/

"I like him."

"Well, I don't"

"Oh, c'mon Phin, you're not even giving him a chance!"

Phineas shakes his head at the sight in his kitchen.

If you told P.T. Barnum a few months ago that'd have Phillip Carlyle in his house, he'd have laughed in your face. As as he watches him from the tight entry way of his apartment that's two-months past due on rent chasing his squealing girls around the very small kitchen, he still has to wonder if this is actually happening. But remembering how he'd resolved a little while back to spontaneously start a circus in bustling New York, he guessed anything could happen.

"How'd you even find him?"

"He offered the girls his seat on the subway when we were coming back from Caroline's dance class."

"Wealthy socialite Phillip Carlyle offered our girls his seat?" He rolled his eyes and his wife hit him on the shoulder.

"Oh, stop being so difficult!" She laughed, "Being rich doesn't make you heartless. You should know that better than anyone…" She looked at him, reminding P.T. of their own unlikely start. Rich daughter of New York's top elite marries homeless orphan boy. Quite the headline. And as much as he loves Charity, his kind and loving and beautiful wife, he knows that crowd all too well. The silent glares, the spitting, the slurs and the insults. You'd think in twentieth century New York things would be better. But there's a growing divide between classes and that means a spoiled prodigy writer should not be in his humble home.

"Besides, he's more than just a rich boy, and you know it. We've seen his work. You know it's fantastic." She sighs and looks at the girls, now using the man as a personal jungle gym, and laughs contentedly, "It's all the business these days, Phin. A kid like him, gets caught up in the fame and the drinking and the mess of it all. Such a shame. If you had started this show-business crusade at his age you'd have fallen into it too. He's such a good kid. And he has more talent in his pinky finger alone, but no idea what to do with it."

She looks at him with pleading wide eyes, "We could help him, you could help him. And he could help you—"

"I don't need help from him!"

He turned defiantly from his wife and took another look into the kitchen as the boy danced around the table with his youngest daughter, while the older erupted in infectious giggles swinging her feet against the counter-top.

"You can't build the circus over night. And you can't build it alone. I know you're gonna try, but I think with his expertise and your wild imagination, you'll make an instant hit."

"I don't know, he's just… not my type."

Charity scoffs, "Hah! He's a little you in the making. Just look at him! Stick a top hat on the boy…"

"I don't need him."

"You do," she nods violently. "You've been starting up this circus for months now with no luck. I love you and believe in you with my whole heart, but a little push in the right direction could get you where you want to be. Trust me. I have a good feeling about this," she says sternly, as another joyous squeal erupts from the room next door. "Plus, the girls love him."

So it's nine am the next morning when Phillip rushes back to the Barnum abode for the "test-run" a reluctant P.T. gives in to for the sake of his wife. But the good-night's sleep has done nothing to convince him that Phillip can be of any service to him, so with girls who need a babysitter, P.T. knows exactly what job he can start with.

"You just want me to sit here all day?" Phillip asks with a tilted smirk as he takes off his jacket.

"What is it, Carlyle? Not used to the other side of things?"

"I have no problem with the place, sir, but your wife had me under the impression—"

"Well it's not my wife's show, is it? It's mine, and what I really need you to be doing is watching my girls so I can get some real work done." He grabs his keys and calls out the door as a confused Phillip watches, "Caroline's at dance rehearsals a few blocks down. Helen knows where. Pick up at 2." And with a firm slam of the door, he's gone, and there's nothing more Phillip can do but stare at the door.

"Do you know how to make pancakes, Mr. Phillip?"

/

Phillip does fine taking care of Helen all morning, enjoys it actually, not used to the bright company of people who don't look at him like he's supposed to save the world with a pen and paper. He doesn't miss the constant buzz of cameras and people and the emptiness of it all, he'll admit, but he does miss the drink. A juice box does little to fill the ache.

Life wasn't always this way for Phillip. He wasn't always alone. But that's what happens, he guesses, when you've got the parents that you do who make you do the things that you do. And suddenly everyone can see you even when you can't see yourself.

By 12, he's running on no sleep and a hangover and Helen's an energizer bunny so it's not long before his eyes are drooping as he lays across the faded flower-print couch with a little girl snuggled into his side, enchanted by the wonders of playhouse Disney on the TV. The last thought he has before he drifts off is that Barnum will pay for this, he'll pay him for this, at the very least.

And by 2:30, when he finally wakes up, he has a feeling he'll pay for this too.

"God, I'm late, oh shit, shoot sorry, Helen, we're late! C'mon!" He brushes nonexistent dust off his shirt, his pants, tries to ruffle his hair out of it's sleepy mess, and yawns as he slings a coat over his shoulder. He wraps the littlest Barnum up and grabs her hand with a sprint out the door.

"You know where we're going?" He looks down at her as they run down the apartment building steps, "Oh my god, I'm listening to a seven-year-old for directions."

"Seven and three quarters!" She stops with her hands on her hips.

"Seven and three quarters and too little stop me from doing this…" Phillip grins as he tickles the girl at her waist to place her on his hip and run the rest of the steps. He laughter echoes in the tiny staircase. "But really, we forgot your sister at her dance rehearsals and your father already hates me so let's not make it worse."

"He doesn't hate you," Helen says and Phillip gives her a look with raised eyebrows. "Maybe a little."

"Lead the way, Miss Helen."

It doesn't take long to get to the dance studio, and for that, Phillip is grateful. The streets are crowded and Phillip has never been one to blend in, but for the next ten minutes he does, and for that, he's even more grateful.

Helen finally points out the building and Phillip ushers them up, no time for an elevator.

Trial-run, his ass. He better get the job after this.

/

Anne Wheeler loves all her students equally, as any good teacher should. But sometimes, especially on days like today, the Barnum girls take a little extra. Anne knew the family well, years of living the floor right under their apartment required friendship after many consecutive nights of her roof shaking due to the family's continued antics. And she never minded, her brother slept like a brick and she never liked to sleep early anyway.

She moved to the city a few years back with her brother, millions of dreams between them that they were determined to make true. Not many have been crossed off the list in the time that's passed, but they're happy. Their little family, just the two of them, all they needed was each other.

She taught classes at a dance studio to pay the bills, and hoping to get some little girl the chance to fly across a stage like she always wished she could. Anne had resigned to stop dreaming for herself, but it was impossible to keep the the twinkle in Caroline's eyes out of her heart.

The Barnums always had one thing or another going on, and looking at her now empty room, Anne wasn't really surprised to have just Caroline left with her waiting, almost an hour past the end of class. She was welcome company, her excited chatter reminding her of a younger version of herself.

"Why don't you do shows anymore, Miss Anne?"

"Because," she started, with a ruffle of the girl's pink tutu, "I get to teach dancers like you to do shows."

"I know W.D. is gonna be in Daddy's show. Mom took us to see him practice last week. He goes flying…" Caroline runs across the room, imitating Anne's brother's trapeze tricks with her wild imagination.

"Well, W.D. is crazy, and still wishes he could be a talented little girl like you."

"You should always do things you love. It's the best job. That's why daddy is starting his own show now."

Ah, the Barnum circus. Anne had heard all about it from her delusional brother, who thought he could drop his job and start performing again. She admired him, but this venture was crazy, as crazy as him and the man behind it. P.T. begged her everyday to join her brother in the act, to stop pretending to be someone she's not and just, come alive with the rush of flying. She missed it. She did. But she was realistic. She was a poor, black dance teacher in the middle of Manhattan. She couldn't get cast in shows, she wasn't what people wanted to see, it wasn't her place.

"I like it here, Care. Who would teach you if I ran off and joined the circus? Besides, you've never seen me do my tricks, how do you even know if I'm good?"

But Caroline never gets the chance to answer, because just then, her eyes light up as she glances at the doorway Anne is standing in, her hip pressed against the frame and her back to whoever is making Caroline smile so widely.

Anne barely hears whatever name the girl yells as she runs past her, because as Anne turns to look at their visitor, time literally stands still.

She feels her long and bouncy curls whip around with the turn of her head, feels her breath catch in her throat, feels her eyes stuck in a sea of blue ones that stare back at her, intent and poised, mysterious, magical, like a laugh got caught in them and they've been waiting for the right person to let it out with, and all she sees is the blue of these eyes, can't find the courage yet to notice the man they belong to, lets another moment pass in the eternity she shares with the quiet blue eyes that have made her heart do more trapeze stunts than she's done in the past three years.

The eyes blink and time moves again. She doesn't.

"Uh, hi—hi miss, uh, yeah, I'm—" He stumbles over his words, seemingly lost in the same moment she just experienced. She wondered if her eyes looked anything like his. She couldn't believe they did.

"Phillip. Phillip Carlyle, I know you." The slight traces of the southerner in her peeking out in her pronunciation of his last name.

"Right, yeah, I should've guessed."

She clears her throat, oblivious to the girls between them, all she can see is him and his eyes.

"Oh, well, I assume you're the dance teacher. My apologies for the wait." He chokes out again, seemingly still stuck.

"Miss Anne!" Caroline yells.

"I told you she was pretty, Mr. Phillip," Helen whispered non-discreetly, tugging on his pants. Phillip turns an unusual shade of pink and stumbles over apologies again.

"I'm sorry, again, it's my first day on the job and—"

"You work for Mr. Barnum?" She questions.

"Uh, well, tentatively. Supposed to be on his show, but uh, he's not a fan. So I'm on little Barnum duty for now, isn't that right?" The girls giggle as he ruffles Helen's hair.

"I've heard about the show. I'm impressed he's got you in it," she takes a slight step forward, "What's your act, Mr. Carlyle?"

No one breathes for a moment, his blue eyes blink again, and Anne wishes they never had to so she'd not miss another second of their beautiful blue.

"I, uh, I don't, uh, I don't have an act," He says, barely audible, a faint whisper.

"Everyone's got an act."

Silence again. A beautiful silence, just her and Mr. Blue Eyes.

"Miss Anne has a brother in daddy's show. He's reallllly good!" Caroline says, and Helen nods in agreement.

"I hope I get to see him sometime, but seeing as how terribly I botched today's test-run, I don't foresee a stay in the circus for too long," Phillip says.

"Circus isn't for everyone," she counters, thinking of the long lust of dreams. And in a split second of irrational thinking, dammit those blue eyes, Anne makes a decision.

"Well, thanks again, for waiting on us. Let's get home before your father really kills me." He grabs the girls by one hand each and starts towards the door.

"Hey, Mr. Carlyle?" Anne calls, desperate for another second of his time.

He's enthusiastic to give it, it seems, turning around without hesitation.

"I bet if you told Barnum you convinced Anne Wheeler to join his circus, he'd hire you in no time."

A smile creeps up her face and she bites her bottom lip, her arms crossed and heart pounding. His smile echoes hers, his white teeth sparkle with a laugh as he turns again and with a last glance before he heads down the steps, he leans over and non-discreetly whispers back to Helen, "You were right, she is really pretty."

/

The circus may not be for everyone, but P.T. wants everyone to see his circus. He's spent all day bouncing from location to location trying to weasel out a cheap stage to rent, and when 5 pm rolls by with still, no sign of success, P.T. is ready to call it quits.

Until, he hears that familiar giggle that follows Phillip Carlyle when he's running around with his girls.

"Daddy!" His girls run and leap into his arms, latching onto whatever they can reach and hugging tight. He looks up at the young man.

"Charity told me where you were, just on our way back from getting some ice cream and thought we'd stop by," Phillip strides over, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Good day?" The older asks.

"Yeah, pretty good. You've got great girls. You?"

Barnum says nothing in response, his list of stages black with scribbled out names in dried out pen ink.

"Have you tried this place yet?" Phillip nods at the stage doors they're standing in front of, and Barnum shakes his head.

"It's no use. I've got nothing to my name, barely more than a small concept of a show running through my mind, my only potential acts, a solo trapeze artist and a bearded lady!" He throws his hands up in defeat.

"Let's give it one more try. With nothing to your name, we've got nothing to lose, right?" and with that, he starts towards the door, holds it open, "After you, Mr. Barnum."

/

"How did you do that?" P.T. Laughs as he strides out the stage doors, his girls running behind him with Phillip.

"You wouldn't believe what I've had to do in this business. Trying to book a stage is a piece of cake, if you know the right strings to pull. You should've told me to come along earlier." Phillip laughs back, Helen already jumping on his back.

The unlikely group walks home together, and Barnum can't believe how easily he managed to get them the stage, for close to nothing.

"You can't have been doing this for long, no?" P.T. asks again, still in awe of the young man.

"Been in the life since I was born, Mr. Barnum. It can get kind of lonely if you don't try to do something about it."

"And that's why you're trying to join my circus?"

"I'll be honest and say, it's not quite what I had in mind. I was thinking of simply trying my hand at a musical instead of a play, but your wife offered, and where I'm from, you can't turn any job down if you want to get to the top."

"Forgive me, Mr. Carlyle, but what I can't seem to understand," Barnum unlocks their apartment door as they reach it, the girls running inside to see their mother immediately, while the men hang back in the doorway, "is what's in it for you? Why ruin your life, leave everything you've got, for this thing that might not even work?"

"I'm sure you know the answer to that," Phillip says, glancing at a beaming Charity and the girls inside.

"It's a life of passion, of adventure, a life living outside these terrible walls I've been trapped in my whole life. There's barely any room to breathe up here, Mr. Barnum, and I'm sick of it. Your life is something, you're onto something with this. I can promise you I'll be a part of this however you need me, even if it's just to bring your girls to dance class. But believe me when I say, I've got what you need, and you've got what I need. I'm not gonna make you chase me down if you don't want me, but I think you do."

P.T. watches the boy's eyes light up, and it's true, he can see himself in him. Sees the magic and wonder and excitement all pent up in a boy shoved in the wrong direction. Sure, he was pushed up into the swells of society and Barnum was left alone, at the bottom, on the streets, but he knows they were meant to meet somewhere in the middle, and make some dreams come alive.

"Partners?" Phillip reaches out his hand.

"I'd say more of an overly-compensated apprentice."

They shake.

"I know the place is tight, but we've got more than enough room for you to stay for dinner, if you'd like." P.T. shows Phillip inside.

"Thanks, Mr. Barnum," Phillip steps into the comfortable house, already feeling a little like home, "Oh, and, by the way, I've got you a new act, her name's Anne Wheeler…"

/