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The snowflakes fell heavy and thick from the night sky as Phillip Carlyle excited the building and stepped onto the streets of New York City. It had been a cold November, but this was the first snow the city had seen so far. Phillip did not linger on the street for long, he quickly set his pace towards his apartment. He draped his red scarf around his neck and shoulders as he hurried down the street.
After today’s last show, and mostly against his own will, Phillip had gone into town to attend business. Circus business, no doubt. He had been walking for nearly ten minutes when he reached an alleyway that he knew would make a good shortcut. The top and the brim of his tophat was covered in white already, and Phillip decided a shortcut would do no harm. He longed to get home and crawl under warm bed covers with the woman he loved.
“Hey! Mr. Ringmaster!” a voice sounded from a dark corner. Phillip slowed down and turned around to see three men step out behind him. He turned his gaze forward again and saw two more men blocking his path. Phillip straightened up and looked at the man who had spoken earlier.
“Can I help you, sir?” he asked with a friendly tone. The man took a step forward.
“Where’s your pack of freaks tonight?” he said and sneered. His ginger hair and beard had snowflakes in it and he was missing a few teeth.
“Excuse me?” Phillip asked, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t surprised by the question, sad as it was, he had gotten used to it by now. If the man had been alone, Phillip would definitely taken a swing at him for what he said, but at the moment he was very much outnumbered.
“Ya heard me,” the man spoke again, taking yet another step forward. He was taller than Phillip and he was carrying what was probably a lead pipe. Phillip swallowed as he eyed the man, but not for a second losing his proud posture.
“You’re not Barnum, but I know who you are. You’re with that colored girl, ain’t you? I’ve seen you two together. Makes me sick” the man spat. Phillip’s blue eyes darkened.
“Ain’t right to mix races. That girl belongs in the dirt with the rest of her kind, slaving-“ he would have continued, but was interrupted by Phillip Carlyle’s fist, as it came racing through the air and hit him straight in the jaw.
-
With a promise of meeting Phillip back in the apartment, Anne had headed back to her dressing room, to take off her costume. There was no point drawing unwanted attention, parading around as a member of the circus through the streets. It was a step by step process getting out of her gear, and by the time the wig, costume, and about half a pound of glitter had been wiped off she was certain that Phillip would have finished his circus business. And hopefully would be waiting at the apartment with both blankets and something warm to drink. She made sure that everything was ready and in order for tomorrow’s show before she headed out, pulling her dark blue coat tight around herself against the chill.
She barely made it out of the tent before something caught her attention. Even if the snow was falling thick she could still see light coming from the managers tent, which puzzled her. Maybe it was Barnum who came by to check on the sales? Or maybe Lettie in need of something. Regardless she could offer her help, or at least say hello before going. She was sure Phillip wouldn’t miss her for five more minutes, just so she could check up. With quick steps through the snow as the snow tangled into her dark hair she made quick way to the tent.
“Oh my god, Phillip! What happened to you?!” She cried out in shock to see her beloved ringmaster standing in the tent. His face had fresh bruises and even fresher cuts. His white shirt had specks of blood scattered around, his knuckles were bloodied and she couldn’t tell if it was his or someone else’s blood. He held himself in an awkward position as if it pained him to breathe.
“Anne? Why are you here? I thought you were at home in the apartment?” Phillip said, giving her a puzzled look. By the looks of it, he hadn’t expected to see her here any more than she had expected to see him. He attempted a nervous smile, as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, only to wince at the cut in his lip. Anne winced herself, in sympathy.
“I was about to head back home just now. But I saw the lights were on, and I thought I would drop by before I left. Now please tell me what happened!” she explained. Anne closed the short distance between them and studied his injuries closer. The worry in her frown grew as she seemed to discover new bruises on her dear ringmaster’s face.
“I, uhm, ran into some trouble,” he tried to excuse himself, but only earned a worried frown form Anne. The more she looked at him the worse the injuries seemed. She was no nurse, but she was growing sure that he needed proper tending.
“Some trouble, huh? Seems like you got into an unfair fight. Were you attacked?” She tried her best not to sound too upset, but it was hard when seeing Phillip hurt. Guilt had started to settle in her gut like a sickness. Anne knew very well how quick Phillip was to defend both her and the circus, and she suspected that this was another fight to be added to that list. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d found Phillip after a fight, and she knew well that it wouldn’t be the last either.
Anne carefully reached for Phillips hand, not sure if it was to comfort him or if she was seeking comfort of her own. Phillip let out an almost defaed sigh, clearly unable to lie to her.
“I decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway when walking back to our apartment. Some thugs wanted to have a chat,” Phillip explained. Anne could feel her heart sink just a little at what was to come, but a comforting hand caressed her cheek and, bruised knuckles or not, she leaned slightly into the touch, though her eyes still traced over Phillip’s injuries.
“It’s my own fault, Anne. I threw the first punch. But I just couldn’t let them talk about you or the circus the way he did! I got so mad, I saw red and well… Next thing I knew we were all fighting,” Phillip spoke quietly now as he withdrew his hand from her cheek, leaving her skin cold. As her suspicions for the reason of the fight were confirmed, the guilt surged in her gut like a wave washing over her. She knew none of this would have happened if he never had joined the circus, or felt the need to defend her.
But before her guilt could swallow her completely, Phillip stroked his thumb over her hand holding his, bringing Anne out of her spiral of thought and lightening the weight in her chest.
“Anne, I’m sorry if I made you worry. It’s nothing. It is, just some bruises and scratches, and I don’t care. What they said…” he trailed off not wanting to finish the sentence. Neither did he have to as it earned him a sigh from Anne.
“It’s more than just bruises and scratches, Phillip. What if one of them had pulled a knife on you! Or worse!” She tried her best not to sound too upset. What was done was done and there was no point in crying over spilled milk. And judging by Phillip’s reaction it didn’t make the situation any better. He almost looked like a kicked puppy at this point, so ridden with guilt that he’d made his girlfriend worry, even if he knew she was right.
“Alright… are you gonna sit willingly or do I have to tackle you?” Anne stepped back from the man and turned to the chair that stood by the desk. She spun it around to face Phillip as she looked at him with almost a challenging look, because they both knew that she would attempt to wrestle him into the chair. Without much choice Phillip sat down and Anne got her coat off.
“You know, you should pick fights with people your own size. Or at least not attempt to take on half of New York,” she teased him slightly, before spinning the chair to face the desk so she could sit on it while facing him.
“Anne Wheeler are you saying I’m short? I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of taking down any man, despite his size!” Phillip humored her with the best grin he could manage past a split and aching lip. Even beaten up and miserable he managed to hold on to his humor and make her smile.
“Well, mr. Carlyle, I am not doubting your skills to fight a man. Trust me, I’ve seen you try take on O’Clarny, and even he was slightly intimidated by you,” Anne offered him a kind smile, after all they both knew that Phillip could perfectly land a good punch if needed. She then pulled out a clean handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and got hold of a cup of what she assumed was an unfinished glass of water Phillip had been drinking form earlier. She dabbed the cloth in it before bringing it to a cut on Phillips cheekbone.
“What I am saying, however-“ she continued “is that next time, you should maybe just stick to one guy. And again, not attempt to fight a gang. I still enjoy coming home to someone. Especially you,” she gave a quick glance over to Phillips eyes before turning her attention back to the cut, a smile still lingering. It was warming and a feeling of security to call the apartment their home, though it had much more to do with Phillip than the apartment itself.
“I’ll always be there for you when you come home, Anne-“ he started with a serious, but loving, tone voice which made Anne stop the cleaning and look at him. “I will always come home to you, no matter what happens,” the sincere look on his face made it easy to believe him and Anne didn’t know if she should laugh or cry with joy. There was no kinder man than the one sat in front of her and the happiness swelled in her chest.
“I’ll take your word on it. So don’t you dare go breaking any promises, Carlyle,” the smile form Phillip grew along with Anne’s smile. She leaned down the few inches between them and barely pressed her lips against Phillip’s wounded ones in what might have been the softest and most careful kiss in the history. The joy she felt only grew bigger when pulling back and seeing the admiration and love for her in Phillips eyes.
“I love you. So very, very much,” he said, even if it was not needed when it written all over his face.
“Well, you’re in luck. Because I do love you too, Phillip Carlyle.”