Just a little follow-up that popped into my head. Many thanks to Seldarius for suggesting a couple of improvements - the fic is better for it.

"Oh, come on, Mac. Jack's promised not to let me get on any more motorcycles."

"Unless the Inspector promises to shackle you to him, the answer's still 'no'. You need to rest that leg, and I know perfectly well that as soon as I let you out that door you'll forget all about resting and try to race off after a pick-pocket, or a bank robber, or a bloody pigeon, or something."

"I haven't chased pigeons since I was five years old," Phryne told her old friend, affecting wounded dignity.

"And you're not going to have the opportunity to start again anytime soon."

"Mac. Please. I promise I'll be good."

Doctor Elizabeth Macmillan leaned towards her friend and narrowed her eyes. "If you spend the next week resting, in absolute compliance with doctor's orders, I'll consider it."

Phryne adopted an angelic look that would not have fooled anyone and smiled at her. "I promise."

...

Being on her best behaviour for an entire week was almost unbearable, and Phryne spent much of her time trying to think of ways to pay Mac back for it once she was back on her feet, but seven days later her friend grudgingly conceded that she could indeed accept Jack Robinson's offer to take her for a drive.

He noticed her grin as soon as he arrived that evening.

"You look more than usually pleased with yourself," he remarked as he took his now-accustomed seat opposite her.

"I have good news."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Guess."

"You've decided to give up crime and spend your days sewing clothing for orphans instead?"

"Jack, please. Those poor children have suffered enough already. Try again."

"You've discovered the religious life, and intend to enter a convent?"

"Don't let Dot hear you making light of such matters; I'm sure God wouldn't be pleased if you upset her. Guess again"

"No, I'm sorry, you'll just have to tell me."

She smirked at him. "And you call yourself a detective?"

"And have the badge to prove it, unlike some people I could mention."

Except for a brief look of disdain, she chose to ignore that comment. "Mac has finally relented and agreed to allow you to take me out for a drive."

He smiled. He had suspected that was the reason for her happiness, but it was always more fun to tease her than to simply come out with an answer.

"When were you hoping we might go?"

"Whenever's convenient for you, but make it soon Jack, please?"

It wasn't her usual wheedling tone, he noticed, the one she used when she wanted him to do something for her that he probably shouldn't do, or give her information that she probably shouldn't have. This time there was a note of genuine pleading in her voice, and he smiled more gently.

"What about Saturday? Do you think you'll be able to hold on until then?"

She pouted, but now it was artful. "It seems I don't have much choice in the matter."

"None whatsoever." He smiled and rose. "I shall see you on Saturday, Miss Fisher."

...

To his surprise, the door was opened on Saturday afternoon not by Mr. Butler, nor by Dot, but by Dr. Macmillan. He had no time to recover, let alone remove his coat and hat, before she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the dining room, kicking the door shut behind them.

"Now you listen to me, Jack Robinson, and listen well. We both know Phryne doesn't have the sense she was born with, so I am placing you in charge of her safety. No motorbikes. Also, no bicycles, unicycles, motorcars, or vehicles of any description except for the Hispano, which I expect you and no-one else, most definitely including her, to be driving at all times. She is not to run, jump, climb, skip, or try to dance a bloody tango. She is not to get her cast wet, she is not to disappear off with a man – no matter how attractive he may be – and she is to be back here no later than 5pm. And I ask you to bear in mind that I am a doctor and can think of any number of interesting and painful things to do to your anatomy if you do allow anything to happen to her. Is that understood?"

In the face of her verbal assault he could only stand, gaping. Now he composed himself enough to speak. "I can assure you Miss Fisher's comfort and safety will be foremost in my mind at all times."

She gave him one last long, hard look and nodded, apparently satisfied. "Good. Shall we?" She gestured towards the door, and he preceded her into the parlour.

"Jack!"

It was incredible, he thought, how happiness lit up her features. Seated on the loveseat, Phryne looked like a little girl impatiently awaiting a long-anticipated treat, and he smiled warmly at her. "Miss Fisher."

Mac, however, gave a low and disapproving growl and pinned her patient with an intimidating glare. "Just remember what I told you: if you don't behave yourself there'll be no more outings until that cast is off, and maybe not even then."

"Yes mother."

Mr. Butler cleared his throat discreetly from the doorway. "The car is ready whenever you are, Miss, Inspector."

"Thank you, Mr. Butler." Phryne reached for the crutches at her side and stood before Jack could even think to offer his assistance. "Shall we?"

He followed along behind as, with surprising speed and agility, she hopped from the room, out of the front door that Mr. Butler held open for her, and down the steps to the gate. She paused there, evidently trying to figure out how to open it without losing her grip on her crutches or her purse, and he stepped past and opened it for her.

"Allow me."

"Thank you, Jack."

It was more complicated when they reached the car, and after a few moments of awkward consideration he took her crutches and stowed them in the back seat, then lifted her carefully into the front passenger's seat. He walked around to the driver's side and climbed in, pausing and smiling briefly to himself before starting the engine. He had always secretly coveted the chance to drive her Hispano-Suiza, a car originally designed to be fit for a king, but had never thought he'd have the opportunity.

He pulled out, and drove carefully along the road.

"Come on Jack, we can go faster than this."

He gave her a pointed look. "I don't think so, Miss Fisher."

"Why not?"

"Well, firstly, there's the small matter of the legal speed limit, which I realise is of negligible importance to you, but is of rather more significance to me as an officer of the law. And secondly, there's the fact that Dr. Macmillan has promised to do unpleasant things to me should I make the mistake of allowing anything to happen to you. So we are going to enjoy a nice, safe, slow drive around the city, and nothing you can say or do is going to induce me to go any faster than I deem appropriate."

"Nothing?" He glanced at her, and saw the wicked gleam in her eye that warned him of danger ahead. "I'm sure I can think of something."

"I'm sure you'll try. Now, did you have any particular destination in mind?"

She tilted her head back into the breeze. "The seaside!"

"Alright." He signalled, then turned carefully onto a road that would take them down to the promenade.

Of course, they had hardly been there a minute when Phryne began to beg him to pull over so she could go down onto the sand.

"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked, knowing that it wasn't, and also knowing that it was pointless trying to argue with her when she'd made up her mind to something. And she really did seem almost pathetically glad to be out of the house. It struck him suddenly just how difficult it must be for someone who valued their freedom as much as she did to have it taken away, even for a few weeks. With a sigh, he pulled over and helped her from the car.

He offered her the crutches, but retained his grip on them when she tried to pull them away. She frowned up at him, and he placed his face close to hers, holding her gaze with his own.

"If you go within three feet of that water, I'll report you to Dr. Macmillan."

She gave him an outraged look. "Blackmail, Inspector?"

He gave a firm nod. "Blackmail, Miss Fisher. I'm not having you getting that cast wet."

She tried again to pull her crutches away, but he resisted. "Phryne?"

"Fine."

He relinquished his hold, and she shot him a look of wounded dignity before heading towards the steps that led to the sand.

It was clear almost immediately that she was going to have trouble walking on the yielding, uneven surface, and he kept a close eye on her as he walked beside her, ready to catch her if she looked as though she were going to fall. After a few moments she stopped and stared out over the sea, and he took the opportunity to suggest that perhaps they could just sit awhile. When she agreed, he spread his coat as an impromptu rug, then helped her to sit down.

For a while they simply sat there, side by side, their arms just barely touching as they stared out over the water.

"Thank you for this," Phryne said at last, and he smiled at her.

"You're welcome."

After that, they let the peace stretch out again, until Phryne suddenly started and tried to get up. "Damn!"

"Miss Fisher?" Unencumbered by a cast, he was quicker to his feet than she was and hooked his hands beneath her shoulders, hauling her inelegantly but effectively to her feet before passing her crutches to her once again. The tide, he noticed, had crept in on them unawares, and it was the sudden shock of cold water against her foot which had startled Phryne.

"Did it get your cast?" he asked anxiously, thoughts of Dr. Macmillan's impending wrath flashing through his mind.

"No, fortunately, just the shoe on my other foot."

"Just as well."

He retrieved his coat, and they headed back towards the car.

"Must we leave so soon?" she asked at the top of the stairs, and he looked at his watch.

"We still have plenty of time." He glanced around for inspiration. "How about I buy you an ice-cream?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful!"

He couldn't help but shake his head at that. The woman could doubtless have bought an entire ice-cream factory, were she so inclined, yet she seemed positively delighted at the thought of having him buy her a cone. He left her sitting on a bench while he bought the sweet treats, then handed hers over before sitting down next to her.

"So tell me, what's so special about ice-cream?" he asked, with a sideways glance, when they were half-way through their cones.

"Mmm." She smiled, and was silent for long enough that he wondered whether he was going to receive an answer. "When we were children, Janey and I used to sneak aboard the trams and ride down here"- he didn't have to ask whose idea that had been –"and we'd watch the couples strolling together. I remember thinking there could be no finer thing in life than to stroll along the waterfront in a pretty dress with a handsome man who would buy you ice-cream."

For a moment he was lost for words, deeply touched by her connection between those childhood yearnings and their current situation. "Well, at least you have the ice-cream and the pretty dress," he managed at last, glancing at her again.

"And the handsome man!" She turned to him, indignant, and he felt his cheeks warm. Perhaps realising she had gone too far, she glanced down at her leg and wrinkled her nose. "Although I have to say that the cast wasn't part of the original plan," she added, steering the conversation back onto safer ground.

"Well, that's what you get for fooling around on motorbikes," he remarked with something dangerously close to a smirk.

She responded by nudging his elbow just as he raised his cone to his lips again, smearing ice-cream over his nose and chin. She giggled with childish glee at the effect, and he gave her an exasperated look and dug in his pocket for a handkerchief.

...

When their ice-creams were finished, he escorted her back to the car and drove her home, still at the same careful pace. Mac was waiting for them when they arrived, and swept her friend with a single top-to-toe look, before glaring accusingly at Jack. "She's sunburned."

"But her cast is intact, we avoided running, dancing, and water"- only just, although he didn't add that last –"and, as you can see, I have her home safe and sound, and it's," he glanced at his watch, "ten minutes to five."

"And I've had a wonderful time," Phryne added, pinning the doctor with a meaningful look. "It was so nice to get out of the house."

"Perhaps I could take you out again next Saturday," Jack heard himself suggesting.

"If my mother will allow it?" Phryne commented, with a humourous glance at her friend.

Mac frowned for a minute, then smiled. "Oh, go on then. God knows, I'll never hear the end of it otherwise."

...

Over the next two months, while her leg mended and then slowly regained its strength, he took her driving or strolling every Saturday. It was only when she hared off after a young thief that he realised that he really didn't need to keep taking her out anymore. But by then it had become a habit.