I was listening to U2's 'With Or Without You' before I went to bed one night, and when I woke up this fic was floating around in my head.

Phryne wasn't quite sure how or why she and Jack had ended up kissing, but it was already apparent that it certainly wasn't going to stop there.

The evening had begun like so many others, with drinks in her parlour following another successful case. Another murder solved, thanks to their combined abilities and by-now well-established working rhythm. Another evening when Jack had turned up on her doorstep, uninvited but never unwelcome, to sit not quite close enough and smile that smile that never said quite enough, and to quote Shakespeare at her with never-quite-stated intent. Until he had leaned across, brushed her hair away from her cheek, searched her eyes for permission and, receiving it, pressed his lips against hers.

And now he was kissing her. Slowly, deliberately, in a way that made his intentions, for once, absolutely clear. If there had been any doubt in her mind just what he meant by those kisses, then what his hands were doing would have washed it away, for they were moving endlessly up and down her body as though intent on touching and memorising every inch of her. For her part, she was repaying his attentions with interest, still unsure what exactly had prompted this sudden escalation in their relationship, but thoroughly enjoying it nonetheless.

And yet... Jack hadn't spoken a single word to her since his lips had first fastened on hers, and there was something in his silence that she found disturbing. With words or without, Jack always asked questions, and she was fairly certain that her lack of firm answers on the subject of romance formed a large part of the reason why this, or something very like it, hadn't happened before today.

So his sudden silence about just what was happening between them was disturbing to her. Disturbing enough that it was she who broke their kiss and pulled back slightly from him. The sound that he made when she did so was even more disturbing; a soft, inarticulate cry of such profound loss that it hurt even to hear it.

"Jack..." she trailed off as he gazed deeply into her eyes from mere inches away. What she saw there only added to her concern. Desire, yes, but beyond that a desperation and pain that took her breath away. How he could feel all that and utter only one tiny cry was beyond her.

"Ssshh, Phryne," he whispered softly, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm not asking you for anything, love. I know you don't want... anything, that you don't feel the same way about me. But please, let me have tonight. Break my heart tomorrow, but let me have tonight."

He could have struck her, and it would not have affected her so profoundly. She could only stare at him, speechless for once, and he evidently took her silence and continued nearness as agreement, because after a moment's hesitation he leaned forward and began to kiss her neck again. And oh! but he knew how to kiss her. Long and lingering, and in ways that made it difficult to think, because she wanted him, oh, yes, she had done for a long time, and he...

He thought that she didn't, or at least that she didn't want him in a way that was at all different from the way in which she had wanted all the other lovers that she'd taken to her bed, before she knew him and since. And, with his lips on her neck and his hands on her body, she suddenly realised that that wasn't the case. Because she wanted far more than just one night, and it was only now, now that they were approaching the point of no return, that she was able to recognise that fact.

Feelings (love) that she had been denying for months surged up within her heart, as this good, honourable, loving man continued to kiss her, wilfully breaking his own heart with every touch of his lips. One night with him could never be enough. He could never be a fling, a dalliance, a casual affair to brush aside and forget in the morning light. He was (her love) her strength, her shield, her ally in a world that too often felt hostile, her anchor in the storms of life, the hand that pulled her back when she had gone too far, the arms that caught her when she fell right over the edge. He was her friend, her confidante, her partner in every way.

She loved him.

She had hardened her heart, all those years ago, and sworn that she would never love again, but somehow, without even noticing, she had fallen in love with him. She had promised herself that she would never belong to any man ever again, that no man would ever possess her, but suddenly she was certain, completely and utterly certain, that she belonged with him.

"No, Jack."

He pulled away at once, even though the words had been no more than a breath, and drew back, eyes full of guilt, lips already parting in words of profound apology, but she caught his sleeve with one hand, covered his lips with the other, and held him there with a look.

She shook her head. "I can't give you tonight. Not without giving you tomorrow as well."

He shook his head at that, more sharply than she had, trying to clear the fog of desire and make sense of her admittedly ambiguous words.

"Jack," she stroked his cheek. "Is that what you think of me? What you think you mean to me? One single night, and then I'll break your heart forever?"

He smiled wryly. "I'm sure I'll recover, with time."

"You could never be just one night to me, Jack. If you take me tonight, then I'm yours tomorrow. And then for as long as you want me."

"That could be a very long time," he whispered, moving one hand back to her cheek.

She sighed and closed her eyes. She loved him so much. Why had she never let herself feel it before? Why had she never let herself see what he felt for her, never let herself give him what she now realised they both wanted so badly? Jack Robinson was no Rene Dubois; hadn't he proven that, time and time again? Hadn't he risked himself for her over and over; his safety, his career, even his life? He would have given himself to her tonight, given her his heart and let her break it, and never given a thought to possession or revenge. But she couldn't let him do that. She couldn't let herself do that; to take his love and then to let it go. Greedy as a child for sweets, she would always want more from him than that.

She turned her lips into his palm and kissed it before whispering her response. "Then I'm yours forever."