Chapter 33: Vacuum

Phryne Robinson was annoyed. At the lights that regularly flashed past her numerous hiding places, held in angry hands whose owners became louder and more frantic, the less they were able to find her or, from what she could gather, Jack. But even more frustrating she found the darkness that swallowed everything, as soon as the lamps disappeared. She was also enraged with Rose, with Jack and increasingly with her burning shoulder. The bleeding had subsided somewhat, but that didn't stop her from feeling light headed and not quite right. The pain was bearable the Detective found, but she had a niggling suspicion that that might change as soon as her body ran out of adrenaline. There was exhaustion lurking like a big, black, gaping hole in the ground. Eventually, she would stumble into it and if she didn't manage to get out of this maze in time, she would die. This realisation wasn't an overly comforting one.

Their prison had turned out to be a huge mansion rather than the factory hall she had expected. Room after room, convoluted like a Russian nesting doll. The whole place had the feel of a big, abandoned doll house actually. The thought made Phryne shudder. Pushing on, she reached another door, stumbled into another darkness. There were voices in the distance, flickering lights. They were always just far enough so she could hide. But it got harder. Phryne was gradually running out of breath and the strength to stay on her feet.

This darkness turned out to be a sitting room, smelling of dust like everything else. A perfectly shaped love seat in front of a cold fire place glinted in the faint moonlight. Phryne stepped to the big window, deciding to have a look outside. If she could figure out where she was, she might be able to spot an exit. But what would she do if she found one, she wondered? She couldn't leave without Jack even though it might make more sense to try and raise the alarm. The thought of abandon her husband while attempting to find a phone somewhere, convince people to come and rescue him, seemed suffocating. If she could get...

Phryne's breath caught momentarily. Somewhere further down, the Yarra curled through the landscape like a massive silver band, its waves glistening in the moonlight. But the beauty of the nightly scene wasn't what caused Mrs. Robinson to halt in the middle of her thoughts.

She suddenly she knew exactly where they were. What had been lurking in her mind just underneath her conscience, became certainty. She had been here before. The Detective twirled on her heels, rushing towards the door. She needed to leave and now! She would drum the whole city out of their beds if necessary!

She didn't get very far with her plan a voices appeared out of nowhere. Phryne stopped in the middle of the room, looking for a hiding place. The door flew open, letting in a thin ray of light that cut through the darkness like a knife through warm butter. Phryne retreated from the two loudly talking figures who appeared in the opening, towards the darker end of the room, when suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth from behind, and a pair of strong arms pulled her backwards, just in time to avoid a flash of light veering in their direction. The Detective swallowed down a scream, instead struggling silently against the man holding her. There was some indistinct mumbling beside her ear that died abruptly when her elbow found a soft target. Despite the man gasping in pain, he didn't release her. Panicking, Phryne tried to free herself, feeling just how weak her limbs had grown, while the circles of light came closer. Any moment the other men would discover her and then she stood no chance. Instead, however, she found herself being shoved into a cabinet. She wasn't alone in the darkness and her brain's furious announcement finally cut through the adrenaline. The feel of the hands still keeping her mouth shut and her chest clamped against a hot body, was as familiar as his scent and the heavy breathing in her neck. Phryne allowed herself to relax. Finally, the men seemed satisfied that they weren't here and Jack's grip loosened.

"You've got quite sharp elbows, Miss Fisher," he whispered, when she spun, seemingly infuriated with his attack. As if he wasn't well aware that she had thought him to be one of her pursuers, his aching stomach made a point of reminding him. But instead of the expected fury, he found a pair of desperate lips attached to his own and allowed himself to wrap his wife in his arms and finally ride the wave of relief that had flooded his veins, ever since he had spotted her silhouette against the dark window.

Phryne retreated after a few moments, finally remembering to be angry.

"Where the hell have you been?" she whispered.

Jack stroked her face before he answered, worrying about how cool her skin was. Even though he wasn't quite certain if his fever was playing tricks on him. He also had a suspicion that he had passed out for a minute or two between leaning against a cold wall and Phryne suddenly appearing like a moon goddess with incredibly good aim in her elbows.

"I don't know about you, Miss Fisher, but I have been stumbling around in the dark, looking for you," he finally returned.

"You didn't have to lose me in the first place!" she hissed. "That was a really reckless thing of you to do, Jack."

"I am glad you recognised the importance of that little charade, Miss Fisher" the Inspector returned smoothly. "How is your shoulder?"

Phryne gently patted the offending body part, causing a flash of sharp pain to shoot along her arm.

"Infuriatingly painful," she ground out. "But I'll live."

"Glad to hear it," Jack quipped, hiding his deep concern rather badly. With some care he opened the cabinet door, glancing outside into the dark sitting room.

"We probably should try and find an exit, it can't be too far."

"I fear Rose is insane but not a complete imbecile," Phryne stated, holding onto Jack a little more than she liked. The struggle had intensified her pain, but she wouldn't tell him that. What was harder to hide was the fact that now she had found him, she felt her last strength draining away, as if her body refused to push itself any further after reaching his safe arms. Of course, they weren't safe at all right now, but her protest did little to convince her leaden limbs of that.

"Would you like to clarify this statement, Miss Fisher?" Jack asked, seemingly oblivious to how heavily she was leaning on him.

"His men may not be particularly thorough in searching the premises, but surely he would have them heavily guard all the exits. It would be very silly to neglect such a great chance at recapturing us," Phryne explained, sensing that her eyelids were falling shut.

"I fear, you are right," Jack admitted, after a long moment of silence. Gently peeling her off his arm, he closed the door again, and guided her to sit on the floor. Phryne winced as her shoulder bumped against the wood, but couldn't help the relief of being allowed some rest.

"What are you doing, Jack?" she protested for good measure.

"We will have to wait," he said, slipping down beside her and wrapping his jacket around her shoulders. His skin was burning through the layers of clothes, warming her. "Rose is intending to leave with his men at dawn, for whatever reason. Which means he will probably only retain a few guards."

Jack stifled a cough as he spoke and Phryne let her head loll against the wooden cabinet wall. She could feel that his fever had risen, possibly to dangerous heights and her throbbing wound was too raw by now to even move her left arm. How they would get even past a few guards was beyond her imagination. If Little Jacob indeed would leave while there were still hostages running around. With the morning they would also lose the protection of the darkness that had saved them more often than she dared to remember tonight. But then, Jack's logic was compelling and the prospect of currently not having to move was too tempting to refuse his wishes.

X

If they had expected the "Glasshouse" to lie in total darkness, they had been mistaken. The street was illuminated by lamps, police officers were searching every centimeter of the area for hints.

"I fear we might be wasting our time by coming here," Mac stated quietly. Natalija nodded. The problem was that neither had any better ideas where to go. Sanderson was indeed covering everything, which should have made Mac feel better. But instead it left her feeling impotent and useless. The hint of light at the horizon was turning brighter. Soon, the sun would rise from it's bed behind the darkness and scare the moon away.

"Hugh?"

Jane approached one of the uniformed men who were crawling around on the street near the back doors. The Constable's sweaty face turned his attention to the teenager, before he dragged himself into an upright position.

"Jane? What are you doing here?"

"We came to help," the girl explained, waving at the group of friends, standing silently in the half-light.

"We have plenty of men on the job, turning every stone," Hugh explained, waving a hand in the air. Something fluttered in the wind.

"What's that?" Jane asked, grasping for his wrist.

"That eh..." Hugh stared at the formerly white handkerchief, as if he had never seen it before. "I think it belongs to Mrs. Robinson," he finally admitted, allowing the teenager to take the dirty piece of cloth from his fingers. She looked at it for a long moment.

"I'm sorry, Jane," he said quietly. "I know how you feel, but-"

"How on earth could you know how I feel?"

Hugh looked at her in shock, then his eyes darted towards Mr. Butler, who was approaching at the outburst of his ward.

"I think you are being quite unfair," the Constable said stiffly, taking the piece of evidence back from her.

Deep down, Jane knew that he was right. Yelling at Hugh wouldn't bring her parents back. Nevertheless she felt the urge to scream at the whole world for being so terribly unjust.

"Sorry," she said quietly, just when Mr. Butler arrived, laying a warm hand onto her shoulder. "But how can we find them, when there is nothing to go on?"

Angrily, she kicked against one of the bins. The metal sound was quite satisfying for a brief moment and made the pain in her toes worth it.

"We had nothing when the Inspector disappeared last year. But we still found him," Hugh said, sharing a look with Mr. Butler. It had been Miss Fisher doing most of the finding, they both were well aware. And DI Robinson had still barely made it. Neither of them realised that Jane had frozen on the spot.

"That's it!" she exclaimed. "Jack was held captive in Mrs. Browning's house, wasn't he?"

"In the servant quarter as I recall..." Mr. Butler tore his attention away from the Constable and returned it to Jane, who seemed to suddenly glow with excitement. "Miss Jane?"

"Lucy! Don't you understand? She returned to her former home."

The coin flew through the air, slowly spinning, turning, falling. Then the penny dropped.

"To the cars!" Hugh heard himself yell, before his brain had caught up. "We know where they are!"

X

It was impossible to say if Phryne was sleeping or just being quiet. The time implied that he had dozed off himself for a while. Jack didn't dare to move in fear of waking his wife, but his aching arm had gone to sleep. The darkness around them was thick, impenetrable. Phryne moaned quietly. She had to be in pain. Jack clenched his jaw and shifted his arm enough to bring it nastily stinging back to life. He was hot, his raw throat dry and longing for water.

It was all so familiar. The desperation, the fear. It seemed a lifetime ago now. Jack hadn't been able to sleep and instead tried to make his way to City South, only to never arrive there - shot down in the street by a criminal who considered him too nosy.

19 long hours Jack had been convinced that he would never leave the dark, clammy basement in Elaine Browning's house again. It had been obvious that his captors weren't overly interested in keeping him alive and the gaping hole in his abdomen had made it unlikely that he could survive, as did the infection that had soon caused him to slip into feverish dreams. Until Miss Fisher had burst through the door, with cool hands and worry edged on her beautiful features, intent on saving him.

Jack glanced at Phryne's unmoving frame. He hadn't dared asking what she had gone through during the desperate search for him but to this day she had never teased him with the story, no flippant comment had ever left her lips. Which was probably the strongest statement, Miss Fisher was capable of. Gently Jack ran his palm over his wife's cheek. Her skin was cool against his hot fingers. She was here, it made the torture of this place bearable. But her life was in danger and he couldn't manage to shake the fear pulsating through his veins. He would get her out of here, no matter the cost.

Phryne stirred, feeling her husband shivering against her. Carefully, Jack wrapped his arms more tightly around her, as if looking for her warmth. She knew that she had none to give, but he was burning up as it was.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess, Miss Fisher," he whispered beside her, leaning his cheek against her healthy shoulder. With some effort, Phryne pried open an eye.

"What are you on about, Jack?"

He retreated a little, as if he was surprised at her replying.

"I've been behaving like a Constable, still green behind the ears," the Inspector admitted after a long pause. "I should have been much more suspicious of Carter."

"You and me both."

Phryne winced, when she shifted into a more comfortable position that was, however, protested by her wound. There was silence.

"Rose is convinced that I am murdering his sister," Jack finally said.

"We have established Little Jacob's insanity earlier," his wife replied, suppressing a yawn. Sitting down had had exactly the effect she'd anticipated. It had caused her to slip into a state of mind-numbing fatigue.

"So we have," the Inspector answered thoughtfully. The edge in his voice startled Phryne awake.

"Jack, please tell me you do not actually believe you are responsible for being kidnapped?"

"Certainly not."

"So, what is this about then?"

There was no answer for a long moment.

"He didn't just set me captive, Phryne. Rose made very clear that this wasn't a kidnapping. It was to be my punishment."

His wife said nothing. There were no words. Jack just continued, as if he needed to speak now in order to chase the shadows away that threatened to swallow him.

"He is aware that the worst he could do to me was bring me back here, into my nightmare. And the only way to possibly make it any more horrendous would be by him killing you. He doesn't care about you, Phryne. He shot you, just so I could witness it."

The Inspector was panting heavily when he trailed off, wondering if he had overstepped a line. Surrendering to a coughing attack, he waited for Phryne's reaction. He was suddenly painfully aware why they had never talked about his kidnapping in the first place. It was still an open wound, one that hadn't healed with the rest of them. And the Inspector would have been quite happy to never bother Phryne with those memories again. Rose had successfully spoiled that plan.

"I actually feel rather grateful that he brought me along for the ride," she quipped into his thoughts, sounding tired. Jack shook his head slowly, unable to grasp her meaning. Maybe the fever was messing with his mind as well. Cold fingers wrapped around his.

"As much as I hate this place, Jack, I'd rather be here than out there searching for you."

Her husband gulped.

"Not knowing where you were, was the most agonising part." she whispered, unable to hide the traitorous roughness of her voice. "Thinking every time the phone rang that someone had finally fished you out of the Yarra."

Jack brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it. A hot drop hitting her skin, woke in Phryne the suspicion that he might be crying. But even though it tightened her throat to witness his pain, she suddenly felt she had to share what hadn't left her mind in hours.

"And then the waiting for you to wake up. I didn't dare leave your side, lest you might sneak away while I didn't pay attention."

She tried a pained smile that disappeared in the darkness. Jack didn't answer for a long time, trying to get a grip on his emotions. It wasn't really new information for him - Mac had felt the need to inform him of Phryne's reluctance to even eat or sleep while he had battled for his life. Yet, hearing it from his wife was different.

"I wasn't quite conscious for much of the time in that chair," he finally explained quietly, "but I do remember dreaming of you. You were quite annoyingly demanded that I carry on living."

Phryne swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"And you obeyed? I had taken you for more of a rebel, Inspector."

"As it turns out, my rebellious streak is scared of dark, damp basements," Jack smiled. "And it also insisted that you would solve the puzzle."

They gazed at each other in the blueish dark, both grinning. Phryne wrapped her fingers tighter around Jack's. For a long moment they were both busy with their own thoughts.

"You know, I have always been a little envious of Miss Walters," Phryne stated casually. "She did get to save your life, while I was busy turning stones," she explained, when he just stayed in stunned silence. She wasn't going to explicate this further or tell him that she had never been able to shake off the guilt about having riffled blindly through case folders, while he had been bleeding out onto a basement floor. His silence told her that he was listening to everything that she'd left unsaid.

"Trust me, Miss Fisher, it wasn't that much of a party," he finally grinned, entwining their fingers so tightly that it was questionable if they would ever come apart again. Sweat slicked their palms and Phryne battled down the urge to retrieve her hand and feel his forehead. Even knowing how high his fever was, couldn't exactly change anything.

"Either way, Inspector, if you do insist on going through hell, I'd rather walk with you," she said instead. It had been meant as a flippant comment, but came out completely serious. Jack glanced at her.

"I can imagine even demons being frightened of you, Miss Fisher," he joked, then leaned back against the wall without letting go of her. His mind was spinning with thoughts, but it also was so fuzzy that he could barely think straight.

"Right now, I fear," Phryne groaned, while he felt her shifting, "I can't be much of a threat even to mere mortals."

Jack carefully pulled her closer, suffocating a cough in his throat before it could threaten to give them away. His burning body may as well keep her warm, he decided, while it wasn't doing much good to himself. Straining his eyes, the Inspector managed to make out the hands on his watch. It was past six. Another half hour and they should be able to leave their hiding place and try to battle their way out. How they would do this, he had no idea. But something told him that they would manage.