Just a quick note: My apologies, but I must admit I'm a filthy American. Do not hesitate to call me out if you see any glaring Americanisms! I'm trying to beat it out of myself but any help is much appreciated. I'm very new to MFMM so have pity on a poor girl and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

It had been a tip from Dot that had brought Phryne Fisher to police headquarters on this otherwise insignificant Tuesday. Phryne hadn't had a good murder in a solid month, so all it had taken was Dot to casually mention, "Hugh couldn't come to breakfast this morning, something kept them terribly busy through the night."

"Oh?" Phryne had replied, trying to disguise her peaked interest. "Did he say what it was?"

"No, Miss. And I didn't think to ask."

No, of course Dot would not have asked. "Never mind. We'll just pop by on our way to the milliner's, see what has them in such a frenzy."

"Are you sure, Miss?" asked Dot in her sweetly timid way, "I'm sure the detective inspector would have called if he needed our assistance."

Phryne was not so sure of that, and if there was a juicy case he was trying to keep from her, there was nothing in the world that could keep her from at least stopping into headquarters to see what her serious-faced inspector was trying to keep hushed up. And it didn't hurt that she was eager to see him in general.

Thus she had rushed to the station promptly after breakfast, Dot in tow, hardly noticing Hugh's surprise as they blustered in.

"Miss Fisher! Dottie! Is everything all right? You didn't telephone, did you? I stepped out for a moment, I must have not have heard it ring," said Hugh, looking slightly nervous at their sudden entry.

"Everything is just fine, Hugh. Never fear, I didn't telephone you. Can't I simply drop by to see my two most favorite enforcers of the law?"

Hugh obliged her with a small but strained smile, "Now might not be the best time, Miss. We're facing a rather difficult case just now, the inspector is frightfully busy."

"I'll just drop in for a quick hello, Hugh. I shan't distract him for long."

Hugh must have known better than to try and deter her further, for he returned to his chair with a resigned sigh. Phryne left him with Dot and swept into Jack's office with but a small knock of warning. As she entered he was hurriedly stowing a stack of photographs and papers into a drawer, clearly meaning to hide them from her. Once this was accomplished, he settled back over another set of papers and began writing as if he had been doing so all along, affording her but a moment's glance. Strange. She closed the door behind her, all the while watching him closely.

"Miss Fisher," he greeted her coolly, eyes still on his papers. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but instead settled for, "Good morning."

"So serious, Jack. Whatever could you be doing?" She found a clear spot on his desk to lean herself upon, propping her leg so that her black crepe-de-chine trousers were pulled taut against her thigh, in a way she hoped Jack found enticing. Alas, he didn't seem in the mood to notice today.

"Investigating a murder, Miss Fisher, if that's quite all right with you."

She rested a graceful hand across her breastbone in playful shock. "Investigating? Murder? Sitting at a desk? And without me?"

His eyes flicked up to her face and then back to his task. "Not all investigation is snooping around and chasing criminals through the streets. There's quite a lot of paperwork involved, as you well know. And when do I ever have to ask you to help me investigate? You're quite skilled at finding your way to me."

"Paperwork? Isn't that what Hugh is for?" she teased, trying to coax that smile from him that she'd become more and more accustomed to seeing.

He shook his head but didn't answer her. It seemed he was not in the mood to be goaded this morning.

"What is the case?" she asked after a moment's silence, slightly sobered by his somber mood.

He let out a troubled breath. "You'll not have any part of this one, Miss Fisher," he said quietly, and for the first time Phryne really looked at him. Upon closer inspection, his face was hard, haggard, strained. Odder still he had forgotten his pomade. His hair was mussed and soft, falling into his eyes in a way that made her fingers itch to sweep it back. Though she might enjoy this new style, it did not bode well in regards to his overall state. It appeared he had been at the station all night working on whatever case he had left her decidedly out of.

She spoke softly to him. "Whatever it is, I can handle it, Jack. Surely you've learned that about me by now."

"Just because you can handle something, does not mean you should," he ground out somewhat aggressively, rubbing one of his large hands slowly over his face. "This is not poison in the sugar pot or a booby-trapped book of poetry. This was something brutal, monstrous, despicable. Evil. Done to an innocent child. It is not an image I want in my own mind, let alone yours. And don't say I'm trying to shield you because you're a woman. I'm trying to shield you because you're a human, and no human should have to see so brutally what one's own species is capable of. "

He let his words hang in the air for several moments. Instinctively, Phryne knew better than to break the silence. Then he looked her hard in the eyes. "I cannot...I will not have you near this one, Phryne Fisher. This time I mean it. You will busy yourself with something else, I don't care what."

He did mean it. All one had to do was hear the suffering in his voice. Phryne knew she must back down this one time. It was rare for him to try and give her a direct order, as he knew how little chance there was of her following it. This alone imparted how serious he was.

But it didn't mean she couldn't be present for him. She walked over to him tentatively, for once wishing she wasn't wearing flashy pumps that loudly declared her every step with a crisp clack. It was a moment for bare feet, to pad over to him quietly, gently. She laid a hand over his bent neck and let her fingers delicately massage the knob of bone at his nape. He let out a slow, shuddering sigh at the contact and she saw his eyes briefly close. "You can at least tell me what happened. For your own sake. I promise not to get involved."

"I won't."

"Jack," she cajoled.

"I will not."

It must be very bad indeed. "Very well then, I will not press you. Can I bring you something? You look like you'll be here late. I have a few errands this morning, but this evening...if you'd like some dinner, or anything at all...?" She wasn't sure what prompted her, but something about his face beseeched her to take care of him. In this office, now, between the two of them, he was not the impervious detective inspector that took nearly everything, including watching her dance mostly naked in a gentleman's club, in stride. Today, in this moment, he needed tending to, and damned if she would let that task fall to someone else.

After another bone-deep sigh he muttered, "A large whiskey then, if it pleases you."

"It always does, my poor, dear man. I'll be along later this evening. And Jack—do try not to take it too hard."

He ran both of his hands through his hair then shook his head. "Too late for that, Miss Fisher."

She wasn't sure what made her do it, other than the feeling that he simply needed it, but she leaned down and pressed her lips lingeringly to his temple. "Ta-ta for now, then."

And she left him, not even bothering to wipe away the smudge of lipstick she had left for fear of seeing his reaction to her bold kiss.