not a ship fic xoxo

if I mixed the daughters up im sorry I can not tell them apart

Phineas T. Barnum had never been much for hiding things, or secrets in general. This was probably a major reason for his pioneering a form of entertainment based on bringing the unique into the spotlight. He was, despite society's tendency to label him as a 'humbug' and a 'fraud', a painfully honest man.

That's why he didn't understand why Phillip hid it from him.

After leaving the circus, Phineas had opened a small investment firm for those whom no one else would loan money. A rather risky business endeavor, but his cut of the circus' earnings kept him and his family fed and clothed (and then some) whether the loans were paid back or not.

This job, along with his daughters' various engagements as Caroline grew into a lovely young ballerina and her sister began to follow in her footsteps, took up a good amount of the former ringmaster's time, and left him unable to visit his friends at the circus as often as he would like. However, no matter what came up, Phineas always made time to meet Phillip for drinks Friday nights.

They would talk, and laugh, and drink a bit, discuss the circus, their respective women, the circus' future, their future... their conversations steadily got deeper the later it got. They were usually the last customers in the building, parting ways and heading home a few minutes before closing.

One week, something felt off.

The first clue was that Phillip was late. He was never late, a habit likely hammered into him at some point during his aristocratic upbringing. Yet, this week, he was. Almost fifteen minutes late, in fact. Phineas was just about to go and search for him when his friend appeared at the pub's door, letting himself in and hurrying to join him at the bar.

"Missed your train?" Phineas quipped as his partner sat down next to him on the bar stool, knowing full well that he walked to and from the pub. Instead of laughing or jabbing him back, however, Phillip only gave him a tight smile.

"There was a mob blocking the street- protesting something other than the circus, for once. That's why I was late."

"Oh? That's a change. What were they protesting?" Phillip shifted in his seat, and Phineas frowned upon noticing a dark bruise on his neck.

"I'm not sure. A strike, maybe, I was too concerned with getting here on time to notice." His partner replied at last.

"Hmm." Phineas took a sip of his drink, watching as Phillip ordered his own. Something was wrong. The lateness, Phillip's refusing to meet his gaze, the bruise... he was hiding something from him.

"How have you been feeling, Phillip?" He asked, getting straight to the point. "You don't seem yourself tonight."

"I'm fine." The younger man gave him another forced smile. "I suppose I'm just preoccupied."

"With what?" Phineas set his drink on the bar, watching him intently for any sign that he might be lying to him.

"Well, I can't say I'm quite used to running this show of yours yet. I do have, as you once said, a flair for show business, but unfortunately no head for numbers." He smiled - a small smile, but a real smile. Whatever bothered him was unrelated to the circus.

"Well, that's what you have O'Malley for. That chap is useful for all kinds of things." Phineas grinned, taking another sip of his drink.

"Believe me, I've noticed." Phillip followed suit, having received his own drink.

"How are you and Anne doing?" The former ringmaster changed the subject to another possible point of conflict.

"Oh, wonderfully!" Phillip's face lit up. "We've only gotten closer since you left. No offense." he added. "I just wish WD didn't feel the need to chaperone us constantly. We can never get a moment alone."

"I doubt that stops you from being affectionate. I saw you kiss her in front of a full crowd." Phillip shook his head.

"Yes, because WD won't attack me in the middle of a show." Phineas rubbed his chin.

"You may have a point." It wasn't Anne, either. "Speaking of Anne, have you been trying to pick up trapeze as well?" Phillip gave him a strange look.

"No. Why?"

"Where'd you get this, then?" The older man reached out to touch the bruise on his neck, and Phillip, unexpectedly, jerked away.

"The- this?" He covered the bruise with his hand. "Oh, no, I wasn't looking where I was going and I ran into a prop. That's all it was." That sounded like an excuse.

"Are you sure that's all? It looks like a very bad bruise for having just bumped into something."

"I was running." Phillip lied again. "I looked away for a second and ran into it. I'm fine."

"Are you-"

"It's fine, P.T." Phillip's voice had a warning edge to it, and Phineas put up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, if you're sure."

"I am." Phillip took a long drink, and when he set his glass down he looked less hostile. "How are Charity and the girls doing?"

"Oh, good, good." Phineas nodded absently, trying to think of any other situations in which he could have gotten that bruise.

"Now who's preoccupied?" Phillip grinned, punching him lightly in the shoulder, and Phineas rolled his eyes.

"I was just wondering when you were going to notice that your shoe is untied." Phillip blinked and looked down, and Phineas reached over to punch him back. "Got-" he started, but stopped short when his fist made contact with his friend's shoulder and the younger man let out a shout of pain, his head jerking back up as he shied away. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Phineas' shocked eyes burning into Phillip's frightened ones.

"Phillip, what happened to your shoulder?" The older man asked in a low voice.

"Nothing ha-"

"Don't lie to me." Phineas stood, taking Phillip by the arm and pulling him to his feet. The startled ringmaster could only follow dumbly as the older man pulled him towards a vacant table in the corner, glad the pub was basically empty. Pushing him down in a chair, Phineas sat down across from him and started to unbutton his jacket.

"Hey!" Phillip exclaimed, shoving his hands away. "What are you doing?"

"Let me see your shoulder." Phineas ordered.

"There's nothing to see!"

"Let me see it, Phillip." The younger man relented, staring at the table as Phineas eased the sleeve of his jacket off his shoulder. White bandages were wrapped around his upper arm, stained red in the middle with blood. "Phillip, this is not nothing." Phillip didn't answer, nor did he meet his eyes. "Phillip, what happened to you?" Still no answer. "Phillip, if you won't tell me then I'll ask everyone at the circus until I find out where this came from."

"They don't know." He said quietly. "No one knows."

"Then what- then how did this happen? Who did this to you?"

"I don't- I don't know! I got hit, and I didn't see-"

"What?"

"I was attacked, okay?" Phillip yanked his arm out of Phineas' grip. "Last week, on my way back from... here. I was halfway drunk, and I cut through an alley to try to get home faster, and... someone hit me over the head. A couple men, I think. One of them threatened me with a knife, but I was too drunk and I tried to fight back, so... he stabbed me." He pressed his hand over his bandaged shoulder, and Phineas cringed. "They took my money and my watch, and left me there. I went to a physician and he stitched and bandaged the wound for me. He said it'll heal completely within a few weeks, so... I just went home and went to bed." Phillip still didn't look at him. "That's all there is to tell." Phineas stared at him for a few minutes, processing this.

"Phillip, why didn't you just tell me?" He asked at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why hide it? Why lie?"

"I didn't want you mocking me, or-"

"Mock you?"

"For letting myself be caught off guard, or making such a big deal about it, or-"

"'A big deal'? You refused to tell anyone!"

"-or for being scared!" Phillip continued, staring at the table. "I almost didn't come tonight, because I was afraid of being attacked again. Afraid of being stupid and getting drunk and trying to take a shortcut and getting robbed. That's why I was late." his voice lowered to a mumble. That's why I didn't tell you, or Anne, or Lettie, or Tom, or anyone. I couldn't let them know how scared I was." He still didn't look up from the table, and Phineas shook his head.

"Phillip, look at me." He glanced up at him, but didn't lift his head. "Phillip, how on earth do you think I could justify mocking you for being afraid?"

"I don't- I don't know. I'm being paranoid, and-"

"'Paranoid'? Phillip, you were stabbed! It's only paranoia if it's not a valid worry to have, and believe me, being afraid after being violently attacked is a perfectly valid worry!"

"But I-"

"Phillip." The older man took his face between his hands, forcing him to look at him. "It wasn't your fault that you were attacked, and it's okay to be scared. I'm not going to mock you, or judge you, and none of the others would either, but if you don't want them to know then I won't tell. But Phillip, remember this: You're my friend, one of my closest friends, and I love you like a brother. Please don't be afraid to talk to me if something's wrong." Phillip finally met his eyes, his face unreadable as their held each others' gaze. Finally, Phillip leaned forward and threw his arms around Phineas' neck, burying his face in his shoulder as his mentor hugged him back.

"Thanks, P.T." He mumbled into his shoulder. Phineas gave him a squeeze, careful to avoid hurting his injured shoulder.

"No problem." They sat in silence for a few moments before Phillip pulled away, glancing at the windows.

"It's getting dark." he sounded dismayed.

"I suppose you don't want to walk home in the dark again?" Phineas guessed, and Phillip nodded.

"I'd better get going..."

"I'll walk you home." Phineas stood up, walking over to the bar to retrieve his hat and scarf as Phillip stared after him.

"What?" The dumbfounded ringmaster managed as Phineas crossed the room back towards him. "P.T., there's no need for that-"

"Nonsense." The older man leaned down to help him ease his arm back into his jacket sleeve. "You're injured, now you're an even easier target. Someone's got to watch your back."

"But-"

"On your feet, Phillip, it's getting late." Phillip sighed, hauling himself to his feet.

"I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

"No you are not." Not only did Phineas walk him home that night, but he did the next week as well, and the week after that. In fact, he never stopped.

By the fifth week, Phillip had stopped complaining.