I awoke with a sharp pain in my neck and as I rubbed it out, I took in my surroundings, wondering where on earth I was. A hotel? I was fully dressed in my suit from the day before and I had been laying on pages upon pages of notes written up in Miss William's neat hand. Suddenly the events of the past few days came rushing back and my blood ran cold. I had fallen asleep. What time was it? How much of the night and morning had I wasted away, sleeping calmly while she was God knew where having God knew what happening to her? She'd been gone for 4 days now. And I didn't have the slightest idea where or why. The days had been tortuous. My sister Beth had heard from my mother that I wasn't in the best place and she and her husband had delayed their trip here until this coming weekend, I suspected in the hope that all of this would be behind us by then and that they could enjoy a lovely vacation in Victoria. But it was Thursday. They would arrive tomorrow. And we had no idea where she was. One of the officers from a different station had suggested that maybe she had met a man and run off with him, she was after all, he said with a smirk, flighty like that. Before I had the time to put him in his place Collins and a Junior Constable for whom she had always had a smile and an encouraging word for had thrown punches, knocking the man back. No one had dared to say another word against her since. The men of City South protected their own, and she was certainly that.

Here's what I knew: Her entire household had gone to bed at a normal hour but she had insisted on staying up. No one said why but I knew she had been waiting to see if I would stop by for a nightcap. I remembered thinking to myself that I should go over, but we had had a moment that day. Not a flirtatious moment. A romantic moment. And I had gone running scared back to my own, quiet, lonely bungalow instead of face the fact that she would brush such a moment off and return to flirting meaninglessly. Did that make this my fault? If she had been taken the night before and not early that morning as we currently suspected (due to a series of odd sounds that had woken Mr. Butler around 4 AM) then I could have prevented this. I prayed to God that I was wrong and I prayed again, that she be found safe and sound.

"Look who has finally joined the land of the living!" My brother teased me, poking me in the shoulder and handing me a cup of fresh tea.

"You should have woken me." I glanced at the clock on the mantle. Hell it was almost 11. Daylight was burning and I had slept for nearly 7 hours. "Why the hell did you let me sleep so long?"

"Come now, Johnny. Don't snap at your brother. You need your rest." My mother's voice chimed in softly behind me yet I could only feel the anger boiling up in me.

"She could be dead or dying and I'm just lying about sleeping." I grumbled, swallowing the tea in one great gulp. "I need to go into work."

"John Edward Robinson that is enough." Shit. The last time my mother had been that angry had been when she discovered that Luke had burned down the outhouse at our cabin in the north. "We have been perfectly understanding about you not being able to 'divulge police business' with us but to be perfectly frank I think we all know damn well that this is a lot more personal than business. You have barely had time to be with us and when you are you spend every second pouring over those notes for what must be the hundredth time hoping to find the good lord only knows what. You won't tell us why Miss Jane stayed with us for two whole days before her aunt came to fetch her. She wouldn't say a word about how the two of you were so close and yet she barely let go of your arm and clung to you at every turn. I happen to know for a fact that you go see her every lunch time instead of us and I wouldn't mind so much if you would just tell us what on earth is going on and why it is affecting you so. I have never seen you this utterly miserable and that includes both the day you came and told your father and me that your wife had asked you for a divorce and the day you came home from the war, broken, crying and utterly miserable. So don't you dare snap at us, young man. We are doing our best to keep you nourished and sleeping well, something you don't seem to think very important." I paused. She was right. They had a right to know what was going on. I would have to tell them. I would have to tell them everything. I nodded curtly and sipped again at the cup of tea.

"Phryne Fisher is a lady detective who consults on my cases."

"Your cases." My mother commented as though it was a question.

"She works her own cases and often times her cases cross over with many of the high profile murders that wind up on my desk as opposed to one of the lower constables." Her nod told me that I had explained enough for now and was allowed to proceed. "Her companion is engaged to Senior Constable Collins and that connection makes our paths cross as well."

"You had said she was a friend." My mother prompted me. When had I said…oh yes. Luncheon the other day. That seemed a lifetime ago. Slowly I nodded.

"Yes. We've grown quite close over the years."

"And this is the first we've heard of her, because?" I bit back a smile.

"Because she is impossible to describe or explain. It was simply easier not to mention it."

"And, I suppose, because when you first met her you were married and worried about how that would look." My brother and I both looked up immediately at my mother's words, shocked for different reasons.

"How did you…"

"I'm not a fool John Robinson. I know you better than you know yourself. All of a sudden you weren't that sullen, sad, broken shell of a boy who returned from Europe. You were you again. I had hopped it was Rosie, but it was soon after I learned she had moved in with her sister. I cleared my throat, awkwardly.

"I suppose that may have had something to do with her." My mother smiled, looking very much like the cat who ate the cannery. "She reminded me why I do what I do, that's all."

"And those few weeks about a year ago? When you were more angry and broken down than I've ever seen you. I grimaced. The accident. Our separation. No. I couldn't talk about that now.

"She adopted Jane shortly after we first met. Jane's mother had a mental illness and wasn't able to care for Jane. She lived on the streets. She was involved in one of our cases and Miss Fisher felt for her. They've been nearly inseparable ever since. Jane is feeling this moment particularly harshly because she is so used to people leaving her. Her father, her mother – countless times – each of her friends from the days before she lived with Miss Fisher. She has always been afraid that Miss Fisher would see her as just another girl off the street and leave her. She's terrified and Mrs. Stanley – Miss Fisher's Aunt – isn't very adept to calming the girl."

"Not to mention she seems particularly connected to you, personally." I couldn't hold back a smile then.

"Yes. Jane and I have grown quite close. I help her with her Shakespeare classes and we quite enjoy each other's company."

"And that smile? What is that about John?" I shook my head but I couldn't stop it.

"The other day. She said she sees me as her father."

"This is a dangerous game you're playing at John." My father's response was immediate but it was not the one I expected. My brow furrowed as I questioned his meaning. "You are playing family with a woman who is far above your station. Her daughter is now involved. What happens when this Miss Fisher finds a man to marry? Then Jane will have to reconcile her world view of you with this new father." My stomach clenched angrily at the words. As ridiculous as the idea of Miss Fisher marrying anyone was, it still made me jealous in a way I had no right to be. Throw in the idea of Jane calling someone else father and my fist was clenching involuntarily.

"That isn't going to happen."

"Do you and Miss Fisher have some sort of understanding? Are you, involved?" I didn't miss the hopefulness in my mother's voice.

"No. No of course not. But she has no plans to marry."

"Well not now,"

"No father. She has no plans to marry, ever. She is independent and wishes to remain so. She enjoys her freedom far too much to give it up for any man. And she is in a place financially where that would never be a problem." A clock began to chime and I checked my watch. "You will all have to excuse me. I truly have to leave now." I stood and hastened towards the door. I didn't say goodbye, and I knew it was rude to practically run out of the hotel suite they were paying for, but I couldn't bear for them to see the tear that was making its way down my face. Phryne was missing. But even when we found her, I had no claim to her. There was no reason she couldn't find herself not terribly far down the road fancying a change of scenery and pack up, taking away the closest thing I had to a family of my own. I couldn't truly imagine her dying now. She was far too spiteful for that. (Not to mention resourceful.) She was full of life. Whatever had happened to her, she was alive, and she would stay that way until we found her (or until she escaped on her own accord and flounced her way triumphantly back into town). But I could see her leaving me. I could see losing her again. And that, was unbearable.

A/N: Let me know what you thought! Please review!