Chapter Text
Pure, unadulterated anger got Phryne out of her front door, into her car and halfway to Jack’s house. It was then the uncertainty started to creep in as well. Not that she was doing the wrong thing - oh no, she was having this conversation with Jack as soon as possible, whether he liked it or not - but uncertainty about why he’d chosen to keep his regained memories a secret. Mac had said that it was because he’d been trying to make sense of it all, but that just begged the question: what was there to be made sense of? The only thing she could think of that might be causing him such confusion was their relationship.
Which meant that, perhaps, the reason he’d not said anything was because Jack had no desire to attempt to go back to what they’d had. He’d woken up with nothing, and she’d swept in and taken over everything - kidnapped him, as he’d put it just that morning at breakfast - and then he’d started to remember that they’d been on the verge of becoming so much more than just friends, and he’d decided he didn’t want it. After all, these last couple of months were the most they’d ever spent in each other’s company, and it had clearly taught him that he didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship with her after all.
It was with that unhappy thought that Phryne parked her car outside of Jack’s little bungalow. The curtains were open but as it was the middle of the day there were no lights on inside, and Phryne couldn’t see any sign of Jack from where she sat in her car.
Alright, so he didn’t want to be with her. That was - well, she would have to accept that. What she couldn’t accept was that he’d lied to her for so long, with absolutely no regard for her feelings on the subject. She never would have believed Jack capable of such a thing.
The anger was starting to overtake the uncertainty again, and Phryne got out of her car and strode up the path to the front door. As she did so, she remembered the last time she’d been here, when she’d been preparing to bring Jack to Wardlow and had visited to collect his things. She remembered how dejected she’d felt at that time, how hard to she'd been trying to hide it.
The dejection hadn’t gone away, and she felt like she’d been living a lie since she’d returned to Australia.
The anger took over completely once again, and she knocked on the front door. Silence. She knocked again. Nothing. This was doing little to help her anger fade, and she knocked louder, positively pounding on the wood at this point. Finally, she heard a shuffling movement on the other side.
Jack pulled open the door, and his eyes widened almost comically when he saw her on the doorstep. For Phryne, the sight of him made her throat feel suddenly tight, as her anger, frustration and hurt all clamoured for her attention. She took a breath and gave him a brittle smile. “Hello Jack ,” she said, her voice snapping the ‘k’ at the end of his name.
Jack blinked rapidly. “You - um-”
Phryne didn’t bother waiting for an invitation: she stepped past him into his hallway. She didn’t go too far before turning back around to face him. She wanted this conversation over with quickly, so she could go home and pack.
Jack was closing the door, blinking in the sunlight and shaking his head.
“Forgive me for disturbing you at home, but I just heard something very interesting,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and pursing her lips.
Jack got the door closed and turned to face her. His eyes couldn’t seem to stay still - they were travelling all over her face, down her neck, darting to her hands, then her shoes, then the door, the wall, back to her eyes. He was blinking a lot still, and kept shaking his head every few seconds, as if trying to dislodge something. “… Interesting,” he repeated after a moment.
“Yes,” Phryne said, a little less forcefully. She frowned, looking him over herself. His hair was dishevelled at the front, and there was a bit of a flush in his cheeks, and his darting eyes seemed almost glazed. She shifted on the spot, and realised she was standing on an unopened letter - in fact, there were several letters on the floor.
Phryne shook herself and squared her shoulders. It didn’t matter that Jack was - drunk, or whatever was happening here. She was going to say her piece. “About you, and your memories,” she stated.
Jack seemed to snap out of the state he was in a little at her words - he raised his eyes to her and focused on her face. He looked confused. “How could you…? Mac.” He shook his head, and his good hand came up to rub his forehead. “Of course she… right.” He dropped his hand, and Phryne felt her temper flare up again at the look of resignation on his face. As if he didn’t want to be having this conversation at all but just needed to get through it.
He sighed. “Phryne -”
The sound of her name was enough to set her off. “How could you?” She demanded. “How could you let me believe that you didn’t remember anything?”
Jack shook his head, and then winced. “I wasn’t - it wasn’t like that,” he said.
Phryne scoffed. “You’ve been lying to me for weeks -”
“I didn’t mean to - I didn’t know what to -”
“ Didn’t mean to ? All the time we’ve sat together in the same room over the past month, you didn’t mean to stay silent on the most important piece of information you had.”
Jack put his hand back on his head. “It wasn’t like that,” he repeated.
“I sat in my parlour and asked you if you remembered anything and you -”
“And I what?” Jack snapped back, dropping his hand and looking at her with eyes that were suddenly clear, and clearly angry. Phryne, who felt that Jack had absolutely no right to be angry with her, felt her hands curl into fists.
“You walked out before I could say anything,” Jack was saying, his voice rising in volume to match hers. “ You , on the other hand, told me to my face that there was nothing between us.”
Phryne jerked back as if he’d hit her, her mind flashing back to what he was talking about, to when he’d asked her if they were lovers. He was right, of course, she’d said no, but… well, that wasn’t technically a lie, was it? And was she supposed to believe that he would have told her all about his regained memories had she said yes? The fact was he’d still lied. Was being his friend not enough to earn a little truth from him? Phryne was furious to feel her cheeks suddenly burning hot, and she flung her head angrily.
“What was I supposed to say?” She demanded. “I thought you didn’t remember anything -”
“I didn’t!” Jack exclaimed. Phryne frowned, but he soon explained. “Not properly, anyway. Nothing made sense , Phryne, not until just now. I was getting bits and pieces and it was all so confusing. I was remembering how I felt about you but I couldn’t remember anything about...”
“About what?”
“About how you felt about me,” Jack told her in a defeated tone. “Nothing. It was like I was getting half the story. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
Phryne wasn’t about to let him use that as an excuse. “Was my dropping everything and flying halfway round the world not a big enough clue, Inspector ?” She said sarcastically.
Jack’s eyes flashed angrily. “ That’s why I asked you !” He exclaimed. “And you said no .”
Phryne stared him down for a moment, but then span on her heel and walked down the hallway and into his living room. She hadn’t expected him to defend himself like this, she hadn’t expected an argument in which he actually - as much as she was loathe to admit it - had a leg to stand on. And what he’d said about not remembering the whole story, and not knowing her feelings for him… well, she was far more eager to accept that as an explanation for his secrecy than that he’d decided he didn’t want to be with her.
There was an uneaten sandwich sitting on the small table next to his armchair, next to an open book. No wonder he was angry, she’d interrupted his lunch. Phryne shook her head, trying to decide what to do next. She could still feel the anger that had brought her here, but it was starting to slip away, and she wasn’t sure how to proceed without it. If Jack really did only remember half the story, then…
Phryne frowned, remembering what he’d said, and turned to face Jack. He’d followed her but hadn’t quite left the hallway, lingering on the threshold and watching her warily.
Phryne swallowed, doing her best to keep hold on the fierce hope that was trying to claw its way from her chest and up her throat. “You said… you said nothing made sense until just now .”
Jack took a step towards her, and nodded. “I read the telegram,” he said.
Phryne looked back at the book - his Shakespeare. This time, she noticed the unfolded telegram on top of the open pages, a discarded envelope on the floor. She swallowed again. “Ferdinand and Miranda.”
“It made me remember the airfield,” Jack said softly. Phryne heard him take another step. “And then I just… everything came back.”
Phryne took a deep breath and turned to face him. He was only a step away, and was staring at her intently. “Everything?” She whispered.
Jack smiled ruefully. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but… there were blanks, before,” he said. “There aren’t any now.”
He shuffled a little closer, so that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. It had been so long since they’d stood this close while talking, and god it was such a simple thing, but the proximity, the fact she had to adjust her body, the way she could feel his body heat… it meant everything.
Phryne slowly brought her hands up between them, almost expecting Jack to step away from her before she could touch him, but he held still as she ran her fingertips along the collar of his waistcoat. Phryne felt tears prick her eyes as she splayed her hands against Jack’s chest. He took another small step towards her, his hands coming to rest lightly on her waist, and Phryne gasped, desperately trying to rein in the tidal wave relief and disbelief building inside of her.
Phryne was staring intently at her hands, which were starting to swim a little from the tears in her eyes, when she felt Jack’s own hand slide against her cheek to cup her face. Gently, he raised her head to look at him. His eyes bored into hers with an almost unbearable sense of understanding. And love. Phryne could see it now. She hadn’t thought she would see it again.
Her hands clutched at his waistcoat. “You were coming after me,” she said. A tear slipped down her cheek and Jack caught it with his thumb, wiping it away.
Jack nodded. “As fast as I could,” he said.
They were standing so close at this point that it took barely any movement from either of them, but to Phryne it still felt like an age of the world passed in the time it took Jack to lower his head and brush his lips against hers. It was the merest of touches, but Phryne felt her head swim with the sweetness, the rightness of it. Her eyes slid closed and she pushed up on her toes, catching Jack’s lips with her own, sipping at them gently as her hands slid up to his shoulders. Jack's hand moved too, his fingers carding through her hair until he was cupping the back of her head, the way he had at the airfield all those months before.
The memory of that kiss had been all that Phryne had had to sustain her for months. According to Jack, the memory of it had been what it’d taken to restore everything else. Now, the memory of it seemed to work as a stimulant for both of them. Jack hummed against her lips and hooked his left elbow around her side, dragging her up against him, and Phryne teased his lips with her tongue and hummed herself as he opened to let her in.
Time lost all meaning. There was only the feel of Jack’s lips, the taste of Jack’s mouth, her hand running over the shifting muscles in his shoulders, the softness of his hair between her fingers. She couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get close enough - she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pressed herself as tightly as she could, feeling the beginnings of his arousal against her hip and swallowing down his cry of -
Pain?
Jack broke away from her suddenly, staggering back a step and letting go of her head to clutch at his collar, his face tight with pain.
Phryne gasped and quickly dropped her hands. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I -”
Jack shook his head. “No, it’s fine -” He let go of his collar and reached out to grab her hand, pulling her back towards him.
“Jack…”
Jack shook his head and leant down to kiss her again. Phryne let him for a few seconds, before pulling back - he didn’t let her get far, with his arm around her again… but now she was acutely aware that he was using his elbow and not his steal-healing left hand to hold her in place.
“Jack, you’re injured, we shouldn’t…”
Jack groaned and pressed his forehead against hers. “Please Phryne…” He said, ducking in for another kiss. He pulled back slightly and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Do you want me to beg?”
Phryne laughed, and then gasped when she felt his good hand run down her back to her rear. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to kiss him again, and this kiss grew even more heated than the last until finally they broke apart, gasping for breath. Jack raised an eyebrow at her, and Phryne smirked. “I’ll be gentle.”
Jack smirked right back. “Not too gentle.”
***
It was the first time Jack had been in his bed for months, but any sense of familiarity involved was completely negated by the woman stretched out beside him.
Everything had happened so quickly. One minute he was getting ready to eat a sandwich and wondering why he’d been reading The Tempest , and the next he had his memories back, and Phryne was beating down his door for an explanation. And then… and then .
Jack turned his head to look at Phryne, who was dozing with her head pressed against his right shoulder, her hand wrapped around his arm. They had tossed a light sheet over themselves as their overheated bodies had begun to cool, but it left little to the imagination. Not that Jack had need of his imagination anymore, not when he had the vivid memory of Phryne climbing into his lap, peeling his suspenders down his shoulders and sliding her hands under his untucked shirt, helping him to pull her dress up and over her head, pressing herself into his chest and licking into his mouth as she…
Jack cleared his throat, shaking his head ruefully. The sound and the movement woke Phryne from her doze, and she stretched out next to him, dragging her foot up his shin and turning her face into his shoulder to drop a kiss there.
Jack smiled at her, and she smiled back for a moment before her face turned serious.
“I’m sorry I said no,” she said softly.
It took Jack a moment to realise what she meant, and then he was shaking his head. “What have I told you about apologising?” He teased her, drawing a small smile. He lifted his right hand and placed it on her hip next to him, his elbow brushing her stomach. “Besides, technically it wasn’t a lie.”
Phryne huffed. “Yes, I did tell myself that to justify it,” she said. “Do you think it would have remembered sooner?”
Jack sighed. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. He hated seeing her regretting her decisions like this - lord knows that both of them could have handled everything better, but there was no point dwelling on it. He squeezed her hip. “Maybe I needed the physical evidence in front of me.”
That made Phryne smile, much to Jack’s relief. “Hmm, a policeman through and through,” she said. She stretched up towards him and he twisted his head round to meet her properly, kissing her softly on the lips and completely ignoring the twinge in his collarbone.
Phryne settled back down, still smiling. “I’m just so glad we got here in the end,” she said.
“As am I, Miss Fisher,” said Jack.
Phryne’s breath caught in her throat, and she looked away from him quickly. Jack frowned. “What?” He asked.
Phryne just shook her head, but Jack could see she was blinking suddenly, as if she were about to cry. He started to sit up. “What’s wrong?”
Phryne shook her head again, and placed her hand on his chest to stop him. “Nothing’s wrong, really, I just…” She bit her lip for a moment. “I missed you calling me Miss Fisher,” she said quietly. “Every time you called me Phryne, it reminded me that you were…”
Whatever Jack had expected her to say, it hadn’t been that. She looked unsure, a little embarrassed, and there were definitely still tears in her eyes. Jack lifted his arm from her leg and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in close. Phryne went willingly, tucking her face into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, and wrapping her arm around his waist.
Jack carefully brought his left hand up and gently stroked Phryne’s hair, thinking back over the last few months, and everything that had happened. He thought about the first time she’d arrived in his hospital room, how he’d apologised for calling her Miss Fisher, how her face had frozen, how he’d shied away from her touch and how she’d run away after only a few minutes.
He thought about how she’d come back the next day and been there every day since.
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you,” he said after a few minutes.
Phryne lifted her head, and Jack’s hand fell down to her shoulder instead. Her tears were gone, but she still looked a little shaken. “Jack, you were in a coma,” she said. “I think you win this one.”
Jack smiled, but shook his head. “No,” he said. “I just lost my memories for a while; you had the burden of remembering everything I’d forgotten.”
Phryne ducked her head for a moment, and Jack knew he was right - it had been a burden; a horrible one. He thought of how quiet Phryne had been these past few months, how little she’d gone out, how she’d tried to give him space while also providing him with every possible luxury. He tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked his thumb over her cheek bone.
“And despite it all, you were there for me the entire time,” he said. “I’ll never be able to thank you.”
Phryne smirked. “I think you just did,” she said suggestively.
Jack just smiled softly. “Seriously,” he said. “Thank you. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“You were still you, Jack,” Phryne said. She lay back down, her face against his neck again, and when she spoke it was so quiet that he more felt it than heard it. “You just… you forgot you loved me.”
Jack rolled onto his side, carefully pushing Phryne onto her back so that he was looming over her and so that she couldn’t hide her face from him - and so that she could see his face too. This was too important for them to not be looking at each other. He propped himself up on his good elbow, and cupped her cheek with his left hand.
“I did,” he said softly, “but it was the first thing I remembered.”
THE END