My take on how Anne ended up trapped inside the building, her point of view throughout it, and of course, her vigil by Phillip's bed side, and above all, the aftermath.

He had gone back in to save her.
Phillip had gone back into a burning inferno just to save her.
Phillip Carlyle had nearly lost his life to save a nobody like Anne Wheeler.

When the fight escalated, Anne was putting away her costumes and props. The fire had taken the room where they stored everything first, and a burning drape blocked her only entry and exit. The smoke was slowly rising, thick and vicious as it curled around her limbs.

She had to warn them.
She had to give them a chance to escape before everything came crashing down.
So she screamed.

Although she doubted if they had heard the numerous warnings, Anne couldn't stay there. She could not let herself die in a storage room, surrounded only by burning drapes and disintegrating props as the room fell apart all around her. Hope was the only thing that gave her strength to get up and do the only thing she excelled at; climbing.

She climbed, grasping blistering nooks and crumbling walls to get to the other side, to manage to find an exit. She couldn't hear anything from the front room now, but in her heart she foolishly believed that they had managed to get out.

There, a patch of white, the moon.

She was near the window! In a rush of hysteria she inhaled greatly, and promptly felt her eyes water as her lungs seized and wrecked her with coughs. Not a good idea. She could see a shawl hanging from a ladder and grabbed it, wrapping it haphazardly around her face and neck.

Focus Anne, you need to get out.
Swing your legs, then swing your body, you just need to climb down now.

She could hear the crashes in the front, signalling that the building was slowly but surely collapsing, and that spurred her on. She would not die here, not after the life she had found. Not after the possible love she had found. Despite denying herself the chance, Anne knew that she had fallen for the blue-eyed, stupid, boy.

FRESH AIR.
She was out.

She stumbled in the long shawl that had loosened and fell to hang at her feet as she made her way to the gathering crowd, barely hearing the loud exclaims when they saw her alive and well. She felt herself running, sprinting, jumping into her brother's arms as he hugged her, his relief evident through the tight embrace. Then she saw P.T. pale and look back to the fire, and she allowed her eyes to skim over her family before feeling her heart drop to the ground, unable to beat.

She couldn't see Phillip.
That idiot had gone in to save her.
And P.T. had just run into the fire in an attempt to rescue Carlyle.

She doesn't remember how much time passed before the little girl's shout of "DADDY!" pierced her ears, and she saw something that would surely remain engraved in her memory forever.

Phillip looked lifeless.
Like a doll without its strings.

His head hung back, exposing a soot-tainted neck that was miraculously not burned. His arm, the one wrapped around P.T.'s neck, bounced with the showman's steps, the animated fingers hanging limp and motionless. The other dragged on the floor as P.T. stumbled, his exertion evident even if he stubbornly continued on till he arrived next to them. Now that he was close, Anne could see burns looping around both wrists and encompassing the back of the hand that had dragged on the floor. Soot stained everything. There was a bloody wound on his forehead, oozing the red liquid slowly. Too slowly. Was he dead?

She watched bleakly as Phineas bent down to lay Phillip on the ground and someone moved to help him, grasping Phillip's shoulders and easing him down. P.T. grabbed the arm that fell from around his neck, placing it gently on the floor.

Phillip didn't even flinch when they all crowded around him.

His head fell slightly to the side as P.T. fell to his knees next to him, lowering his head till it rested near Phillip's face even as fumbling fingers searched for the pulse point on his neck.

Anne doubted he'd find it. Phillip appeared completely gone, and she had lost her chance because of she had allowed society to dictate her life. Again.

"He's taken a lot of smoke, he's still breathing, come on!" P.T.'s announcement shocked Anne to her very core, and she was thankful for her brother's arms that encircled her waist, keeping her on shaky feet.

They got a sign of life when Phillip was transferred to the stretcher and the movement triggered a barrage of weak, pitiful coughs from him that seemed to pain him greatly as his eyes tightened before he relaxed once again, clearly unconscious.

The doctors and nurses made her wait before allowing her to sit by his bedside, and apprehension had gnawed away at her stomach and was starting to snack on her kidneys as the worst possible scenarios passed through her mind.

Phillip might not survive. He might have died trying to save her when she didn't need saving. She had never needed saving. Growing up she and her brother had leaned on each other and earned their living together. They needed no pity and hated every ounce they got, preferring instead to survive against all the odds that life had dealt them.

But she needed saving now. She wanted someone to hold her close, to tell her everything was going to be okay. She wanted Phillip to hug her, to taunt her. She wanted to feel brave again, to boldly believe that this would not affect her. But she knew it would. She knew that she was not going to rest until she was next to Phillip.

A living Phillip, not the shell she was escorted to a little after two hours after.

However, the shell was breathing. He was still there, still hanging on somehow. He had been hastily cleaned and dressed in a clean gown, but soot still clung to his skin, giving him a darker complexion than she was used to and emphasising the dark circles under one eye. The other eye was slowly blackening on top of the swelling. The thoroughly cleaned, scabbing wound on his forehead was harsh and angry, screaming out at her. A shaky laugh escaped her as she realised that his hair was as silky-looking as ever, untouched by the inferno that had almost taken his life.

Almost.
He was still here.
Still living.

She had to remind herself of that when her eyes fell on his closed lids and the lax features as she traced his cheekbone with her thumb. She was not caressing his face, totally not mapping his calm features to memory while he lay there, helpless under her ministrations. He didn't react in any way, too lost in (probably drugged) oblivion. His blanket was scratchy but warm, and she reached under it to grasp his hand, easing it out and inspecting the loose bandages. This one was covered in bandages up to his knuckles, and she wrapped her own hand around it, jamming it under her chin as she prepared to start her vigil.

Time dragged on and the early morning sun shone through the open windows, the rays landing on Phillip's face and highlighting the soot and the split lip that she had missed last night. By now, Anne was acutely tuned in to his raspy breaths and the minute twitches that made his hand spasm in hers whenever coughs wrecked his lungs. The nurse had come to check on him once, claiming that he was recovering nicely and to fetch someone if he woke up before scampering away to help other patients. Anne did not say anything about the sandwich that the nurse left on the bedside table, but munched on it as soon as she was left alone again, begrudgingly letting go of his hand for the ten minutes it took her to demolish the bread.

A bit of colour had made it to his cheeks again, and Anne smoothed his hair back, letting her fingers slip through the oily strands. His wound was still angry, and she felt as if it was scolding her. He had gotten it because of her. He had went back for her even after she had rejected him over and over again.

Phillip was not the stuck-up boy that she had thought him to be. He was a man with virtues and a morality that was hidden under the many layers of his true character. It had taken her a bit of time to see beneath the mask of his charm and engrained fake politeness, but once she was in, he never kicked her out. Not even when she stepped on his heart and crushed it beneath the tip of her shoes.

No, he had chased after her until he couldn't anymore, and then she was the one doing the chasing. She was the one that watched as the nurse taught her how to change the bandages properly and how to clean his wounds so they wouldn't get infected and send him to an early grave. His body is still exhausted, it won't take the fever, they said.

She watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise, stutter slightly as he coughed, and fall. It was a soothing rhythm.

Throughout her life, she had had nobody but her brother by her side. She did not rely on anybody but W.D., but now she could depend on Phillip Carlyle as well. He had proved that he'd run to the end of the world for her, and she would show him that she would run the same distance and more for him.

In the early afternoon, Anne was growing anxious. She had never seen him so still. The man was always moving, always fidgeting with something or bouncing on his toes or anything else except being utterly still.

He was a creature of movement, and because of her he was laying motionless in a hospital bed, still struggling to breathe even after almost 12 hours.

The nurse had fluffed the pillow and eased it downwards until it brushed Phillip's shoulders, slightly raising him as well as craning his neck backwards. It would help open his airways, she had said.

Anne had to admit that his breathing, albeit still raspy, sounded slightly better in the next hour. They had managed to get him to swallow some water, but didn't force much lest he choke on it and aggravate his lungs even more.

Unsurprisingly he didn't react, and Anne found herself wishing for anything at all, even a slight twitch of his fingers that were still loosely curled around her own. However there was nothing.

Anne fussed with the blanket and then settled on the chair once again.

When it grew too quiet for her liking, Anne started singing.

The words were barely recognizable, but she knew them.

She wanted them to become real.

Nothing could keep us apart.

She didn't wipe away the tears that fell on her cheeks.

Before night fell, Anne asked for a cloth and cool water and had a nurse help her wipe all the soot away and change his gown in the process.

Several unconscious groans later Phillip was laying down once again, this time evidently cleaner. Anne smiled as she ran her fingers through the freshly dried hair, brushing the wayward strands from his forehead so they would not stick to the still healing wound.

Anne was now privy to the bruises and burns on his back from where a burning pillar had apparently knocked him down, and she frowned in frustration. There was also a burn adorning the left side of his chest, travelling around his shoulder and joining the one on his back.

Luckily, he didn't have any more burns.

He needed to wake up, sooner rather than later.

24 hours after Phillip had run into a burning building, Anne fell asleep.

In her dreams, Phillip didn't live. He didn't get out.
In others, neither P.T. not Phillip made it out.
In the last one, Phillip got out but he was dead.
His death was on her conscience.

When she woke up, it was as dark as that night, and a burning candle on the bedside table spooked her, putting her back there – waiting, wondering if he was alive or dead, seeing him so lifeless…

His breath was still raspy and weak.
But it was there.

She curled back on the chair and retained her vigil.
Maybe he'll wake up the next morning.

The next morning, the nurse wanted her to leave so she could rest and eat, but Anne had put her foot down and refused to budge from his side, grasping his hand in both of hers and clutching it under her chin as she gazed at his sleeping face.

He almost looked angelic.

The nurse had given up and went to check on other patients.

There were a lot of doctors and nurses around today; probably something else had happened, or else it was the day that doctors came to officially check on the patients instead of just sending nurses in their place.

And obviously, Phillip chose that day to finally open his eyes.

Anne felt the stress and tension finally explode out of her through tears, the droplets chasing one another down her cheeks as his fingers moved in her grip; his first sign of life since being admitted in the hospital.

Then he blinked, blue eyes still hazy and fogged over.

She didn't speak, only tightened her hold until he fully woke up and noticed her there.
His small smile was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

"You're here." His voice was painfully hoarse but Anne didn't care.

She didn't care that everybody was watching them, didn't mind that they were currently the centre of attention.

Phillip was awake, and he only had eyes for her.

She leaned forward, letting their lips connect in a slow, passionate kiss that conveyed their relief at having finally found their way to each other, their pain, and everything that they felt. It was nothing hurried. Fireworks didn't go off, but Anne felt at peace even as she pulled back, gazing in the bright blue eyes that seemed to be filled with happiness… until they tightened and he feebly pushed her back, a grimace shadowing his features.

"Phillip, what's wrong?" She was suddenly pushed back by a barrage of doctors that roughly sat Phillip up, and she caught his intake of breath as pain flared before he was coughing; ugly, dry coughs that made Anne's chest ache.

This bout didn't seem to be ending, and she watched in horror as his face rapidly gained colour, his cheeks burning with the effort required to cough and breathe all at the same time. She was sure he was going to die there and then until a doctor clapped him solidly on the back a couple of times and a blob of something fell from his mouth and into a basin that was being held on his lap by another nurse.

The coughs suddenly died down, leaving nothing but painful wheezing as Phillip swayed, almost falling face first into the basin.

"Breathe, Mr. Carlyle." The doctor's voice was surprisingly gentle as he held Phillip up, guiding him into slowing his breathing until the wheezes slowly died out, leaving only a sweat-drenched man that seemed on the verge of passing out where he sat.

"Phillip?" Anne hated how her voice broke as she inched forward, taking one of Phillip's hands in her own and unconsciously running her thumb across his knuckles, making sure not to hurt him.

"I'm fine." His response was raspy at best and Anne raised an eyebrow as Phillip coughed again, his eyes watering as his chest heaved, the pain evidently still coursing through his body.

"Sure you are." Anne didn't say anything as the doctor loosened the gown that Phillip was clad in and checked on the burns, rubbing a salve on them that had Phillip biting through his lip in an effort to keep his groans in check.

"The bandages will have to be changed daily Mr. Carlyle, and you will be coughing up black phlegm for a couple of days until your lungs clear up." Phillip nodded weakly, not even registering the stethoscope on his bare back. "I can still hear a lot of congestion, so feel free to clap on his back if he cannot cough it up on his own. It's painful, but it will help him." The doctor directed the last line at Anne before swiftly redoing the bandages and tying the gown. "Take the salve with you, make sure he uses it if he's in pain." Anne nodded before turning her attention to Phillip, who was gazing at her with somewhat haunted eyes.

"You don't have to stay with me, I can take care of myself. I know you've got to catch up with your brother and all." Phillip blinked owlishly, clearly hanging on to consciousness with a thread. She smiled, gently pushing him backwards until he was fully laying down again.
"Go to sleep, Carlyle." She smirked, smoothing his hair back from his sweaty forehead before letting her hand rest on his head.
"Will you be here?" His words were slurring and his eyes were already closed, but she knew he was still awake.
"I'll be here, rest." Anne patted his head, chuckling quietly when he huffed out some semblance of a laugh just before he was dragged under.

Two coughing fits, a faint bout of dizziness, and an hour struggle with clothes later, Phillip and Anne were standing at the door of the hospital, hand in hand. Phillip's breathing had improved greatly, and Anne was glad to see some natural colour in his cheeks after the competition he had had with the bed sheets. The bandages around his hands were gone, but they were still tied around his forearms, acting as a barrier between the shirt and the burns.

His back still ached; he was standing way to stiffly for her assumption to be untrue.

"Let's go see the circus." He surprised her, not even giving her time to respond before pulling her in the general direction.
"Don't you need to rest?" Her question was only asked for convenience, she had no doubt that he wouldn't rest for now.
"I've been resting for four days, I need to stretch my legs." He smirked at her, his blue eyes glittering from the middle of the bruises that were still stark on his face.

She didn't say anything, and soon they were near the ruined building, picking up what they could. She tried to keep him from overworking himself but he wouldn't listen, his energy as vibrant as ever as he dug around the rubble, trying to find some of their belongings. She was not the only one who noticed his stiffness thankfully, and it was her turn to smirk when Lettie pushed the boy to the side, giving him a stern look that shut him up before he even thought of protesting. The air was still slightly thick with smoke and she tried in vain to ignore the rasp in his breathing as his lungs struggled to purify the air.

He was dusting his hands when PT arrived.

Their interaction was light, but Anne knew that their situation was dire. She was surprised when Phillip stepped up, the rasp completely gone as he spoke.

"You know Barnum, when I first met you I had an inheritance, plans, an invitation to every party in town, and now thanks to you all that's gone. All that's left is friendship, love, and a work that I adore. You brought joy into my life. I own 10% of the show, and knowing who I was working for, I had the good sense to take my cut weekly. Partners, 50/50." Phillip's sudden speech jarred them all, and Anne couldn't help her fond smile as Phillip once again gave up all of his money for their family.

To say they everybody was happy was an understatement. Anne chuckled as she hugged her boyfriend, and then promptly released him when he groaned low into her ear, reminding her of the burns on his back. However, she was quite sure that the tight hold he had on her was not because of the pain.

"Phillip?" She drew in a breath as she wrapped her arms around him again, keeping him steady. "Someone help me get him to the hotel, he's exhausted." Suddenly there were hands everywhere, gently taking Phillip from her grip and sitting him down on a slab of rock.
"Dear God, how bad was he hurt?" P.T. was suddenly next to them, one hand on Phillip's knee.

Phillip seemed to have lost his ability to do anything other than just sit and breathe, even though Anne could almost hear his difficulties in that task. The time he had spent with them had leeched all the colour from his cheeks, leaving him with a grey complexion that rivalled with the colour of the stones. She didn't let herself notice how much starker the bruises looked with that colour.

"His back, chest and arms are burnt, along with his left shoulder. He can't really breathe properly either." Anne crouched in front of Phillip, taking his hands in hers. It was a small gesture, but one that let him know she was still there - She had not left him.

"Why did you even come here Carlyle? Stupid boy." Lettie laid one arm on his right shoulder, making sure that there was no bandages underneath the clothing before she squeezed lightly.
"Couldn't leave you guys alone." The sentence was but a small huff of breath and Anne shook her head, marvelling at the compassion that the young man in front of her was capable of.
"Well, you wouldn't do a good job of that if you die here." Tom piped up from behind the twins, raising an eyebrow as PT snorted. "What? I'm telling him the truth!"

"Let's get him to the hotel so he can rest. I think it's the best thing he can do for now." W.D. was suddenly by Phillip's side, the boy's right arm thrown over her brother's neck as the latter hoisted him up, wrapping an arm around Carlyle's waist when the blond almost collapsed again. Anne didn't miss the wince that flickered on his features as a cough rattled his frame.
"I'm fine guys, just sore." Phillip brushed them off, unaware of the slight slur in his voice as he stumbled by W.D.'s side.
"Shut up Carlyle, just go to bed. We'll be there soon." Lettie ruffled his hair, smiling when he somewhat glared at her, the look ruined by the bruises that made him resemble a racoon and the loose tendrils that fell in his eyes.
"Want me to help, W.D? Or call a carriage?" Barnum spoke up.
"No, I'll get him back fine. It's not far. Besides, Anne will help and so will the others once they finish up here." W.D. smiled at the showman as he helped Phillip, whose eyes were slowly closing, walk towards the hotel that was only a few roads away.

Anne couldn't help but worry as she saw how Phillip was almost dragging his feet, but then again the doctor had told her that he would be tired and weak for the next few days as his body slowly healed. She made sure that the salve was still in her pocket before walking next to Phillip, grasping his hand in hers. He shot her a small smile, blue eyes gleaming in the light with a mixture of fondness and pain.

"You're an idiot, stop smiling." She raised her eyebrows, as if daring him to contradict her statement.
"I am, but I won't stop smiling; I have you now. Besides, you wanted to see them. A little birdie confirmed that you did not leave my side while I was in the hospital." Phillip shrugged before remembering that his shoulder was hurt and stifling a groan as W.D. pulled them to a sudden halt in front of the hotel.
"You two are nauseating." W.D. shook his head as he helped Phillip through the door and to the bed, where the younger man collapsed wearily, one hand rubbing an undoubtedly aching head. Anne suddenly realised that he had been, and was still, squinting whenever he opened his eyes more than half way through, and staying awake was not doing him any favours.
"Lay back Phillip, you need to rest." Anne pushed against his chest, mindful of his injuries but forceful none the rest. W.D. halted her movements to lie another blanket under Phillip before leaving the room.
"I'm not sleeping in my shirt and jacket Anne, they're itchy." Phillip groaned as he fumbled with the buttons, finally giving up as Anne swatted his fingers away and undid them herself, slowly pulling the material away and exposing the bandages underneath.
"Remove those before he sleeps, we need to clean them." W.D. suddenly reappeared with a pot full of warm water in his hands and a cloth thrown over his shoulder.

"I'll do them later, don't worry." Despite his claim, Phillip didn't even try to object when Anne loosened the bandages and pulled them away, revealing the burnt skin. He just hung his head, hiding his features from view and avoiding her gaze as Anne unravelled the ones around his forearms as well.

"Phillip, are you comfortable with me doing this?" W.D. crouched down, catching the younger's gaze before Carlyle could look away.
"Just get it over with if you have to." Phillip's mumble was barely comprehensible and Anne frowned as she gathered the bandages.
"Anne, go ask for some more bandages, can you?" W.D. didn't even look at her but she noticed that he wanted some time alone with Carlyle, even if the latter was close to passing out.
"I'll be right back." She stood up and was out in no time, her mind brewing and hoping that W.D. would not grill Phillip while he was barely lucid.

"Phillip, why are you ashamed?" There was no beating around the bush, W.D. was never a person to do that.
"I know you don't like us together, it keeps slipping my mind how long you two were alone and now I'm stealing her away from you and I know that you wish I had died in that fire but-"

"Phillip, I'm going to stop you right there. Yes, I did not like you and Anne together, but only because people like you have used her and then broken her heart before. I never wished for your death, if anything, you running into that fire is what made me sure that what you feel for Anne is genuine. Besides, you're not stealing her away from me. She's still my sister above all else. Now, I know that you don't want your burns on full display when the others come, so can I clean them? You can sleep in the meantime, I doubt you'll wake up while we bandage you or anything, you look dead on your feet and that headache is only going to be aggravated the longer you stay awake." W.D. fought to keep just a small smile on his face instead of bursting out laughing at the wide-eyed look that Phillip was giving him.

"I have your blessing to date Anne?" Phillip sounded as if he couldn't believe the words he was uttering, and W.D. chuckled.
"Yes, as long as you don't hurt her. Then you'll see just how high a trapeze is from the ground." W.D. pushed the other man back, forcing him to lie down on the blanket he had put down so as not to wet the sheets.
"Shoes." Phillip grunted as he worked his shoes off without removing the laces before tucking his feet up on the bed and then turning on his uninjured side to give his burnt back to W.D..
"You ready?" W.D. rested a hand on Phillip's bicep, clearly preparing to hold him down should Carlyle try to squirm away.

"As I'll ever be." Phillip barely had time to take a deep breath before the cloth was being pressed against the burns and pain flourished throughout his back. His attempt to arch away from the pain was halted by W.D.'s hand, and Phillip didn't even have a chance to groan before he slipped into unconsciousness; the pain and exhaustion together being too much to endure.

"The man at the front desk took forever to get me a few bandages. How is he?" Anne got back just as W.D. was cleaning the burns on Phillip's arms, having finished the burns on his chest and back. They looked slightly better, at least.

"He passed out the second I started. He's fine though, just exhausted. The boy needs to catch up on sleep and lay back on his drunken nights." W.D. finished off and plopped the cloth back in the pot, the water inside now stained a horrible shade of red that Anne pointedly ignored. "Come on, let's bandage him up before the others arrive."
"Wait, rub this in first, it's to help with the pain." Anne dropped the bandages on the bed before grabbing the salve from her pocket.
"He's a good kid Anne." W.D. smiled at his sister and she grinned, taking the comment for what it was; approval.
"You didn't have to grill him now, you know." Anne swatted her brother's chest before continuing to apply the salve on Phillip's chest, only stopping when the blonde groaned, his eyes rolling slightly beneath their lids before he settled again, lost in sleep.
"I didn't, we just talked. Prep the bandages while I sit him up, he doesn't want the others to see him without them." W.D. easily slid behind Phillip, hoisting the boy in a seated position and keeping him there until Anne finished wrapping the bandages.

Phillip's eyes slid open at one point and W.D. heard him mumble something, but Anne shushed him and once again Carlyle's dead weight was against his chest, signalling that he was asleep.

"You can lay him down, hopefully he'll rest now." Anne pulled out the blankets and they managed to slide the passed out man underneath them without any trouble. Carlyle came to as Anne was fussing with the blankets and he looked around confusedly as he noticed that he was being tucked in bed.

"Anne?" His voice was still rough and he weakly coughed, wincing as his injuries were jostled.
"It's okay Phil, go back to sleep. We were just putting you in bed because it's cold." Anne smiled at him, brushing his hair back in a soothing motion that lulled him into falling in oblivion's arms once again.

When the others arrived, Phillip Carlyle was curled up on his side, forehead pressed against Anne's hip, and W.D. was sitting nearby, the two siblings quietly playing a card game. Their group made their way in quietly, smiling at the sleeping form and at the Wheelers before settling around the room in silent cliques.

They were still all there.
Their family was still whole.
Anne grinned as she won, and then let that grin fade into a grateful smile as she looked around her family, and let her eyes rest on the rich man that had wormed his way into their life.

In the late afternoon, when Anne was making sure that Phillip's breathing had not taken a turn for the worst, she noticed that the lines of pain from the headache had faded away, leaving behind a serene expression of pure bliss on his face even as he slept on his injured back.

"You two are gone for each other." Lettie's voice startled her, but Anne smiled at the older woman.
"He's an idiot." Was all she said.

"He's tough Anne, he'll pull through this. You just have to give him time." Lettie laid a comforting hand on Anne's shoulder, squeezing the muscled limb before looking down at Phillip. "Looks like he really needed his sleep." She ruffled his hair, raising an eyebrow when he didn't even react. They had noticed, back in the early days, that when not in a drunken stupor Phillip was a rather light sleeper, capable of being woken up by the smallest of touches, so the simple gesture was enough to provide further evidence of his tiredness.

"Yeah, hopefully he manages a few more hours. He usually startles awake after about four to five hours, and it's been six so far." Anne traced his cheek bone with her thumb, glad to notice that the wound on his forehead had almost completely scabbed over.
"Anne, you need some rest yourself dear, stop counting his hours and start counting yours." Lettie smiled, refocusing on the girl in front of her.
"I'll sleep tonight, I promise." And Anne went back to her silent vigil.

When the light began to dwindle, some were playing card games, others were just sitting around, and Anne was still watching Phillip sleep. It wasn't like in the hospital; he was twitching every now and then, a tiny hum escaping from his lips as his eyes flickered underneath their lids. She smiled, running a hand through the somewhat dirty hair before opening a book that she had found on a shelf, keeping herself occupied for the time being.

She had no idea how much time had passed before Phillip keened, the sound high pitched and horrifying in its nature. He curled further into himself, and a guttural groan left the blue eyed boy as another scream was cut off in his throat and sounded only as a whimper.

"Anne, where's Anne?" She felt her heart break as she discerned what the nightmare was about.
"I'm right here Phillip, wake up." She shook his shoulder gently, mindful of his still healing injuries.
"Anne? Where are you?" His voice cut off and Anne felt horror seep into her as she realised that he was barely breathing. "No, no Anne you've got to breathe, come on!"

Panic seized him, pouring out of every core and totally encompassing his being. He gasped, eyes flying wide open but not seeing anything.

That fact scared him more than anything in the world.
Why couldn't he see? Where was he?
Right, the circus.

Then he blinked and the fog lifted, leaving behind murky faces and the idea of a rundown hotel room.

He attempted to inhale, feeling tears trickle down his cheeks as the fire burned his throat. The smoke was around him again; so thick that it obscured everything else and choked out any semblance of air. His lungs burned, trying in vain to get some air. Phillip felt more than heard the wheezes that escaped with every breath as the air thinned further and further.

He attempted to move, to curl, sit up, anything to ease the strain from his lungs. However, the second he tried to move pain rocketed around his body, leaving tingling limbs and an even denser fog in his mind as his senses started to abate once again.

Peaceful oblivion was pulling at him, leading him towards the inky darkness that promised nothing but nightmares, but he fell into it anyway, guided by the promise of painlessness.

"PHILLIP, COUGH!"

Her voice sounded as if it was coming from somewhere above, but that couldn't have been. She would already be dead, or at least not in a condition to yell, if she was somewhere on the upper levels.

"Phillip, it's going to be okay, just try to calm down." There was a hand on his back, and another on his chest, gently turning him on his side.

He didn't know where the voices were coming from, and he didn't care. Things weren't going to be okay if he didn't find Anne.

There was something in his throat, stopping him from breathing properly.

The smoke was already wrecking havoc on his lungs, he needed to get out of here.
He had to find Anne.
He needed to get out of here.
He had to- he collapsed on one knee, coughing in earnest.

He was suddenly sitting up, held in place by too many hands and too many voices and too much pressure.

The smoke was all around, sneaking into his lungs and his nose and his eyes and he couldn't see Anne anywhere. He coughed, saw dark spots invade his vision.

"PHILLIP WAKE UP." Her shout seemed to filter through his subconscious and he came to with a start, choking on his next breath as he was assaulted by the pain in his body at the same time as his mind struggled to make sense of what was real and what was a dream.

He had to find her.
He passed out.

Anne couldn't help her panic as Phillip's struggles suddenly died out, leaving only dead weight in their arms. He wasn't even trying to cough up the phlegm that had caught in his throat while he slept dreamt about her being caught in the inferno.

Did he even have the strength to?

Suddenly there was the strongest man behind them, (his name eluded her at the time) and he slapped Phillip mightily on the back, almost sending the young man straight off the bed in the process.

But it worked.

Phillip coughed, suddenly revived as the phlegm fell from his lips, leaving a dark trail behind that Lettie quickly wiped away.

Phillip was panicking again, his breaths painstakingly audible as he struggled to catch his breath. Anne could feel his racing heart beneath her palm.

And then W.D. pushed everyone away and kneeled in front of Phillip on the bed, catching the young man's chin and forcing the blue eyes to lock on his. It pained her to look in Phillip's eyes at the moment; they were almost completely blown with fear, the warm blue drowned out by the black. W.D. was speaking in that tone that left no room for arguments. It wasn't cold, but rather reassuring and grounding, exactly what Phillip needed.

Phillip looked blindly around, relieved that whatever was blocking his breathing before seemed to be gone now. Something was brushed over his mouth, wiping away the bile that hung from his lips as small coughs rattled his chest, pulling at his burns and making him wince as his senses were flooded with too many messages for him to make out or focus on any of them.

There were too many hands on him, too many voices around, but they were all distorted, fading into one another in such a way that Phillip couldn't tell anybody apart.

His head was swimming, and he did his best to even out his breathing, aware that he needed to calm down and figure out what was happening around him. He could feel Anne's small, calloused hands on his shoulder, unconsciously rubbing the tense muscle of his uninjured side.

Suddenly, the air around felt lighter, emptier, and Phillip felt relief flood him before someone grabbed his chin, forcing him to look straight in their face. W.D. stared back at him, brown eyes soft as he whispered soft reassurances that Phillip couldn't even understand.

However, if he focused on them it would help.
He could already feel himself calming down, his lungs no longer heaving for air.

"You back with us?" Anne's voice sounded from his right and he let his chin drop to his chest, still chasing away the last remnants of his nightmare.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Phillip dragged a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep and irrational fear away as he gazed around the hotel room. He could see everybody there, all staring at him with expressions varying from pity, to concern, and even some fear. "It was just a nightmare." He nodded at W.D. as the man gave him a glass of water before gazing at the woman beside him, who frowned deeply.

"So, bad dreams will make you cough up that? Guess I really can't leave you alone then." She meant it as a light-hearted joke, something to lighten the mood, but Anne knew that she had said the wrong thing when Phillip's eyes closed off, the earnest blue suddenly becoming a shade darker as Phillip emptied the glass, drew in a deep breath and carefully exhaled.

"I'll be fine alone Anne, I just didn't know what was happening." Phillip smothered a groan as he shrugged Anne's hand off, trying to relax the tension in his muscles when pain spiked in his burns. However it was dimmer now, more tolerable than before. The pull of the skin beneath the bandages easily told Phillip that some of the burns were scabbing over.

"Carlyle, don't be an idiot." Lettie's voice startled him and reminded the pair that they had an audience. "You know she didn't mean that you're dependent on us. Everybody knows that you like to be independent, more than all of us, but this is your family now, so let us take care of you. It would be a relief for all of us to make sure you don't choke on whatever that smoke left in your lungs anyway." She rose an eyebrow as Phillip opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"I'll be fine, you guys need to rest anyway. You don't have to worry about me." Phillip smiled at them all, before once again being stopped in his aim to get his shirt, this time by a hand that wrapped around his wrist and forcibly pulled him back to the bed. He let himself fall, hitting the blankets with a grace that he did not know he possessed.

"You may be fine, but it's still better if we keep an eye on you for now. You tried to save my life, let me repay the favour now." Anne smiled, fingers brushing against the burn on his face before falling to caress his cheek. He unconsciously tipped his head into her hand, closing his eyes as he soaked in her warmth.

"Got rid of the nurses at the hospital and got you lot as replacements, this is just great." A smirk tipped one side of his mouth, and Phillip let it fall into a good-natured grin as small chuckles erupted from the others.
"We could always send you back to hospital." Anne rose an eyebrow at him and he gasped, placing one hand on his heart in mock hurt before he grinned.

"Well, we were alone there..." He was cut off by a slap to his thigh and he laughed as Anne flushed, glaring at him as he curled up on the bed, sleep beckoning him once again as the exhaustion caught up with him.
"Let's leave him to rest. We'll come by later, c'mon W.D.!" Lettie winked at the female Wheeler as she ushered everybody out, being one of the few that caught Phillip's sigh of relief as the others all trickled out while shouting well wishes to the prone man on the bed.

"How are you, really?" Anne removed her shoes and gently slid next to Phillip, being careful to not hurt him as his mask slowly disintegrated, leaving a pale and exhausted face in its place.
"Tired of staying in bed already, but too tired to walk around." His eyes had already fluttered close, but she knew he was still awake as he turned on his back and pressed her to his side, one hand gently passing through her wild locks.
"You pushed yourself the first time, just rest and we'll see how you'll be tomorrow." Anne smiled, tapping a senseless rhythm on his chest as his breaths began to even out. "I never thanked you, you know, for saving me that night." He opened one eye, glancing at her in confusion.
"As I recall, you didn't need my saving." His dry tone made it easy to imagine his raised eyebrow.
"Your sprint of faith saved me from denying myself happiness because of what other people say. That being said, if you do something like that again, I'll kill you myself." She glared at him, but he could still see the softness in her eyes as she smiled at him, pure adoration on her features.
"Sprint of faith, huh? Well, I guess you could put it like that. I wouldn't mind dying for you Anne Wheeler, but I would much prefer to have you in my arms." Phillip returned the smile, tugging her closer.
"I don't want to see you like that again Phillip, you scared me." She ignored the hitch in both of their breathing as the fear washed over her again, soothed only by the resounding thumps beneath her ear and his slightly tightened grip on her bicep.
"I'll do my best not to run into fires again, I promise. Try to get some sleep, you need it more than me." Phillip turned slightly, kissing the top of her head before laying back down.
"Good night Phillip, I hope we get more nights like this." Anne shut her eyes, and Phillip felt more than saw her face grow hotter against his chest.
"I hope that I get infinite nights like this with you Anne, and as long as nothing comes between us, then it shouldn't be a problem."

She didn't respond, letting the silence wash over them like a second blanket, comfortable just soaking in Phillip's presence next to her. It wasn't long before his breaths evened out and his hand slipped from her arm, falling limply with a small thump on the bed behind her as the man slipped into a healing sleep. She traced his features once again, letting her hand outline the bandages before she too closed her eyes, allowing sleep to carry her away for the night.

When the troupe trickled back into the room that night, they did so quietly. They did not wish to disturb the couple on the bed, not when they looked so peaceful after all the turmoil that had headed their way.

Who knows, maybe the circus would flourish once again under Barnum's hand, and Lettie had no doubt that Phillip would take his place as ring-master one day, and that he would lead with just the same power and even more passion in his heart, because there was no doubting the love that she could see right in front of her. The love that had tied the two young people together had also tied the circus as one family - One family that would be there for each other, no matter what.

With that thought, Lettie gently fixed the blanket over the both of them and headed to the sofa, where she could rest for the night.

Hopefully things would look up tomorrow.

1) Disclaimer: I do not own The Greatest Showman, and am not making any profits from this.
2) Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this even if it turned out slightly longer than I intended XD I've been seeing fillers everywhere and wanted to do my own just to see how this plot can be developed, and I hope that you liked this!
3) I am posting rarely because school is not allowing me much chance to write as I used to, and proof reading also takes a hella lot of time. That being said, sorry for any mistakes I missed, and feel free to point them out (nicely) below!
4) Sorry for any OOCness.
5) I hope you guys enjoyed this, and feel free to leave your thoughts below!

Over and out,
Chrisii