POSSESSION
By Allyson
(A/N - I don't own Philip or Nick or anything to do with the Legacy. Writing between the stars * indicates the spirits POV.)
The room was silent except for the rustling of the newspaper Nick was flicking through. Except for Philip, who was ill upstairs, everyone else were out of the house dealing with some rumours of a spirit possessing people at random on the main coast. Nick was so immersed in the article he was reading that he didn't realize he had company. By chance he glanced up to see if he had any coffee left in his mug and almost had a seizure when he saw Philip Callahan standing in the doorway, like a silent statue.
"Philip, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he demanded, attempting to cover up his embarrassment at being caught off guard.
"I'm sure I could come up with a better way to kill you," came the quiet unexpected reply.
Nick looked at him sharply, taken aback by such a strange response. It was then that he noticed that the raging cold that his friend had been suffering from for the last three days had miraculously disappeared, though his face was still haggard and pale, and his normally gentle expressive eyes were dull and lifeless. Standing up, Nick moved to walk around the table towards him.
"Philip, are you alright?" he asked, a little unnerved by the way Philip's dead gaze tracked his every move. "Didn't Rachel tell you to stay in bed?"
"I've rested enough." The sound of the cold tone in the other man's voice stopped Nick from approaching Philip further. "It's time to act."
Nick looked at his friend, warily. Something was seriously wrong with the priest and Nick hadn't the faintest idea why or how to remedy it. Nick never thought he'd ever entertain the thought but he wished Derek was here. Or Alex. They would know what to do. He hated the psychological side of dealing with problems; he was much better at the black and white actions: bad guy - point gun - shoot. That was obviously not going to work here.
"Philip, what the hell is going on?" he asked, concerned at his sudden personality change.
"Philip's not with us," came the reply. All traces of the familiar Irish brogue were gone now and a cold eerily sinister voice was all that remained. A sickening thought occurred to Nick as he realised that Philip had been possessed by something: How had the spirit got through the Legacy's defences? "And as for Hell - don't worry, you'll be going there soon."
With surprising speed, Philip's arm shot out towards Nick's throat.
* * *
* * * He watched, with grudging respect as the other man swiftly ducked out of his grip and took a few paces back to increase the distance between them. They both were trained fighters and instinctively assessed the others possible weaknesses. This man's main weakness was concern for the priest and that he felt far too emotional for this friend to cause Him any physical harm. The one He inhabited was weak but since His encounter with the other man He could feel the priest's presence fighting back stronger than before.
"Philip," the speech was starting to become a mantra for the younger man. "I know you can hear me. You have to fight it, Philip!"
"He can not hear you, pathetic human. Prepare to join him in death!"
He watched the effect of His words: a flicker of sorrow flittered across the other man's expression before being replaced almost instantly with anger that fired his eyes. Before His adversary could react, He leapt suddenly with a blow aimed for his temple and before he could move away again He caught him with a glancing blow on the mouth. Blood trickled from the corner of the young mans face, but he wiped it away without a second glance.
Without warning, He felt the priest's presence surge forwards in a momentum of willpower and stop Him from striking out again. Latin prayers fell unheeded from His lips as He struggled to push the priest back into submission into the back of His subconscious.
Hope lit up the other man's eyes as he realised what was happening and he called out, "That's it, Philip! You're doing it! Don't give up, Philip!"
He felt himself being pulled from the one He occupied and howled in fury. The last thing He saw was the man in front of Him pulling his arm back to deliver a punch to His jaw and a look of unrivalled satisfaction in the act. * * *
* * *
Philip awoke with two types of pain. His jaw throbbed incessantly and his sinuses tapped a pounding beat up and down his nose and around his head. Groaning, he realized his cold was back with a vengeance; which also told him he'd succeeded in exorcising the evil spirit from his body. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he found himself lying on the couch not far from where he had originally fallen. Something freezing cold rested on his jaw and he flinched away before realizing it was just an ice pack.
As he made to sit up, he felt someone sit down next to him on the couch and gently pushed him back down again. He found Nick looking down at him, concern in his eyes and a smirk on his face.
"Hey, Philip," he greeted, replacing the ice pack from where it had fallen. "Rachel's going to have my head when she finds out you've been out of bed while you're ill. How are you feeling?"
"You hit me," accused Philip, his Irish brogue sounding thick with exhaustion after the fight he'd put up to regain control of his body.
Nick smiled apologetically and laughed self-consciously. "Sorry, about that. You've got a spectacular bruise now and I have no idea how to explain it away to Derek and Rachel."
"Nick, I don't blame you," Phillip told him, seeing through to his friend's real meaning. "You did what you had to do. Though you probably didn't need to look so happy about it. It was my fault that evil spirit broke down my defences -"
"Philip, you have a cold! How can that be your fault?"
"I -"
"I'm in charge of security and for the safety of the people in this house. I should have picked up signs of that evil spirit that possessed you before it even entered the house!"
"There's no use us arguing about who's to blame," Philip said. "It's done now. We both escaped unharmed."
"Good, because I don't know what I'd have done if I'd had to . . ."
"I know," responded Philip, when Nick couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.
A silent look passed between the two friends that only they knew the depth of the meaning before Nick smiled and said, "Time for some medication, Phil. I'm not giving Rachel any further ammunition to kill me."
Philip grinned, thankful it was all over and content in having Nick looking after him.
The End.
By Allyson
(A/N - I don't own Philip or Nick or anything to do with the Legacy. Writing between the stars * indicates the spirits POV.)
The room was silent except for the rustling of the newspaper Nick was flicking through. Except for Philip, who was ill upstairs, everyone else were out of the house dealing with some rumours of a spirit possessing people at random on the main coast. Nick was so immersed in the article he was reading that he didn't realize he had company. By chance he glanced up to see if he had any coffee left in his mug and almost had a seizure when he saw Philip Callahan standing in the doorway, like a silent statue.
"Philip, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he demanded, attempting to cover up his embarrassment at being caught off guard.
"I'm sure I could come up with a better way to kill you," came the quiet unexpected reply.
Nick looked at him sharply, taken aback by such a strange response. It was then that he noticed that the raging cold that his friend had been suffering from for the last three days had miraculously disappeared, though his face was still haggard and pale, and his normally gentle expressive eyes were dull and lifeless. Standing up, Nick moved to walk around the table towards him.
"Philip, are you alright?" he asked, a little unnerved by the way Philip's dead gaze tracked his every move. "Didn't Rachel tell you to stay in bed?"
"I've rested enough." The sound of the cold tone in the other man's voice stopped Nick from approaching Philip further. "It's time to act."
Nick looked at his friend, warily. Something was seriously wrong with the priest and Nick hadn't the faintest idea why or how to remedy it. Nick never thought he'd ever entertain the thought but he wished Derek was here. Or Alex. They would know what to do. He hated the psychological side of dealing with problems; he was much better at the black and white actions: bad guy - point gun - shoot. That was obviously not going to work here.
"Philip, what the hell is going on?" he asked, concerned at his sudden personality change.
"Philip's not with us," came the reply. All traces of the familiar Irish brogue were gone now and a cold eerily sinister voice was all that remained. A sickening thought occurred to Nick as he realised that Philip had been possessed by something: How had the spirit got through the Legacy's defences? "And as for Hell - don't worry, you'll be going there soon."
With surprising speed, Philip's arm shot out towards Nick's throat.
* * *
* * * He watched, with grudging respect as the other man swiftly ducked out of his grip and took a few paces back to increase the distance between them. They both were trained fighters and instinctively assessed the others possible weaknesses. This man's main weakness was concern for the priest and that he felt far too emotional for this friend to cause Him any physical harm. The one He inhabited was weak but since His encounter with the other man He could feel the priest's presence fighting back stronger than before.
"Philip," the speech was starting to become a mantra for the younger man. "I know you can hear me. You have to fight it, Philip!"
"He can not hear you, pathetic human. Prepare to join him in death!"
He watched the effect of His words: a flicker of sorrow flittered across the other man's expression before being replaced almost instantly with anger that fired his eyes. Before His adversary could react, He leapt suddenly with a blow aimed for his temple and before he could move away again He caught him with a glancing blow on the mouth. Blood trickled from the corner of the young mans face, but he wiped it away without a second glance.
Without warning, He felt the priest's presence surge forwards in a momentum of willpower and stop Him from striking out again. Latin prayers fell unheeded from His lips as He struggled to push the priest back into submission into the back of His subconscious.
Hope lit up the other man's eyes as he realised what was happening and he called out, "That's it, Philip! You're doing it! Don't give up, Philip!"
He felt himself being pulled from the one He occupied and howled in fury. The last thing He saw was the man in front of Him pulling his arm back to deliver a punch to His jaw and a look of unrivalled satisfaction in the act. * * *
* * *
Philip awoke with two types of pain. His jaw throbbed incessantly and his sinuses tapped a pounding beat up and down his nose and around his head. Groaning, he realized his cold was back with a vengeance; which also told him he'd succeeded in exorcising the evil spirit from his body. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he found himself lying on the couch not far from where he had originally fallen. Something freezing cold rested on his jaw and he flinched away before realizing it was just an ice pack.
As he made to sit up, he felt someone sit down next to him on the couch and gently pushed him back down again. He found Nick looking down at him, concern in his eyes and a smirk on his face.
"Hey, Philip," he greeted, replacing the ice pack from where it had fallen. "Rachel's going to have my head when she finds out you've been out of bed while you're ill. How are you feeling?"
"You hit me," accused Philip, his Irish brogue sounding thick with exhaustion after the fight he'd put up to regain control of his body.
Nick smiled apologetically and laughed self-consciously. "Sorry, about that. You've got a spectacular bruise now and I have no idea how to explain it away to Derek and Rachel."
"Nick, I don't blame you," Phillip told him, seeing through to his friend's real meaning. "You did what you had to do. Though you probably didn't need to look so happy about it. It was my fault that evil spirit broke down my defences -"
"Philip, you have a cold! How can that be your fault?"
"I -"
"I'm in charge of security and for the safety of the people in this house. I should have picked up signs of that evil spirit that possessed you before it even entered the house!"
"There's no use us arguing about who's to blame," Philip said. "It's done now. We both escaped unharmed."
"Good, because I don't know what I'd have done if I'd had to . . ."
"I know," responded Philip, when Nick couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.
A silent look passed between the two friends that only they knew the depth of the meaning before Nick smiled and said, "Time for some medication, Phil. I'm not giving Rachel any further ammunition to kill me."
Philip grinned, thankful it was all over and content in having Nick looking after him.
The End.