Chapter 9: Thunderstorm And Lightning

Something strange had happened to the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, as she stood in her bedroom, holding the shirt of a dead man and looking at the one that held her heart, seemingly without knowing it. She had lost her ability to speak. Surely, she could have told him that it wasn't the way it looked, but then again that was the oldest excuse in the world and not something she was going to say to Jack. And why was she even feeling the need to explain herself to him, a hot tempered voice in her head asked. That turned out to be a rather simple question to answer. Jack Robinson was at the worst of times an upright man, even dishevelled, tired, angry, wounded or crying he had always held a certain look of pride. Right now he sat, kneading his hands on his lap, his eyes half closed, radiating agony. She wanted to comfort him, touch him, say the right words to soothe his pain away, but her legs wouldn't move. And her tongue still refused service. In uncomfortable silence she watched him pull himself up and turn his steps to the door without so much as looking at her.

"Goodnight, Miss Fisher."

Something in his voice broke the spell.

"He tried to kiss me."

Jack's hand froze on the way to the handle, but he didn't turn around.

"And knowing you, Miss Fisher, you struggled immensely." The Detective said after a second of silence, anger replacing the uncried tears in his tone.

"In fact I did, Jack." She stated coldly and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. She watched him spin around to face her, his eyes dark in a mixture of rage and surprise.

"I believe your coroner will find a distinctive bruise on his left shin in about the shape of my heel."

Phryne had to hide a smile, when she watched him open and close his mouth like a stranded fish. Jack licked his lips suddenly feeling very, very tired. Suspecting that Phryne might have been in someone else's arms last night had been hurtful, but the certainty he had experienced since finding Denier's shirt had turned out to be near unbearable. The conclusion that he might have been wrong held not as much relief as he'd hoped. Though of course, there was a chance that she could be lying. He felt drained and exhausted and still irrate. It didn't help, that she decided to just now get up and close the gap between them. When she reached out to touch him he flinched away.

"Why haven't you told me?" He heard himself ask, his voice rough and coloured with suppressed anger, staring into her eyes that started to fill with emotions of her own.

"Because I knew how you would react, Jack." Her blue eyes glittered dangerously up at him. "Because I do not need you to be a jealous lover right now. I need you to be Inspector Robinson, the smartest policeman in this city who can find the murderer of my friend's husband."

Her words vexed him beyond comprehension. How could she dare belittle his pain, manipulate him, lie to him? He leaned forward, annoyance clouding his face. She didn't back down one inch. Glittered back at him with so much rage that he almost, but not quite, managed to ignore the smell of her skin, the heat radiating from her body. His voice vibrated with anger.

"You do not get to choose who I am, Miss Fisher!"

She closed the last centimetres between them, now almost touching him as she answered in a quiet growl.

"Then maybe you should choose yourself to not be an ass."

They stared at each other, a quiet stand off. Jack could feel his stomach flip, his heart pound in his ears as a red heat spread through him, that might or might not have been rage. Then he reached out, grabbing her with more violence than he had ever shown her and pulling her hot body to his own, bringing his lips down onto hers. Whatever protest she might have uttered died in a wild, messy kiss made of clashing teeth and wrestling tongues. Phryne Fisher briefly wondered if she had ended up in a Penny Dreadful after all, before she ceased to think and pushed the Inspector hard against the wooden door in his back, starting to undo his shirt with trashing fingers that sent more buttons flying than they opened. The overwhelming urge to feel him close that had haunted her all day, broke through all her resolves, her anger and the unsaid things standing between them and made her press herself against all warm, soft skin that she could free from clothes in a hurry, while she latched onto his neck, tearing a desperate groan from his throat. The sound did nothing to calm her raging temper. Neither did his hands that roughly, but still with a gentleness that was Jack Robinson, ran over her back, or the feel of his responding body against her own, still separated by way too many layers. Her hands went to his belt buckle which seemed to wake Jack from whatever sphere he had been floating in, to realise that once again Phryne had taken the lead in this. In a sudden movement, he pushed himself away from the door and spun them, crashing her body against the wood. For a shocking, long second she looked at him in surprise, then she gave him a tiny smile that let him release the breath he was holding. Jack grabbed her wrists, pulling them over her head to get away from her restless fingers before kissing her again, running his lips down her chin and neck to the edge of her dress. When he nipped at the tender skin just above her breasts she moaned with closed eyes, pushing her hips against him. Jack took this as an invitation and bit gently into her shoulder, making her squirm under his searching hand. Just when he had resolved to just rip her dress at the seams, he found a button that miraculously undid the drapes and let them fall in an elegant heap to the floor. He let his eyes flicker down her now mostly exposed body before catching her gaze again, without releasing her arms. The lust in her hooded blue eyes threatened to overwhelm him. Panting, he reached out and ran a gentle hand down along her frame till he reached her breast. When the tip of his thumb brushed over her nipple, she gasped, arching her back. This caused his last defence to crumble. With a passion and possessiveness that he didn't know he held, he pressed her against himself trying to feel her as close as possible, crawl under her skin and let them melt together, so he could never lose her again. Phryne sensed the shift in Jack's mood from anger to desperation, felt his need to be with her, inside of her. Gently she manoeuvred them to the bed, without breaking the contact she so urgently needed herself, till his legs gave way under him and they crashed onto the sheets. That didn't seem to stop him, he dragged her on top of himself, grabbing her head and pulling her into another passionate kiss that took her breath away. With shaking hands she finally managed to open his belt, struggling him out of his pants while never releasing his lips. He looked into her eyes and holding her tightly to himself, flipped them once again. Phryne forgot to breath when he moved, clutching onto his back with all the desperation the day had brought. It wasn't gentle, or tender, or loving what they did but it was needed. And as they reached climax in not quite perfect harmony, their tensions melted away - At least for one ecstatic moment.

X

She awoke when he sat down at the edge of the bed to put his shoes on. It took only a fraction of a moment for Miss Fisher to realise what had happened. In the light of the passionate things they had done to each other, it surprised her even more to see the Inspector getting dressed in the middle of the night. She pulled herself into a half sitting position, modestly covering her chest with the sheet, even though he was the only one to see her.

"Jack, where are you going?"

He started.

"Home." He finally said simply.

"Do I go right in the assumption that you do not mean your bedroom down the hall?" Phryne asked, trying to hide her emotion. The moonlight fell onto the Inspectors serious face, highlighting the thoughtful crease between his brows.

"Im sorry. I need to go." He finally whispered. It wasn't good enough. Phryne choked the tears back, that threatened to give her away. So this was her punishment. Jack sensed her distress, but he knew he couldn't comfort her. It would have left him unable to do what needed to be done.

"I can't be living with a suspect in my case, Phryne." He tried to explain, getting up.

DI Robinson left the other reasons for his decision unsaid. His head was still spinning with all the experiences of the gone day, he needed time to sort through them. Jack had never considered himself a violent man, the thought to force himself upon a woman had never as much as occurred to him and yet, that was what he had almost done. Of course, Phryne hadn't exactly objected and deep in his heart the Inspector knew that his self-control would never have slipped enough to continue if she had as much as batted his hands away. But nevertheless he had lost control and he found himself scared as to how desperately he was attached to her. Her alarmed voice tore him from his thoughts.

"A suspect? You can't seriously believe I killed Marcel!"

Despite his best intentions, he reached out his hand to cup her cheek. She let him, even though he could feel the tension in her muscles, ready to jump.

"Of course I don't think that. But a whole room has watched you dance with Mr. Denier last night, flirt with him..." She tensed even more. "...and you harmed him physically, the same night he died." She had dropped her sheet in anger, but Jack had no head right now for the physical urges that asked for his attention.

"He tried to force a kiss on me!"

He shook his head slowly, trying to make her understand that he didn't blame her for this, but he still needed her to see reason.

"I know, but that's not the point. If the judge realises that I lived with one of the suspects, it could compromise the whole case, Phryne. The murderer could walk or worse, someone innocent could go to prison."

Phryne Fisher tried to find truth in the Inspectors dark eyes and did so. It suddenly occurred to her, that he wasn't punishing her at all. He was trying to protect her. And nevertheless, she felt his loss desperately as he pulled back his hand and closed the door behind himself with one last look. That night she decided that it was time to be a woman and cried herself to sleep.