Summary:

In the fourth episode of the third season, Phryne comes home in the wee morning hours after dancing all night. Young Paddy hires her to investigate strange happenings in Collingwood, and she doesn't catch a moment's rest. She eventually gets to change clothes, but she works far into the next night without stopping.
She's exhausted. Jack notices and takes care of her.
Schmoopy, fluffiness here.

"Sir, I thought you should see this."

"Thank you, Collins," Jack examined the report letting Phryne take the second folder, "The bayonet is not a match for Badger's wound. You can release Mr. Woods, Collins."

Phryne skimmed through the folder in front of her, "And in a report from City Central, it seems that our Col is the number one suspect in a recent assault with a deadly weapon." Col suddenly lost his calm demeanor and looked nervous as Phryne continued to read aloud, "To wit, a knife. That knife you had earlier is no weapon for a gang leader. Where's your real knife, Col? "

Col swallowed hard, "It's Mary Maddison's word against mine. What makes you think she's such an angel?"

Something wasn't adding up. Jack stole a look over at Phryne to see if she reached the same conclusion. The look in her eye showed doubt as well.

"Collins. Make young Col comfortable for the evening, won't you?"

Hugh's mouth dropped open about to protest before snapping shut, "Of course, sir. Come on, Col." He practically snarled at the lad.

When they were alone in the interrogation room, Jack turned back to Phryne, "He seemed genuinely surprised about Jimmy."

Phryne's head was sagging toward her chest.

"Phryne?"

She snapped awake, "I agree Jack."

He studied her carefully, "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she protested, "I'm perfectly fine. I was just thinking about the case and…"

"You fell asleep."

"I did not."

"When did you last sleep?" He pushed.

"I'm not sure. Yesterday? It's hard to keep track. I've got this case, and… Arthur had a bad turn. Aunt P insisted I come… and…"

"And dancing."

"Yes, and dancing. I needed to relax after helping Aunt P. You know how she is."

Jack nodded, "I should get you home."

"Jack, I'm fine! Besides we need to follow up with Mary Maddison and…"

"And that can wait until you get some sleep," "Jack insisted, "And I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist I take you home. You are in no fit state to drive."

Phryne rolled her eyes and stood quickly, "Of course I can…" a wave of dizziness hit her and forced her back down into the chair. She looked sheepishly at Jack, "I just stood too quickly."

"All right," Jack said, "If you're fine, how about a night cap? We can talk about the case in the comfort of your parlour."

"You just want my good whisky. I know your game, Robinson," she smiled sleepily.

"You've found me out," He smiled softly, "I'll drive."

"Oh, very well," she finally agreed.

Through practiced use of gallantry, Jack managed to get his increasingly sluggish partner to the motorcar with her dignity still in place.

"I really can drive, Jack."

"And rob me of my chance to drive this magnificent vehicle?" Jack scoffed.

She crawled into the passenger seat as he shut the door for her, "Fine, Jack. Home!" she waved her hand imperiously.

Jack smirked and climbed behind the wheel. He kept her talking on the way to Wardlow. What did she think of Col's statement? Did it seem like Mary Maddison was hiding something? Did she think Archie Woods knew more than he was sharing?

He was definitely taking up more of the conversation than was typical in their exchanges.

The late winter evening was mild. There had been rain earlier, but the warm breeze from the north had moved it along. Soft kisses of dew and the gentle wind pushed them along.

"We're here, Miss Fisher," he announced as they pulled up in front of Wardlow.

Phryne shook her head lightly, her eyes had been open, but she'd been drifting in and out of sleep. Sometime answering Jack's side of the conversation, but not really following it.

"How about that night cap, Inspector?"

"Miss Fisher," Jack lowered his eyes, "You really should get some rest. We can have a drink tomorrow night."

"Jack, you promised! You mean you got me here under false pretenses?"

Jack's jaw opened and closed trying to come up with an answer. He'd been so worried she wouldn't make it home in one piece... But, she was right, he had said he would. In fact, he'd invited himself.

"One drink, Miss Fisher."

"We'll see," she said—he thought—somewhat haughtily, as she let herself out of the vehicle and stumbled up the path, "Come on, Jack."

She let them into the house. It was dark, save the light on in the foyer to welcome her home.

Phryne led them into the parlour and turned on a single dim light. "Fix me something?"

Jack nodded and turned toward the drinks cart, "Whisky?"

"Mmm"

When he turned back, she had kicked off her shoes and curled up in the nook of the chaise, "Come sit beside me, Jack."

He paused for just a breath before smiling and taking his place on the chaise. They'd pivoted in their waltz, but the next steps were complicated. "You must be exhausted."

"Hmm... it's been a long day," she agreed.

Jack set his glass on the table and moved invasive limb that was trying to push under him onto his lap. With both hands he gripped the ball of her foot and started massaging.

Phryne's head dropped back onto the chaise, "Mmmm… Jack." His name was barely a whisper.

Jack chuckled, "Satisfactory, Miss Fisher?"

"More than."

A cool breeze wafted through the room causing Phryne to shiver. Jack stopped massaging her foot, "You really should get some sleep."

"Stay, Jack," Phryne's drooping eyes were sad and vulnerable, "Sleep with me."

"Phryne… I… I want to… but you need rest."

"I can't sleep," she said in a quiet voice, "I haven't been able to sleep since Arthur had his turn. I'm afraid I'm going to lose him, Jack."

Jack started stroking her foot again,

"Phryne…"

"Jack… I want to sleep with you. Just sleep. Just for tonight. We can continue our dance tomorrow, but I just need…I need to feel safe."

He looked at her with an unreadable look for a long moment. Another strong breeze interrupted their silent conversation. Jack closed his eyes and stood, setting Phryne's feet on the floor. Without a word he held out his hand to her. She took it and rose, holding his somber gaze.

"Jack?" he lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her softly on the fingers, and then led her upstairs.

She let go of his hand as they entered the boudoir and retrieved the pajamas he'd worn the last time he was here from the chest of drawers.

"I'll change in the en suite. There's a screen if that would be more comfortable," Phryne offered. Jack sensed she was being cautious with him, trying not to scare him off. He simply nodded and stepped behind the screen to remove his armour.

A few short minutes later, Phryne exited the en suite wearing a brown and pink floral silk robe, edged in softest pink. Her face was free of makeup and drowsy. He thought she'd never looked lovelier, "I've left guest toiletries, tooth powder and brush, soap, for you if you'd like to fais ta toilette."

Jack had laid his suit, shirt, and tie over the arm of the chair, "Yes, thanks." He was getting nervous about the prospect of sharing a bed with this woman who drove him to distraction... just to sleep.

He'd been thinking about sleeping with Phryne quite a lot of late. They'd come to a sort of understanding. There were a few kisses here and there, but he wasn't quite ready and she wasn't pushing.

This was not how he'd imagined it.

When he returned to the bedroom, Phryne was already under the covers. The light on the side of the bed closest to him was the only light in the room.

Another cool breeze feathered across his arms.

"Do you have a side?" She asked with eyes half-open.

Jack blinked back a memory, "Uh… not anymore."

"Come to bed, Jack."

He lifted the doona and crawled into bed. He noted her pajamas were the same soft pink as the trim of her robe.

Reaching behind him, he turned off the light. When he turned back, her relaxed eyes met his. They lay face to face listening to the breeze rustle the leaves outside.

Phryne traced the contours of his face with her fingertips, her eyes not really focusing. She paused on his lips, "Hold me?" Her question was barely audible.

Jack closed his eyes and kissed her fingertips. Finally, he nodded and opened his arms to her.

She leaned forward, lightly brushing her lips to his, and then rolled in his arms, pressing her back against his chest.

"Good night, Jack."

He closed his arms around her and kissed her hair, "Sleep, Miss Fisher."

And she did.