Good afternoon. Before you get stuck into the last chapter, a quick thank you to everybody involved. The lovely SetV, who talked me out of a darker version of this fic and has been along for the ride as both my alpha reader and the little voice in my head. To the islanders, particularly Hismissus, 221A_brina and Suzilynn - you know what you've done! And to everybody who followed this fic or even left me a comment (or 10). Thank you! Now, lets get on with it.

X

If the seven thugs had been scary, the group of heavily armed men now pouring into the church was utterly terrifying. Phryne could hear the suppressed gasps and screams from the people still scattered trough the benches. She couldn't fault them, there must have been at least 20 mobsters. But to her surprise, the thugs, who were so close now that she could make out the hair in their nostrils, seemed not glad to see their fellow men.

The leader swivelled on his feet as soon as the door opened and threw up his weapon.

"Strano!" he said, sarcasm dripping of his voice. "How lovely of you to join us. You're a little late for your daughter's wedding, no?"

The second group spat Antonio Strano to the front, looking mightily enraged.

"Bastardo, you dare interrupt her marriage?!"

"I guess he wasn't our man after all," Phryne whispered towards Jack, who was looking over her shoulder, too close for comfort and yet not quite close enough.

"Very observant, Miss Fisher," he mumbled back with a small smile.

Nobody paid any mind to them.

"You will pay for this, Verdi," Papa Antonio spat. "And if you touched one hair on my Concetta's head I cut you personally into small pieces for the rats."

Stefano Verdi laughed at this heartily, with a fake edge that wasn't missed by the lady detective crouching only two metres from him. Hectic whispers between two others blew over to their hiding place. The thugs were scared. They were trapped and outnumbered. But, staring at the weapons still raised in their vague direction by Strano's men, they weren't the only ones who wouldn't leave this church alive if the two groups of mobsters began a shoot-out.

"Look at you, old man. So very worried about your children. And they hate you for it," Verdi taunted.

Strano pressed his lips together in a bid to hold onto some calmness.

"Concetta? Vincenzo?" he called. The siblings rose from behind the pulpit.

"We are fine, Papa," Concetta called. "Be careful!"

Then everything happened really quickly. Jack sensed it more than saw it, one of Verdi's men ripped his gun around to fire at the pulpit. With a cry Jack sprang to his feet and did the only thing his empty revolver was good for. He hurled it at the attacker. A salve of shoots buried itself into the church wall. Miss Fisher used the chaos for her own agenda. 26 guns were ripped up, ready to turn the church into a Swiss cheese, then the simple cocking of a small golden pistol sounded through the resulting silence.

"Drop your weapons, or I'll put a hole into his head," Phryne said coldly. Verdi's smile froze as the cool metal pressed against the back of his skull. The rest of his men seemed also less eager to proceed.

"Miss Fisher, of course!" Strano called, with a strange sort of fond anger.

Papa Antonio. You made it just in time," she called back. Phryne wouldn't admit it to herself, but her hands were trembling. If Strano chose to get rid of her along with everybody else, he certainly had the means to.

"Come on then, gentlemen," she urged, when the other thugs still stood, uncertain what to do.

"Please, no," a voice begged. Jack started, as he noted that Concetta's niece had crawled out of her hiding place. Now Sophie was walking towards the altar with her palms raised. "Please, do not shoot him."

That certainly explained a lot.

"It's entirely up to him," Miss Fisher said, then added quieter: "What will it be?"

"You can have no bullets left," Verdi brought out between gritted teeth. Phryne smiled grimly.

"Are you willing to bet your life on it?"

Breathless silence fell. Then, with a jerky nod to his men, six riffles and a collection of smaller firearms hit the church floor. Within seconds they were surrounded by Strano's men. When Phryne turned, exhaustion beginning to settle in as the tension flowed away, she watched Concetta fling herself into Jack's arms and kiss him. Oh, God. She'd forgotten. But only moment later the bride peeled herself away from her groom.

"Where's Alessandro Bricelli?" she asked the surrounding men.

"Concetta," Strano asked, opening his arms. She hesitated for the briefest of moments, then hugged him tightly to herself. "Grazie," she whispered, just barely audible for everybody else.

"Will you come for dinner tonight, with your brother?" Strano asked quietly. "And your husband, if you must?" He glanced at Jack in a mixture of annoyance and resignation. She nodded.

"Si. But now I must find Sandro. He is hurt."

"I am here," a voice said behind her. There Alessandro Bricelli stood, a woman's handkerchief wrapped around the wound on his arm, with a tiny D.W. embroidered into the corner. It seemed vaguely familiar to Miss Fisher.

"Is it very bad?" Concetta asked, carefully touching the make-shift bandage with her fingertips. Alessandro sucked a sharp breath through his teeth.

"No, not so bad," he lied.

Miss Fisher watched the pair with mixed feelings. Cec hurried towards her through the thick crowd.

"We're gonna cart the injured fellow to the hospital, Miss," he said. "He's still breathing, but not much longer if I'm any judge."

"Thank you, Cec," she said, smiling thinly. At least Bert might not have killed a man today after all, so that was one upside.

She felt Jack's presence beside her.

"And there I think we have the answer as to how Verdi found out," Miss Fisher said quietly, as she saw Sophie Strano throwing herself sobbing at the bound man's chest. "Thwarted love."

"It tends to clouds the best men's judgment," the Inspector said quietly, then added with a glance: "And best women's."

"Is that so, Jack?" Phryne asked quietly, then realised that his attention had shifted.

"Strano," he called after the padrino as his men prepared to escort a very angry Verdi from the church. "I expect he will be turned in at City South Police Station? I wouldn't want to fish him from the Yarra in the morning."

Strano turned.

"Do not worry, he will be in your cells in the morning. Io prometto. And he will sign a confession that he tried to ruin my business by mixing my cocaine with poison, too."

"And one for Marco Bricelli's murder?" the Inspector asked, smiling.

"Si."

Antonio Strano doffed his hat and left the church along with his men and their prisoners. Dishevelled guests finally dared clamber from between the benches, dusting themselves off. Chatter sat in, covering the quiet conversation near the altar.

"It seems a little easy, doesn't it?" Miss Fisher stated carefully.

"Don't worry, he will expect some compensation."

"Maybe a little blindness in regards to his moonlighting as a pharmacist?" Phryne asked, tilting her head. Jack grinned.

"If it gets Verdi behind bars, I might consider a touch of blurred vision, Miss Fisher," he said.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment.

"I hope your love is worth the complications," Phryne said, indicating Concetta, who was currently re-bandaging Alessandro's wound. Miss Fisher didn't receive an answer. When she looked up, she realised that Jack's mood had palpably shifted. He grasped her hand, holding it in his and for a moment he seemed unable to speak.

"I am such a fool, Miss Fisher," she finally ground out, his eyes dark and intense on her, as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Her heart sped up, but she didn't allow herself to show what she felt.

"Admittedly the decision to marry into the Camorra was not your brightest hour," she smiled.

The pressure around her fingers tightened as he struggled with himself.

"That is not what I meant," he whispered.

"Now that we have sorted this slight mishap, save a few bullet holes to my church," Father Lorenzo interrupted their conversation, his voice upbeat, if still shaky. "Shall we continue the ceremony?"

Jack shared a look with his bride, who had blood on her fingers. Dorothy Williams stood behind her, ready to help her clean up whenever she could tear herself away.

"There is still time to elope," Phryne smiled beside him.

Jack dropped his eyes.

"To abandon a bride at the altar would be beyond anything that can be forgiven," he whispered. Phryne stubbornly held onto his hand.

"You are an honourable man, Jack. But sometimes we need to do what is unpleasant to do what is right," she echoed earlier words.

"And what is right, Phryne?" he asked, desperation colouring his voice.

She didn't get to answer. Concetta approached, pointedly took his hand and led him away from Miss Fisher. But when Father Lorenzo attempted to steer them towards the altar, she waved him away.

"I love you, Gianni," Concetta began, clutching his hands in an iron grasp, "Very much. But I do not wish to be a compromise."

He opened his mouth to answer, but she shushed him with the tip of her finger.

"A woman once told me it is impossible to know a man's heart… I do not believe it to be true. I know your heart, Gianni. It took me a long time, but I do now."

Frantic whispers rose around the couple as their audience caught on. Miss Fisher felt Dot slip beside her, touch her arm as if to reassure her.
"I'm so sorry," Jack said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Do not worry yourself." Concetta glanced at Alessandro, who watched the exchange with tears in his eyes. "I believe I will be fine." She leaned in, brushing a kiss to the Inspector's cheek. Phryne could see her whispering something into his ear, but she couldn't make out the words. It was just as well. Miss Fisher stood, stunned, as Concetta released her groom, left the church on Alessandro's arm with a last look at her thwarted groom. Other confused wedding guests followed them.

Jack was a free man!

Miss Fisher felt faint, like her knees would give way at any moment.

"Miss," Dorothy asked beside her. "Shall we go home?"

"Will you wait in the car for me, please," Phryne said quietly. Dot left with a worried look at the Inspector who still stood at the altar, alone in the world. Miss Fisher approached carefully, her hand gently brushing his back as to not startle him.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said. He looked like he wasn't sure what to think or feel.

"Would you mind if I say I don't believe you?" he asked. She smiled.

"I am sorry that you will not have your quiet house in the countryside and a wife who will cook for you," she said. "As I can provide neither."

She wasn't wholly able to keep the bitterness from her voice. What she truly wanted to say, however, remained unspoken.

The Inspector tore his eyes from whatever sphere he had been staring into and finally looked at her.

"Concetta is right on one account," he said with a smile. "It is impossible to know a man's heart entirely. Even for you, Miss Fisher."

"Is that so, Jack?" she asked, moving a little closer. He looked down at her, with eyes full of warmth and love and her heart made a somersault in her chest. Maybe the wounds would take a little while to heal, but they would. There was no doubt about it.

"Absolutely, Miss Fisher."

"So," she said, a cheeky thought flashing through her mind, "if I'd point out that we are alone in a church with a priest and a lot of flowers, you wouldn't be tempted?" She grinned. The Inspectors warm arm snaked around her, pulling her in. His heat bled through the many layers separating them, making her want to purr with delight.

"I'm tempted by many things," Jack said, his lips now so close that she could feel his warm breath brushing over her face. "But matrimony is currently not one of them."

"That's good to know," Miss Fisher smiled. Her heart beat fluttered against her ribcage as she realised he wasn't backing down. Jack's eyes flickered to her lips, then back up. His pupils where huge from this angle, almost turning his irises black.

"Thank you," he breathed.

"For?"

"Rescuing me."

Jack didn't give her any chance to contemplate his meaning further. His lips were on hers, soft and sweet and oh, so very hot. Sparks danced along her spine, his palms leaving burning trails on her dress wherever they touched. Phryne pulled him closer, deepened the kiss, in desperate need to feel him, breathe him in. His warm hands told her that he wasn't going anywhere at all, and she moaned into his mouth as they reached her hips with intent...

A loud cough broke them apart and they breathlessly resurfaced, stared at each other, then in unison turned their heads to where Father Lorenzo was mopping the blood off the floorboards before his morning mass.

"May I recommend some privacy?" the young priest asked, without looking up from his task. A deep flush spread over the Inspector's neck, already creeping up to his cheeks, but Phryne took his hand firmly into hers, not allowing him to slip away yet again.
"That is an excellent idea," she simpered, pulling her Inspector after herself down the aisle and out into the bright Melbourne morning. Just before the door fell shut, she could hear the priest return to his work, whistling a small melody.