied, "but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Jack smirked.

"Anyway," she said, "I was thinking if you were bored you might like to look over my autopsy notes. I have a theory on the Hunter murder that I want to run by you."

Jack paused. He wondered if Phryne had told her about his transfer. "Well … I won't be around to work on the cases."

Mac frowned. "Yes, I know. Not for a good few weeks or so, but I thought if you got bored you might like to help me with the—"

"Mac." Jack knew that would get her attention. He had never called her that before.

Mac stopped talking but her mouth remained open. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I'm transferring to Geelong."

Mac's mouth dropped open again and she stared at him. It took her a few moments to talk. "What? When? For how long?"

"As soon as I am fit enough to travel."

"For how long?" she said again. He could hear the worry in her voice.

"Permanently."

She sucked in a breath. "What the … but why? What idiot would send you to Geelong when you are so needed here? Why would they do that? This is your home. I need you here! Whose stupid idea was this? Tell me so I can—"

"Me. It was my stupid idea," he said softly, lowering his eyes. "I requested a transfer to Geelong to permanently fill the post I've been acting in."

Mac looked like she had been slapped and sat down on the edge of the bed. "But why?" she asked, frowning and shaking her head in confusion. "Actually," she said quickly, putting up her hand, her palm facing him, "don't bother answering that. I know why. Something devastatingly terrible happened to you and her name is Phryne Fisher."

Jack turned his head to look out the window.

Mac put the files on the bed and stood abruptly. She paced around the room, her hands on her hips. "I knew it!" she muttered. "That bloody …" She whipped around to face him. "What did she do to you?" She put both her hands up this time and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business. You don't have to answer that, obviously. This has just come as a bit of a shock."

Jack was touched that she was so rattled by the idea of him leaving. "She didn't do anything," he volunteered. "I made the decision when she was in England. I felt I needed a change, to get out of Melbourne. The opportunity arose, so I took it."

She frowned and pursed her lips, then narrowed her eyes at him. Jack swallowed. Of course she'd suspect there was more to his transfer than he was letting on. She worked her jaw for a few moments, shook her head, then looked at him sadly.

"Right. Well, I don't suppose there's anything I can say to change your mind?"

Jack shook his head. He tried to keep a neutral expression but it would have been obvious to her that this was a very difficult decision to make.

"Well, I'm not going to pretend I won't miss you," she said with her usual frankness. "You're a damn good detective. And a good drinking partner," she said with a small smile.

Jack smiled back at her then looked down at his lap as she stared out the window. She seemed deflated, sad perhaps. Maybe she had come to enjoy his company too. It had been clear to him that she had also missed Phryne and was happy to talk to someone who also understood her friend, very much so in his case.

She blew out a long, slow breath and walked back to the bed. She slowly gathered up the files, hugging them to her chest again. "I'll check in on you before they discharge you. They want you to stay for another few days."

Jack nodded. "Yes, just until the risk of infection has passed."

She opened her mouth to stay something but thought the better of it. She looked at the bed for a while, blinking rapidly, then looked at him. "You have a long and painful recovery in front of you, Jack. Nothing will be easy for a while, dressing, cooking, and bathing especially, so I was going to suggest that Phryne play nurse when you get out of here. Am I to assume that this is completely out of the question now?"

Jack felt his face grow warm. He turned away from her to try and hide the blush. Mac must know he and Phryne had been intimate to suggest that she should help him bathe.

"Hmm." She nodded. "I'll take that as a yes." She looked at him sadly. "Well then," she said, snapping back into her doctor persona. "I have some urgent business to attend to. Take care, Jack. I'll see you soon." She nodded and walked briskly out the door.