Disclaimer: I do not own The Red Road.
A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired) Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.
Shifting in his boots, Phillip Kopus glanced around the gas station, one hand holding the pump-handle tightly. It was a sunny day, everyone in town seemed to be out and about, filling up their tanks for a weekend of off-roading or camping. Phillip was not preparing for a weekend trip. In fact, Phillip shouldn't have even needed to fill up his tank. But, Phillip had done a little more driving than usual in the last several days.
Despite a firm mantra that he was not obsessed with Kate Jensen, Phillip had driven past her home twice a day on average. Sometimes more if he could rationalize a reason why it would be faster to pass by the house. Even if he knew Kate wouldn't be home, he still went past the house.
The pump clicked lowly as the tank finished filling. Brows drawn together in a concentrated effort to keep his behavior normal, Phillip lifted the nozzle from the tank, tapping it lightly to flick off the last drops of gasoline before he replaced the handle. The rest of the routine fading from conscious effort and into muscle memory as Phillip saw a flash of red hair across the lot.
It wasn't Kate, the voice was too loud, the red too artificial. It was one of the numerous tourists who flooded the town every year, who flooded the mountain. One upside to this years' influx, it would be the last. In a few days the Mountain would be closed permanently to anyone who wasn't Lenape, one benefit to the Federal Recognition the tribe had sought for decades finally being granted.
Sliding into the truck, letting his weight settle, Phillip jammed the key into the ignition, twisting it roughly. The engine grumbled to a start, even as the tall, dark, Indian man shoved it into gear and set his boot on the gas pedal. The sputtering sound of the engine filled the station for a brief moment before Phillip escaped onto the road, heading for the center of the town.
It was near to the end of the school day, and if the man timed it right, he might be able to catch a glimpse of her. Phillip reached forward and switched the radio on simply to fill the silence in the cab, and perhaps drown out the small voice in his head that kept telling him to go home. Thighs clenching as he inhaled and straightened the wheel, Phillip knew that he was a man possessed.
A dry snort drowned in the thunderous music, it wasn't new information of course. Phillip had realized his situation at, quite possibly, the most inopportune moment of his life. The moment where he could have easily let all of his problems solve themselves. But no, Phillip had swayed in his spot as he watched the Albanian advance on Harold, and Kate's face had flickered before his eyes. And, somehow, instead of watching Harold die and then taking down the last Albanian, Phillip had staggered across the pavement and snapped the man's neck, saving Harold's.
"Fuck," the low curse slammed against Phillip's teeth as he thought about Kate's vivid green eyes filling with tears. That was what had spurred him into action. It shouldn't have. But it had.
Steering the truck towards the semi-crowded street across from the high school, Phillip tried to blend in. A feat that was by no means easy, considering Phillip was well over six feet of muscle and didn't exactly fit the suburban big-brother or father role. Shoving himself backwards into his seat, Phillip twisted so he could see the school, but it wouldn't be apparent he was looking.
A very different sort of anticipation built in Phillip's gut, he was familiar with the slight burning and twisting sensation he associated with entering a potentially dangerous situation. The pressing, fluttering, almost hollow sensation was something very different. It left Phillip feeling shaky, like a starved man. When the bell rang, and the sluggish flow of teens exiting the building began, Phillip's eyes narrowed as he kept himself rigidly in place.
Despite the odds of spotting one girl in a population of hundreds, Phillip wasn't deterred. Phillip had been dealt poor odds his entire life, he had persevered through everything, why should this be any different.
Hazel eyes darkened infinitesimally, as a sharp, familiar laugh rang out. Junior's little girlfriend, and if Phillip had any shade of luck, Kate would be close by. Inhaling as he began to scan the teens more closely, the cool air only seemed to feed the empty feeling in his gut. Swallowing down the heavy fluttering, his pulse thrumming in his stomach angrily, Phillip squinted against the bright light. And then she was there.
She appeared like the sun through the drifting students, hair brilliant and free, face passive as she trailed behind Rachel and a group of students. Kate twisted to glance around, eyes skimming her surroundings but not stopping, as her eyes passed over him, the empty feeling erupted into a flash fire that left Phillip breathless. In a split-second she had disappeared into the SUV, leaving Phillip just feeling empty, alone.
Lying on the dingy mattress, staring up at the canopy of trees and sky that peeked through the hole in the roof, Phillip breathed deeply. The air was stale, but the run-down house was better than anywhere Phillip had stayed in years. He had his own space, even though it was filled with seriously creepy dolls that Phillip had quickly burned, despite a lovely visit from Harold. This time, Phillip had refrained from baiting the man. The year in prison had distilled Phillip's emotions so well, that letting any comment fall from his lips seemed sacrilegious in nature.
Flipping onto his side, Phillip let his left arm drop to the floor beside the lopsided bed. His hand delved into the black bag he had been given at his release which held his possessions. Tugging a cheesy cardboard box into his grasp, Phillip tightened his grip and lifted it up onto the bed. With a quick motion Phillip had tossed the lid off and let his fingers play through the sheaves of folded paper. There were dozens of stacks, all misshapen and ragged. Some were uniform and neat, a clear sign that Phillip had come into a bit of luck and managed to trade someone for a stack of paper.
They were letters, mostly, that were never sent. Some were vague musings, verbal sketches, dreams penned so they wouldn't be forgotten. But every single piece of paper, scrap or otherwise, had a single thing in common: Kate.
Picking up one of the bundles, Philip slid the cloth binding it free and turned the piece of paper upright.
She smiled at me. And god if she isn't more beautiful than an angel. She had smudges of charcoal on her cheek, and when she touched me her hands were so tiny. So fragile against my chest. I woke up with gooseflesh where she touched me. It was a dream, she was a dream. 7/14
Philip smiled faintly, remember the morning, one of them, he had woken up body simultaneously on fire and frozen at the thought of Kate's gentle fingertips playing along his skin. His body always seemed to have a visceral reaction to even the thought of Kate. The more time he spent ruminating on his attraction to the young woman, the less and less sense it made.
Phillip had at first assumed his attraction was rooted in his unfulfilled feelings for Jean, but the more he considered it the less he thought it possible. Kate was nothing like Jean. Kate was terribly bright, sweet, calm, and almost shy. Jean had always been average in school; she was nice enough to her friends, boisterous, and always the center of attention. Rachel was the daughter who took after Jean, the first time he met her it was like falling back in time.
With the most obvious cause of his attraction entirely rejected, the letters and notes became part of his curious introspection. Every word revealed a new aspect of his obsession. While he had always appreciated beautiful women with soft curves, Phillip found himself with bizarrely new kinks. He had become fixated on the vivid shades of Kate's hair, the shifting blue-green clearness of her eyes, her petite stature, the smattering of freckles, the bow of her lips, the paleness of her skin, the roundness of her hips.
Phillip had never really seen women so intricately. He had never had dreams about a woman merely tucked under his arm, her face tucked against his chest, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulder. He had tried to deflect the surging emotions; he had tried to imagine someone else, anyone else. But his mind and body always seemed to betray him, Kate always floated into his head.
Rolling onto his back, papers clutched against his chest, Phillip twisted as he tried to get comfortable. He had spent a year thinking about Kate Jensen, everyday without fail. There was no way in hell that Phillip was going to sit back now that he was out of prison and let her drift out of his grasp.
Gazing up at the night sky, Phillip chewed the inside of his cheek. He would have to go straight, or as straight as he could. Kate deserved better than having to look over her shoulder, she deserved the universe on a string. She didn't need an ex-con laying trouble at her feet. She deserved someone much better than Phillip, but he was a selfish man.
If he were a good man, Phillip would leave Walpole and Kate alone. That was certainly something Phillip hadn't been accused of being since he was a teenager, since before he had been run out of town by Jean Rogers and the whole damn town. Even though Phillip wasn't a good man, Kate made him want to be a better man.
So Phillip was resolved to keep the job he had barely gotten with Bartow Paving, save enough money to actually get a place of his own, and generally prove everyone wrong about him. It was easy enough to promise, hell he had made a million promises before and broken nearly all of them.
Blinking tiredly, the large man winced at the slight twinge in his side, his stab-wound still infected. The irony of his situation wasn't lost Phillip. Phillip was determined to stay in Walpole and convince Kate, the daughter of the woman who had run him out of the same town, to love him back. That family had spelled nothing but trouble for Phillip, but Kate, Kate was something different.
Kate was everything Phillip had lost over the years. Kate was the one thing he hadn't destroyed. Kate with her silky waves of golden copper hair, slender limbs, and milky skin. Kate who made him toss and turn at night, sleepless. Kate who made him itch and writhe in his own skin.
Phillip wasn't quite sure how he was going to do it, but he was determined. Plans tended to go to shit for Phillip, but his instincts had a way of keeping him out of the deep-end of most trouble. One thing the dark skinned man knew for sure was that he wasn't going to rest until Kate was tucked against his side, his hand settled on the curve of her hip, and he could feel every beat of her heart against his skin as if they were his own.
Phillip Kopus was a man possessed by a single conversation, a few stolen glances, and a year's contemplation, and as he shifted on the bed, wavering in the limbo between the waking world and dreams, he smiled.
A/N: I am so pleased people seem to be open and enjoying this pairing. In the next chapter we should see Kate, possibly including some Kate & Phillip interactions. I've got some cute ideas mulling on the backburner. Please leave a review, let me know what you enjoyed, what you would like to see more of, even just a brief comment means the world.