Chapter 1: First bud
Chapter Text
That there was little to nothing she would not give to see him happy and yet still the fear had lingered.
Thus, swamped both by guilt and a sure and certain sense of inadequacy, she’d let him talk a while about wild and random things before very gently enquiring,
“So is this just a catch up, or were you calling for a reason?”
A long, drawn, moment, in which she’d feared pushing him a little too swiftly and then he’d responded with,
“I was wondering how you’d feel about me having Dan over for a bit while you and Dad are in Florida, because that way not only would we be able to have some proper one on one time before the whole Halloween thing, but then I’m also actively doing something about how lonely he’s been these last few weeks rather than, you know, just throwing empty platitudes at him.”
She’d barely had time to process the shear flood of information before, voice small and uncertain, he’d added,
“No pressure though, ok?”
At which point the fact that, despite what Phil seemed to think, she didn’t even know who ‘Dan’ was had flown by the wayside and she’d responded, instant, with,
“Don’t be silly, child, it’s your house as much as it is ours, after all,” before adding, “thank you for asking, though and you’ll have to let me know what Dan likes so that we can make sure to pick him up some things as well when we go shopping in a few days, ok?”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be good with whatever, but I’ll double check when I ring him later.”
A yawn had punctuated the end of that particular sentence and, fighting hard against her curiosity, she’d informed him,
“Try and go get some sleep Phil.”
“Ok, love you mum.”
“love you too.”
Chapter Text
She'd waited, as patiently as possible, for what'd felt the right moment to ask Phil just who Dan was only to have been met a long, long, moment where it'd been clear he'd thought her joking.
Eventually the understanding that she was, in fact, serious had sunken in and his expression had shifted, swiftly, though confusion, into stark understanding before, finally, settling into a dark, dark, thoughtfulness.
It’d had her, understandably, concerned and yet she’d not even had time to voice that fact before Phil had shifted the conversation towards his upcoming trip to Dublin in a clear desire to move on.
Externally she’d given easily to that wish, cutting in with what’d felt fitting questions where appropriate and very deliberately playing up the pride she’d felt towards Phil being offered what was, even from her limited knowledge of the whole YouTube thing, such an exciting and exclusive oppertunity.
Internally she’d picked and picked at that disquiet long after she’d been separated once more from its source, her mind spinning a vast kalidasope of vauge, inconsistent, theories that she’d started to get just a little too much into before The E-mail had turned up in her in-box.
It’d appeared on the evening of the 19th, the little timestamp to the side informing her that Phil had sent it all of a few hours previous and it’s darkly humoured subject line of ‘I didn’t get murdered,” clearly intended to diffuse a little of the conceranation she’d be likely to feel the implications that fact.
It’s a theory confirmed when, upon opening the thing, she’d been greeted with a short apology and a joking promise to attempt to get back to a 2am lights out once Dan had gone home.
From there he’d informed her that he’d genuinely messaged to assure her of her vitality and also because he thought she might also like to see the photo they’d taken ‘to mark the occasion’ for his fans.
Of course she’d all but instantly been clicking into the attached files upon reading that, the first gracing her a posed photo at what, she assumed, must be the Apple Store and the second…
…on the surface it’d been nothing more than a long landscape short of the view out of the Skybar with Dan, or at least with the young man she assumed to be Dan, settled at the very center of the shot.
Yet she’d taken one look at it and known, beyond doubt, that she was looking at a photo of someone deeply in love with its subject.
For a moment the revilation had sat in her head and simply existed, her mind processing quietly to itself before, at last, settling into maternal concern.
She’d known, of course, that she couldn’t fight the world for Phil, indeed when they’d had their first, hesitant, conversation the matter of his sexuality, he’d very politely asked her to stay as much out of the entire matter as possible, and yet…
Mentally promising herself to hug Phil all the harder the next she saw him she’d sent him back a generic ‘I’m glad you’re having a good time’ response and promptly sought out her husband the hopes of distracting her enough to hault the spiral before it truly began.
Notes:
As a fun note for this chapter the idea of Katherine being sent photos of the ‘09 meet up is actually what started me on writing this thing in first place!
I will admit I had more of a light hearted thing in mind at the time and Phil’s e-mail still being an ‘look I’m not murdered’ thing is very much a hold over from that.
That I have IDEAS for what I want out of chapter three (which is likely to be the last as a heads up) is why this one ended out as a bit of a nothing burger and I apologise for that fact even if it is how narratives can be sometimes!!
Chapter Text
She’d started the morning with Nigel very gently waking her from a nightmare that, despite being unable to remember its contents, had left her feeling just off kilter enough that, eventually, she’d taken herself out of the house for a long walk the sharp morning air.
It’s almost working, the ghosts of the memories a time, still far too close for comfort, when such disquiet had been her norm, mentally pushed into the vast expanse of ocean before her to drift further and further away.
…But then…
The sweet little tune that means Phil’s calling and, for all that there are so, so, many positive resons he could be doing as such she knows, instant, that something is wrong.
Still she understands, far too well by now, that panicking helps no one and so she takes a breath, finds as quiet a spot to sit as is possible and then answers a very deliberately upbeat,
“Child?”
“Hey Kath, it’s actually Dan.” Which is just enough on the wrong side of chirpy to tell her that he, too, is putting on a front and, taking a subtle, centring, breath she enquires,
“What’s wrong?”
A much sharper, deeper, inhalation crackles across the other end of the line before he responds with,
“He told me he didn’t feel right, but it wasn’t like the whole glue thing where it was clear he was spiraling, so I let him sooth me into thinking it was fucking nothing and then…”
Another breath, this one so very, very, clearly intended to keep tears and bay, before he continues with,
“He was unconscious the last I saw him but thanks to just rolling in off the street the paperwork’s taking a while which, of course, means they’re not fucking telling me anything because ‘I’m not family’ and I’m so, so, sorry to bring this to your doorstep while it’s still so very uncertain, Kath, but I’m so fucking scared.”
Which, of course, has the panic pushing again at her hind brain, its dark, hot, tendrils made all the more powerful for the fear that’s begun to permiate within them.
Still she is, first and foremost, a mother and the understanding that not only is one of her children is suffering, but that they are reaching out to her for her, affords her just enough fortitude to respond,
“Firstly doesn’t it say something that you’re the first I’m hearing of this? Secondlly you know as well as I do that that boy’s luck might lead him into the centre of a nuclear explosion but it’d also see him walk right back out again without so much as a scratch. Finally if they’re not coming to you why not go to them? See what you can see without disrupting things too to much?”
A bark of tellingly wet laughter as he remarks “Who knows I might even be able to actually find a practical use for the literal weeks I lost to Spliter Cell back in the day.” Before adding a achingly sincere, “thanks Kath, I promise I’ll get back to you the second I know something ok?”
“Ok.”
With which she’s left, abrubtly, on her own and yet, unexpectedly, she feels not wild, uncontrolled, panic, but, instead, a quiet certainty that it would all work out.
It’s a faith rewarded all of a half hour later as, just as she’s stepping foot back into the house, her phone delivers both a photo of Dan at Phil’s bedside and a message stating,
“After a bit of subterfuge I eventually found him mostly conscious and thankfully very much still alive.”
Smile drifting onto her face she types back a quick,
“You’ll have to tell me all about it once you’re both home safely,” before clicking her phone into silent, sliding it into her pocket and heading off in search of her husband.
Notes:
And there we have it. I’d initially thought to make this chapter about Dan’s whole appendicitis ordeal but I couldn’t get it flowing the way I wanted so course corrected to this.
In a way I actually like that the final phone call in this is actually Dan talking to Kath rather than Phil because it cements home the idea of him having become as much a part of her family to her as her actual flesh and blood children.
I will admit I’m still not fully onboard with it but I kind of mentally wanted to get this done before the rebrand so here we go.