Jack was taking charge. Ordinarily she would have resisted, as much for the fun of seeing him flustered as for any specific objection, but today she was glad. She had fought long and hard for her independence and clung to it ferociously, but right now she had to concede that she was at the end of her resources. Had her would-be killers appeared in front of her at that moment, in all probability she would have done no more than blink stupidly at them while they put a bullet between her eyes.

So she let Jack wrap her in his trenchcoat and lead her back out through the station.

"Sir?" She heard Collins' voice, but kept her head down. He would recognise her in an instant.

"Constable, I'm taking this woman to the hospital. I'm likely to be out for the rest of the day." No further explanation, and no hesitation. He simply led her out to the car and installed her in the passenger's seat. A wicked voice in the back of her head observed that it must be a novel experience for him to have her absolute co-operation for once.

She glanced at him as he positioned himself in the driver's seat, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't become too accustomed to my meek obedience," she remarked as he pulled out into the street.

He sighed in mock annoyance. "If there is one thing I've become entirely accustomed to with you, Miss Fisher, it's the realisation that I shouldn't become too accustomed to anything."

She smiled and opened the window, then leaned her head against the side of the car and closed her eyes. The motion of the vehicle was making her queasy, but the breeze was refreshingly cool on her face. Jack, however, objected at once.

"Phryne?" He reached across and jostled her leg until she looked at him. "You need to stay awake."

"Mmm," she murmured in reply, forcing her eyes to focus. He was right, she knew. She had a possible head injury, and had been out too long in the punishing heat of the summer without shelter or, crucially, water. The water she had drunk at the station would help, but she would need time to recover. Meanwhile, there was a thin line between healthful sleep and the unconsciousness that might spell death, and she was thankful for his efforts to steer her away from its edge.

Compared to the walk back to Melbourne, the drive to the Women's Hospital seemed to take no time at all. Jack pulled up outside and walked around to help her from the car. This time, it was not dizziness that made her stumble but the pain in her feet. Jack made a low sound of displeasure and, in one smooth motion, picked her up in his arms. She couldn't resist smiling at him.

"Why Inspector, how dashing and heroic."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have I ever told you you're heavier than you look?" Entering the hospital, he ignored the duty nurse as thoroughly as he had Collins and made a bee-line for Dr. Macmillan's consulting room, grateful that it wasn't far. Setting Phryne down, he rapped sharply on the door.

"I'm on my lunch-break," Mac called, and he turned the doorknob.

"Good, then you won't have any patients," he replied.

The doctor turned to him and sighed wearily. "Inspector, I am barely keeping it together. I can't face talking about her right now-"

"Can you face examining her?" he cut her off as Phryne removed her hat.

"What the- Phryne!" In an instant, Mac was embracing her old friend, but unlike Jack it took only a moment for her professionalism to reassert itself. Holding Phryne at arm's length she gave her a single, head-to-toe glance. "You look awful. Get your dress off, and let me examine you. You," she turned her attention to Jack, "can wait outside."

"I'd rather he stayed."

Mac gave her friend a meaningful look.

"I'd prefer to keep a low profile for the moment. Seeing one of my dearest friends standing guard outside my other dearest friend's door isn't likely to contribute much to that cause."

Jack opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking from Phryne's just-slightly-too-earnest expression to Mac's stony one. "I'll stand here and face the wall," he managed, retreating to the corner by the door.

He heard the rustle of fabric, and tried very hard to think of anything other than Phryne disrobing behind him.

"Hell's bells woman, what exactly did you do?"

"Jumped from a moving car, then walked I'm not sure exactly how many miles back to the city. Oh, and I spent the night under a bush."

"Have you ever considered taking up a less dangerous pastime? I hear tightrope walking is enjoyable. Focus on my finger, and track it with your eyes."

"I'll need a full report on Miss Fisher's injuries," Jack contributed from his corner. Mac's disapproving mutterings combined with Phryne's occasional hisses of pain were having a definite cooling effect on his ardour, and if he was going to make a case against the bastards who had tried to kill her then he'd need to know exactly what injuries she'd sustained.

The examination seemed to take forever, but at last Mac told Phryne that she could put her clothes back on. "Except your shoes and stockings: I want to soak those feet before I even try to do anything with them. And on that note, I'd better go and let the nurses know that I won't be seeing my next few patients."

Jack moved aside to let her out, and a moment later Phryne spoke from behind him. "You can turn around now, Jack."

She was cleaner and appeared slightly more alert, although she was still far too pale. She gave him a wan smile and held out her hand to him. After a moment's hesitation, he took it and sat next to her on the examining couch.

"Exactly how badly are you hurt?" he inquired, a question that he should perhaps have asked earlier.

She shrugged. "No broken bones. Possible concussion, although if it were serious I'd probably still be lying somewhere on the side of the road." She fingered the cut on her temple. "Sunburn and heat exhaustion, some rather nasty scrapes and bruises, and my feet are a mess."

He glanced down and winced. Obviously Mac hadn't worked that far down yet, and her feet were still caked with dried blood, blistered and raw from the unfamiliar shoes and the long walk. "Phryne..."

"Oh, don't look like that." She reached up and laid her hand briefly on his cheek. "A good night's sleep and I'll be well on the road to recovery, you'll see."

He didn't say anything, just reached up and cupped her cheek. He held her gaze for a long moment.

"I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who should be sorry. All the times I've pushed you away."

"You did what was right. You always do."

"I'm not a married man anymore. And I've loved you for a long time."

This time she didn't swoon as he kissed her, and it seemed as though time stood still as their lips moved tenderly together.

"Ahem." Mac cleared her throat in the doorway, loudly and meaningfully. "If you two want some privacy, I can recommend a discreet hotel a couple of blocks from here. Otherwise, I need to work on Phryne's feet."