Good evening. Since many of you seem behind and some have even asked me to slow down on posting, I've come to the decision that I'll take a bit of a break. If you are one of the readers who are waiting daily for their chapter, I apologize. The truth is that it's all too much to deal with at the moment and I need to take a step backwards somewhere. Please be patient, it will be finished, just not right now. Thank you.

Chapter 33: The Long Hours Of Night

The setting sun drew patterns over the path following the creek. For an onlooker it was hard to tell if the two walking women in fact knew each other. They weren't speaking nor touching. Mac was currently reluctant to make any familiar gestures, even though her anger had subsided after another long but pointless discussion. Now they had run out of words to say.

Suddenly fingers snuck into Mac's. She started, but didn't withdraw.

"I'm not certain if this is a good idea," she said sharply while holding on.

"There is nobody here."

She didn't point out that they might still be watched. She guessed it was too late to pretend they weren't a couple as it was. The envelope burned a hole into her pocket.

"Are you going to tell me about it?" Hazel asked. "The second note."

Mac's head snapped up, her surprise of such a quality that her lover had trouble not to laugh.

"I know you too well to consider you a worrywart, so something had happened," she explained calmly. "You didn't hide it well."

Elizabeth raked her brain for something to say.

"So you found it necessary to go through my things?" she asked.

"Considering that it was addressed to me, I should be the one complaining about theft," Hazel grinned. They walked on in silence, both hanging after their thoughts. Suddenly the Doctor stopped.

"I love you and I won't allow any of this to happen to you!"

"They are just empty threats," Hazel protested.

"How can you know that?! There are plenty of people out there full of prejudice and the belief that violence can shape the world after their imagination."

Mac realised that she had raised her voice and added more quietly: "I just want you to be safe from harm."

Hazel nodded, reaching out her hand to touch her cheek.

"Nothing is going to happen," she assured her worked-up lover. "Nothing at all. The author of this nonsense is a coward or why else would he write anonymous letters?"

Mac glanced up the path briefly before she pulled Hazel's hand to her lips.

"Please promise me to be careful," she asked.

"Promised. And now drop it."

Mac grumbled quietly but took Hazel's hand again all the same as they continued their evening walk.

X

In the dining room, in a private corner away from the other guests, a married couple sat, his hand casually touching her's while they waited for the soup to be served. Iris and Rupert had somehow ended up taking dinner alone. Neither of them minded much.

"Are you still wanting to go ahead with it?" he asked, after they'd taken the first spoonful. "After everything that happened there?"

Iris thought about this for a moment.

"Of course. It was his wish."

They shared a smile and he retrieved his hand to concentrate on eating.

"It's fascinating," she stated after a while. "This woman has been lying undisturbed for 30 years and Jack and Phryne have been barely here for a weekend."

"Your cousin has definitely a talent for finding trouble."

"As proven by his choice of wife."

He glanced at her questioningly across the table, which Iris acknowledged with a grin.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I was joking."

She broke off a piece of bread before continuing. "Even though Phryne certainly isn't going to leave him bored any time soon."

"Well, they share an enjoyment of dashing about after criminals. I personally am glad that you are not a Lady-Detective."

"Are you?"

Rupert set down his wine glass.

"I certainly am. I prefer the knowledge that you are alive and well and will still be when I return home in the evening instead of being somewhere in a killer's den, getting shot at."

She hummed approval while she took a sip of her own glass.

"Considering, I prefer you sitting in an office as well," she admitted after a young waitress had served their main course. "Knowing loved ones in constant danger might be something one can get used to... but I never bore it well."

Rupert abandoned his roasted lamb in order to touch her hand. She smiled thinly.

"Of course, the loss of both Father and Christian didn't help this notion."

Her husband nodded wordless understanding.

"But at least Will and Jack came home safe," she added, absent-mindedly.

"Only for the latter to throw himself into any danger he can find along Melbourne's streets," Rupert grinned.

"I believe that is called irony, my darling."

Rupert didn't ask any further, satisfied that she was smiling despite the grim subject. They finished their meal with upbeat chatter and not another mention of Iris's first husband hidden in their wardrobe upstairs.

X

A faint sound woke her. Phryne forced her eyes open, trying to decipher where it had come from. In the darkness she made out Jack, lying on his stomach, still fully dressed. She hadn't managed to undo more than a few buttons, an oversight she was planning to correct at an appropriate hour. Her stomach growled again, reinforcing that said hour wasn't now. Carefully, very carefully she grasped for Jack's wrist, thrown across his pillow, concentrating her eyes on the hands of his watch. Not careful enough as it turned out; his eyes snapped open the very moment she touched him.

With a mumbled sound that could have been a question he pulled himself half upright, his sleepy expression betraying worry mixed into his confusion. All she could do was not to roll her eyes at him. His light sleep was an infuriating trait.

"I am going to find us some food," she explained, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and fishing for her morning gown. In difference to his, her clothes had made their way to the floor and a variety of other surfaces. "It is definitely too late for dinner."

In fact it was after midnight and a certain bet that the kitchen was closed at this stage.

"You aren't intending to commit any breaking and entering, are you, Miss Fisher?" the Inspector yawned while untangling himself from the sheets.

"You know me too well, Jack," she grinned, tying her belt and fishing a razor from the floor seconds before his naked soles would have found an unhappy encounter with them. He had seen her movement and pointedly slipped into his shoes before following her. While Phryne wouldn't have asked him to accompany her, but she was glad for it all the same.

"I hope you have packed your picklock. I'm not keen on damaging Mrs. Tattler's property. Or explaining to her why we've missed dinner."

"What do you take me for, Inspector?"

The raised instrument gleamed in her fingers as he opened the door for her and followed her into the hall.

"I refuse to answer that, Miss Fisher," he whispered, then fell silent as they carefully made their way down the stairs. The hall lay in absolute silence, all guests seemed to have left by now or retired early. Phryne shivered, blaming the cool air and her naked legs rather than the coldness creeping up her spine. The fireplace, during the day inviting to sit down and wait for the winter, now was a gaping black hole, threatening to swallow them. She tore her eyes away from it's blackness, making her way towards where she thought the kitchen was located. Neither of them had seen it as of yet, but they had watched the employers long enough to be able to find it without incidents. The lock gave way quietly after mere seconds and with a triumphant grin Phryne swung the door open.

"Open sesame," she grinned.

"I rather hope finding something more nutritious than gold in here," the Inspector whispered, having discovered a ravenous appetite in the last few minutes.

"It is beyond me how you can forget to eat while constantly starving," Phryne quipped, switching on the light and, after having blinked away the brightness, inspecting various equipment until her attention was caught by something promising.

"I believe the one might be rooted in the other," Jack pointed out, opening the lid of a pot someone had graciously left on the stove.

"One could be forgiven to think that after more than a year with your feet under Mr. B's table you would have put a few pounds on those skinny ribs," Phryne mumbled from where she was raiding a cupboard. "Instead I can still take my eyes out with your hipbones."

"I apologize for any attempts on your eyesight," the Inspector grinned from where he was ladling something smelling of beef into a bowl. "It's due to no fault of Mr. Butler's kitchen, I assure you."

Phryne grumbled, digging her fork into some sort of bake. It wasn't exactly true. Jack had put on some weight over time, subtly and slowly. He was certainly in no danger of growing fat; he was too busy a man and too little attached to regular meals. But his thin frame had filled in over time, his belly, always somewhat of a weak spot, had grown a little softer, his ribs less easy to draw along with her fingers. She had never paid much thought to it, but in retrospect it was a calming knowledge. He had settled, emotionally and physically.

She was good for him.

The thought was startling and Phryne coughed as cold potato went down the wrong part of her throat.

"You all right?" he asked from where he was sitting on a counter with dangling legs, reminding of an adolescent raiding his mother's kitchen. She nodded, trying to capture the notion that had escaped her grasp. Guarding him, keeping him alive was the the one thing. Of course she would want him to stay safe, had always wanted him to, long before her heart had sped up at the mention of his name or the sound of his voice. But this... was different. She twirled the idea in her mind, looked at it from all sides but came to no conclusion whatsoever.

She resolved to watch him over the edge of her plate as he shovelled some sort of stew into his mouth with great appetite and even greater enthusiasm. He had changed, grown, since their first meeting that seemed now so long ago it could have been another lifetime. Of course, she'd noticed the changes. She'd never quite accounted them to herself though. Suddenly it seemed obvious.

"You appear to have fallen asleep on me, Miss Fisher," he pointed out. She realised that he had been talking to her but could not recall a word of what had been said.

"Not quite. But I think it is time we retired," she smiled thinly after a moment's thought. Phryne could hardly imagine getting to sleep right now but some peace and quiet to attend to her thoughts seemed a welcome idea. He didn't buy into her nonchalance, but chose not to ask any more questions and instead helped her from the table she had been occupying before stacking their plates.

"We had better let Mrs. Tattler know first thing in the morning," he decided while pulling the kitchen door shut, "before she calls Sergeant Ferguson on us."

"A potentially embarrassing thought," Phryne quipped.

The sound of something hitting the floor stopped them in their tracks.

"That sounded like paper," she hissed.

Jack nodded, adding quietly: "It could be someone working late in the office?"

"Or someone else breaking and entering," his wife whispered before hurrying further down the hallway. They arrived at the door together. Phryne gently pushed down the handle, creating a small opening. A hooded figure was riffling through paperwork, his back turned to them. Night wind blew through the window which was bent out of it's frame. Jack felt an acute longing for his pistol, but realised that Phryne was about to charge into the room and held her back by the shoulder, shaking his head in earnestness. She was still barefoot, clad in nothing more than a morning gown. She pulled her lips into a pout, but took an obedient step backwards.

Carefully, the Inspector edged forward. With no weapon his best bet would be a surprise attack. He managed to get almost a metre behind the man when he suddenly spun, the white of his eyes the only thing visible in the dark office. Jack raised his arms in defence, but instead of attacking the intruder scrambled through the open window, disappearing into the night. Cursing, the Inspector raced after him, tearing his clothes on the broken wood. He could hear Phryne panting behind him, then curse, when she jumped into the gravel underneath. With naked soles the little stones couldn't very comfortable. He had no time to feel sorry for her, the dark silhouette had already reached the gate leading out into the alley which separated the hotel garden and the neighbouring property. Speeding up, the Inspector flew across the cool grass, night air stinging in his lungs. He really wasn't 20 any more. At the gate he stopped, turning his head to both sides, but to no avail. The man had disappeared. He walked a few tentative steps to the right before turning to where Phryne was just reaching the gate. The sudden movement in the shadows took him by surprise. Then the world turned into an ocean of red hot pain.