Previously: Jack and Phryne argued, then made up :)

Chapter 25

Stretching out languidly, her body draped partially on top of his prone body, she knew she would wake him. It might have even been part of her plan. But one week in, she still felt that a minute spent in bed asleep with Jack Robinson was a minute wasted.

She saw his lips curve up in a wry smile as he felt her body stretch and tense over his. But miraculously, his eyes stayed shut. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing." His voice, disused after a night's sleep, was like gravel.

She smiled down at him sweetly. "Of course not. I count on you knowing exactly what I'm doing."

The eyes flicked open. Taking hold of her firmly around the rib cage, he flipped them over so that his face floated tantalisingly above hers.

She grinned, a cat like smile of victory. She could remain here forever.

()

Once they had worked things out, seven days ago, it hadn't been a straightforward tumble from Jack's living room into bed. They were both overwrought and exhausted. That first embrace had been intense, passionate and almost too much. Jack had known he was very close to coming completely undone, and was determined to hang on to the little dignity he felt he had left.

Phryne, understanding, pressed a last relatively chaste kiss to his lips before retreating. "Sleep. Read. Relax," she said, her eyes dancing. "But come for dinner tonight. I can't imagine eating without you now."

Jack reached out and pulled her hips toward him, just for the fun of seeing her as flustered as he felt. She had braced her hands against his chest as their hips made contact, her face upturned to his with surprised pleasure.

"Come here for dinner tonight," he said, his voice low and insistent. The idea of entertaining Phryne here in his own home, felt unexpectedly satisfying. He had been a guest at Wardlow too long. As much as he appreciated its comforts, he felt that spending the night here, the two of them, would be appropriate to their shifting relationship. He felt the need to put a little distance between his appearances in her home, to separate the patient from the… what… the lover?

The thought inflamed him and he reached down to kiss her again.

When she eventually pulled back, she looked feral, lips swollen and bare, eyes dark and full of emotion. "It would be my pleasure," she murmured.

So she had left. And come back. And they had talked. He had told her about his previous desire to get back to 'normal', the internal list he had made to get back to being 'the old Jack.'

"But why?" She looked thoroughly confused.

"I wanted to get back to where we were before," he said. "What happened, it ruined everything."

She had looked sad, and he pulled her off the arm of his favourite armchair and into his lap.

Her arms around his neck, she tried to explain. "What happened was… a tragedy, Jack. If there was anything I could do to bring Celia and Lucy back, I would."

He nodded. Of course she would. Anyone would.

"But, once it happened, there was no going back. Not for you, and not for us. To do that would mean ignoring it completely. There would be some part of you, inside you, that you kept shut up and locked away. You would walk and talk and look like the old Jack, but it wouldn't be a real person."

He stared at her in shock. She had just described, exactly, the way he had been after the war. Trying to maintain that façade of who he had been before, distantly aware of Rosie's growing frustration that she just couldn't reach him anymore. Going through the motions, that's what he had been doing. Until Phryne Fisher had breathed new life into him.

He realised with a start she was still talking. "The only thing you can do is accept what happened, let it change you, and hope that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Moving forward isn't a bad thing, Jack." She smiled. "After all, the old Jack couldn't do this." She leaned forward and kissed him sensually, her tongue demanding entry into his mouth and mingling with his.

"What?" she said, when she pulled back and registered his open mouthed and slightly awestruck expression.

Jack shook his head. He felt the phrase "you've just explained the last ten years of my life" might be slightly overwhelming for this first night. Instead, referring to the kiss, he said, "I did once, actually."

"Twice, actually," she corrected, smiling.

"Twice!" he said, triumphantly.

"Well," she said, playing absent-mindedly with his collar. "Do you want to be old Jack, who did that twice? Or new Jack, who gets to do it…"

He raised his eyebrows.

"… lots," she finished, with a grin.

He returned her smile. "Definitely new Jack."

She stayed that night. And the next night. And it was everything they had dreamed of.

()

The eyes flicked open. Taking hold of her firmly around the rib cage, he flipped them over so that his face floated tantalisingly above hers.

She grinned, a cat like smile of victory. She could remain here forever.

But it wasn't to be this time. He pressed a hungry kiss to her mouth, then he was gone, padding across the floor to where his clothes had been tossed into a forgotten pile the night before.

"Jack!" She moaned, sitting up and letting the sheet fall from her body. She feasted her eyes hungrily on the muscles in his back as she pulled on his clothes.

"I know…" he murmured sympathetically. "But I have somewhere to be."

She frowned. Pulling her sheet around her, she got out of bed. "But it's early."

He smiled at her confusion, buttoning his shirt as she approached him. "I have to go home." They were back at Wardlow this time. The greater privacy afforded them by his bungalow had been bliss. But there was a lot to be said for Phryne's home too, not least her large, soft bed and Mr Butler's cooking. Last night, delighted by recent developments, he had pulled out all the stops with a sumptuous dinner that had satisfied even Jack's appetite.

"Anyway," he continued. "You have to go and pick Jane up, remember?"

"I hadn't forgotten!" she protested. "Her ship doesn't dock till this afternoon." She looked up at him, a hopeful expression on her face. "You'll be here this evening, won't you? Family dinner?"

A shy but pleased smile spread slowly across his face. "Of course. If you want me to be."

"Of course I want you to be." Her hands went to his shirt front. "I don't see why you have to leave now."

"Because I need to go home to – Phryne!" She had taken advantage of his attention to his cuffs by quickly undoing all the buttons at the front of his shirt. "That doesn't help, does it? I need to go and pick up a suit," he finished.

"It helps me," she smirked, eyeing his chest as he turned towards the mirror and buttoned himself back up. Then she registered his words. "What do you mean, you need to pick up a suit? What do you need a suit for?"

Jack had shown very little interest in any new career options, in fact, he hadn't mentioned anything at all during the week they had spent practically in each other's pockets. She frowned, hoping he wasn't about to throw himself into some ill-advised and unfulfilling job opportunity.

But his smirk in the mirror as he did up his top button told her otherwise.

"Jack?" she prompted.

He said nothing, but tilted his head pointedly towards the dressing table, over which his tie had ended up draped the night before. She grabbed it and held it out for him, snatching it back at the last minute.

Their eyes met in the mirror, and she looked at him sternly. "Jack?"

He turned to face her. He was smiling, but his eyes, she noticed, looked nervous. "Well, I can't very well go before the Chief Commissioner without a suit, can I?"

A wide grin spread across her face. Wordlessly, she draped the tie around his collar, balancing out the ends and beginning to knot it.

He was watching her carefully. "What do you think?" he asked, his tone serious.

"I think you're right," Phryne replied. "You can't possibly go in front of the Chief Commissioner without a suit."

"Phryne…"

"You know what I think," she said, folding his collar down. She looked him in the eye. "Detective Inspector Robinson."

He bit his lip. "Let's see if he'll have me back first, shall we?"

"Of course he will." She was relatively sure of it, considering Hugh had been telling her constantly that the Chief Commissioner was desperate to have him back on the force. "Jack – ?" she drew his attention back from fiddling with his collar. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Jack rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Must you be so contrary?"

"I'm not trying to talk you out of it. I just want you to be sure."

"I am." He said resolutely. "I've known it since I spoke to Lucy's mother."

She nodded. So much had changed since then. Five days ago, the Globe, prompted by her letter and a dozen like it, and no doubt by Prudence's veiled hints to Lady Matlin, had printed a lengthy apology for their coverage of the Devlin case, admitting that the police had been hamstrung by the silence of the man who had supressed his knowledge about Lucy being carried into the office building. Phryne had been slightly aggrieved that the paper had refused to name him. But, as Jack pointed out, maybe Bertram Harper had just learnt his lesson. The only man really to blame for the murders was Alfred Devlin. But even though Melbourne had only now recently started to see sense, she knew Jack's decision had been made that day in the graveyard. It was Mrs Cosgrove's courage and determination that had inspired him, had made him refuse to give up what he loved. She was glad for it. But even though she'd been hoping for it for weeks, she felt an unexpected trepidation about his decision.

"But what if… what if there's another case like…" He had to do what felt right, she knew that. But all of a sudden, she couldn't bear the thought of him retreating again, being sucked back into that dark place.

His face had momentarily disappeared, obscured by the sweater he was pulling on. When he reappeared, he looked thoughtful, his brow creasing as he smoothed his hair back down. He caught her eye in the mirror and sensed her concern.

He turned and reached for her, pulling her sheet-wrapped body close to his.

"Lucy and Celia…" he said softly. There was always a reverence when he said their names. "I'm always going to carry them with me."

She nodded. "I know." And by extension, she knew, she would always carry them with her.

"But they don't…" he frowned, trying to phrase it. "They don't haunt me anymore. And what happened… it shouldn't stop me helping anyone else. They wouldn't want that, I don't think."

It was almost a question. Phryne smiled. "I think you're right." She felt quite tearful, at him expressing all the things she'd been thinking for so long. How far he'd come. How far they both had. She snaked her hands around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss.

Inspector. He was going to be her Inspector again. She grinned against his lips, and felt him respond. "I'd better go," he whispered.

She let go of him. "Yes, go!" she said brightly, blinking back tears. She caught him noticing and beamed widely, letting him know they were good tears. He gave her a tender smile back.

Clad in her robe, she followed him down the stairs, giving forth what she considered to be motivational titbits.

"They'll have you back in a shot! How the Victorian police force has survived one day without you I'll never fathom. You'll return to an absolute crime wave, I'm sure of it!"

He turned to face her at the front door, an amused smile on his face. "You haven't even wished me luck," he quipped.

She laughed. "How remiss of me." She pulled him in for a final kiss. "The job's yours," she promised, when they reluctantly broke apart.

There was a low hum in his throat as he released her. "Just as well," he said, the hint of a smirk on his face. "You were beginning to think yourself the only detective in Melbourne, Miss Fisher. And we can't have that."

There was a sharp slap on her rear end, and he was gone. She shut the door with a delighted laugh and stood for a minute against it, savouring the moment.

She smiled widely. Jack was back.

THE END!

Author's Note:

A massive thanks to all of you who read, reviewed and enjoyed this story. I really hope it hit the mark. Thanks also to Jack Daniels who provided much of the sour mash necessary to produce this work :) I really enjoyed writing it so please let me know what you think - feedback is such a massive inspiration.

Gingham xx