Deeper than the Pacific

by HarleQueen21

Post s3. Phryne arrives back in Australia and is instantly thrown into a case which nearly costs her her life. As they work on new cases together, Phryne and Jack must also confront the mystery surrounding their own relationship, which is further complicated by an unexpected surprise which will change both their lives forever.

37. Chapter 30

Phryne and Jack stayed up late that evening, discussing the arrangements for the upcoming weekend before sitting together and reading as soft jazz music played in the background. It was clear to Jack that Phryne was not ready to talk about what was concerning her, and although it was unquestionably related to her pregnancy, he did not want to push her; by agreeing to have a Police escort to future crime scenes (which she assented to much more readily than he had anticipated), he felt quite certain that she would already be struggling with fears over her independence on top of her pre-existing concerns. Knowing that she adored music and had been wanting to read her Dorothy Sayers novel for several days now, he was relieved when Phryne agreed to his suggestion, picking up the tome from the table and sitting beside him on the chaise lounge, leaning against him as she continued with the fifth chapter. Jack spent the evening reviewing a couple of case files which the Commissioner wanted to discuss with him in their meeting the following week, and by the time he had read them both Phryne was already asleep against him. He sat perfectly still for a short while, admiring her calm expression, exquisite perfume, and ethereal beauty. It was only when the clock struck eleven that he felt compelled to wake her and ensure she spent the night in her own bed as opposed to the parlour. Phryne hummed lightly in response and allowed him to draw her to her feet, linking her arm through his and leaning against his arm as he led her up the staircase.

Phryne slept soundly that night, enjoying a deep and dreamless sleep which, in ordinary circumstances, would have ensured that she woke feeling refreshed and invigorated. However, as Phryne had discovered a few weeks ago, and was continuing to realise, these were not ordinary circumstances.

Phryne woke from her sleep shortly after eight o'clock in the morning, not by choice or satiation, but by the rising feeling of nausea which was building up inside her. She was lying on her side and facing the window, feeling the cool breeze on her face, the warm glow of the morning sun upon her skin. Although she was facing in the other direction from where he lay and had her eyes closed, she knew immediately that Jack was no longer in bed with her. He rose much earlier than she did and would quietly get himself ready and head downstairs so as not to disturb her. And although she missed his warmth, his presence, his strong and beautiful body lying beside her own, on mornings like this where she woke feeling so unwell she found herself almost grateful for his absence.

Phryne took in several deep breaths, kept her eyes firmly closed, and hoped that this would quell the sickness she felt in the pit of her stomach, which was becoming an all too familiar sensation. After about a minute Phryne realised that her nausea would not be subsiding any time soon, and she sighed lightly as she threw the blankets aside and walked tiredly to the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her as she stepped into the cool room.

Phryne put one hand on the sink to steady herself and took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and focusing on regaining her composure, as her upright position caused her head to spin and her nausea to rise. Although this was something she had been experiencing for over a week and she had resigned herself to the fact that it would continue, Phryne found herself feeling disappointed; she had not been sick in almost three days, and the feelings of nausea she had experienced since had been relatively minor and easy to control. She was even beginning to recover her appetite. And now she stood on the cold tiled floor of her bathroom, taking in several steadying breaths as she attempted to battle the rising feeling of nausea, not daring to open her eyes in case she found that the room would still be spinning, which would undoubtedly lead to her spending at least a small part of the morning bent over the white porcelain before her and retching violently. After spending several minutes standing perfectly still in the bathroom as she attempted to control her rising feeling of sickness, it seemed apparent that Phryne's unsettled stomach was simply taunting her; for the moment, at least. Phryne took in one final deep breath and slowly opened her eyes, finding the room brighter than she had anticipated, and rubbing her eyes tiredly to remedy this. She inhaled sharply and turned towards the shower, turning it on and slowly shedding her clothes, as she placed her hand beneath the water and felt it quickly become hot. Perhaps a refreshing shower would make her feel, if not less nauseous, more human.

However, her dream was not to be realised. After showering and dressing herself in a red skirt and jacket and a white silk blouse, Phryne found herself walking slowly down the staircase with her hand upon the bannister, each movement controlled and gradual, as her head spun, her nausea persisted, and her body was overcome by a dizzying and uncomfortable heat. By the time she reached the middle of the stair case she could hear Jack's voice from the left, and quickly judged that he was on the phone. She took in a deep breath and slowly released it, trailing her hand down the bannister and standing up tall as she reached the bottom of the stairs, turning to face him with a gentle smile as he hung up the phone.

"Good morning" she said pleasantly, hoping that her disarming smile would distract both of them from how unwell she was currently feeling. She had spent a significant part of the past couple of weeks feeling nauseous, but this was the worst that she had felt yet. And she had absolutely no intention of letting Jack know that. Unfortunately for her, as Jack looked up from the phone and faced her with a gentle expression, his faltering smile and concerned eyes revealed that her attempts to conceal her nausea were already unsuccessful. Her stomach clenched.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, his concerned eyes drifting across her face as he walked towards her. "You're very pale" he added, placing his hand upon her head, his eyes widening at how warm she felt. She had looked pale before, but now her skin was much lighter than he had ever seen, which was highlighted by her red clothing. His eyes met hers and she held his gaze confidently.

"I'm fine" Phryne replied, her voice low and gentle, as she placed her hand over his and drew it away from his face. "I just feel slightly nauseous, that's all. It's nothing" she assured him. Jack watched her for a few moments and appeared to be considering her words. "Was the phone call for you or me?" she asked, desperately wanting to discuss something other than her nausea. They had a lot to plan with the wedding, the arrival of Jack's family and the return of Jane for the weekend; she didn't have time to be unwell, and she absolutely refused to be, especially as she felt quite certain that if Jack believed she wasn't feeling well he would suggest rearranging the weekend, which was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to meet Jack's family and reassure him, them and even herself, that everything was going to be quite alright. Jack stared into her eyes for a moment, and appeared to be considering whether he should abandon their previous conversation. Phryne saw the moment that he realised his attempts to discuss how she was feeling would be fruitless, and his expression became slightly solemn, causing her to feel a pang of guilt.

"For me" he answered gently. "Although I suppose it could be for us both" he reasoned, the statement piquing Phryne's interest. "Hugh called me from the station. A body has been found outside a pub in Little Lonsdale which, admittedly, is hardly an unusual occurrence" he added solemnly. Phryne nodded. "But the scene is attracting the attention of many local public houses and the patrons and workers of various places of little repute in the street" he explained. Phryne nodded. She could very well imagine how interested those in brothels, both the workers and the patrons, would be in a murder. An increased presence would certainly hinder a Police investigation, and could even lead to fresh breakouts of violence between the locals and Police, the former of whom had nothing but disdain for the constabulary. Phryne inhaled sharply and felt slightly relieved at this potential new distraction.

"Then it would be prudent to solve the crime as quickly as possible, and prevent any further acts of violence from occurring" she reasoned. Jack sighed.

"For today, at least" he responded with resignation. He lifted his head and met her gaze, his deep and honest eyes gazing into hers, as she looked up at him with interest, her eyes alight at the thought of their latest mystery. "Are you sure you feel up to it?" Phryne rose her eyebrow in response and offered him a warm smile.

"I always feel up for a murder, Jack" she responded teasingly, smiling at him once more before turning around and heading towards the coat stand, where she selected her red cloche and handbag. "Shall we?" Jack watched as Phryne put on her cloche and checked her handbag, and slowly walked towards her, watching her with concern. He reached for his coat and hat and they left together, heading for Phryne's Hispano, as he gave her the address and they headed towards the scene.

Phryne pulled up outside one of the more run down and uninviting public houses in Little Lonsdale Street, which really was saying something. The building was large and old, with broken glass in the windows, missing tiles on the roof, and wear patterns and deep gouges in the door from where angry punters had fought for re-entry after being (surprising) forced to leave. The Holly Head was renowned for having a foul-tempered barkeeper, unsavoury regulars and serving girls whose lack of attire made even some of the local punters blush. As Phryne got out of the car and slammed the door behind her, and made her way slowly towards the cordoned off scene, she considered how it seemed perfectly fitting for a body wreathed in a bloodied sheet to be lying in front of this godforsaken hellhole. In fact, she imagined it wouldn't have seemed quite right without one.

The area had been cordoned off by Hugh, who was presently raising his hands to a scantily-clad crowd, consisting of local girls, punters, tradesmen and drunks. The crowd was becoming increasingly interested in the scene, which was being guarded by no less than half a dozen Police officers, who were either taking statements from a handful of people on the other side of the scene or patrolling the exterior to ensure that none of the curious locals got too close; an unenviable job indeed.

Jack walked briskly up to the scene, held his warrant card in the air and called the baying crowd to attention, explaining the situation, the problem, and the consequences of their obstructive attitude. They turned towards him with looks of mingled fear and disgust, many of them recognising this veteran officer as having raided their establishments and introducing many of them to the less than hospitable cells in City South Police Station. Not keen to make their acquaintance again, and knowing that Inspector Jack Robinson would gladly ignore those wishes, the crowd dispersed, groaning and grumbling and uttering obscenities under their breaths (some of which were aired significantly louder than a whisper). Phryne watched with great interest as the people separated and walked away, heading far enough to be out of the way but remaining close enough to see what was going on. She turned back to Jack with a small smile. She was impressed.

"Nicely done, Inspector" she commended, her smile lighting up her features but not quite concealing her startling pallor. Jack nodded gently in response and watched as Phryne greeted Hugh and walked towards the scene.

Jack watched as Phryne walked up to one of his officers, who greeted her with a polite smile and instantly engaged her in conversation. Jack smirked, suppressed an eye roll, and walked up behind her. Upon seeing his senior officer the young constable adopted a formal tone and severe expression, which under any other circumstances than a murder would have appeared almost comical.

"Constable Reynolds" Jack greeted politely. The officer nodded.

"Sir" he responded. Phryne turned towards Jack, her eyes meeting his, imploring him to be merciful. Jack complied.

"What happened?" Jack asked, watching the officer with keen interest. The constable swallowed hard and gathered his thoughts before speaking.

"The victim is Andrew Volerton, sir" he began. "Thirty-six years old, five eleven, brown hair, brown eyes" he continued. Jack nodded and the officer continued to speak. "He is a regular patron of the Holly Head, Sir, according to the barkeeper and some of the regulars" he added, indicating towards a trio of individuals with his pencil, who were presently being interviewed by a couple of officers. "He was there last night, sir, until about one o'clock in the morning" he continued. "Mr Crillick, the gentleman over there in the brown hat and orange tie, saw him leave through the back at around that time, and he wasn't seen since" he explained. "His body was found at 7am this morning outside the pub" he stated. "He's been bottled, sir. Deep cuts to his torso and stomach, and lacerations to his face" he explained.

"How can you be sure it was a bottle?" asked Phryne curiously, as she attempted to ignore the strong scent of cheap beer and tobacco, which were doing absolutely nothing for her nausea. She breathed in through her nose and attempted to compose herself.

"He had a chunk of brown glass lodged in his side, Miss" he officer replied politely. Phryne nodded.

"And sir, we believe we have found a potential suspect" Constable Reynolds added, turning towards his superior office as he spoke. "His name is Martin Abercrombie, twenty three years old, regular patron" he explained. "He's in the back of the car now, Sir, with Constable Davison" he continued. "I found him in the alley behind the pub when I was securing the scene. He's roaring drunk, covered in blood, and murmuring about how he had it coming" he stated.

"Good work, Constable" Jack commended, causing the man to release a small breath and appear visibly relieved. "Let's take a look at him, shall we Miss Fisher?" Jack asked.

Phryne, who had spent the last minute or so watching the other officers interview the men outside the pub, whilst also attempting not to smell any of the pungent smells of alcohol, sex and degradation which one always associated with Little Lonsdale Street, turned towards Jack and nodded in agreement, walking ahead of him towards the Police car. Jack nodded at the relieved officer before him and followed her.

The sound of Phryne's heels on the ground alerted the officer who was guarding the suspect to Phryne's presence, and just as he turned around to tell what he assumed to be another prostitute to back off or be arrested, he found himself staring into her bewitching gaze, the beautiful woman before him who he recognised instantly, despite never having actually seen her in person before. She was even more stunning than in the pictures in the press. He could see why his boss liked her.

"Good morning, Constable" Jack breathed, his keen eyes observing the way he was staring at his fiancée.

"Good-good morning, Sir" he stammered in response. If Phryne hadn't been feeling so wretched she would have almost been amused by this exchanged. But instead, she inhaled deeply and walked closer to the car, which was emitting such a strong stench of cheap liquor that Phryne found herself wondering whether it was possibly for her to become drunk merely due to her proximity to him.

"Mr Abercrombie?" she asked gently, which appeared to rouse the sleeping drunk, who turned towards her. He had blonde hair, pale blue eyes and was as thin as a rake. His face was reddened with alcohol and bruised with signs of day-old punches. His nose had been broken at least once and he was missing several teeth. As he pushed himself drowsily from the back seat and stared at Phryne with those pale eyes, his body unstable, the man clearly feeling dizzy and unsteady, the female detective observed how he looked just as she felt. As he turned to face her he placed one hand on the side of the car, pushing himself towards her and showing his face to the light. The bright morning light struck his light blue shirt and revealed the smears of blood which trailed crimson patterns across the cheap fabric, which appeared to have been caused by him wiping his hands upon it. Phryne was just observing how there were no signs of blood splatter when the inebriated young man spoke.

"An angel!" he proclaimed, staring at Phryne and reaching a hand out towards her. Phryne felt Jack step up close behind her.

"You really are drunk, aren't you?" Phryne said evenly, raising an amused eyebrow as she spoke. The man smiled at the comment, not seeming to have heard a word she said, and leaned back against his seat where he promptly fell asleep. Phryne exchanged a look with Jack before they both turned towards the constable. "You believe this man is the killer?" questioned Phryne, inhaling deeply as she spoke. The constable stared at her, baffled, and then turned towards his boss with an equally confused expression.

"The bloodstains on his shirt are from him rubbing his hands upon it" Jack explained gently. "If he was our killer he would be covered in blood spatter, and there is none on him" he added, keeping his voice low and even. "And given his current level of intoxication I'd imagine he was even more imbibed in the early hours of the morning, when our victim was most likely killed" Jack continued. "This man couldn't raise an eyebrow let alone a broken bottle to slash a man to death" he explained. "He's a very small, slight man, and from the size of the body beneath the sheet our victim was clearly large and stocky, and undoubtedly more than a match for a skinny drunk" he added. The constable, who had been nodding at intervals during Jack's speech, sighed and swallowed hard. "But obviously we can't dismiss him simply on conjecture" Jack added kindly. "And I think the safest place for him right now is the station" he stated. "Take him to a cell, constable, and Miss Fisher and I will interview him when we return" he ordered. The constable nodded immediately in agreement.

"And get him some strong black coffee and breakfast" Phryne advised. The constable nodded at her, offered them his thanks, and then promptly disappeared into the driver's seat, taking his unlikely suspect to the station.

"Drunken men can still inflict lethal blows, Jack" Phryne stated, as she took in a deep breath and released it slowly. Her head was spinning once more and she felt uncomfortably hot. Jack watched her for several moments, noting her paleness, the brightness of her eyes, the tension in her body.

"Not without covering themselves in blood spatter" he added. Phryne nodded in agreement.

"I quite agree" she breathed, her eyes focused on a spot in front of them both, her expression vacant and unreadable. Just as Jack stepped towards her and placed his hand on her back, she blinked herself out of her stupor and turned towards him. "Let's go and see the body, shall we?" she said, inhaling sharply and walking towards the bloodied sheet. Jack watched her as she walked and followed close behind her, his eyes drifting across her with concern. He inhaled sharply and followed her across the road, standing beside her as she reached the body and its attendant officer.

Phryne bent down beside the body and slowly withdrew the white sheet, her eyes scanning the man's face, neck and torso as the material drifted lightly across his battered body. The man was in his mid to late thirties, dark hair, thin lips and a ruddy complexion. He was tall and muscular, and even in death his face bore a strong and wilful expression, which was completely contrasted by the extensive bruising to his face and the jagged stab wounds across his torso; someone had beaten him and stabbed him, and clearly wanted him dead. The smell of blood and alcohol was heavy in the air and, based on her own expert senses, Phryne noted the strong scent of single malt whiskey coming from the body, the good kind. Whoever he was, she reasoned, at least he had taste. But as the blood, alcohol and surrounding scents formed a medley which challenged Phryne's unsettled stomach, she let out a long breath and drew the material back over the corpse, before standing on her feet and turning towards Jack, whose eyes were focused upon her.

"We won't know until after the autopsy, of course, but it appears that one of the stab wounds penetrated his heart" she said gently. "I'd imagine that was the case of death, or at least a significant contributing factor" she added. Jack nodded in agreement, his eyes drifting from her face to a space behind her.

"And here is the man in question now" he said, watching as a white haired man in his late fifties got out of the front of the vehicle and approached the scene.

The doctor approached the body, greeted Jack politely and nodded politely towards Phryne, to whom he managed to force out a curt "Miss Fisher", with slightly more formality than was necessary, followed by an almost imperceptible nod of the head. Phryne smiled gently at him and returned the form of address.

"Dr Evans" she said, the man's misogyny and arrogance doing nothing to allay her rising feelings of nausea. She could feel his eyes drifting over her as they did all people, dead and living, as though they were a specimen he would very much like to dissect. Based on an incident in the mortuary several months ago where Phryne had corrected the noted physician and pointed out an error on his part, she judged that in this particular case, the doctor may well wish to see her at the other end of a scalpel. She was drawn from her musing by the feeling of his intense gaze upon her, causing him to look up at him directly, and consider how he looked very much like an owl.

"I do hope this scene isn't too distressing for you, Miss Fisher" Dr Evans said in a low voice. Phryne was about to issue a witty remark in response when he added, "you are looking rather pale." Phryne closed her mouth and suppressed her concern at the remark, recovering herself instantly and staring at the doctor with her bright green eyes.

"Not at all, Dr Evans" she replied sweetly, her eyes meeting his. "I have seen many dead men in my time" she added, her voice low and flat. The doctor stared at her for a moment, blinked, them grunted in response and turned his attention to the body in question, mercifully abandoning the subject of Phryne's pallor. However, as Phryne turned towards Jack, the concern in his eyes revealed that it was clear that the subject was not one which he would so easily dismiss. "Shall we have a word with those gentleman by the door?" Phryne asked keenly, walking towards the men and Police officers in question before Jack could formulate a response.

By the door were two men who were talking to an officer, albeit very reluctantly, providing non-committal and abstract answers to even the most simple of his questions. Upon the arrival of Phryne Fisher and Inspector Robinson the men paused, stared at her appraisingly, smirked, and then returned their attention to the constable. Phryne was used to such looks, certainly in this part of town. But that did not mean that she would stand them.

"Gentlemen" she said sweetly, forcing a smile as she address the two men. One was tall with dark hair and blue eyes, a battered cap and thread-bare grey suit (at least, a pair of trousers and matching waistcoat), and his associate was of a similar description but dressed in brown. The grey-suited man was staring at Phryne with a slightly surprised expression, his eyes low as they drifted over her body in such a way that she had to suppress a small shudder. The brown-suited man, however, seemed more restrained than his associate, and managed to actually focus on Phryne's face as she addressed them. The constable, upon recognising her voice and catching sight of the Inspector, turned to the side and watched the exchange with interest. "I'm Phryne Fisher, and this is Inspector Robinson" she stated, watching as both men blanched at the introduction of Jack. "We're investigating the death of poor Mr Volerton" she explained, her eyes drifting from one man to the other. "I don't suppose either of you would happen to know anything about it?"

"Nah, not me" responded the brown-suited man quickly, nervousness creeping into his tone. Phryne considered him for a moment and nodded, before turning his attention to his friend.

"And you?" she asked. The man snorted in response.

"Answer the lady's question, Alfred" prompted Jack, causing Phryne to turn towards him.

"You know this man?" she asked gently.

"Oh yes" Jack said, his eyes drifting from Alfred to Phryne, then back to the man in question. "Alfred Leighton, barman at this wonderful establishment" he added drily. "He is married with two children, his favourite drink is neat whiskey, and his hobbies include armed robbery, grievous bodily harm and habits which have caused considerable interest from the Vice squad" he stated. Alfred Leighton gave Jack such a look of disdain Phryne almost withdrew her revolver. However, a moment or so later it was quite clear that such action would not be necessary.

"So you say, Robinson" the man spat, pointing his finger accusingly at Jack, who stared back at him with a calm expression. "You set me up for that job down Collins Street" he accused. Jack rose his eyebrows at the remark and responded with something which was both witty and astute, and which Phryne missed completely, due to her attention being on the man's injured forearm. Phryne watched as the cuff of his moth-eaten shirt moved back to reveal a three-inch cut from his wrist up to his forearm, which was bloodied and raw, which matched perfectly with his cut and bruised knuckles. Phryne's eyes drifted up to meet his.

"How did you hurt your arm Mr Leighton?" she asked gently, taking a step forward as she continued to hold his gaze. "It looks quite sore." Leighton swallowed hard and inhaled deeply.

"Got it when I was fixin' a broken door" he replied gruffly. Phryne hummed in response.

"The door put up a considerable fight, I take it" she commented, lowering her eyes to his hands once more and then looking back up into his eyes, "given the bruising and scrapes to your knuckles" she added in a low voice. She felt Jack step up behind her as the man before her sagged his shoulders.

"I got that breakin' up a fight last night at the bar, didn't I Jerry?" he asked, turning towards grey suit, who nodded slowly and then verbally confirmed the story.

"Of course you did" Jack replied drily. "But until we can confirm that story from someone who isn't in your back pocket, you'll be coming to the station with us" Jack stated authoritatively. "Constable" he said, turning to the officer who had been interviewing the men a few minutes before, "take Mr Leighton to the station for questioning, please. I'll be there directly." The officer nodded and cuffed the man, who was protesting and yelling profanities even as he was driven out of Little Lonsdale Street. Phryne, who had not heard such colourful language recently, was impressed.

As Phryne watched the car drive away she felt her head beginning to spin as her stomach churned. She inhaled deeply and turned away from Jack, staring at the body on the ground and watching the doctor as he advised two men in dark suits on how to place him into the back of the van for transportation, when her attention was called by the inspector.

"You think Mr Leighton is our man?" Jack asked, more to prompt conversation than anything. Phryne blinked and turned towards him.

"I think he has to account for his injuries" she said simply. "And the absence of his jacket."

"His jacket?" Jack asked. Phryne nodded.

"That is a three piece suit, Jack. It wasn't particularly warm last night and so I'd imagine the man in question had a matching jacket" she said, exhaling slowly in an attempt to quell her rising nausea. "The absence of which is notable" she continued, meeting Jack's gaze, "especially if it had to be discarded or hastily destroyed as a result of being saturated in the victim's blood" she added. "He smelled very slightly of smoke, and from his fingers and teeth he doesn't appear to be a smoker, so perhaps he has been disposing of incriminating evidence" she opined. Jack nodded in agreement.

"I'll have my men search the pub, alleyways and general vicinity for any signs" he replied, summoning an officer towards him and issuing the instruction.

Jack turned back towards Phryne, who was still worryingly pale, and appeared to be taking a series of deep breaths. Her eyes were bright and her lips deep red, which made her appear paler still. He knew she wouldn't discuss it, and would deny feeling unwell if he asked her, the question itself possibly overwhelming her. Whilst he knew that he would not be able to convince Phryne to spend the rest of the day resting at home even though she may have already solved the crime, there were things he could do to make her more comfortable. And getting her out of Little Lonsdale Street, which smelled of alcohol, blood, vomit and despair, was certainly one of them.

"Why don't we head back to the station?" he said casually. "I'd quite like to interview Mr Leighton before the autopsy comes in, and I'm sure you wouldn't refuse an invitation to attend." Phryne looked up at Jack and smiled.

"Oh Jack, how romantic" she replied sardonically. "What girl could refuse such a proposition?" she teased, linking her arm through his as they walked back towards the car.

Phryne and Jack spent the next hour and a half in a small, hot interview room with the delightful Mr Leighton, who considered his detention and questioning to be a personal slight and completely unwarranted. He denied any and all involvement in the death of Mr Volerton, repeated his previous excuses of how he had sustained his current injuries, and made several comments about the laziness of the constabulary and their association with "whores and bitches who aren't no better than they ought to be", his eyes drifting to Phryne as he uttered the final words "even if they're wearing a pretty dress". He was clearly satisfied with his 'witty' remark, his eyes lighting up as a smirk played on his revolting lips, and his attitude, his evasiveness and the fact that Phryne was feeling flushed and increasingly nauseous prompted her to rise from her seat and glare at him for a few moments, before uttering the words "it's a suit, you idiot" and promptly leaving the room. Jack, surprised by the sudden but apt action of Miss Fisher, remained seated for long enough to catch a glimpse of the crushed look on Mr Leighton's face as his remark was not appreciated and the woman he issued it to dared to respond, before rising from his own seat, asking a constable to take the man back to the cells until his flimsy alibi could be corroborated, and set off to find Miss Fisher.

Phryne stepped out of the interview room feeling dizzy and uncomfortably warm, her stomach clenching and feeling increasingly unsettled as she slowly made her way to the sanctuary of Jack's office. She was tired and dizzy and incredibly hot, and that loathsome creature in the interview room had frayed her very last nerve. She sat down slowly in the seat opposite Jack's desk, not feeling up to perching herself on her patented spot, before closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. Phryne had never been one to be overly concerned about vomiting and sickness, certainly not her own, but she was becoming increasingly frustrated by the fact that she was feeling unwell and it was not coming to fruition. At least when one vomited one was granted a temporary release, a reprieve; as much as she was loathe to admit it, she would give almost anything now to be violently sick for a few minutes and then recover and go back to being a functional human being once more. But it seemed that her body wished to deny her this, and had instead decided on torturing her for the entire day. She felt uncomfortable, unsettled and very unwell, which was affecting her concentration and her patience, which were two of her most essential qualities. She kept her eyes firmly closed and lowered her head into one hand, attempting to take in several breaths to compose herself which she hoped would allay her nausea and perhaps even stop the room from spinning.

Phryne was so engaged in attempting to compose herself that she scarcely registered the sound of the door quietly opening behind her; indeed, she was only alerted to the presence of another person in the room when she heard light steps on the ground beside her, prompting her to open her eyes and lift her head a little too quickly, causing the room to continue to spin as her stomach clenched in protest at her quick action. Phryne inhaled sharply and sat up straight in her seat just as Jack reached her side, lowering his hand and offering her something, which caused her to smile gently in response.

"Thank you" she said quietly, accepting the large glass of water and ice, which she drew slowly to her lips, taking a few tentative sips and hoping that her stomach would allow her to retain the liquid. She felt the cold liquid stream down her throat, soothing her instantly, and cooling her slightly. She lowered the glass from her lips and looked up at Jack, who was leaning against his desk and watching her with concern. "I'm fine" she said gently, answering the question which they both knew he knew better than to ask. Jack did not respond immediately, and instead watched her for a few moments, his eyes drifting over her pale and clammy skin before nodding slowly. The hand she was using to hold the cup in trembled slightly, and she drew it once more to her lips, closing her eyes as she took several more sips.

"So what do you think about Mr Leighton?" Phryne asked gently, holding the glass in both hands and looking up towards Jack. She knew this couldn't be easy for him, knowing she wasn't feeling well but understanding that she refused to be treated as though she were; she wasn't ill, after all. And she was telling the truth. She was fine. "From what you said outside the pub in Little Lonsdale Street it sounds like he has quite the record" she added, hoping that engaging him in conversation and displaying her ability to ignore her nausea and focus on the case would reassure him that she was fine. They both knew that it would not. Jack considered this very dilemma just as she did, and inhaled deeply.

"He certainly does" he replied, which relieved Phryne slightly, and prompted her to offer him a small smile. "He's been of interest to the Police since he was eleven and has a record greater in size than your closet."

"Surely not" she teased, drawing the water to her lips once more and continuing to sip. Jack suppressed a small smile and watched as the cold water seemed to revitalise her slightly. If only it would bring some colour back into her cheeks…

"I'm afraid so" he responded. "The majority of his crimes are violent. He is an angry man prone to jealousy with a terrible temper."

"A dangerous combination" Phryne muttered.

"Indeed" he replied. She inhaled deeply.

"Do we know much about the victim?" she asked curiously. Jack shook his head.

"Single, unmarried, dock worker" Jack responded. "From what my officers have told me about their initial canvassing for witnesses, the victim was a pleasant bloke who liked a drink but was always friendly enough" he breathed. "He didn't frequent any of the local establishments, which they found odd" he added.

"Perhaps he had a wife?" Phryne asked.

"No wedding ring" Jack countered.

"That doesn't mean no wife" Phryne returned. Jack considered the point and nodded.

"I'll contact Hatch, Match and Dispatch and find out" he replied. Phryne exhaled deeply and leaned back slightly in her seat, her bright eyes adopting a weary expression for a moment, as she appeared to be lost in thought. She snapped herself out of her stupor in mere seconds, lowering her shoulders and looking up at Jack with her trademark look of determination and intelligence, which never failed to utterly unnerve him.

"Do you have the witness statements from the men who were interviewed?" she asked.

"I do" Jack responded, picking up several files from his desk. "As well as their Police records."

"How interesting" Phryne breathed, her eyes alight, as she accepted some of the files from Jack. Their eyes met as he handed them over, and Phryne watched as the man who cared deeply for her well-being once more demonstrated that he would not limit her, that he would never try to change who she was, regardless of the circumstances. Her eyes warmed and her expression softened. "Thank you, Jack" she said sincerely. Jack smiled gently in response.

"You are quite welcome, Miss Fisher" he replied. "I'll make the necessary calls immediately."

An hour or so later Jack had called various official institutions and discovered that the victim was not married, he lives alone in a house in Yarra which he inherited from his grandmother, and had never been in trouble with the Police which, considering the fact that he was found in the nastier area of Little Lonsdale Street, was surprising in itself. Phryne spent the time reading over the eight witness statements which had been obtained and typed up, all of which varied considerably and provided little relevant information. Jack had received information from a bright-eyed young cadet that a fire in an alleyway three streets away from the murder site had been discovered by one of the constables, and it appeared that someone had poured cheap wine over a jacket and set it alight. He speculated that the early morning rain had put the fire out earlier than intended, thus saving some of evidence. The item in question was badly burned but there were visible traces of what appeared to be blood on it, and it was currently with the forensics team. Jack commended the cadet and thanked him for the update, before returning his attention to the witness statements, which appeared to be even more useless than the ones usually obtained from that delightful location.

Phryne spent the hour engrossed it her work which proved a welcome distraction from her sickliness, and she found herself feeling less dizzy in Jack's cool in Jack's ventilated office, and despite her stomach still being unsettled and nausea pervading her entire body, at the moment it was bearable. Just. As she was reading the penultimate page of the final statement, there was a familiar knock on the door which caused both her and Jack to turn towards it, as the inspector called for the person to enter. The door opened and Hugh Collins stepped into the room, his eyes focusing upon Inspector Robinson, who was sat behind his desk.

"Dr Evans just called, Sir" he explained, one hand on the door as he leaned into the room. "He says that he has just concluded the autopsy and was wondering if you would like to discuss the matter with him." Jack nodded in response.

"Indeed I would" Jack replied. "Thank you, Collins" he added. Hugh nodded in understanding, smiled at Miss Fisher, and promptly left the room, closing the door behind him. Phryne turned towards Jack.

"No time like the present" she said chipperly, as she rose from her seat and turned towards the door. As soon as she was standing upright Phryne realised that she had moved too quickly, as her dizziness returned to her and almost caused her to falter. As soon as she rose it felt like pressure had travelled up her body and up to her head, where it pounded heavily, compelling her to either sit down or fall down, but Phryne Fisher refused to do either. Instead, she took in a deep breath and placed a hand on the back of her chair to steady herself, as she felt the familiar sensation of sickness rising within her. She closed her eyes for a moment in an attempt to compose herself, and before she could open them again she felt Jack beside her, one hand on her lower back, the other reaching for her free hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, permitting himself the question, as he looked at Phryne with concern. For the second time that day he considered suggesting that he take her home, but he knew that she would refuse and, even if he insisted, probably make her own way to the morgue. And she'd get there first. At least if he was with her he could make sure she was alright. Phryne opened her eyes and turned towards him (slowly this time) and offered him a gentle smile.

"I'm fine" she replied, her voice quiet but confident. "I just stood up too quickly, that's all" she explained, holding onto Jack's hand as she looked up into his eyes. He was staring at her with those honest, compelling eyes of his that made her feel safer and more protected than she ever cared to admit, but for a moment she allowed herself to become completely lost in them. The moment, however, was painfully brief, and she blinked herself out of her reverie and smiled gently up at him once more. "Come on" she encouraged, lowering their hands and removing hers from his. "We mustn't keep Dr Evans waiting" she said lightly.

"Heaven forbid" Jack breathed, lowering his hand from Phryne's back and opening the door for her, as he picked up his hat and coat and followed her out of the station.

Although Jack did not argue with Phryne's desire to attend the Morgue with him, he did request that she allow him to drive them in her Hispano. Phryne, whose car was one of her most treasured possessions, granted him permission immediately, though did take the liberty of providing a rather graphic description of what would happen if he so much as scratched her motor car. His comment about the irony of her issuing such a statement to a Policeman when considering her own reckless driving was met with a bright smile as she got into the passenger seat (a practice which felt incredibly odd and made her feel slightly nervous), as Jack started the engine and drove them to the Morgue.

Phryne spent the entirety of the brief journey facing out of the window, allowing the cool air to rush towards her and cool her burning skin. She found that the manner of Jack's driving was very soothing and manageable given her current delicacy, not that she would admit it, of course; she couldn't actively encourage careful driving. Perish the thought! But Jack's driving granted her the time and opportunity to consider her current feeling of nausea. She was still feeling slightly light headed, but noticed that this decreased considerably when she was sitting down. She leaned against the cool seats and closed her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts and attempting to soothe her stomach, which felt incredibly delicate. Phryne let out a deep breath through her nose and placed her hand subconsciously over her stomach, and resolved to ignore the nausea she was currently experiencing, which was unlikely to come to fruition anyway, and go about her day as she always would. She knew that there would need to be changes to her lifestyle during and after her pregnancy, but she would not allow a mere bout of sickness to dictate her actions. She had been experiencing nausea for the past couple of weeks and had handled it fine, not allowing it to interrupt her day to day life, and she had no intention of allowing it to start now. Even if she was feeling worse than she had done before…

Phryne's eyes snapped open as she felt the car stop, and she found herself staring at the familiar building before her, which was grey and old and miserable and depressing. She took in one final breath of the closest thing she would find to fresh air for some time now, and opened her door and stepped onto the pavement just as Jack reached her side. Phryne smiled up at him, walked confidently through the familiar building and greeted the receptionist warmly. She was ignoring her light-headedness and nausea splendidly, despite her stomach clenching in protest, and would have managed it too, if her destination had been anywhere other than the morgue.

As soon as Jack opened the doors to the morgue and held them open for Phryne she was struck by a strong scent of blood, death and chloral, which hit her with such force it almost knocked her backwards. Jack watched as she paled visibly before him, before inhaling sharply, adopting a calm and assured expression, and walking confidently into the room. Jack waited for a moment, watching her as she headed towards the table which bore the body of the deceased, where Dr Evans was standing with a clipboard. After a few seconds he followed her, standing at the opposite side of the table as he greeted Dr Evans, the sound of the door closing behind them breaking the silence.

The body was adorned with a fresh white sheet which was pulled down to reveal his abdomen and face, concealing him from the hips down. Dr Evans was standing near the victim's head, Phryne to his right, and Jack to his left. They briefly discussed the autopsy results, which confirmed Phryne's hypothesis that the victim died from a penetrating stab wound directly to the heart; he would have exsanguinated internally and been dead within moments. Phryne nodded in understanding and stepped closer to the body, trying to hold her breath to prevent the stench of blood and death from attacking her senses, which was doing absolutely nothing for her nausea.

Both detectives were surveying the body curiously, their analytical eyes dancing across each bruise, mark and injury, as Dr Evans remained standing still, silent, and staring at Phryne. Women, he considered, had no place at a crime scene and even less so in a morgue. Unless they were on his slab, of course, in which case it was socially permitted and acceptable. Just. However, knowing the Inspector and his fondness of Miss Fisher's skills (as well as Miss Fisher's person, if one believed certain rumours which, of course, he did), Dr Evans realised that raising such a point would be folly and counter-productive. Instead, he answered the inspector's questions about the victim's time of death, possible murder weapons and other injuries as Miss Fisher looked on, her eyes focused on the body, as she remained uncharacteristically silent.

Phryne had managed the first couple of minutes in the Morgue, but was finding each passing second even more difficult to bear. The room itself smelled of blood, chloral and decomposition, and the body before her was emitting scents of alcohol, sweat and grease, which caused her stomach to tighten and her nausea to increase. She found herself feeling dizzy once more, her head spinning, as she desperately ignored the urge to sit down. She tried to inhale deeply without actually inhaling any of the vile smells in the room, smells which she was used to and had never bothered her before, but she failed miserably. She was vaguely aware of the sound of Jack's voice as he spoke to Dr Evans, whose low, formal tone set her teeth on edge, as she breathed in once more and attempted to compose herself. Phryne released the breath slowly and forced her eyes open as she attempted to focus upon the conversation before her, but with little success. Her stomach was feeling increasingly unsettled, her head was spinning and her heart was pounding in her ears. Although she had doubted that the nausea she had been experiencing would come to fruition, she felt sickness rise within her and force her to reconsider her hypothesis rather quickly. Her hand moved subconsciously to her mouth and she closed her eyes for a fraction of a moment, opening them only as she was conscious of someone watching her.

Phryne opened her eyes and looked up to find Jack staring at her as Dr Evans, who had his back to her, continued to explain to the inspector how he was able to be so accurate with the victim's time of death. Jack watched as Phryne paled visibly, placed her fingers gently over her lips, and lowered her eyes to the ground as she took in a deep breath. He was about to interject when the sound of banging on the door drew everyone's attention towards it, prompting Phryne to look up quickly, her hand falling from her lips.

"Sorry, Dr Evans, but I was wondering if I could ask for a second opinion on Mrs Braithwaite?" asked a young doctor rather timidly. "The old girl's heart was-"

"Actually, Timmins, I am right in the middle of-"

"No, no, it's fine" Jack said kindly, prompting Phryne to look up at him with relief. "I think we have everything we came for, Dr Evans" he added. "Thank you for your time."

Dr Evans, who had been growing increasingly annoyed with young Timmins' inability to reach even the most obvious of conclusions, stalked out of the room and shut the door heavily behind him.

Phryne placed her hand on the edge of the table and released another deep breath, as the scent of chloral grew stronger and caused her eyes to water. Her stomach tightened and clenched, and she placed her hand instinctively to her mouth, before closing her eyes and attempting to compose herself. Not here, she thought, as her head continued to spin and her heart pounded in her ears, not here.

"Phryne" Jack said gently, walking around the table towards her. Phryne was vaguely aware of his words and presence but she was attempting to calm herself and allay her feelings of nausea, which she quickly realised would be impossible. The stench of blood and decomposition reached her nostrils once more, causing her stomach to clench almost painfully, as the sickness within her rose higher. She took several small breaths in an attempt to calm herself but she knew it was in vain, as familiar feelings of sickness and dread pervaded. "Phryne" Jack said, his voice kind and assured. Phryne's stomach clenched once more and her eyes snapped open, as her stomach convulsed in a way which was now all too familiar to her. Before Jack's hand could reach her back Phryne clamped her hand to her mouth, pushed herself away from the table and ran across the room to the large sink, reaching it just in time to be violently sick.

Jack walked briskly across the room and was at her side in seconds, placing his hand on her back as she wretched and vomited, her body convulsing, her breathing laboured. He stood beside her for several moments and spoke to her soothingly as she vomited, feeling frustrated with his own powerlessness and guilty that he had not insisted he take her home earlier, as he rubbed her back gently. After thirty seconds or so Phryne finally stopped retching, groaned, and opened her eyes. She reached for the tap with one trembling hand and turned it on, cleaning the sink of all evidence of her sickness and filling her cupped palm with water which she splashed across her mouth. By the time she had removed her hand from her mouth she caught something out of the corner of her eye and turned towards Jack, who was offering her a white handkerchief. She looked into his concerned eyes and offered him a weak smile as she accepted it.

"Thank you" Phryne said quietly, wiping her mouth and turning off the tap as she leaned back and took a deep breath. She lowered her hand and clutched the handkerchief tightly, inhaling deeply and turning towards Jack. "I know you won't believe me, but I actually feel much better" she said gently, her voice low and slightly cracked. Jack watched her as she spoke, his concerned eyes drifting over her, taking in her pale skin and lips, her bright eyes, her trembling hand. He nodded.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently. The question sounded as absurd out loud as it had done in his mind, but he couldn't stop himself from asking it, and he wouldn't even if he could. Phryne looked up at him with gentle eyes and a warm expression.

"I'm just a little nauseous, that's all" she said gently, trying to keep her voice as even and confident as she could. "It's really nothing to worry about, Jack" she added reassuringly. Jack stepped towards her, placed one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek.

"You feel very warm" he commented, as Phryne resisted the urge to lean into his palm. "And you're shaking."

"I'm fine" she countered, her pale lips and hesitant smile betraying her completely. She offered him a weak smile and moved to step around him. "I just need a minute and-" she began, her words cut off as another wave of dizziness struck her, causing her steps to falter, her body swaying slightly to the right. Jack watched as Phryne's eyes drifted shut and her head fell to the side, prompting him to move forward quickly and place his hands on her hip and waist to steady her, drawing her towards him. The feeling of his hands upon her seemed to revitalise her, and she quickly opened her eyes, tensed, stood up straight and began to protest. "I'm fine, I'm-"

"Phryne" Jack said, his voice kind but firm. Phryne's eyes met his. She knew that tone. "Come on, let's get you home."

"No" she protested, placing her hand on his wrist. "No, Jack. I'm-"

"You are not fine" he replied, his voice gentle and low, his tone declarative, speaking as though he were announcing some unquestionable truth. And, in this instance, both he and Phryne knew that he was. But this didn't make Phryne feel any less disappointed. In herself and her weakness, not in him. "Come on" he repeated gently, placing his hands on her waist and attempting to meet her gaze. She sighed in defeat and turned to the side, feeling embarrassed and weak and utterly ashamed. She'd turned his life upside down in so many ways in the past couple of weeks, and subjecting him to this seemed so wrong, almost cruel.

"I'm sorry" she said, her voice low and sincere. Jack felt his stomach clench with guilt. He took a step closer to her and ran his hands down her waist and onto her hips, looking down upon her until she titled her head up and looked into his eyes.

"You have nothing to apologise for" he stated with conviction. Phryne exhaled slowly and her gaze faltered. "Phryne, you don't have to be sorry" he added, removing one hand from her hip and drawing some hair behind her ear, before stroking her cheek. She looked up at him with an embarrassed and unconvinced expression, and she sighed lightly in response. "At least now I get to drive your beloved Hispano Suiza again" he commented dryly. Phryne chuckled slightly and looked up into his eyes.

"Don't get used to it, inspector" she warned him, her voice low and slightly husky, her face pale, her eyes alight. Jack smiled gently in response.

"Of course not" he returned gently, relieved to see the mischievous spark in Phryne's eye, as she smiled gently at him. Jack lowered his hands from her and stood beside her, placing his arm on her lower back as he guided her through the Morgue and out into the street.

Phryne spent the brief car journey to her home in St Kilda facing the window, her body angled to the side as she allowed the fresh air to drift over her body once more, as she kept her eyes firmly closed and attempted to relax. Although she had felt considerably better after being sick in the morgue (which she was grateful she had been able to stall until after that chauvinist had left, lest he should make irksome comments such as 'I heard you were made of stronger stuff, Miss Fisher'), she was now beginning to feel nauseous once more. Phryne kept her eyes firmly closed and took in several shallow breaths as she attempted to maintain her composure and allay her rising nausea. She was so engaged in her efforts that she scarcely registered that the car had stopped; indeed, it was only when she felt Jack's hand upon her shoulder that she opened her eyes.

"Phryne" he said gently, prompting her to open her eyes and turn towards him tiredly. "We're home" he added.

Phryne inhaled, blinked, and nodded in understanding. By the time she had opened her door Jack was already on the pavement, offering her his hand, which she accepted. Phryne placed her delicate hand in his and allowed him to draw her from the car, closing the door behind her, before leading her up towards the house. Jack unlocked the door with a key she had given him the week before, placing his hand on her lower back as he guided her inside. Phryne removed her cloche and shrugged off her jacket, which Jack caught before it hit the ground, hanging it up on the coat stand. She dropped her bag upon the table and placed her hand upon her head, rubbing it soothingly as she walked tiredly towards the parlour.

Phryne placed her left arm across her abdomen and walked towards the armchair closest to the fireplace, gently easing herself into it before drawing her legs up beside her. She leaned against the edge of the seat, allowing her eyes to close for just a moment as she attempted to recover herself and quell her rising nausea. A few moments later her attention was drawn to the other side of the parlour, where familiar footsteps had entered and were slowly approaching her. By the time Phryne turned around she found herself facing Jack, who was bearing a most welcome offering of water with ice, which she accepted gratefully, holding it in both hands and drawing it to her lips. She allowed the ice cold liquid to soothe her throat, which burned from her recent bout of sickness. She felt her skin cooling as she sipped, the glass ice-cold against her warm palms. She slowly lowered the glass from her lips and held it with both hands, as she took in a deep breath and allowed herself to bask in the comforting fact that she was back in her own home which, despite her protests, she was now very grateful for.

"Thank you" she said weakly, turning towards Jack with warm eyes and a slightly resigned expression. "I'm sorry, I'm sure this wasn't how you pictured your day progressing" she said lightly, drawing the glass to her lips once more.

"And I'm sure I told you that you don't need to apologise" Jack said gently, his voice kind and emanating with warmth. He sat down in the armchair beside her and turned it so that he was facing her. Phryne sighed against the glass and withdrew it from her lips, before turning to the side to face him.

"Yes, I believe you did" she said gently, leaning turning her body to the side so that she was facing him. "But we both know that listening isn't one of my strong points."

"I disagree" Jack replied promptly, offering her a gentle smile. Phryne returned it.

"I really am alright, Jack" she stated gently, her voice confident and assured despite its tired and husky tone. "This is completely normal and it isn't something you need to worry about" she said, speaking slowly and with great care. Jack watched as her voice faltered slightly and she lowered her eyes from his. He felt his stomach clench, and found his hand reaching for hers, causing her fingers to fall from the glass and clasp his in response.

"I'm sorry you're going through this" Jack said gently, his eyes solemn and his tone sincere. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked. Phryne's expression softened and she offered him a reassuring smile.

"You already have" she assured him, squeezing his hand tightly in response. "Despite the nausea being unpleasant for me, I know that it isn't easy for you either" she stated gently. "I hadn't been sick for days and I naively thought I may be past it, but ever since I woke up this morning I've felt awful" she said, closing her eyes and sighing. "I thought I'd be able to handle it, but-"

"You did handle it" Jack responded gently. "You are handling it" he added with conviction. Phryne's eyes met his and she offered him a grateful but unconvinced smile. "And I've told you, Phryne, you don't have to worry about me."

"And I've told you not to worry about me" she countered, her eyes alight, her expression gentle. "We both know how little we listen to the other when those fateful words are uttered, Jack" she explained. Jack watched her for a moment before nodding in understanding.

"Indeed we do" he conceded, swallowing hard as he spoke. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Much, thank you" she responded, her eyes meeting his. She felt the weight of his gaze and stared confidently back; she was feeling slightly better, though that wasn't saying much, and she still felt wretched. Despite feeling nauseous and dizzy, she had felt fairly awake earlier in the day, but now she was fast losing her hold upon the conscious plane, and she found herself desperately wanting to sleep. In a dark room. Quietly. Alone. Not because she didn't want him with her, but because she did; she hated appearing vulnerable in front of anyone, especially Jack Robinson. She didn't want him to worry about her, she wanted him to know that she was fine and that she could handle this, she would handle this, her pregnancy and everything that came with it. Such a task was arguably problematic if he was forced to watch her vomiting and shaking and trembling with self-pity. She saw the nervousness and uncertainty in his eyes and she clasped his hand tighter in her own. "I'm tired, Jack. I just need to sleep and then I will be absolutely fine" she said gently, imagining her silk sheets and soft pillows. "Why don't you go back to the station and-"

"No" Jack interjected, his voice low and gentle. "No, Phryne, I'm not leaving you. Not like this."

"Jack" Phryne said, her voice soft and assured. "Jack, listen to me" she continued, pushing herself forward slightly and meeting his gaze with a determined look. "I am fine" she declared. "I'm feeling slightly more nauseous than I have been lately, but it is nothing to be concerned about and it is completely normal" she stated with conviction. "I just want to lie down" she said tiredly. Jack looked into her eyes and considered the tired look she bore; she was embarrassed by her sickness and, although he had tried to assure her it was nothing to be ashamed of, she did not quite believe him, and it was very clear that she wished to be alone. Although he wanted to remain with her he knew that to do so at this moment would hinder her more than it would help. Regretfully, and with tremendous guilt, he nodded.

"Mr Butler is in the kitchen and Dorothy is collecting some of your clothes from Madame Fleuri's" he explained. Phryne nodded in understanding. "Would you like me to wait until she returns?"

"Thank you, Jack, but that's not necessary" she said gently, her voice warm and kind. She inhaled sharply as another wave of nausea threatened to overcome her. She swallowed hard and decided to ignore it. For the moment, at least. "I'm going to bed the moment you leave" she explained. Jack considered her for a moment, his eyes drifting across her pale cheeks and lips, her bright eyes outlined with kohl, the look of certainly and strength she bore despite feeling so unwell. He nodded solemnly in response.

"Okay" he said gently, offering her a gentle smile as he rose to his feet. With some effort, Phryne's tired eyes followed him. Jack looked down upon her with a warm expression and offered her his hand once more, which she accepted again, allowing him to guide her from her chair and across the room.

Phryne's hand remained in Jack's as they walked upstairs in pleasant silence, with Phryne's tiredness increasing with each step she took. They reached the top of the staircase and made their way across the landing to the bedroom door, which Phryne opened gently, the scent of her perfume and the familiarity of the room comforting her immensely.

"Are you quite sure you'll be alright?" Jack asked, attempting (and failing) to suppress his concern as he spoke. Phryne turned towards him with a reassuring expression.

"Yes, Jack" she said sincerely, placing her hands on his chest and reaching for his tie, which she straightened. "Now" she said gently, speaking to his tie for a moment. "Less worrying" she stated, lifting her eyes to meet his, "and more detecting" she said with a small smile. "You are a Detective Inspector, after all" she continued, over-pronouncing his title as she spoke. "Besides" she said, her voice low and sultry as she leaned in towards him. "I want to know if I was right about Mr Leighton" she smiled.

"Of course you do" Jack sighed.

"Of course I do" she confirmed, lowering her hands from his tie. Her light expression softened and became solemn. "I assure you, Jack, I'm fine. I will be fine" she stated with conviction. Jack considered her for a few moments and nodded.

"If you're worried, call me. Call Dr Macmillan-"

"Yes, Jack, I will" she said, her voice low and gentle. "I will" she repeated, staring into his eyes as she spoke. Jack nodded slightly, before leaning forward and kissing her gently on the cheek. Her skin was still warm and clammy, but she felt slightly cooler than she had done before, and she was no longer trembling. Jack slowly drew his face from hers and stared deep into her eyes.

"I'll be at the station, alright?" he said softly.

"Alright" she agreed, smiling weakly. "Thank you, Jack" she said gently, her voice heavy with sincerity.

"You don't have to thank me" he replied earnestly, his voice gentle and sincere. Phryne smiled.

"Yes I do" she responded with conviction. "Now go. Find out why Mr Leighton killed Mr Volerton and then return to regale me with your findings" she said with a smile.

"You are certain it was Leighton, aren't you?" Jack said curiously. Phryne rose her shoulders and sighed gently.

"If you prove me wrong, Jack, I will gladly admit defeat" she responded. Jack rose an eyebrow.

"Will you?" he asked. "Now that I would like to see." Phryne smiled.

"Well unfortunately you shan't have the opportunity. Not this time, at least" she explained, her eyes meeting his. "Because I'm quite confident that I'm right" she replied, feigning haughtiness. Jack smiled.

"I'm sure you'll forgive me if I conduct a more thorough and official investigation before simply taking your word for it" he teased lightly. Phryne shrugged.

"If you insist" she replied. Jack smiled, his eyes drifting over her, and finding himself feeling reassured by her current disposition. But he knew if he stayed for much longer he would not be able to leave.

"Goodbye, Miss Fisher" he said gently.

"Goodbye, Inspector" she replied, running her hand down his torso and then removing her hands from his body. Jack missed her touch instantly, offered her a gentle smile, and turned to descend the staircase. Phryne loitered on the landing until she heard the front door close behind him, before she sighed gently and her smile fell, as she turned on the spot and walked into her bedroom.

Phryne closed the door behind her and leaned against it, closing her eyes for a moment and taking in a deep breath, before opening her eyes once more and looking across the room. Phryne walked towards the windows and closed the curtains, causing the previously bright room to be filled with a sombre darkness, which instantly made her feel more relaxed. As she closed the final curtain she felt her tiredness increase, as her unsettled stomach continued to threaten her with impending sickness. Phryne placed her hand instinctively upon her abdomen and let out a slow breath as she walked towards her bed, easing herself on top of the sheets and lying down upon the pillow in her clothes, and willing sleep to claim her; mercifully for Phryne and her stomach, it did.

Phryne slept deeply for over an hour, her sleep being uninterrupted by dreams, thoughts or individuals, and allowing her weary body time to recover. But despite Phryne's sleep remaining off limits to dreams and to people it was not, as she quickly discovered, immune from sickness. And so, just over an hour after she had fallen asleep upon her soft silk sheets, Phryne found herself waking with a start as a familiar sensation overcame her. She awoke suddenly with a start, feeling hot and shaken and incredibly nauseous. She quickly got out of bed and rushed across the bedroom to the bathroom, throwing herself upon the ground just in time to be very sick once more. Phryne's body convulsed as she wretched, her body cruelly forcing the tiny amounts of food remaining in her stomach from her body. Her head ached, her throat burned, and her mind was still processing the fact that it had been rudely and suddenly roused from its unconscious state. Phryne retched for several minutes, tasting bile in her burning throat, as her entire body trembled. She held onto the edge of the toilet with a grip which whitened her knuckles until, after just over a minute, her body accepted the fact that it was physically incapable of dispelling anything else. Phryne's eyes slowly opened and she leaned back from the toilet, pressing some toilet paper to her lips and wiping her mouth, before dropping it unceremoniously into the porcelain bowl before her. Her eyes were watering, her breathing was fast, and her head was spinning. She felt confused and faint and incredibly unsteady, even though she was kneeling upon the ground. Phryne closed her eyes once more, finding that it assisted somewhat, as she leaned to the side and rested her head against the wall, which she had never appreciated as being comfortable before this moment. She hummed lightly as she slumped against the wall, her entire body devoid of energy or nutrients, her mind dizzy and her nausea prevalent. Phryne allowed her body to rest against the wall, her legs tucked under her, her head slightly inclined. As she fell asleep against the cold wall, her left arm draped itself protectively across her abdomen, as her weary body finally granted her a reprieve.

However, the reprieve was not destined to be for long, and she was oblivious to precisely what would happen when she woke a short while later.

Dorothy had returned from Mme Fleuri's with Miss Fisher's clothing, which Madame had insisted be collected, as she did not trust even the most highly regarded of couriers with her renowned client's attire (and certainly not her underwear!). Upon returning to the house Dot was informed by Mr Butler that Miss Phryne had returned home early and was resting in her room. Dot, who had been reliably informed by the same and by her husband that Miss Phryne and the Inspector were investigating a murder, found this incredibly odd. She crept up the staircase and gently opened the bedroom door, peeking inside and quickly realising that Miss Phryne was, indeed, asleep; and fully dressed. Dot watched her for a few moments, before frowning in confusion and taking a few steps into the room. Miss Phryne was facing her, her pale cheek pressed upon one of her soft pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, her eyes firmly shut. Dot smiled gently at the vision before her, as her maternal gaze drifted over her employer to search for any signs of illness or injury and, upon finding none, she left the room quietly and headed back downstairs.

Just over an hour later Dot, who knew that Miss Phryne sometimes slept in the afternoon, but not usually on a case, was worried about her. After spending the past hour darning she found that she had completed all of the fixing she could, and decided that she should check on her employer again. It was a warm day outside, so she prepared a jug of lemonade and some sandwiches, which she placed on a tray and carried upstairs. Dot slowly opened the door and crept inside, holding the tray before her as she closed the door behind her and turned on the light. Dot turned around and was confused by what she saw; although the room still encased in darkness, there was one notable difference: Miss Phryne was not in her bed. Dot had been in the parlour since first coming to her employer's room, and so would have noticed if she had come downstairs. Dot frowned, walked across the room and placed the tray on the bedside table, before walking slowly across the room and towards the only other place she could be, which was the bathroom. She couldn't hear the taps running so she wasn't in the bath. Before Dot could consider the mystery any further she reached the doorway to the bathroom and looked inside, her eyes widening and her heart stopping at the sight before her, as her gaze befell the fallen figure of Phryne Fisher, who was slumped against the wall.

"Miss Phryne" Dot gasped, rushing into the room and kneeling down beside her employer, who was leaning against the wall, her legs drawn beneath her red skirt, her left arm across her abdomen. As soon as she crouched beside her Dot turned towards the toilet and noted the clear signs of recent vomiting, prompting her to turn swiftly back to her employer. "Miss Phryne" she repeated, her voice gentle but commanding. The lady detective didn't respond; her pale face remained firmly pressed to the wall, her eyes firmly closed, her pale lips set. Dot felt panicked; she had never seen her like this before. Even when Miss Phryne had indulged in rather adventurous nights out involving cognac and cocktails and dancing, she had never been unconscious in the bathroom before! Miss Phryne had once boasted that she had the constitution of "a whole heard of oxen" and, indeed, Dot had never known her to be sick before. Dot's anxiety was increasing and she forced it aside, adopting a maternal command which often found her in such situations, prompting her to place her hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly, mindful not to hurt her head. "Miss Phryne!" she repeated, her voice rising and sounding slightly panicked. At that moment she felt Phryne's body shift slightly, as her employer hummed tiredly in response and turned towards her.

Phryne's deep sleep was interrupted by the sound of a voice, which seemed low and distant, like an echo. It drew her from the deepest plane of sleep to another, but she still remained firmly in the unconscious. She heard the sound again and felt herself drawn back into the conscious plane, which she resisted, desperately wanting to sleep. But when she heard the voice again, a voice she recognised as Dot's, sounding panicked and desperate, she forced herself awake with a start. Phryne pushed herself lightly off the wall and turned towards the sound of the voice, her eyes slowly opening as she did so. She was conscious of a hand upon her shoulder, a knee pressed to her leg, and then another hand on her face, gently drawing some hair behind her ear. Phryne opened her eyes fully and stared at the image of her nervous companion before her, whose normally pretty and kindly face was marred with worry.

"Dot?" she said tiredly, her voice and slightly slurred. "Dot, what's wrong?" she asked, pushing herself off from the wall and leaning towards her. The pain in her neck, the feeling of the floor beneath her, and the porcelain beside her reminded Phryne instantly of where she was, and she was sobered into consciousness with a start. "Oh" she mumbled, rubbing her head tiredly.

"Miss Phryne, are you alright?" Dot asked, her voice low and concerned. Phryne looked up at her with as reassuring an expression as she could muster.

"Yes, Dot, sorry" she said, her tiredness leaving her almost completely as she forced herself into consciousness, having realised just what kind of predicament her companion had found her in. "I'm sorry, Dot, I wasn't feeling very well" she explained gently. Dot stared at her for a moment before nodding in response.

"You're sick, Miss?" she asked.

"No" Phryne breathed, inhaling deeply as the nausea which she had almost forgotten about since waking made its presence in her stomach known to her once more. "No, I'm not sick" she stated gently, looking into Dot's disbelieving eyes with a warm expression. "I'm fine, Dot, really" she continued. "I'm sorry if I worried you" she added, as she planted her hands upon the ground and attempted to stand.

"Miss!" the worried Dot protested, as she rose quickly to her feet too and put her arm around Phryne, clasping her hand tightly with her free hand. "Are you alright?" she asked, observing that Miss Phryne appeared unsteady on her feet.

"Yes, Dot, I'm alright" Phryne responded, attempting to conceal her nervousness at the current situation and Dot's presence. Her head was spinning and she was feeling faint once more. "I just need to lie down" she responded. Dot nodded in agreement and slowly guided Phryne back into her bedroom, easing her onto the bed and encouraging her to lie down. "Thank you" Phryne said, offering Dot a small smile. "I'll be fine after I've slept" she said, her bright green eyes holding Dot's gaze. Dot, who was not convinced that Miss Phryne was fine, stood up tall and swallowed hard.

"I'm calling Dr Macmillan" she announced bravely, before turning on the spot and moving to leave. Phryne's eyes widened and she felt consumed by panic.

"No, Dot, wait" she protested, pushing herself up in bed, her voice catching her companion before she reached the door. Dot turned around and looked at her with concern.

"I know you don't like doctors, Miss, but Dr Macmillan is your friend, she's different" Dot explained amiably. Phryne shook her head.

"Please, Dot, I'm fine" she stated with conviction, her voice gently but compelling. "I don't need a doctor."

"Miss, you're sick" Dot stated, her voice gentle but firm, with the conviction of an experienced governess. Dot took several steps towards Phryne and perched on the edge of the bed. "I know you don't like doctors, Miss, and you don't like people fussing over you" Dot continued gently. "But you're sick, Miss, you need a doctor." Phryne stared into her companion's eyes, which were brimming with concern and conviction. Dot was loyal and loving and kind, and she was bold and she was noble and brave; she knew when Phryne needed something, even when she didn't know it herself. But this was not one of those times. It was different, very different. She didn't want Mac to be called out because she was nauseous, it was a huge waste of her time and it would make both her and Jack worry about her immensely, neither of which she wanted to happen. But as she gazed into her companion's eyes, a woman she cared for and trusted above anyone else, she felt guilt and panic grip her in equal measure, with such force that it almost suffocated her. She inhaled sharply and felt tears stinging her eyes.

"Dot, I'm not sick" she said gently, her voice low and slightly choked, her eyes glistening with tears.

Dot stared at Miss Phryne with concern, leaning towards her and considering her with gentle eyes and a kindly expression, which broke Phryne's heart.

"What is it, Miss?" she asked, perplexed and uncertain, and growing increasingly confused.

Phryne inhaled deeply, her eyes staring into Dot's, who was watching her with such concern and kindness that she felt guilty beyond explanation at her omission to tell one of the people she trusted most in the world her greatest and most terrifying secret; she loved Dot like a sister and had wanted to tell her about the baby, seek her counsel, ask her advice. Babies and children and maternity were things that Dot knew all about, it was an area which she was an expert in whilst Phryne remained oblivious. She also wanted to confide in her not as a teacher but as a friend, but the concept of doing so terrified her; it was too frightening, too real. But as she stared at the look of care and concern upon her face she felt compelled to tell her, she had to, she must. And more than anything, she wanted to.

"I'm pregnant" Phryne stated, her voice low and slightly choked. Her bright eyes focused on her companion's, which were staring at her blankly. After a moment or so Dot blinked, her eyes widening in surprise or disbelief, her lips gently parting.

"You're pregnant?" she asked, shock clear from her voice.

"Yes" Phryne replied, her voice sounding more confident, despite the fact that her companion's knowledge of her condition caused her already delicate stomach to clench almost painfully.

"Are you… Are you sure, Miss?" Dot asked, seeming confused. Phryne suppressed a small laugh.

"Yes" she replied, offering her a gentle smile. Dot stared at her for a moment, and Phryne watched as her eyes drifted to her abdomen, where they remained for several moments, before turning back to her face once more.

"How far gone are you?" she asked gently, the concern and care her expression had borne before returning to her. Phryne felt slightly relieved.

"About eleven weeks" she explained. Dot's eyes widened.

"How long have you known, Miss?" she asked, her mind searching the past few weeks, months even, for any clues or signs. How had she missed them? How could she not know? Dot felt torn between feeling disappointed in herself for not having realised and helped Miss Phryne, and sad that she had not told her sooner.

"A few weeks" she replied gently. Dot's lips slowly parted.

"Why didn't you tell me, Miss?" Dot asked gently, her eyes brimming with concern and compassion. Phryne was relieved. She wasn't angry.

"I don't know" she answered honestly, her eyes shining with tears, her voice slightly choked. "It's been… it's been a difficult month, Dot" she stated candidly. Dot nodded in understanding. She imagined it had been. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"No, Miss, it's… it's alright" Dot responded kindly, reaching out a hand a capturing Phryne's, which she held tightly, "It's alright" she repeated. Phryne nodded in response, inhaled sharply and pressed her lips tightly together. Dot, who had never seen Miss Phryne appear so distressed, eased herself across the bed and pulled her into a warm hug, which seemed to surprise her employer somewhat. Phryne, who gasped slightly, relaxed instantly into her arms, running her hands across her back and drawing her close, finding comfort in everything about her treasured companion.

"I'm sorry" Phryne breathed.

"Don't be" Dot replied sincerely, holding Miss Phryne close and speaking gently, as her mind was still trying to catch up with what was currently happening. Miss Phryne was pregnant, with a baby. Miss Phryne was going to have a child. After a few minutes Dot felt Phryne relax completely beneath her hold, and she eased herself back slightly, and found herself staring into the calm green eyes of her employer. She had so many questions but none of them seemed appropriate, they were all too intrusive. But as she looked at Miss Phryne who was sitting before her, she considered that she seemed like she really, really needed to talk. "Does Inspector Robinson know, Miss?" Dot asked. Phryne smiled and nodded.

"Yes, he does" she replied gently. "I told him about a week ago" she explained, inhaling sharply and meeting Dot's kind eyes once more. She nodded. "Mac knows, too. And Jane."

"Jane?" Dot asked. Phryne nodded.

"She overheard a conversation Jack and I were having, and she… she knows" she said calmly. Dot could tell that Miss Phryne did not seem anxious about this fact, so she decided not to press the matter. "I wanted to tell you, Dot" Phryne stated sincerely, her voice drawing her companion from her thoughts. "Really, I did" she added. "I really wanted to talk to you." Dot leaned forward and clasped her hand once more, offering her a gentle smile.

"You can, Miss" she smiled. "You can tell me anything, you know that" she added, her warm eyes bright and kind. Phryne nodded. "Are you alright?" she asked. Phryne blinked.

"It's just nausea, I'm fine. Mac says it's fairly common and-" Phryne's words were stopped by a gentle squeeze of her hand and a slight shake of Dot's head.

"That's not what I meant" she said gently, remembering the conversation she and Phryne had had on the platform before heading on the Ballarat train, when she had told her that parenthood didn't appeal to her. Phryne, who caught on quickly, nodded.

"I'm fine" she assured her, offering her a small smile. "I was scared at first. I didn't know what to do. I almost-" Phryne cut herself off sharply, knowing that even Dot's open-mindedness as a Catholic had limits. And in truth, she didn't want to think about what she almost did, let alone talk about it. Ever. "I want this baby" she stated with conviction. Dot stared into her eyes, smiled, and nodded.

"I know, Miss" she replied gently. Despite saying she didn't want children, Miss Phryne had adopted Jane and she loved her beyond measure. She had an innate sense of goodness, kindness and care which meant that she was a wonderful mother to Jane, and she would be to this baby too. Even if she hadn't planned to have the baby (which is was clear she hadn't), Dot didn't doubt that she would love it. "And I'll help you" she said gently, her words causing Phryne to smile slightly.

"You will?" she asked, her eyes brimming with tears once more. "Dot, I… I know that as you're married now you probably want to spend more time at your own home with-"

"No, Miss Phryne" Dot said gently. "Hugh and I talked about it, and we're happy. He has his job and I have mine, and it's wonderful. It works" she said with a smile. Phryne smiled back. She admired Dot's courage. "Of course, when we have children, I would spend more time at home" she explained. "But when that time comes, perhaps I can look after my children and… and help you with yours?" she asked, her eyes alight at the prospect. Phryne looked worried.

"Dot, I want you to be happy, to have the family you always wanted and-"

"You are part of that family, Miss" Dot stated with conviction, squeezing her hand tightly as she spoke. "You know that" she said with a smile. Phryne smiled gently in return, feeling quite overcome. "I want to" Dot stated confidently.

"Are you sure?" Phryne asked. "Because I would completely understand if-"

"Our children could grow up together" Dot said, causing Phryne to smile nervously at the statement. Dot always had the ability to see the best in people and situations, to plan ahead, to be prepared. She had seen the potential in Phryne's situation at an early stage, when after Phryne had discovered her pregnancy all she saw were terrifying reminders of her failure and limitations. She knew that Dot wanted children, and the fact that she was both willing and happy to offer to help her with her own baby and then look after their children when Phryne and Jack and Hugh were at work was deeply touching. It also meant that they could remain together, to some degree, which she knew Dot wanted. She had a wonderful way of making things sound so possible, so real. Perhaps they were.

"That means a lot to me, Dot. I can't tell you how much" Phryne said gently. "But if you change your mind I would understand" she explained, continuing to speak as Dot appeared ready to interject. "You may want this at the moment, but that might change when you have your own child" Phryne reasoned. "And if it does, Dot, that is absolutely fine" she assured her. Dot smiled.

"It won't change, Miss. I promise" Dot stated with conviction, her expression kind, her smile warm. "I'll help you, through everything" she assured her. "I know you're scared. But it's going to be alright" she said confidently. "We'll make sure of it." Phryne smiled gently in response.

"Yes, we will" she replied quietly. Dot smiled.

"How are you feeling?" she asked tentatively.

"Tired, nauseous, dizzy" Phryne sighed. "But very, very lucky." Dot smiled.

"Do you think you could drink something?" she asked, turning around and picking up a glass of lemonade, which she handed to Miss Phryne. "It'll help" she assured her. Phryne nodded slowly and accepted the glass, taking several sips which removed the foul aftertaste of bile and vomit from her mouth. The drink was cold and refreshing and she felt slightly better. "Can you eat?"

"Now that would be pushing it" Phryne replied sadly, her stomach clenching at the prospect. Dot considered her for a moment, noting her paleness, her slim physique, her tired eyes. She and Mr Butler both knew that she had lost her appetite recently, but they had put it down to nervousness about her relationship with the inspector, and their upcoming marriage. Miss Phryne needed to take care of herself and, when she found this difficult, she needed to be taken of. Dot made a mental note to make the necessary arrangements, which could wait until later in the afternoon, before slowly nodding.

"Alright" she said gently. "Why don't you get changed and try to get some sleep?" she said, rising from the bed and heading towards her wardrobe, where she selected one of Phryne's comfortable night dresses. Phryne smiled. Dot always knew when to take control. She was very lucky to have her, and she knew it. Just as she knew that she would not take advantage.

"Thank you, Dot" Phryne returned, rising from the bed and walking slowly towards her. She quickly shed her clothing and changed into the silk garment as requested, before heading back to her bed.

Dot pulled the covers aside and Phryne got in, lying down and hugging the pillow to her as Dot drew the covers back across her. Phryne listened as Dot walked around the bed and towards the bedside table, where she turned on the light, before heading towards the door and turning off the large light.

"I'll be back in a moment, Miss" Dot promised.

"Thank you" Phryne said sincerely, smiling gently at her companion, her tired eyes already closing.

By the time Dot reached the top of the staircase Phryne Fisher was already fast asleep.

When Phryne awoke a couple of hours later, the light on the bedside table was still on, but the rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. Phryne tiredly pushed herself into a sitting position and reached for her glass, finding that she was incredibly thirsty. She drank the majority of the contents before she could stop herself, and turned towards the bright yellow light on the other side of the bed, which danced upon some needlework which rested on the table. Phryne smiled. Dot had been with her. Phryne exhaled deeply and allowed the events of the day to catch up with her, including her confiding in her companion about her condition. Dot had asked considerably less questions than she had anticipated, for a friend and for a Catholic, and Phryne found herself feeling almost relieved. For now, at least. She knew that the questions would be coming, but she was grateful that she didn't have to answer them all at once. Dot had taken the news remarkably well and had immediately set about finding a way to help Phryne and her child, whilst maintaining her lifestyle with Hugh. Phryne was both grateful and humbled by her generosity, but decided that she would ensure she did not take advantage of her companion. As she pondered this, Phryne sat perfectly still for a couple of minutes, listening to the sounds of horse-drawn carts on the roads, children playing in the streets and waves crashing on the foreshore. Life, as it always did, continued in the midst of even the greatest and most terrifying of change. And so would she.

Phryne drew the covers aside and stepped onto the ground, before walking slowly over to her wardrobe and selecting a white cotton dress and a matching pair of heels. She changed quickly, ignoring her nausea and the dizziness she was currently experiencing, as she straightened her dress and headed towards her dressing table. She drew the curtains, which flooded the room with light, as she looked at the pale and scarcely recognisable person before her in the mirror, and quickly reapplied her make-up, feeling considerably more human afterwards. She inhaled deeply, put the lid on her lipstick and rose from her seat, walking confidently across the room and into the hallway.

Phryne held onto the bannister as she descended the staircase, her eyes drifting around the familiar and comforting sight of her home. As she reached the final step Dot, who had been on the telephone, walked towards her.

"Hello, Miss" she said pleasantly. "How are you feeling?" Phryne considered the question.

"Better. Thank you, Dot" she responded with a gentle smile. She felt embarrassed and slightly anxious about their earlier conversation, but Dot seemed calm and perfectly content. In fact, she almost seemed happy. "Thank you for everything" Phryne added sincerely.

"You're welcome, Miss" she replied with a smile. Phryne returned it. "Are you hungry, Miss?"

"Yes" she replied immediately. Although she felt nauseous and her head was spinning, she was yearning for something to eat. Her body felt so weak and so depleted that she could scarcely stand.

"How about some cucumber sandwiches, Miss?" Dot suggested. The sandwiches would be plain enough, so hopefully Miss Phryne would be able to stomach them. Phryne considered the suggestion and nodded.

"That would be wonderful, thank you, Dot" she replied. Dot nodded and watched as Phryne walked towards the table beside the coat stand and collected her post, sifting through it with interest. She turned on the spot and looked into her companion's eyes. "I'll be in the garden if you need me" she said gently, clutching the post and walking through the dining room. Dot smiled.

Phryne spent the next thirty minutes in the garden, leafing through her correspondence and separating it into piles. She skimmed the bills, read through the instructions from potential new clients with interests, and considered the four invitations for events she had received for the coming month alone. She was reading the second of these when Dot emerged with a tray of sandwiches, fruit and fresh lemonade.

"Thank you, Dot" Phryne smiled, picking up a sandwich and tentatively taking a bite. And then another. And another. Dot smiled.

"Oh, your aunt called for you, Miss" she explained. Phryne sighed and took a final bite of the sandwich, before picking up a glass of lemonade and taking a few sips. She was absolutely famished but she knew she had to pace herself. Regrettably. "She wanted to discuss wedding plans with you" she added, her voice tinged with excitement. Phryne nodded.

"I'll call her this evening" Phryne responded, drawing the glass to her lips. "Or perhaps tomorrow." Dot smiled.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Miss?" Dot asked kindly. Phryne looked at her warmly and shook her head.

"Just your company" she replied amiably. Dot smiled.

"Of course, Miss" she replied, watching as Phryne poured her a glass of lemonade and offered her the sandwiches. Phryne placed her own glass back on the table, leaned back in her chair, and allowed the warm afternoon sun to bathe her skin in warmth.

Phryne opened her eyes a short while later, and found herself conscious of time passing, despite the temperature and light being very much the same. As she came back fully into consciousness, she glanced towards the space Dot had previously occupied and found herself hosting a new guest. He was watching her with a gentle expression, his eyes brimming with adoration, as he sat comfortably in the seat opposite her. She smiled tiredly.

"Hello, Jack" she said pleasantly. "You're back early." Jack smiled.

"We solved the case, Miss Fisher" he explained. "Or rather, you solved the case." Phryne smiled.

"So it was Mr Leighton" she said. "I knew it."

"You did" Jack agreed, smiling warmly upon her. Phryne seemed notably less pale, more content, and she had, according to her companion, eaten. Jack felt relieved. They watched each other in comfortable silence for several moments, before Phryne turned slowly towards Jack and met his gaze.

"I told Dot about the baby" she said suddenly. Jack nodded in response and looked at her with a kind and reassuring expression.

"Good" he replied sincerely. "I'm glad that you confided in her" he added. He had been wondering about how much longer Phryne would be able to conceal the news from Dot who, despite being married to Hugh and spending less time at the house, was very observant and loved Phryne dearly. It wouldn't take her long to notice. Jack was also concerned that Phryne was keeping her concerns to herself and not feeling able or ready to address them; although he hoped she knew she could confide in him about anything, he realised that there were certain matters she would not feel comfortable doing so. The more of the people she cared about who knew, the more supported she would be, the more able she would feel about opening up. He smiled gently at her as her nervous expression changed into one of relief and happiness. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently. Phryne smiled softly at him, subconsciously wondering how many times she had heard that question recently.

"Better, thank you" she replied sincerely. Jack nodded.

"Mr Butler is making your favourite pasta dish" Jack responded. Phryne's mouth watered at the prospect. "Do you feel up for a short walk on the beach before dinner?" he asked tentatively. Phryne smiled.

"Always, Jack."