After Jack excused himself to retreat to the library, Phryne read Squirrel a story; it was still not a preferred activity, but it allowed her to shut her mind off and focus on other things. She could practically see Jack's reservations, so carefully constructed around him, and had no idea what to do about them. When he had insisted that she be Anthony's mother, unconventional though she may approach it, she had not thought to demand the same from him. It would not do. Reaching the end of Snow White, Phryne looked down to find Anthony yawning.

"Naptime, Squirrel," she said. "We've had ever such a busy day, haven't we?"

"Bed, Mims. Bed," he agreed.

Phryne stood and picked him up, carrying him towards the nursery. She paused before the library door but heard nothing, so continued on. In the room she removed his tie and jacket, telling him all about what would soon be his new bedroom. Then she tucked Anthony in, making sure he had Cleopatra, and sat for a minute just to watch him—his eyes screwed up tight, giggly fake snores, a smudge of dirt on his nose that seemed to have appeared spontaneously—and felt a ridiculous swell of love. He was theirs. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, he was theirs. It was not a possessive thought—Phryne remembered all too well how such a sense of ownership had been the catalyst to his arrival—merely a comforting one. He belonged with them, not to them. She leant over, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then stroked his hair.

"I am a very lucky Mims," she said. "And you are a very lucky Squirrel."

When he began to drift off, she retreated to the parlour—stopping at the library door once more, but not knocking—and picked up a book. Jack came in an hour later; Phryne looked up to find his eyes were red, as if he'd been crying, and resisted the impulse to leap to her feet and demand answers.

"Where's the boy?" he asked, and by his voice he'd definitely been crying.

"Asleep," replied Phryne. "It's been a long day for everyone."

He nodded, coming to sit beside her on the chaise. She laid her hand on his knee, and his hand stretched out to catch it.

"We have a son," he said quietly.

"We do," she confirmed, biting her tongue before she let slip a teasing comment; It's a little late to take him back now came to mind.

"How?"

"Well, Jack, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, sometimes they go to crime scenes—"

He barked a laugh.

"Be serious, Phryne," he scolded, smiling.

"I have no intention of being serious. This is quite possibly the most ridiculous, terrifying, foolish thing I've ever done, and if I don't keep my sense of humour I'm liable to lose my mind."

"This isn't even the most ridiculous, terrifying, foolish thing you've done this week," he countered, even though she'd been shockingly sedate as of late; somehow she did not imagine the courts looking kindly on an applicant showing up with a new arrest record. "But please, please keep your sense of humour. Because this is madness."

"It is, yes."

"We're parents. We're married."

"That's not a problem, is it?" she asked; she found she suddenly had no desire to tease him on the matter.

"No! No… no, this is…"

She cast a glance at his face, noticing the tears in his eyes.

"Unexpected?" she offered.

"Very."

"But not unwelcome."

"No," he said, smiling. "Not unwelcome in the least."

When Anthony woke from his nap, Jack offered to take him for a walk. He had Rosie's letter to post—he was not completely satisfied by what he had ultimately written, but it would have to suffice for now—and a long walk seemed like just the thing to clear his head.

"I'd join you, but Mac is stopping by for a drink. Wants to hear how today went, understandably. But I can—"

"Don't you dare cancel," he smiled. "We'll have dinner out and leave you two in peace."

She squeezed his hand.

"You're alright?"

"It's… a lot," he admitted, glancing to where Ant was playing with Cleopatra, still in half his suit. "But yes, I'm alright. You?"

"I'll be much better after a cocktail," she laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "And, perhaps, a bottle of champagne and some very thorough celebrations tonight?"

"I'll run him ragged to make sure he sleeps," Jack replied with a smirk, grateful that some things were a constant. "Ant, go fetch your shoes please."

He took his son for a slow stroll down The Esplanade, stopping briefly to post Jack's letter to Rosie, and ended up at Luna Park. Ant's eyes opened wide at the giant clown marking the entrance, gripping Jack's hand harder. Jack picked him up, adjusting his hat.

"It's fine, lad. We don't have to go in if you don't want to, but I think there's ice cream."

Ant's eyes lit up.

"Ice?"

"I thought that might sell it," Jack laughed.

They spent the next several hours at the park, eating and exploring and going on some of the smaller rides. Ant adored the carousel, dragging Jack back to it time after time and selecting the same horse—an enormous grey one with gilded armour that Jack thought looked particularly ridiculous—every time. Eventually the sun began to set and Anthony's energy flagged.

"Up? Up?" he asked, tugging on Jack's hand. Jack picked him up, and Ant cuddled into his shoulder contentedly. "Home Dack?"

"Home, Ant," confirmed Jack.

The boy was asleep by the time they left the park, one hand curled around Jack's neck. The walk home was much shorter without having to match toddler speeds, and soon enough Wardlow came into view. By coincidence Mac was just leaving, and their paths crossed at the front door.

"He looks comfortable," she commented, nodding to the sleeping child.

"Yes, unfortunately my shoulder disagrees," laughed Jack, then sobered slightly. "Is Phryne…?"

"Relieved," the doctor said with a sly smile. "Though I'll deny I ever said as much. I never thought I'd say this, but it suits her."

"She's a remarkable woman."

Mac gave him a slightly fond look, which in his experience always meant trouble.

"She is. And she's found her equal in you, god help us all," Mac said with a dryness that could only mean she was covering some deeper emotion. "Congratulations, inspector."

And with that she nodded and headed down the stairs. Jack stepped inside and nodded to Phryne in the parlour, then carried Ant through to bed. The boy protested sleepily as Jack shifted him onto the mattress.

"O, hush thee, my babie," Jack recited quietly, the lullaby coming almost by rote.

It had always been Jack's favourite, as a child, a song that meant warmth and home and the sweet smells of his mother's baking. And now he was singing it to his own child in the most unlikely of circumstances. There were so many opportunities stretched before them, silly ones and important ones both, and the tears came once more as he finished the song. Blinking them back, he brushed the hair from Anthony's forehead and kissed him.

"Love you, my boy," he said quietly.

Then he stood and headed back to the parlour, where Phryne was waiting with a salacious smile.

"Hello, Jack," she said, sashaying over to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him thoroughly. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

"Not at all, love. I believe I was promised champagne?"

Phryne laughed and moved away to grab the bottle.

The next few weeks were taken up by the mundanities of decorating Anthony's room and making various legal and logistical arrangements—setting up a trust and guardianship if they were to both die before he reached eighteen, for starters—but in mid-February they decided to spend a week on Queenscliff. Jane and Ivy intended to join them Friday evening, so Phryne left them the Hispano and—after some spirited debate about whether or not they would need a second car—took the train instead.

Anthony stood on the platform, clapping his hands as the train pulled into the station.

"Choo! Choo! Mims! Dack! Look! Choo!"

Phryne winced internally, but smiled at him nonetheless. He seemed to have found his voice, constantly talking about things he had once regarded warily; it was a positive development, though far noisier than she had expected. It was not loud, however, so she reassured herself that it could be worse and fervently hoped it wouldn't become so.

"Wishing we'd caught the same train as Mr. Butler?" Jack asked quietly behind her; the man in question had gone ahead to complete shopping and set up the holiday cottage.

"It would have been simpler," Phryne replied with a smile. "Who knew that man was an expert on steam engines?"

"The list of topics he has not mastered is by far the shorter one."

Thankfully their journey was uneventful—Squirrel spent much of the time watching the scenery from the window, chattering about all the things they passed—and they arrived in the popular holiday destination just after noon. Just enough time to purchase some fish and chips and eat on the beach; Anthony ate about three bites before getting absorbed in playing with the sand.

"No bodies beneath the pier this time," Jack remarked quietly, and Phryne choked on her chip.

"I still do not know why I didn't kiss you during that case."

"You only wanted me for my numismatic knowledge," he pointed out dryly.

She nudged his shoulder affectionately and grabbed another chip. "Your skills in the water didn't go amiss either."

"I believe it was Collins that found the dagger."

"Believe me, that dagger was entirely incidental in my mind," she laughed. "On that note, I packed you a new swimming costume."

"You never pack."

"Fine," she huffed. "I had Dot pack you a new swimming costume. One of those new styles from Paris."

"How can there possibly be new styles of swimwear? It's swimwear."

She put on her most beguiling face. "Well, these come with removable tops—"

"Oh no."

"-and I left the top at home?"

"You didn't."

She sighed. "I packed your old one as well."

"Thank you. If I get arrested for public indecency, I'd rather it be for something more interesting than swimming in my underwear."

"I'll hold you to that, Jack."

"I'm relying on it."

After their meal they headed towards the holiday cottage to gather swimwear, but were back at the beach by mid-afternoon. Anthony took to declaring "Yohoho" and holding his fist up to his eye like a telescope; when Phryne shot Jack a look, wondering if he'd put the boy up to it, he shrugged.

"I think he overheard some girls by the ice cream stand talking about Bonito the pirate. I have no idea where he learnt that's what a pirate says," he said, grinning rather impishly, "but I have no intention of stopping it."

Then he picked Anthony up and carried him to the water, mumbling something to the boy about peglegs and silver. Phryne reclined back on the blanket and watch the two of them frolicking in the shallow water with a smile. Eventually, Jack looked up and waved.

"Joining us, Miss Fisher?"

"Absolutely not. Consider me the British Navy," Phryne called back with a laugh. "Best if you avoid me entirely or I'll have to charge you both with piracy."

The sun and water left Phryne feeling both languid and alive, and she was very thankful they'd decided to go away. The change of scenery with familiar faces seemed to assure Anthony as well, an unexpected benefit. So the week was spent on the beach during the day—and one particularly memorable night, when Phryne and Jack left the boy with Ivy and Jane under a pretense so flimsy Phryne wasn't entirely sure why they bothered—and at the cottage in the evening, playing games and reading.

In order to focus on the changes in their lives and find an acceptable balance, Phryne had taken a temporary reduction on her caseload. It was not without difficulties—it turned out neither of them had patience for activities that involved hordes of children, but Ivy had younger siblings and enjoyed taking Ant out, as did Mrs. Collins—but was a relaxed transition overall.

By the end of their Queenscliff holiday, Phryne was itching to take on a truly challenging case. Desperate, even. She found it three days after their return to Melbourne, a young woman who had disappeared on her way home from work. The police investigating were less than forthcoming, a fact she bemoaned over dinner that evening.

"I mean, really, Jack, it's clear Annabel's never done a thing like this before but Sergeant Rowntree refuses to even consider it as anything but a runaway case."

Jack made a noncommittal noise—wordlessly indicating that he didn't know Rowntree, even by reputation, and he was not speculating about another officer's competence—and continued to eat. Undeterred, Phryne talked over the case, ending with a lament that it was much more pleasant when she worked with City South.

"I am not telephoning City North to find out what's going on," Jack said mildly. "I'd likely not have a job to go back to if I did."

"Oh, the problem is that there isn't anything going on," Phryne huffed. "That would imply they expended the effort to investigate in the first place. "

Jack sighed and offered his unofficial assistance on the case, citing perpetual boredom and a sneaking suspicion he'd have to keep Phryne out of trouble. She wrinkled her nose at him in mock irritation—they both knew he had no such power—and he smirked.

"And perhaps I'll enjoy this private detective business so much I'll resign from the police force and set up my own," he teased.

"That's good, because don't think for one minute I'd take you on as partner," was Phryne's tart reply.

In the end, he decided that he absolutely loathed the private detection side of things—the police force was far from perfect, but there were rules and regulations and authority associated with the position, and that suited him just fine—but they did retrieve the young woman from where she was being held by coercion, so not a poor result. They even made it home in time for bedtime stories, much to Phryne's amusement and Jack's consternation.

"And if you're very good indeed, Squirrel, dad might take you to the carousel tomorrow," she said, winking as she swanned out of the room.

Impossible woman.

Anthony continued to thrive, and eventually they were able to mention his mother without causing him extreme distress. Phryne would show him the book of anecdotes and photographs she had compiled during her investigation, determined that he would not forget the woman entirely. By late March he had gained enough confidence that Phryne and Jack were able to leave him with Mairi and take their deferred night away. They left later in the day than they otherwise would have, to reduce the amount of time they were gone, but it was a welcome break.

The cottage was in the middle of nowhere, and Phryne smiled victoriously when she saw it.

"Whatever will we do with ourselves?" she asked coquettishly. "All alone, newly arrived. Anything could happen."

"I was thinking that I could read a novel in peace and sleep until nine," Jack replied, and she laughed.

"Oh, that sounds heavenly. And a very long bath."

"I'll eat my dinner without first checking that he has."

"I'll wear my favourite blouse without worrying about grubby hands."

"I'll get you out of your favourite blouse without worrying about interruptions."

"That might be my favourite one yet," Phryne said, springing from the car and trotting towards the little cottage. She tossed a salacious look over her shoulder. "Are you coming Jack?"

The answering lust in his eyes made her laugh, loud and long.

"Give it time, Miss Fisher," was his growled reply.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she smirked.

"You know, I think you might be all talk," she teased, raising an eyebrow in consideration.

"I most certainly am not."

She turned to face him, raking her eyes over his body with clear intent.

"Prove me wrong, Jack Robinson."

He closed the distance between them with long, sure strides, and caught her around the waist. Pulling her in for a kiss, he trailed his hands lower, coming to rest on the back of her thighs; she hummed, wrapping her arms securely around his neck, and jumped up. He caught her—he always caught her, somehow—supporting her weight as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and stumbled through the front door and into the bedroom, kissing the entire way.

Once inside the boudoir—a very quick glance told Phryne it was rustic but serviceable before he attention was caught once more by the man before her—they both shed their clothes as they laughed. Naked, Phryne reclined on the bed and met Jack's eyes as she touched herself; his pupils grew wider and he moved forward, nudging her legs apart so he could fit between her thighs but not entering her.

He paused then, looking at her with such tenderness.

"If I could live the rest of my life in this moment," he said, reaching out to trail his hand from her shoulder, across her breast as she moaned, past the smooth expanse of her stomach, then into her curls, "If I could, I would be a very happy man."

He stroked her and she gave a groan of frustration, torn between conceding victory so early and teasing him more; she never backed down from a challenge.

"I'll just forego the rest of it then, shall I?" she taunted, moving her hips against him. "The whiskey, and the discussions, and the feel of you so deep inside me I forget to breathe?"

His smile was so small and knowing she grew wetter at the sight.

"It would be a shame to miss those, I suppose."

"Damn right it would. Now come here and I'll make you a very, very happy man."

In the afterglow, she pressed a series of small kisses along his jawline, coming to rest against his lips.

"Hello, Jack," she whispered, and he smiled against her mouth, eyes closed.

"Hello Phryne," he replied, moving a hand to her hip. She shifted, laying her head against his chest and her fingers across his stomach. They stayed like that for a moment, neither needing nor wanting anything else.

"You seem happier," she said tentatively, after some indeterminate time.

"Well, I did just—"

"No," she interjected quietly. "That's not what I meant. You just seem… happier."

She didn't quite have the words to explain; the changes in their life sat well on his shoulders, though there was no one detail she could identify. Thankfully he understood.

"Not happier," he corrected. "But I think, perhaps, my staid soul is more at ease with this happiness. I am, despite my best efforts, far too traditional." Dear, dear Jack.

"You are far more modern than you give yourself credit for, darling. And when you aren't, it's a rather nice balance to my shockingly modern ways."

He laughed, snaking his hands to rest against her back and hold her close.

"You know, I rather approve of your modern ways."

Eventually, it was time for Jack to return to work. Not that he had stayed away from the station entirely during his leave—it was not the sort of job that you could leave entirely, at least not with as little notice as he had given—but there was a difference in knowing that he was scheduled and committed for the full length of a shift.

Phryne grumbled as he slipped out of bed that morning, and he chuckled and kissed the top of her head in apology. He bathed and shaved, getting half-dressed before entering Ant's room with the intention of bringing the boy to the kitchen for breakfast. He was still asleep though, so Jack quietly retreated and headed downstairs; once in the kitchen he took the cup of coffee from Mr. Butler gratefully and opened the morning newspaper.

He was halfway through his meal when he heard the familiar footsteps of his son, and Jack shifted the paper so there was room at the table beside him. Ant scrambled on to the chair and waited for Mr. Butler's attention before requesting toast and marmalade for breakfast; Jack turned to him and smiled.

"Morning, Ant," he said.

The boy mumbled a greeting around his mouthful of toast, as he did every morning. It had become part of the routine; one of these days Jack would actually remember to speak before the food was laid in front of a hungry toddler. The fact that he would have a chance to do so still amazed him.

After breakfast, Jack headed upstairs to finish dressing; when he came back down Anthony was in the hall.

"Dad!" he shouted, then began to run around Jack's legs as he chanted. "Dad, dad, dad…"

He stumbled and giggled, and Jack picked him up before he fell.

"Are you dizzy, Ant?" he asked. "That's a very silly sort of thing to do."

"Me do!" he replied, nodding adamantly and laughing again. "Dad do? You do?"

"Dad has to go to work today, I'm afraid. You'll have such a lovely time while I am gone though."

Anthony's brow furrowed slightly, considering the words.

"No go. Dad back? Dad back yes?" he asked, clearly worried.

"Of course. I'll be home for dinner, alright?" Jack said, then heard a familiar voice coming from the kitchen. "I think Nanny Mairi has arrived; she's come to visit this week. I hear she might even take you to the zoo to see the elephants."

"Da zoo?" Anthony asked hopefully.

"The zoo," Jack confirmed. "So give dad a hug and I'll see you after. I want to hear all about the elephants."

Ant's bottom lip began to tremble—he'd recently discovered that it resulted in perfect strangers on the street fawning over him, and deployed it often—but he gave Jack a hug and kiss, then trotted off to the kitchen. Jack watched him go, both relieved to be back at the station and slightly disappointed.

"He'll be here when you get home," came a dry voice from the stairs.

He looked up to find Phryne watching him, still half asleep but clearly amused.

"You didn't have to get up," he said.

"I did. I have appointments around town most of the day."

"Ahh, and here I thought you were up to see me off."

She met him at the foot of the stairs, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling coyly.

"The thought did cross my mind," she said. "Before I discarded it. But if you were to, perhaps, convince me of the merits of early rising, I could consider it. For the future."

He kissed her, slow and sweet, then trailed his fingers from her hair down to rest on the edge of her robe.

"My mother's here," he said huskily. "But I could always try again tomorrow."

"You do that, inspector. I think you may be onto something."

He kissed her cheek and said goodbye, then grabbed his hat from the peg and headed out the front door.

"Jack!" she called out before he was down the path; he turned to find her in the doorway, looking sleepy and beguiling and so very much like home. "You forgot your briefcase."

She held the item up, smiling as she did so. He turned, mounted the stairs, and reached for the case.

"I think I deserve recompense," she laughed, pulling it away, "saving you from this disastrous calamity."

He kissed her again, snagging the item from her hand when she was distracted. She huffed playfully, then pushed him out the door and shut it behind him. He headed down the path once more, then drove to the station.

When he arrived, he was welcomed back by several of his men. He headed into his office—the locum DI would be by later in the day to bring him up to date with any outstanding issues—and began to go through the pile of paperwork on his desk. Eventually he stopped, needing to retrieve an item from his briefcase. He opened it, and smiled.

Someone—likely not Phryne herself, but on her behest—had framed the photograph Ivy had taken at the courthouse and left it in his briefcase. He chuckled; he looked utterly blindsided, Phryne looked relieved, Jane was smiling, and Ant was staring at Jack with a look of utter adoration. It was a wonderful photograph.

He placed the frame on his desk, looked at it in consideration, removed it. Too prominent a place given the manner of people he had coming through his office. He considered the mantelpiece, but couldn't see it from his desk; amongst his trophies on the safe, but that was both the previous problems combined; the wall, perhaps, unobtrusively placed? He sighed, opening the top drawer of the desk and placing it face up inside. Until he decided where to put it, the drawer—which he could open whenever the mood struck, but was not for public consumption—would suffice. Then he set to work on the paperwork before him.

Just before lunch there was a knock on the door, and Collins came in.

"There's been a report of a murder, sir," he said, giving the address. "An accountant's office, I believe."

And while he was very sorry for the poor sod that was dead, Jack could not help but feel a frisson of relief. He was back on the job he loved and excelled at.

"I'll be there in just a moment, Collins, if you'll bring the car around," he said, adding his signature to the form in front of him

Then he stood, grabbing his hat and coat, and looked around his office to ensure everything was in order. He debated whether to telephone Phryne, a sort of silent statement that things were much as they had always been; in the past he would have seen the scene before deciding though.

Hugh popped his head back into the office.

"Oh, and sir? Miss Fisher is the one who telephoned it in, so you may want to hurry."

Jack placed the hat on his head and smiled; Miss Fisher was in her element and all was right in the world.


Bar a short epilogue to go up tomorrow, this is the end of our tale! Thank you all again for your wonderful words.