Just a quick hello and an even quicker goodnight. I rather hope the ride is enjoyable for you - even though I do doubt there is much pleasure in it for Jack and Phryne at this stage. I also feel compelled to apologize for the cliffhangers, they are completely on purpose I'm afraid, and thank you once again for your comments and for reading. Please continue ;).

Chapter 30: Supernova

Jack didn't realise that he was screaming until the shot had rung out and the humming in his ears stopped. He twisted madly in his seat, trying to get a look at his wife.

"Phryne?"

There was no answer. The hand that had a few moments ago been entwined with his own in an almost painfully tough grip, now lay limply in his.

"Phryne!?"

There was laughter and Jack suddenly knew that he was dreaming. He would wake up. Any moment now, he would open his eyes and Phryne would be sitting up in bed beside him, staring at him in confused worry. He was so lost in his fantasy that he didn't realise the motion for a long moment. Something was fluttering against his hand.

Phryne was still fighting the red hot haze of pain veiling her sight. She felt currently unable to talk, but despite the agony her right hand moved to hold Jack's, brushing weakly against all the skin it could find - letting him know that she was alive. She remembered with vivid clarity the brief moment when she had been certain that he had been murdered. She wouldn't wish the feeling on anyone, least of all Jack Robinson.

"She isn't dead, Inspector," Rose came unexpectedly to her aid. "Not yet at least. Just a little shot in the shoulder."

He grinned, walking back over to Jack who stared at him in the way you'd look at a disgusting insect.

"You sick, twisted-"

"You know why she is still alive?" the voice cut him off coldly. "Because deep down I might be a nice man. But I wouldn't gamble it."

He walked away without so much as glancing at the Inspector, who closed his mouth.

"Oh and of course because it would be way too easy," Rose quipped, climbing back onto the edge of his table. He watched Jack who was still scowling in rage at him while happily playing with the loaded weapon.

"You know, Inspector Robinson, I am not quite certain yet, who of you will die first. Maybe I'll let Miss Fisher bleed out and you can listen to it, what do you think?"

"Go to hell!" Jack spat.

"Aww, Inspector. That's not very nice."

Jacob casually wandered back over, not seeing the fingers that were currently rubbing Phryne's hand with as much calmness as Jack could muster. The agony of a bullet eating it's way through your flesh, was all too well etched onto his memory.

"But... there are other options."

Rose smiled, thoughtfully placing the barrel against Jack's lower abdomen. The Inspector held his breath.

"To make this the real experience for you, I am rather tempted to shoot you as well. We could see if you can survive it a second time."

He lifted the weapon, staring at it for a long moment. Jack dared to draw some air into his aching lungs.

"Then again, I am not certain what this bullet will do. What you think, Miss Fisher? Will it stop before it tore every organ to shreds? I think if I aim here..." The cold metal was shoved painfully hard into Jack's stomach, "...I might shatteryou're spine as well. That would certainly keep you from walking out of here."

Rose giggled at his own joke.

"I'm afraid the girls where right when they said you were all brawn and no brains," a strained voice taunted him.

Phryne sounded a lot more collected than you would expect from someone being recently shot, but her pain was obvious. Jack, who had attempted to stare calmly at Rose, bit so hard on his lip that he could taste blood. His hands said silently everything he wanted to express. 'Don't provoke him. I want you to get out of here alive.'

But Phryne had no intention to shut up. Her left shoulder currently was an agonising sea of flames and the red liquid seeping through her last clean blouse, didn't improve her mood in the slightest. Her headache still hadn't left her, if anything having increased by the massive bang near her head. But most of all the hand clamping around hers in fear, fuelled her rage. This madman had gotten it into his twisted brain that Jack was 'murdering his sister' and he was going to torture him. Phryne wouldn't accept it.

"I do feel the need to inform you that a shot to the stomach and spine is likely to kill him instantly. It would certainly spoil your sense of fun."

"That is true of course, Miss Fisher." Rose seemed to contemplate this, then giggled. "Even though I wasn't aware that you were quite so keen on getting rid of your husband. But then, a woman's wish is my command."

The weapon glimmered in the gaslight. A door opened in the background. Phryne was protesting, he knew, but Jack couldn't hear anything she was saying, just stared paralysed at the barrel aimed at him. Then he squeezed his eyes shut firmly, held his breath. Clasped onto her with all his strengths. Waited for the pain.

X

Eddie had really intended to go home as soon as he had informed Phryne's family what had happened. But he'd found himself dragged into the whirlwind that was the Fisher Clan with such force that he considered himself unable to leave. Truth be told, he felt scared and guilty, and even though his conscience told him that he should return home to his family, he wasn't quite certain if he could. Latest when Jack hadn't denied that there were ulterior motives for his move to Collingwood, a nasty voice in his head told him over and over, it should have clicked in his brain. He'd known after all that Phryne was a Lady Detective. Plenty of times he had found her in the newspapers and grinned to himself. Yet, he hadn't made the connection until today. How incredibly dumb of him.

Eddie rubbed his hands over his face, realising that he was being watched. The girl hadn't said a word yet. Nobody else seemed to take any notice of them. She stood, stretching out her fingers.

"I am Jane," she said. Eddie took the cold hand, looking at the teenager blankly.

"Hello Jane," he croaked.

"Their daughter," Jane stated casually, sitting down opposite him. "Ward really, but that makes no difference."

Eddie just stared at her. He remembered Jack denying that he had any children. This explained why he'd looked like his teeth were being pulled.

"They haven't told you about me, have they?" the teenager asked. Eddie shook his head but thought better of it.

"Course they have. Spoke nothin' but highly of ya."

To his surprise, Jane grinned.

"You're lying."

He didn't so much as blink.

"Yeah, I am. Haven't mentioned ya with a word."

"Didn't expect them to," she said, still grinning. But there was a melancholy in her eyes that caused in Eddie the want to reach out and hug her. Of course she was much older than his Daisy but the way she looked at him reminded him of his daughter all the same.

"They were just trying to protect ya," he said.

"I know that." Jane chewed on her lip in thought. "But what if they don't come back?"

The question was out before she could think twice about it. This stranger, Phryne's childhood friend, somehow was the one person she could ask the question she had swallowed down for days.

"They'll be back," Eddie said with so much conviction that she was tempted to believe him. He stretched out an inviting hand and Jane sat down on the edge of his armchair as if he was her grandfather, rather than a person she had never met until an hour ago.

"You know, when we were kids, Phryne and I once got into trouble with this gang. There was six of them older boys, trying to beat us up. She ran for it and I was bloody furious."

Jane shook her head.

"That doesn't sound like Phryne."

Eddie smiled. She really did remind him of his little girl.

"Wasn't Phryne, it turned out. A few seconds later she was back, three other kids in tow. She was merely evening out the odds."

Wenbrock chuckled at the memory.

"What I'm trying to tell ya is that Phryne won't leave ya behind. She's like that. And Jack's a brave man. They'll come back for ya."

They were interrupted by some commotion outside in the hall. Jane was there in a split second, finding Dot and Mr. Butler attempting to open the door at the very same moment, while Bert came out of the dining room, a sandwich in hand. Mac was all but running down the stairs from the other side of the house. The man standing on their porch didn't look anything like Commissioner Sanderson, but logic demanded that it had to be him. He was pale like a ghost when he stepped over the threshold, handed his hat and coat to Mr. Butler in an automatic gesture that didn't need any thought.

"I came personally, as promised," he said after a long moment of people staring at him. The collection of human beings were holding their breaths while he took his glasses down and polished them.

"Well, spit it out," an angry voice sounded from the back. Mac walked towards him, the rest of the family parting like the red sea until she stood right in front of the pale Commissioner, who was still fiddling.

"We raided 'Gabler's Textiles' and found a man who worked with Detective Inspector Robinson in Collingwood. Or rather his cover identity. He had this letter on his person."

He pulled the by now crumpled envelope from his chest pocket and handed it to the Redhead, with a moment of hesitance.

"I hope you are aware that I should not be here, sharing classified information with you."

"So why are ya?" Bert asked from the back.

Sanderson looked at him, as if he'd only just realised the rest of the collected people. He wasn't often spoken to like this.

"Because I've sent Jack and Miss Fisher out there to protect them, and we utterly failed in doing so," he admitted, watching Mac's face turn an even lighter shade of pale. "I am here as a private person, taking responsibility for my misjudgement."

"I'm sure that sounded great in front of yer mirror, mate," Bert grumbled.

Mac looked up.

"They are held ransom for Elaine Browning's freedom?!"

George nodded.

"Her brother openly admits to a huge grog-empire ran from the back rooms of 'Gablers'."

"And you sent them right into his arms?"

Sanderson stared at the floor for a long moment.

"I did and you have my sincere apologies. I had no idea."

"But plenty of that," Cec grumbled. Excited talking broke between the people in attendance.

"Can we all calm down please?!"

Eyes flew up to stare at Mr. Butler. Nobody had ever heard him talk this loud before.

"What are your intentions?" he asked Sanderson.

"Let me assure you, I have every man on the case," Sanderson prompted.

"Are you going to release Mrs. Browning?"

Another nervous rub of glasses was the only answer they received for a long moment. Then Sanderson shook his head.

"I have just left a meeting with Judge Banks. He is set on her being executed tomorrow morning."

The chatter in the room now turned deafening.

"He will kill them!" Dot exclaimed, holding on to her stomach as if she could protect her child from the nightmare that was happening.

"I am sorry," Sanderson said. "I truly am. But we cannot give into the ransom of a madman. Or we will have criminals all over the city pop up and hold guns to people's heads, demanding their comrades be released."

He made sure not to look at Jane, who had tears streaming down her cheeks, with Eddie holding onto the girls shoulders.

"That's not good enough!" the man bellowed. "You sent them there!"

But Wenbrock's protest drowned in the voices surrounding the Commissioner. The Butler, whose name he hadn't caught, marched up to Doctor MacMillan who was not holding back on her opinion and gently pulled her to the side by the shoulders.

"Tell me, Sir, are you really here as a private person?" he asked. People fell silent.

"Yes, as I stated earlier, by rights I shouldn't-"

A very precise fist caused the Chief Commissioner to stumble backwards, grasping onto his jaw in shock. Angrily he glittered at Mr. Butler, who was holding on to his aching hand.

"Just making sure," Tobias grimaced.

"You know," George said, catching himself. "I could book you for assault even if I am not here in my function as Chief Commissioner."

"Surely that can wait until we have found the Robinsons," Mr. Butler answered, handing Sanderson back his hat and coat. "Now, Sir, I am assuming you have some sort of plan other than letting them die. Don't let us keep you."

Sanderson looked into the circle, wanting to protest his dismissal as well as the attack, but only found pain and rage etched onto the flushed faces.

"Goodnight," he said stiffly, then stalked out the door, only realising outside on the porch that he had just taken his first beating from a butler. Worst of all was that he wasn't entirely certain that he didn't deserve it.

X

It took some time for Jack's stinging lungs to convince him that he really needed to breath. He burst into a cough, then carefully pried his eyes open in the certainty that a grinning Rose was only waiting for an unprepared moment.

It had occurred to the Inspector by now that the madman wasn't really as much interested in killing him as he was in seeing him suffer. And that he had mainly captured Phryne for that very reason. His wife was DI Robinson's vulnerable spot – it wasn't a secret, not something he had ever been able to conceal. And now she took the fall for his weakness. Rage flooded his veins at the thought. Jack fully opened his eyes to find that Rose had turned away, still holding the pistol but whispering to a grim looking man with olive skin.

"Ahhh, it seems Sanderson has made an unexpected move on the chess field," Rose quipped, but he seemed a shade paler than before. "We might have to postpone your little date with your wife's gun, Inspector. But don't worry, I will be back. Enjoy our hospitality."

With that, both men left. The lamp flickered quietly. Jack took some calming breaths, trying his hardest to stay conscious. His head was glowing and he felt dizzy, if due to a lack of oxygen, the aftermath of the drugs or simply adrenaline, he couldn't have said.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your moment there, Jack, but my shoulder is bleeding rather strongly. And I also feel absolutely no desire to listen to you being shot. Can we please get out of here?"

Jack's eyes snapped open. He had for a moment allowed himself to forget Phryne's shotgun wound. He swallowed down an apology together with a cough.

"Any thoughts on how we will accomplish this, Miss Fisher?" he asked, letting go of her hand to return to the challenge of untying the invincible ropes that kept them captive.

"If my detective skills aren't letting me down, there is only one knot holding your wrists to the back of this chair, so if I manage to..." there was struggling behind him followed by a pained groan, "...undo this, you should be able to stand up."

Jack felt an incredible sense of relief as he moved his aching arms from their strained position. Even though his still tied wrists didn't allow much room, it was a start.

"Well, that leaves only the fact that my legs are still bound to a chair," he quipped. "I'm not certain that hobbling around will make for a very elegant escape plan, Miss Fisher."

He could hear her roll her eyes at him, but staring down at his work boots in the half-darkness, a thought occurred to him.

"You wouldn't happen to carry your knife, would you?" he asked.

"Have you ever seen me without it?" Phryne smiled, sensing his will to escape finally spark. She had been worried.

"On multiple occasion, actually. Most very enjoyable. However, right now I'd prefer if you did carry."

"Well, Inspector, if you want to search me for any concealed weapons, you will have to come over here."

Jack allowed himself a breath of relief. So, despite a gaping hole in her shoulder, the Honourable Miss Fisher was still in attendance. He wriggled his right foot, twisting it into a painful position, but finally after a lot of panting and struggling he managed to pull himself free, leaving his boot in the trap of rope.

"What exactly are you doing over there, Jack? I seem to be witnessing a lot of laboured breathing."

Phryne twisted her head, but didn't find a satisfactory perspective that could have answered her question.

"Have you ever played Indian as a child, Miss Fisher?" Jack asked, without explaining much.

Mrs. Robinson frowned.

"Not that I recall."

Jack didn't answer. He was already busily working on his second foot. Grimacing, he twisted his ankle until he felt it would snap at any given moment. Then he was free. He wanted to scream in excitement. But there was no time for that.

"In that case I will have to explain it later. Let's just say our friends aren't quite as smart as they think themselves."

Jack avoided to look at the blood drenched part of Phryne's blouse or the paleness of her cheeks. There was no time for this either. His heart was pounding. They needed to free themselves as long as Sanderson was distracting Rose. His wife was staring with some amusement at him as he awkwardly dropped down at her feet, his tied hands not being much help in keeping his kneecaps from smashing painfully onto the stone floor. He grimaced.

"There is a position we haven't tried of yet," she quipped, while he started dragging up her skirt with his teeth.

"And I'd rather wished we'd left it to that," Jack mumbled through a mouthful of fabric, inch by inch freeing her white thigh to his eyes. It was probably the most unerotic situation he had ever been in, but rubbing his cheek against her stocking, he couldn't help but remember. The Inspector gulped, then coughed a moment later when he almost suffocated on a corner of her skirt. So maybe this was not the time for erotic daydreams either. Feverishly, his teeth shuffled fabric aside until the edge of her stocking appeared, nestling in it the small dagger she kept there for situations like this one.

Phryne had fallen silent while watching her husband work with a tiny smile. She probably shouldn't have enjoyed this, considering that they were in mortal danger to be slaughtered by a madman, Jack didn't look at all healthy and her shoulder was hurting nastily.

But there was adrenaline pumping through her veins and while some erotic associations did come to mind, it wasn't what really occupied her brain at this moment. It was pride, she found, when Jack retreated, his teeth tenderly holding on to her knife, having managed to pull it from it's sheath without cutting her – which was a skill, Phryne had had to master before she had taken to carrying the dagger around with herself. Pride and love!

He was grinning triumphantly at this stage and she longed to kiss him.

"Well done, Jack," Phryne smiled, as he crawled around her in a rather inelegant fashion, nudging the second chair out of the way and seconds later the steel was dropped into her healthy hand. She gripped onto it as tightly as possible without hurting herself. She really did bleed enough already.

"Now, turn around and I'll cut loose your hands," she demanded. Jack obeyed.

"I'd appreciate it, if you refrain from slitting my wrists, Miss Fisher," he stated dryly, when the tip of her knife pierced his skin.

"I shall attempt my hardest," Phryne pressed out between gritted teeth. "Commanding a knife behind my back with one hand is however not something I have done very often in the past."

"And there I thought you'd use this knife with your eyes closed," the Inspector smiled, while his worried look brushed over the door. There were voices audible in the hall. If Rose or one of his men walked into the room this minute, all their hope could evaporate. But nobody came and a second later, he felt air brush over his wrists. The relief was overwhelming.

"Thank you," he whispered, pressing an excited kiss to Phryne's ear, before fishing the knife from her hand.

"My pleasure, Inspector. I do command some skills with ropes as well it appears," his wife smiled, but Jack was too busy to flirt with her right now. His fingers were numb from having been pressed into the same position for such a long time, but nevertheless it took only seconds until Phryne was free as well.

"Ouch," she gasped, when she moved her shoulder.

Jack grimaced.

"Does it hurt?"

"That is a rather silly question," Phryne pointed out.

"So it is."

Worriedly Jack watched more blood seep through the white fabric, while he helped his wife to her feet. She was swaying more than he was comfortable with. But he bit his lip to avoid any further silly questions, instead removing the scarf from her neck and carefully wrapping it into a make-shift sling. Phryne was shot, losing blood, he needed to get her out of the grasp of those dangerous criminals and to a doctor. No question in the world would change that.

She let him handle her in silence, which only increased his worry.

"Do we have any sort of plan?" he asked when he finally retrieved his shoes from where they were still trapped in the rope.

"There seems to be a still rather solid door between us and ruining Rose's Christmas," Phryne pointed out. Before either of them could voice any ideas on how to overcome their obstacle, a key was shoved into the lock and turned.