And here we are again: At the end of the journey. Thank you for all your lovely comments and for coming along with me to the darker sides of Collingwood. I hope you enjoyed the trip - I certainly did.

Chapter 37: Moon

"What are you doing, Mr. B?"

The servant smiled quietly and shuffled the papers back into place, before turning to where Jane stood, stifling a yawn.

"I just sorted some paperwork away," he said smoothly and pushed the drawer shut, before pulling himself back to his full height. "Would you like some breakfast, Miss Jane?"

"It is evening, Mr. Butler," the girl carefully pointed out.

"Very true, Miss. Dinner then?"

She grinned.

"Breakfast will do."

They left the parlour behind and Mr. Butler breathed a sigh of relief. He rather hoped that he had hidden the letter well enough for Jane to never come across it. While he was aware that the Robinson's concern for their daughter's future only spoke of their love for their foster child and he also felt deeply honoured by the responsibility they had lain into his hands, he doubted that the girl could appreciate the knowledge in which their testament had been written - that life was dangerous for a couple of Detectives. But, as things stood, it wouldn't be needed for the time being and thank God for that.

Whistling, he cooked tea while Jane busied herself toasting slices of bread and setting butter and jam on the table. He probably should have been tired, considering that he had been the only one not going to bed, but having the house full of exhausted but quietly happy people really felt incredibly restful. And he might have had a nap by the fireplace while attempting to polish the silver.

"Tell me, Mr. Butler. Do you ever sleep?" he heard Jane suddenly asked. He turned, a smile playing around his lips.

"I don't know what you mean, Miss Jane?"

Neither his wink nor her grin were at all suitable for the conversation between servant and Mistress. Mr. Butler enjoyed both immensely.

X

Dorothy Collins lay awake in the darkness. Her husband was snuggled into her chest, sprawled across the bed and mumbled in his sleep. Considering his words, he was dreaming of pirates on the sea and Dot couldn't help but bite her lip in fond amusement. Running her fingers gently through his hair, she pondered. He had shot someone today and maybe that should have scared her. But instead she just felt blessed that neither of the people she loved had let their lives today at Pentridge.

Hugh had cried earlier today, the first time she had ever seen him to. And though she wasn't certain if his tears were for Jacob Rose or the Inspector's close brush with death or maybe only for himself, who would never be the same stumbling, innocent man she had met two years ago, it had touched her so deeply that she thought she'd suffocate, while she'd held him.

Now he shuffled in his sleep, bedding his head on her belly, where the baby moved, obviously annoyed by his father's inability to hold still. Dot shook her head at both. She wondered if she would tell her little one someday about Hugh's heroic day, when he not only survived the bloodiest prison break in Melbourne's history, but had also saved the life of Inspector Robinson. It would probably have to wait a few years, she decided.

But she would never hide how proud she was of him. Not just for today but even more so for his court appearance, where his courage and love for the Inspector had brought grown men to tears. And for his generosity, with which he had the world allowed to think him an adulterer, rather than endanger the Robinsons. Her roaming fingers tickled Hugh's ear and he swapped at her like at a fly, grunting something in his sleep. Dot grinned, gently rubbing her tummy.

"You're father is a hero," she whispered for only her baby to hear. "And don't you ever forget it."

X

Albert was currently busy with his breakfast consisting of a rather fat fly, when the door was opened roughly. Two of the visitors were back, staring into the small cottage with some disgust. The spider tipped it's head, waiting for the show. That the lovely couple was gone he had grasped in his little insect brain some time ago. It was a bit of a shame really, but then, life went on.

"Well done, Cec. Ya just had to volunteer to come pack up," the older man grumbled.

"Who else would've done it then? Mrs. Robinson?" the younger guy asked, starting to pile the dirty dishes into the sink.

"It's not like she hasn't got enough people doing her deeds," Bert grumbled, looking for a broom.

"True," Cec smiled. "I believe they include us."

"Thank you, Mr. Know-it-all," his friend replied without any real sincerity. Just then, the door was half broken down by a woman with blonde hair.

"Oh, I heard right, there are people here," Adelheid chirped, a basket on her arm that she set down on the table before either of the men could react. "And two very strong men too. Cleaning up for the Robinsons, are you? That's so lovely of you. You keep going and I will make you a cup of tea."

The two Cabbies looked at each other in confusion, then shrugged. A cuppa wouldn't hurt while they folded up underwear and swept glass from the floor. On his window seat Albert grinned. Life certainly went on.

X

They were woken by the ringing of the telephone. Jack groaned, anticipating Mr. Butler coming with news of a murder somewhere that he had to attend to. Stifling a cough he pulled his aching body upright. Or at least he attempted to, as he had barely managed to shift onto his elbows, when an arm came up to drag him back onto his pillow.

"You know what Mac said," a sleepy voice pointed out.

"I still need to know-"

Phryne closed his mouth with a kiss. Jack surrendered, looking into her sleepy blue eyes, then wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer.

"The strength of your argument is undeniable, Miss Fisher," he whispered into her ear, revelling in the warmth of her body. Phryne was sorely tempted to fortify her reasoning further, when a knock sounded at the bedroom door. Mr. Butler entered a second later, a tray in hand and a greeting on his lips.

"Doctor MacMillan telephoned, Ma'am. She asked me to not call you down, as she wishes for you to stay in bed, but I am to tell you that Mr. Wenbrock has survived the night and is likely going to recover from his wound."

"That's wonderful news, Mr. Butler. I will visit him later today."

Jack raised his eyebrows, before pulling himself into a sitting position, a hand pressed to his stinging chest.

"Mr. Butler, could you please arrange some flowers to be sent to the hospital with our best wishes. My wife has briefly forgotten that she is to rest today."

The last words were directed at Phryne, who pulled a face. Mr. Butler grinned.

"Very well, Sir. I have brought some breakfast and the newspaper. You might want to pay special attention to page 15."

"That seems rather far back for our adventure," Phryne protested, fishing for the offered paper, while Jack thanked the servant and shoved a pillow in his wife's back.

"Also, Miss Jane has chosen to telephone your father, Sir. He sends his gratitude for being informed and I believe he also expressed a certain annoyance about your display of carelessness."

"He can get in line there," Miss Fisher mumbled, from where she was absorbed in an article, while the Inspector only groaned. As expected, the'Bloodbath in the Bluestone College' had made the front page.

"Eightpeople were shot to death in the struggle," Phryne read aloud. "Many more have been hospitalised and the numbers are still likely to rise."

"Way too many," Jack said tonelessly, while Mr. Butler quietly closed the door behind himself.

"They might be exaggerating," Phryne pointed out, without real conviction.

The Inspector rubbed both palms over his face.

"I can't help but wonder if Rose would have taken such drastic measures if Banks hadn't ordered her execution," he said, after a long moment of silence. His wife glanced briefly at him.

"You know I am not a supporter of the death penalty, Jack. An eye for an eye seems thoroughly old-fashioned to me."

"I agree and still I was relieved to see her dead," the Inspector admitted quietly. "To see both of them dead."

Phryne let the paper think, grasping for his hand.

"It is hard to not wish for revenge, when the pain is your own," she said, thinking of Murdoch Foyle. Then, in sudden resolve she let go of Jack and flicked further through the papers, in search of the article Mr. Butler had pointed out.

"And also they were both an egg short of a souffle. The world might be better off without them," she added in the middle of riffling through the pages. Jack took a sip of coffee, enjoying the silence and the soft mattress under his aching limbs, without answering. His wife was too enthralled in the papers to notice. On page three Phryne stopped.

"It seems Nurse Campbell will be charged after all," she said. "She has given a full confession as has her sister-in-law."

"If she will be convicted remains to be seen," Jack pointed out, taking the paper from his wife's hand and handing her a slice of toast instead. "Either way, I am glad that you have found someone that Mac has trust in to take care of Miss Nowak."

The slightly bitter tinge colouring his voice wasn't lost on Phryne, but she swallowed her bite of toast before answering.

"I believe it to be the best choice for her, Jack."

"I know," he said, without looking up from reading the article, then flashed a smile at his wife who looked at him sceptically and repeated: "I know."

"But nevertheless, I will offer her an alternative, if she so chooses," Phryne said calmly. The Inspector turned to look at her, unable to hide his surprise.

"You had a point, Jack. It isn't our decision. Neither mine nor yours. It's up to Natalija and as thing stand, possibly Eddie. We'll help them either way they choose."

Jack didn't answer. He took her hand, breadslice and all, and pulled it to his lips.

"I just remembered why I married you, Miss Fisher," he whispered hoarsely, then snuck a bite of her toast with a cheeky grin before releasing her.

"And why is that, Jack?" she smiled, leaning back while she watched him chew and flick further through the papers.

"Because you are quite probably the most amazing woman I have ever encountered," he smiled, without looking up from his reading material and stifled a cough.

"Only 'quite probably'? Phryne asked, pulling her bare lips into a pout.

"Very probably," he answered, seeming distracted.

His wife watched him, while a grin spread over her face.

"Then you will doubtlessly not mind the other plans I have made, granted that my Lord and Master agrees."

Finally Jack looked up.

"Your 'Lord and Master' has never had much impact on your decisions, as far as I recall," he grinned, stealing another bite from her.

"In fact he has much more influence than he is aware of," Phryne stated casually, snuggling back into the pillows with a flinch. She probably should take some more painkillers after breakfast.

"Is that so?" the Inspector asked, flipping further through the paper, still searching for page 15.

"Yes. And therefore I wanted to ask your opinion before I call Mr. Goldner for an appointment."

Her husband raised his eyebrows at her.

"To what purpose?"

"I would like him to weigh our financial possibilities to make a major investment," Mrs. Robinson stated nonchalantly. "I am considering to buy 'Gabler's Textiles'. Of course after Georgey is done with it."

To her utter satisfaction, the Inspector just stared at her for a long moment before finding his composure.

"You are aware that you won't be able to continue brewing grog, Miss Fisher?" he asked.

"We shall see," Phryne replied, chewing on her toast, while hiding a broad grin. "I will talk to Sanderson, as soon as his investigations are through. We could have our own whisky production, Jack."

"You might want to work on the recipe," her husband mumbled under his breath, finally reaching the desired page. "But chances for a legal grog production are slim."

"Then we sell the stills and find something else to do with the space. But if 'Gabler's' was to close, it would be a disaster for Collingwood. There aren't enough jobs as it is. And there is plenty of need for textiles," Phryne added, thinking of the girls playing in front of the school.

Jack glanced at her with a certain glitter in his eyes.

"You know, Miss Fisher, whenever I believe I have finally pegged you, you surprise me yet again."

"Glad to hear it, Jack."

Satisfied, Mrs. Robinson fished for her tea cup, while the Inspector returned to the newspaper to finally study the news that Mr. Butler had pointed out. For a long moment it was silent, only interrupted by a cough and Phryne's attempt to return the cup to her nightstand without drenching the floor. Then Jack's face fell andhe handed the page wordlessly to his wife. Phryne read, a broad grin spreading over her features.

"Tales of the Night - A Harlot Confesses Her Secrets," was written in broad letters across the page.

"I assume we know said 'harlot'?" the Lady Detective asked happily, while she glanced over the article.

"They have quoted her in detail about the 'Butcher Case'," the Inspector groaned. "She promised she wouldn't let slip a word."

"Yes, but then she didn't know that keeping the secret could ruin her sister's marriage," Phryne mumbled, reading quietly. She had spent some time at the station talking to Hugh about the gone week. "And truthfully, she describes you in a very flattering fashion. Very professional and also incredibly handsome."

"Dear God," Jack groaned, letting himself sink back into the pillows. Smiling, Phryne dropped down beside him, tossing the newspaper aside.

"I do agree," she quipped, kissing his chest through the fabric of his pyjamas. Jack's arm came up to pull her close, while she slipped a hand towards the edge of his pants. His next groan was of a different nature.

"You know," he pointed out, "those activities could be severely complicated by your shoulder."

Phryne tilted her head and leaned in to kiss him.

"I've never minded a challenge, Inspector."

He looked at her with intense eyes full of warmth and love, then smiled.

"That you haven't." He stretched out his free hand to weave it through her hair. "While some of us are looking at the stars, hardly anyone just reaches for the moon, despite it being so much closer," he grinned.

Phryne smiled cheekily, content when he lost his breath a second later.

"So you think I am grasping for the moon then, Jack?" she wondered loudly, while brushing her lips over a scar on his forehead.

"You?" he asked, opening his lashes and gently pulling her in for another kiss. "You, Miss Fisher have the moon firmly by its throat."

X

Nobody's perfect and its kind of traditional for a TV-show to mock their little slip-ups - even though noone has of yet bothered to take Miss Fisher apart (I could think of a flaw or two). Instead, lets have a look at some of my little and big mess ups after 6 stories, shall we?

- In "Blood and Stone", Phryne happily pointed out that she and her Inspector never had danced of yet. While in "A Time to Dance", they well... danced.

- The lake in Daylesford played a wonderfully romantic backdrop in "Days of Wine and Sunflowers" - Stupid thing is though that the lovely lake is manmade and was likely still under construction at the time the story plays. More a little dishonest fibbing than a honest mistake admittedly.

- In "Stone" Jack tells an amusing anecdote about his Aunt Beatrice, who snored into his ear one certain night. A family connection I completely forgot when it came to producing Jack's family in "Sunflowers". Poor Aunty.

- Some of you might remember that Chief Commissioner Thompson played a rather important role in "Time". And while the Commissioner in cannon turns out to be indeed corrupt, his name is Hall, a tiny detail that I simply missed.

- In this very story I stated that the 'D Division' of Pentrige marked the last destination to a line of notorious criminals. Which is... not quite true. While a few people did end on a rope in Pentridge, the first hanging there happened not until 1932. Before that the old Melbourne Gaol had harboured the gallows of choice for the likes of Ned Kelly. Only one woman was ever executed in Pentridge by the way and her name wasn't even Elaine Browning.

- Jack's belt played a rather interesting role in several *cough* scenes ever since "Ocean". However, it is more than questionable if our Inspector would have such a modern item of clothing. Much likelier is that Phryne would have to unbutton suspenders if she wanted to get into his pants. And who doesn't?

- Noticed any more obvious mistakes I made? Please feel free to leave me a message. There is an artform in laughing at yourself. ;) Other than that I wish you a good night and I'll read you next time.