Chapter Text
Phryne watched as the suspect flung himself off the pier, straight into the murky depths of the Yarra. He was an Olympian trainee suspected of murdering his competition, and his sprinting from police practically confirmed his guilt. The man was a professional swimmer, and he'd be long gone by the time they got boats down here.
Phryne flung herself off the wharf with a splash, almost landing on top of her suspect. It was shallower than she expected, and her ankle smashed against a sharp rock. She cried out in pain, but it didn't stop her from wrestling the Olympian, trying to restrain him. The water was frigid in August, and it shocked Phryne still. She felt and heard a splash as someone plunged into the river behind her, gasping at the cold.
Jack skillfully handcuffed the man whilst underwater, shoving him back towards the pier, where Collins was waiting his with arms extended. He grabbed the man and hauled him onto the wood, informing him he was under arrest.
"Thank you, Jack," said Phryne breathlessly. She was treading water, weighed down by her coat and winter clothes. She'd almost got used to the cold, but the wind buffetted her damp face.
Jack pulled himself up onto the wharf. He was dripping, soaked to the skin, his many layers splattering the pier with water. He reached out a hand to help Phryne up. It was colder out of the water, the winter wind chilling against wet skin, ripping through damp clothes. Almost immediately, Phryne's teeth started chattering and her body began to shiver, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She winced when she tried to put weight on her left foot.
"I'd offer you my coat, but I don't think it would be much use," Jack joked, his own body shaking. "We both need to go home and get warm, Miss Fisher."
Phryne nodded, shuddering violently against a gale that came from the water. "Come to Wardlow," she suggested. "A hot bath is the solution to this, and Dot can make the most glorious soup."
Jack didn't even bother to argue. Phryne, who had been balancing on one foot, took a step forward and toppled. She fell sideways, into Jack's arms, swearing in pain, her hand gripping her ankle as she hopped, leaning against Jack. "What happened?" demanded Jack, his eyes wide with concern.
Phryne groaned. "I think it's broken. There was a rock where I jumped in. Don't worry, I can walk, I'm fine. I'll ring Mac when we get home."
"I'll drive," insisted Jack, already sliding one arm around Phryne's waist as he supported her weight, helping her hobble towards the car.
"Neither of us are getting in my car like this, Jack," chided Phryne. "We're both soaked, and I've got leather seats. Its only twenty minutes to Wardlow on foot, come on. Hugh, have a good driver bring my car home!"
Jack knew better than to argue. The twenty minute walk turned into forty because of Phryne's ankle, and by the time they knocked on the back door, they were both pale and shaking with cold, and silent tears escaped Phryne's eyes with every painful step. She was leaning against Jack, using him as a crutch. "Miss!" Dot exclaimed. "You'll catch you death! What happened?" She immediately pulled Phryne away from Jack, trying to remove her dripping coat and scarf.
Phryne sighed. "Mr. Evans wasn't very cooperative, Dot. Thankfully, an Olympian swimmer is no match for underwater judo."
Mr. Butler materialised, looking horrified at the sight of two soaked detectives. He hid it well, quickly advising Jack to remove his overcoat and jacket, before directing him to the upstairs bathroom with the warmest water. Jack complied, leaving Phryne to be helped up the stairs by Dot and Mr. B. In the bathroom, he stripped off his layers before climbing into the hot water. Even in a scalding bath, he still shivered. At one point, Mr. Butler came into the room, and told Jack that spare clothes waited for him on the other side of the screen. At some point, it started to rain heavily, and Jack hoped he'd be allowed to spend the night in a guest bedroom at Wardlow, instead of having to get a cab home.
Eventually, Jack got out of the bath, once the water started to cool. The clothes Mr. Butler had left were silk pyjames, a dressing gown, and slippers. He chose not to ask why Phryne had men's pyjamas in his size, choosing to just get dressed. Mr. Butler clearly believed he was staying overnight. He walked slightly awkwardly downstairs in his pyjamas, wrapping the dressing gown tightly around himself.
Phryne was already in the parlour. She was also in pyjamas and a dressing gown, her pale face free of makeup, her hair damp. A thick blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. Mac was crouched in front of her, studying her ankle with concern. She turned around when Jack came into the room, as Phryne raised a teasing eyebrow at his pyjamas.
"Right," she Mac stiffly, standing up. She walked over, felt Jack's forehead and studied his pale face. "You, stay here. You'll take time off work, stay warm, stay here. You're not going home to your cold, empty house. You could get really sick. Also, Phryne's ankle is dislocated. She needs company. No arguing. I'm going to go get more wood for the the fire."
She marched out of the room. Jack glanced at Phryne. Her cheeks were flushed, her face had a greyish quality, and she was still shivering, even wrapped in a blanket. Somehow she managed to still smile wickedly up at Jack. "Well, won't this be fun?"